#i thought i would have someone who would put in equal effort and care about any little thing i have to say and come up with excuses to talk

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny. What if he offhandedly mentions his parents being THERE (as in not dead) and being Doctors (not the same kind of doctors Bruce's parents are) and things like that and doesn't realize that the batfam starts thinking that this? This is what's different with this Bruce. He didn't lose his parents and thus does not grow up wanting vengeance, and his parents are similar in personalities but in a different field!

Now Danny is still as casual young Bruce as ever but the others are just freeking out around him.

Things are strange for a while. Danny knows that his actions have caused the Waynes to be....wary around him. Even Jason- who honestly threw a whole ass parade for Gotham in celebration of Joker's death- seemed to be tense around him.

Danny can't really say he blames them. He still doesn't know why Phantom reacted the way it did- a bit alarming. His ghost side marked Joker as a threat from the moment it laid eyes on him- a threat that could not and would not be reasoned with.

His ghost -half attacked, knowing that Joker's existence threatened his core. A core that was created from the desire to keep his friends safe at the moment of his death. (He had known he would die the moment the portal's electricity hit him- and Danny had not been mournful of his end but rather horrified that Tucker or Sam could have followed him to the afterlife. His last thought as a human was Please let me live long enough to keep them safe.)

Never has that happened before- not even when faced with Vlad or Dan. It was strange to watch Phantom attack and not be in equal amounts of control within his body.

Phantom has always felt a part of him but also not. Danny had once tried to explain it to Jaz, only to end up frustrated when she tried to paint Phantom as a different personality that shared the mind-space with Danny.

Danny knows Phantom isn't like that.

He's not another person- Phantom is Danny in the same sense that Danny is alive but dead. For the same reason, Danny is the flipped color scheme of Phantom. They are one, just viewed differently.

Or maybe they saw the world differently?

It's hard to say and even harder to put into words.

The closest Danny could come to explain was an example Tucker gave him. Someone is the same but acts ultimately differently online, even when they aren't trying to catfish someone.

It's the fact they are behind a screen that gives them just the extra amount of courage. Tuck had said.

Ancients, he misses Tuck. His ship is not ready to venture into his Ghost Zone- hell, if Danny is honest, it's barely able to move. He is trying his best to get it working, but it's slow going. Too slow, even with Wayne's generosity.

"Master Brucie," Alfred started, pausing just within the doorframe of Danny's room until invited in. He does that now, keeping to his manners as though Danny was a guest of the Waynes. Not someone who he can be so familiar with.

It stings to know his killing had lost him the right to be treated as a stranger when Alfred had always treated him as young Bruce Wayne the moment he was found.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to smile. It falls flat, but it's worth the effort.

Alfred's face stays impassive, and Danny tries to tell himself that he doesn't care. He's not a young Bruce Wayne. He wants nothing to do with the Wyanes'.

"There are more gifts for you." The bulter says. "Shall I bring them to your room?"

Danny has received a lot of fan mail since his actions were leaked to the public. Everyone knew that Joker was taken out by Danny Kane. And there wasn't a single person in Gotham who hadn't been hurt or known someone injured by the madman.

He is being praised as a hero.

For murder.

Danny can't find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Joker needed to die. He had too many chances to change, and too many people got hurt.

"That's okay. I'll go downstairs and look through them. I feel like watching a movie anyway." He shrugs his shoulders while strolling to the door in his lazy stride.

Alfred steps out of his way, bowing ever so slightly. "Very good sir."

Sir.

That stings.

Danny doesn't bring it up or mention that Alfred keeps a safe space between them. Not enough that it would be rude, but definitely one of a servant following a master instead of a man who thought him the younger version of his son.

When they arrive at the room, he is surprised to find a white shipping cart filled to the brim with packages and letters waiting for him. Standing beside the cart, flipping through the envelopes, is Tim.

He has yet to see much of Tim. Not since Danny proved his doubts weren't as unfound as Danny actively tried to convince the other teen of.

No time like the present.

"Hey, Tim." He calls just to mentally get the other prepared for his approach. As expected, Tim whips around with a narrow eye-ed glare that does nothing to hide his distaste for Danny. Alfred follows them into the room but stays by the door at an appropriate distance. "Anything good?"

"Good, how?" Tim bites, and Danny fights to not roll his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe a letter from my mom saying I'm a good boy or another football from dad-"

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred cuts him off- which, okay, that's never happened before. The butler has never overstepped his position- even when they thought him harmless little Brucie- to talk over him.

Danny turns to find the man pasty white, looking both cautiously overjoyed and wishful. "Did you make a joke about your parents, Master Brucie?"

"Ugh, Yeah? Why?"

"Young sir, are- are your parents alive?"

Danny is floored by the choked-up emotion in that one sentence that all he can do is nod. Tim drops the package he was checking over, his jaw slacked, and staring at Danny like having parents was the answer of the universe.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne are alive in your universe.." Tim all but breaths. "They are alive and have more than one kid."

"Why is that a big deal?" Danny asks, unable to himself. "What happened to Bruce's parents here?"

"Master Thomas was a doctor," Alfred says, ignoring Danny's question. But he now hears the answer in the past tense when referring to Bruce's parents. "Is he still in your world?"

"Yes, and so is my mom." PHD doctors, but they don't need to know that.

"That's why you like this." Tim slumps into the chair closest to him. Danny is mightily alarmed that he seems pale now. "That's why you don't know anything about Batman. He was never inspired. You....you really are a civilian."

Danny will deny that he fleed the room when Tim burst into tears till the day he died. He does not look back even when Alfred yells for his return. He has outstayed his welcome.

He slips into his room, grabs anything not nailed down with any form of technology, and then activates his intangibility. He sinks down down, and down, to the caves. He knows where the Bats work, knows where to go from his nights where he tried to work on ship.

He flies in that direction, knowing he will never see the Waynes again. Not after realizing how much pain his lies have unwillingly caused.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #part 7 #Tim is sad that Danny is what Bruce could have been #evil or good Bruce always lost his parents #Alfred was also shocked. #Danny is running

[sillylittleguytm]

Above and Beyond

Terzo x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Love from Your Papas Day 6: A Grand Gesture from Terzo

Sometimes you think that Terzo is Cupid himself. 

It's Valentine’s Day and Terzo insisted that you take the day off from your duties. Papa's orders. And who are you to disobey? You wake up to light streaming in through his window and roll over to avoid the irritable sunlight. Burrowing deeper into the covers, you feel around for your lover's body. He usually wakes up before you so it's no surprise when you find that he's not there, but it's still equally disappointing. 

But then you smell something cooking from the other room. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what's cooking, but it makes the smile return to your lips and your stomach begin to growl. He had warned you that he would be going all out for Valentine’s Day, and you could tell now that he wasn't exaggerating. This is just the beginning of what's to come.

You remain in bed a while longer, still waking up and not wanting to leave the soft, warm blankets when you feel so cozy. You hear the door creep open and look up to see Terzo with a tray holding various plates of your favorite breakfast foods. Sitting up, you look at him with a smile while wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“There you are, sleepy head. Your breakfast is ready.” Terzo says, placing the tray over your lap and a kiss on the top of your head. He sits down on the bed with you, careful not to tip the balance of the tray. You grin broadly at him.

“You're so sweet, you know that?” You say, starting to dig into your breakfast. Terzo chuckles as he watches you enjoy his cooking. His heart always swells with pride whenever one of his gestures is well received. 

“This isn't even the beginning.” Terzo responds cheekily. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, handing it off to you. “Not a moment of today is without a plan.”

You look at the itinerary in awe, surprised at how many meaningful things he had planned on doing with you today. A walk in the garden where he had first spoken to you, ending up at the fountain where he first asked you to be his, a shopping trip where he'd treat you with anything you'd like, partaking in a hobby of yours, ending with a massage and a nice dinner. Your heart speeds up just reading about these activities. You feel as though it puts your gift to him to shame. But you couldn't possibly be more grateful to have such a doting, loving partner.

“Wow. All this just for me?” You ask, unable to fathom the effort he's putting in just to make you happy. Terzo scoffs as if offended. 

“Of course, just for you. You and only you, amore. I could not fathom doing this for another.” Terzo says, pressing a kiss to your lips. You smile at the gesture and continue to eat your breakfast, Terzo occasionally stealing a few bites. When you finish, Terzo handles the dishes and urges you to get ready for the day ahead of you. He's very clearly excited for you to see the rest of what he has planned for you.

For the rest of the day, Terzo is at your side doting upon you with thoughtful activities, special gifts, romantic words, and affectionate touches. You notice that he visibly relaxes as the days go on, happy to see that things are going as closely to plan as possible and that you're enjoying yourself. He has a perpetual fear that he's not enough for you so it's very reassuring to see you react the way he intended. All of this build up trickles into your dinner plans. You opt for dinner first and then the massage, as all the walking around all day has caused you to work up an appetite. Terzo had his ghouls (only the ones he trusts around a kitchen) to prepare dinner while you two are away. The room is decorated beautifully with plenty of flowers and candles, the table set and your favorite meal presented on your plates.

“Thank you for today.” You begin as you both start to eat your dinner. “I never imagined someone would put that much effort into making Valentine’s Day so special.”

“You are special to me, tesoro. You are deserving of every good thing on this earth. I want to give it all to you, to be your happiness.” Terzo says, his face riddled with emotion. “I am blessed by Lucifer himself to have you by my side. I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

You grin at him from across the table, fighting back the joyous tears welling up in your eyes. With several deep breaths, you compose yourself. “I have a gift for you, but it doesn't even come close to what you've done for me today.”

Terzo's eyes widen as if he's shocked that you had done something for him at all. He's touched. He doesn't care if it's as grand as what he had done for you today. In his eyes, anything you give him is equal to what he's done for you. He watches as you walk off into the bedroom to grab your gift for him. Shortly after, you come back to the table and hold it out to him.

It's a book. A book of memories. A scrapbook. Terzo flips through the pages of photos of you two in complete awe. There are so many memories included in the beautifully and creatively decorated pages. His heart soars at every silly photo taken at a seemingly insignificant moment, now documented in this book to be remembered forever with complete fondness. Before he realizes it, he's crying. Immediately, you wrap your arms around him in a comforting embrace. This book beats any reassurance he's ever received. He's yours and he means something to you. No longer are the days where he goes undervalued in a relationship. 

You're here to stay and to love him. And that's the only gesture that matters.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #terzo x reader #terzo emeritus #papa terzo

[thedevilinmybrain]

my babygate thoughts after watching AOTV

I want to start off by saying that these are just my opinions and I am in no way, shape, or form indicating that I am apologizing or justifying my believed closeting of a queer individual. Nor am I making apologies for someone that I do not know nor will ever know. That being said, I do feel that I am allowed to draw my own personal conclusions given the evidence presented before us and make my own critical decision based on the content.

I do not believe Freddie is Louis' son. I honestly will never believe that he is biologically Louis' son.

That being said, I do think that AOTV did an interesting job of framing the Louis/Freddie relationship in the  midst of talking about his family and the role he is so often put in. For instance, I believe that AOTV is more of a film of self discovery and reconciliation of the self than anything else. It's framed about one man's struggle to find where he belongs and if he even deserves it. So in some ways, it's an introspective film about Louis' outlook on himself as an artist, as a brother, as a friend, and as an individual.

Given the way that Louis and his sisters talk about him, Louis has always been in the role of 'protector' and 'big brother'. Even in the band, there was a sense that Louis was the oldest and that he was 'the boss' because of his skill in voicing and sticking up for the rest of the boys. We have seen it time and time again from the way he's protective of his siblings to the way he was always so involved in the `1D days. This is a man who prides himself on taking care of others and making the best of situations - a fact that I will bring up later.

When it comes to babygate and the deals and trauma that surround that, I do believe that Louis had limited say in the matter. Much like the example in the film of the producer that gave Louis hope but ultimately did his own decision on the song, Louis' life in One Direction didn't come without a slew of managers and music company people who had a say in it and made decisions. I do not think at the beginning that Louis was allowed to give much imput or control over the happenings behind the scene. As 1D went on break and Louis was able to navigate his own career with a little more freedom, I do think that input changed but considering how much of his life is hidden behind contracts and NDAs, I don't think the truth will ever be told in its entirety. And honestly, I am okay with that because at the end of the day, it's Louis' life and I am just an observer.

So, when it comes to Freddie now, I am of the opinion that Louis is more of an 'uncle' or 'family friend' to him. Given the limited amount of time we actually know they spend together, probably equal to how much Louis has seen Doris and Ernie, one can speculate that Louis isn't a constant in Freddie's life. More of a randomly visiting family memmber than a core fixture. We never hear Freddie call him Dad. We see Freddie multiple times look at the camera during the film and on other occasions such as the holidays where it feels like he's being prompted to interact with the family. It's the same feeling of seeing an uncle at Christmas that you haven't seen in ages. You know them but you're not 100% comfortable.

So, why even bother? Why does Louis make any effort at all?

I think it comes down to him being in the role of protective older brother. If there is nothing he can do about babygate, if there is nothing he can change about the narrative now, the very least he can do is make positive memories with an innocent child. I mean, what would fandom prefer? Every time they're stunted together that Louis just ignores Freddie like he's Eleanor? Found somewhere in the background looking miserable?

It's making the best out of the worst situation. Because one day, someone is going to explain all of this to Freddie. And yes, I do believe it's unfair and it's cruel to the child, but we also don't know what he's being told as his own narrative. Maybe he knows Louis as his 'Uncle Lou' or 'The UK family'. We just don't know. But what we do know is that when Louis is with him, he takes on the role of big brother. He plays with him, he gives him good memories, he provides experiences just like he did/does for his younger siblings. It's shown in the film with the way he kisses the baby twins. It's Louis being a stand in 'father figure' or 'big brother'.

I'm not saying it's right or that it's the way it should be. Honestly, I don't think closeting should be a thing at all. It's grossly unfair to everyone involved. But the Louis I know, the man we've all loved from the very beginning, would never allow himself to be cruel or cold to someone innocent. And I think he's doing the best that he can given the circumstances.

And I hope one day when Freddie finds out the truth, at the very least he can look back and be like 'Yes, this was unfair and unjust and completely inappropriate. But all I know of this man is the kindness and the fun and the good times. He didn't cause me more pain.'

#babygate #louis tomlinson #my thoughts

[solart13]

For an art request can you please draw one of your headcanons?

I’m not entirely sure if this would be considered a headcanon or not but I like the thought that Aizawa is more emotionally open around Mic and that he values him a lot.

[Long wall of text of my thoughts and opinions incoming]

Like, I understand the comedy aspect of Aizawa being somewhat of a dick towards Mic seeing as that is how their dynamic is often portrayed as in the show, i.e. Aizawa being annoyed/putting up with Mic’s shenanigans. Their relationship does get more expanded upon in the Hospital raid arc but even then, Aizawa being more of a fan-favourite because, among other things, he’s part of the main cast gets more fleshed out than Mic despite Oboro having been both of their friend. In the hospital after the raid, Aizawa shows a certain degree of dismissiveness of Mic’s feelings, which yes, I can understand may be because he didn’t want to talk about it and that was his way of coping, but remember that they are alone and it has been shown that he is often more open with his feelings and opinions when it’s just the two of them, not to mention that Mic is now his only surviving friend from back in their days at U.A. At least maybe show the audience Aizawa having some kind of emotional reaction to the fact that Midnight, a close friend of theirs, who has impacted his life a lot, ex. with sending in an application to U.A, has just died.

And like I said, I do understand and actually like the more teasing side of their relationship but what I don’t like is when it’s just Aizawa treating Mic poorly and Mic is depicted as the stupid comic relief when his character is a lot more nuanced.

As previously mentioned, however, Mic is just a side character which means the show and the creator won’t bother making him more complex than necessary (often to further Aizawa’s story) which means that the fanbase who don’t think too much about him as a character will just staple him as the comic relief (which I want to make clear is totally fine because we all have characters we focus on more than others, be it a comfort character or simply just caring for one character more than another).

What I don’t like is when it’s clear that someone favours Aizawa more than Mic in the Erasermic relationship and portrays Mic as “inferior” to Aizawa and bases his character off of his stereotypes (ex. being loud all the time and acting immature) and won’t look past that. Fortunately, I rarely stumble upon this sort of interpretation and I want to once again make it clear that it’s fine if you like one character more in a ship, my point is that I personally dislike when the other character in the relationship isn’t given at least some of that focus and is more like an accessory than anything.

For me with the Erasermic dynamic, I like when a clear balance is shown. I personally am a big fan of Mic and I like breaking his character down to its bare bones and giving him more depth than the source material does…so basically making my own headcanons about him lol. But I also like Aizawa a lot and I guess my guilty pleasure is portraying them in a healthy and equal companionship where Mic isn’t the only one who openly shows his appreciation.

So, uh, yeah. That was a lot lol. Apologies for the long wait, I had an exam a few days ago and finally had some free time to work on the request. I hope the drawing is sufficient and correlates to the wall of text above.

On another note, here’s an extra little headcanon of these two being two of the smartest characters in the show, yet not hesitating to egg each other on when it comes to dumb ideas (I drew this in like 5 seconds and barely put any effort into it lol)

#erasermic #present mic #eraserhead #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanart #drawing requests #headcanon

[pixaho]

Hello! :D omg your such a good writer and I love that you write for high and low! I was wondering since requests are open, could you please consider doing a nsfw alphabet for Rocky or Huyga? I love them both equally and I'll be happy no matter which one you pick. :)

NSFW Alphabet Headcannon | Hyuga

A/N | Ofcourse and thank you! <3 I was going to do Rocky originally but I settled for Hyuga as I haven't done a Daruma member yet. I hope you enjoy this! <3

M.List H&L

A - Aftercare

Rarely ever does aftercare after doing the deed, he says that he doesn't see the reason why but in reality it's because he's not 100% sure on how to do it. He does care for you, although he doesn't really say it, but this whole thing is confusing for him. When he does do it, he doesn't like the appraisal.

B - Body Part

Your ass. He'll praise your ass all day because he likes it, whether its small or big. He's a booty type of man.

C - Cum

Hyuga doesn't really care where it goes. I won't say this lazy fucker (he is hot tho) won't wear a condom, because he most likely will. Just like Jessie, he doesn't think he'll make a great father because of how he was raised and how he is as a person.

D - Dirty Secret

This may seem a little creepy but he likes watching you shower, perhaps its how you look when the water covers your body or because he just wants to grab a fist full of your damp hair to fuck your throat. Who knows.

Totally not something I have written for the future.

E - Experience

Contrary to belief, he is not that experienced. I mean he is Hyuga so you'd expect him to be at least somewhat experienced but he isn't. He is not a virgin, just a lazy fucker.

F - Favorite Position

Cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, this plays into him liking your ass and being a lazy fucker. He doesn't put too much effort into it, and when he does, it's a bit surprising. The most work you'll get out of him is rubbing your clit or giving you head.

G - Goofy

Surprisingly quiet and somewhat serious. When he isn't serious, he's cracking a joke or two about the other Daruma Ikka members. Or the Daruma Babes. They aren't rude jokes, just funny stories that happened that day.

H - Hair

FREE BIRD! He is NOT the clean shaven type of person. It's BUSH CENTRAL down there. As for you, he doesn't care. Be a free bird or don't.

I - Intimacy

He isn't 100% romantic during it. But when he can be, you better expect him to not be lazy. He'll have you flipped and fried like a pancake. You'll also be probably fucked out of your mind.

J - Jack Off

Why jack off when you have your significant other? That is all I'm going to say here.

K - Kinks

Choking, marking and hair pulling. He loves the feeling of wrapping his hand around your throat as it makes him feel more in control. Marking is his better way of showing you that he loves you and cares for you, granted you'll probably have a shit ton of scratches and bite marks.. Hair pulling.. doesn't even need to be explained. (This is coming from someone who thought that Hyuga in that one scene where he's looking up at Cobra and currently breaking someones arm was hot..)

L - Location

PUUUUUUUUBLIC! Best believe he's fucking you in the Daruma Ikka owned places. NO MORE EXPLANATION!

M - Motivation

I kid you not, you working out or showering is enough to turn this dude on. It's so weird but it's also kind of hot. Even if you are bathing. He likes it when your body shines, he likes that.

N - No

Absolutely no to knife play, he is not the most trustworthy when it comes to blades. He will also say no to bodily fluids play (piss, shit type of fluids) but he will spit on you, which is strange.

O - Oral

More of the receiving type and less of the giving type. He'll kiss your thighs and what not but it'll be rare as fuck when he decides to give you head. (I feel like he would and I am feral for this man.)

P - Pace

When he isn't lazy as shit, it's fast and rough. He likes seeing you as a mess, cock drunk for him, when he isn't tired or way too high because it makes him really happy. Compared to when he is, it's based purely on your pace.

Q - Quickies

Naaahhh, even if he uses you as his special little fucktoy, he likes to take his time. Making sure every part of you has been degraded until you are a shaking, quaking, little mess underneath him.

R - Risk

When he's romantic, he gives quite the shit about his reputation. Not with the other SWORD leaders, it's rather his reputation around Daruma babes and the other members of Daruma Ikka. He sees the other SWORD leaders as mutts, so it doesn't matter what they think or see.

S - Stamina

Let's be so fuckin' for real... high as a kite he can go for a million years. Not so high? 10 - 20 minutes max.

T - Toys

Fuuuuuuuuuuck no. He won't use toys on you but he'll allow you to have them to pleasure yourself for when he isn't around. Even though he doesn't care much for masturbating, himself, he does want to make sure that you have the bliss you want.

U - Unfair

Unfair in the streets, unfair in the sheets! This man will not give you the 100% satisfaction of knowing whether or not you are making him happy in bed or not. He's an asshole. If you try to do the same, best believe he's hitting all the good spots for reactions.

V - Volume

Be loud, nobody cares. It's just a way for him to let everybody else know who owns your ass. (I don't get on my knees for no man. Yes, yes you do. You get on them for the most psychotic characters ever, it's unreal.)

W - Wild Card

I feel like Hyuga especially likes when you wear nothing but a hoodie and booty shorts. He's going to be staring at your ass whether or not you are in sweats, shorts, or a skirt. Bonus points if you are wearing nothing but the Daruma haori.

X - X-Ray

5 inches. Solid.

Y - Yearning

Majority of his time is spent getting high, fighting, and hanging out in his area. When it isn't, he will be home, sleeping or fucking you. That's just to say that he does try to make time for you, he's just fucking shitty at it.

Z - Zzz

Oh he's definitely falling asleep before you. Have you seen this sleepy man? He'll fall asleep anywhere.

Mutuals ♥: @talusional

#elixirol0gy #high and low fanfic #high and low #highandlowfanfic #frothing at the mouth #highandlowsmut #high and low hyuga #high and low hyuga smut #highandlowhyuga

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

What is a smile to a war? : bnha 367

Have you ever wanted to die? Wish for the world to end? Have you ever lose yourself for a couple of minutes and felt like you wanted something really bad to happen to yourself or everybody else?

Has someone ever made you laugh in one of those cases— and just by that you realized how much you didn't want any of it to happen?

You were just upset.

Hold this concept in your mind, would you? Because the heart of the pro-hero thesis of bnha is that a hero not only saves your body or gets rid of the villains threatening you— they also save you from yourself sometimes, from the darkness within you; they prevent future tragedies with the force of their kindness.

Kid Deku watching a video of All Might's debut:

And he's smiling!! Mom... no matter what kind of trouble you're in... he'll save you with a smile.

⠀When we were first introduced to Deku and his admiration for All Might, the one thing the story made emphasis on was All Might's smile. Why?

Because if you're afraid and you see the person rescuing you smile, you relax, it makes you feel better, it tones down your fear and anxiety.

It gives you hope.

I won't be able to put all the panels I wish I could show you to support this meta, so I'll rely on your good memory about the manga, okay?

⠀

During the Hero License arc, we learnt that being a hero is much more than just knowing how to fight. We already knew part of it from All Might's first session (take care of the situation with the minimum amount of damage to both the property and the people surrounding the fight).

We learnt that the way a hero saves a person matters. Their words, their attitude, how they carry themselves and how they approach the victims and situations, it all matters.

With Bakugou and Todoroki we learn that the job of a hero also implies daily services, like helping kids and guiding others, stuff Iida Tensei (former pro-hero Ingenium) used to do.

That's an idea that finds its development along many arcs, the maximum point being after the War arc, with Ochako's speech. When heroes were giving up, she reminded them it was not only about defeating the greater evil, but also about wanting to see everybody smile together again.

It is an echo of Nighteye lessons to Deku and Mirio, of course. An echo we see in bnha 367:

A world without smiles or honor... has no... bright future.

⠀As you know, my thesis is based on the idea that the major problem with the hero society was how they forgot what a real hero was, but not because everything was exclusively monetized (it was still part of the problem, I gotta admit). No, the major issue was exposed by Tomura Shigaraki in his first speech in front of the UA staff and students:

Violence became comfortable for the bnha world, mundane even, to the point heroes stop trying to find the root of the problems so they could treat it and the civilians stop trying to help because they thought it was the heroes jobs, not theirs. Serious issues were getting overlooked, the system was getting corrupted and the effort of the heroes was shallow, superficial, even if well-meant.

Tomura/Tenko in his thoughts:

Everyone just passed by, pretending not to see, thinking that some hero would save the day. Who decided to make the world this way?

AFO "rescuing" Tenko, kneeling down to hug him:

You'll be okay now... I am here.

⠀Let's take Nana Shimura as an example; she was a great hero, we all know, the one who trained Toshinori and taught him that the people who smiled when they were afraid were the strongest. However, she was not perfect and she shouldn't be regarded as such. She failed her son and her family, something Kotaro was right about.

Can a hero talk about justice if they sacrifice their families to save others? Why some lives matter more than others? Why are heroes allowed to decide who lives and who dies, instead of helping everyone they can equally in the measure of their context?

Bnha narration:

People... are not born equal.

What is a smile to a war?

You could ask what is the sacrifice of a kid for the safety of the world, right? A life for the safety of the entire planet?

For Endeavor, what were his children and his family for the glory of his name and the glory of the hero industry, for example?

What is Tomura to AFO? Toga to the media?

What is Deku —a quirkless kid— to an entire society of people with quirks and cool abilities?

⠀

We learned it through Kota in the Summer Camp arc and with Eri in the Overhaul arc. Both kids. One of them was a direct victim like Tomura of the hero society, the child of a broken family who had many reasons to hate what pro-heroes were; the other was a kid victim of the discrimination of quirks, a baby abandoned by her mother and used by criminal organizations for power and gain, just exactly what AFO did to Tenko/Tomura.

Deku could save Kota and Eri because he individually cared about them. No one told him there was a problem, he was actively looking. The same with Bakugo at the beginning, Deku didn't need a reason or a command, he didn't need the title or the suit, not even the quirk. He was doing the right thing.

Deku helped Kota because Kota was upset and he wanted to change that. He payed attention to Eri because she was crying. Same reason he found his way to help Bakugo, Todoroki and Iida.

What are they to Deku's journey of defeating AFO? Nothing. And everything.

Tomura talking to Doc Garaki and the LOV:

Every living, breathing thing just rubs me the wrong way. That weight in my heart is never gonna go away. So why not destroy it all?

⠀During his fight with Endeavor, AFO asked Hawks what was evil, what could be categorized as "wrong", why everybody got so easily offended. Then revealed that his main motivation of being a villain was because he wanted to make everyone bitter, everyone, inspired on those comic books villains.

In a way, it means "I am bad, everybody's bad too"

On the other hand, Tomura's motivation to destroy it all comes for the trauma of not being rescued. Why? Didn't he deserve it? Why people wouldn't help him? Isn't it because he must play the part of a villain?

Tenko asked his mother why his father hated him. Tomara also asked the UA staff what was the difference between villains and heroes using violence, the same way Toga asked Uraraka why people wouldn't help or save them (the villains).

There is real inequality in bnha: you have people like Spinner, Shinso, Hawks, Toga, Deku, Aoyama, Dabi, Tomura, Shouto, Hatsume, Aizawa... The list keeps on growing.

There are differences. Preferences even.

If you're a pretty metahuman to be used by the hero commission or a filthy "mutant" with a weak quirk, if you have a spooky quirk or a "villain" quirk, if you're quirkless or your quirk is not flashy enough or powerful enough, if you look creepy or are not "hero material", if you are hero material even if you don't want to be one...

Inequality. Discrimination. Society prescriptions.

AFO almost won, he almost made everyone mad and bitter, including Deku in bnha 367.

⠀

Go read what Nighteye told Mirio again.

The fight against AFO (and what he represents) isn't a fight of just weapons. It was a fight with the hero society itself.

Their indifference, their apathy, their prejudices...

A smile matters in a war because why the fuck would you fight for if the only thing your gonna leave behind is a bunch of broken people who wish they were dead.

Why would you rescue Eri if you're not going to fight everyday with her trauma so that she can be happy? Why would you leave Kota to live in pain and anger without his parents when you can make his life full of light again?

What about the Cultural Festival arc?

Or rescuing Deku from his suicidal mission?

Going for Bakugo and Iida and fighting for Shouto to melt his heart??? Shouto going for Dabi???

This is why what Hawks did to Twice was wrong, because he forgot the principle of a hero:

Every lives matter.

Every smile matters.

The reason Tomura doesn't see a future is 'cause no one has ever showed him otherwise. No one saved him back then and no one has saved him (yet) in 20 years. No one told him he deserved to live and be happy, no one ever stopped and tried to make him smile or laugh or ask him if he had friends or if he liked dogs.

AFO killed Tenko the day he put those hands on him and has been dragging his body around in a parade— and even when Tomura was screaming about pain and injustice and screaming about the problem of the hero society, no one listened to him, no one tried ro reach him.

Dead.

Except Deku sees him.

⠀

Every moment of the manga, every mission and arc, every panel and interaction, it has brought us here: to Deku asking AFO if Tenko/Tomura is still in there.

What is Tenko's smile to the bnha war?

Maybe the end of it. Maybe the defeat of AFO. You have a wounded animal that will try to attack you because it's in pain. Here are your options: you can kill every wounded animal you encounter or you can go search for the cause of their pain and treat it, so the next generations won't arrive at your door full of desperation and rage.

Everyone can be a hero, because everyone can do the right thing, everyone can make others smile, everyone can save someone one day just by telling a joke or being gentle.

⠀

A smile can prevent a war.

Which is more powerful than any weapon which could stop at war.

In summary, bnha is about a society ruled by violence and miscommunication learning that if they don't reach for each other, if they don't try to understand, if their only solution is to erase what make them uncomfortable... they're doomed to dissappear.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Bnha meta #Mha meta #Bnha spoilers #Mha spoilers #Mha 367 #Bnha 367 #Shan's mha meta #Shan's bnha meta #Shigaraki Tomura #Deku #Midoriya Izuku #Afo #All for one #All Might #Toshinori yagi #Bnha manga spoilers #Deku meta #Midoriya Izuku meta #Shigaraki Tomura meta #Bakugou katsuki #Todoroki Shouto #Iida tenya #league of villains #lov #Ua students #Long post

[soft-persephone]

Strange Kind of Feeling: (The Spell You Put me Under)

Grey McConnell x Black!Fem!Reader

I write with black women in mind, but all women are still welcome!

M // MDNI // WC: 5k // WA: mention of SA in conversation, but nothing graphic and no details. Biting during sex. Teasing. Dirty talk. Nipple play?// AN: I know nothing about Portland. Please don’t come for me // masterlist // summery:

Your friend tricks you into going to this bar for a mess you have nothing to do with, but a certain bartender has your attention, and you can’t find it in you to stop staring at him.

“Why do we need to be here?” You raised an eyebrow.

The Bad Alibi didn’t look like every other bar in Portland. It was rustic, full of metal, it was clean, but there could still be a thin layer of soot. Who knows?

Maybe it was just the vibe that made it feel that way, or there really was a thin layer of the stuff everywhere.

There were still homemade IPAs and all of those goodies in abundance, but you could tell whisky reigns supreme in this place.

One look at the bartender alone affirmed that belief.

A well taken care of and equally well worn red flannel was rolled up at the sleeves, he was thick and stocky, but it was accompanied by a sensible height, a lovely head of hair you wanted to run your fingers through, and a beard you were dying to touch.

He looked up with a quick smile and a wave before his face fell into a more neutral expression. You just as quickly averted your gaze back to your friend.

Fuck.

You hoped he wouldn’t notice you staring.

“I met this girl, and she was talking about you, so now we need to be here and talk to her.”

You did not like the forced casual straightforward tone or the vagueness in everything Luna was saying to you. Nothing about Luna was straightforward and to the point.. or weirdly and dangerously vague.

“A girl you just met was talking about me?” You looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Your friend averted her gaze before looking back up at you apologetically.

“And you think that’s just some type of coincidence?”

Luna fiddled with her fingers.

“Would you have come here if I told you?”

“From the way you are asking me that, no.”

“It’s about Dillon.” She said flatly, furring her brow in an effort to stand up to your bereavement at her.

“Dillon?!” You laughed dryly at that.

“Dillon Tryson,” a voice interrupted, making a beeline into your eye of vision and slamming a folder on a table in front of you, “you know him?”

“Unfortunately,” you sighed, taking a seat, “however I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

Two long excruciating hours later, and you both finally reached a conclusion she was happy with.

Dillon was an old client of yours at a PR firm. You were representing him until he committed the ultimate fuck up of character and career assassination of sexually assaulting someone.

Per protocol, you did one final statement and you guys fucking dropped him. A PR firm is only as good as its results, and this guy was a fucking failure.

She was looking for him.

You give her what you could, but for some reason she thinks you're lying, and you are running out of ways to prove how you, obviously, are not lying to her.

“He was a client of yours? How are you not protecting him through this? Your firm is clearly in on what he did with this poor young girl. There is no way you guys can just wash your hands of this!”

You were trying to take this moment seriously. You really were, but your eyes kept meeting the bartenders. You wanted to observe him in his natural habitat, and he was trying to figure out the commotion going on at your table.

You found your eyes at his arms again which soon led you to the new discovery of his hands. God, his hands., massive things they were. Your eyes trailed the path of veins on his arms to his hands. You admired the dexterous arches of his fingers as he maneuvered glasses of drinks and bottles of beers. How he’d towel freshly washed ones before putting them away.

Thoughts of how they would feel soon plagued your mind. Were they soft? Were they rough? Would he caress your skin gently or knead your flesh roughly in an effort to amass your inevitable destruction, pushing you to a point of no return until you beg him to stop. Breaking your skin and pulling at flesh, molding himself to you with such harsh thrust you feel the shadow of his body in you for the rest of the week. Until that deep seated ache becomes a memory.

Would he tease you with those hands or would he worship you?

You needed to stop thinking about him before you were too far gone, but you couldn’t fight the new desire to study his face just as intently. You Just need to watch him a little bit longer. Then you would stop, and move on with your life. You slowly eyed up his torso, savoring the last glance before you pinched yourself back into reality, back into the conversation you were having.

When you reached his face, you were met with a heady gaze.

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Dark pools of brown were staring into you. You couldn’t prove it, but you could feel his eyes boring into you, exposing you for what you are, what you were doing. His jaw pulled taught as he silently studied you from afar. He didn’t smirk, he didn't gloat laugh. . . He just stared into you.

A hand snapped its fingers into your face.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Dex seethed at her. “Do you not take this seriously?”

“I do, I do!” You raised your hands in defense before licking your lips and ripping your eyes away from his heated stare to face the woman in front of you.

She narrowed her eyes at you, turning around in her seat to see what could possibly be holding your attention.

She berated you with more questions even opting to go back to the beginning, asking you questions she already knew the answer to.

You cant take her questions, you cant take the gaze of this man you had never met before, the atmosphere of the room itself was starting to close in on you.

“Calm the fuck down!” you hissed. “ You wanted to scream, but the result of having even more eyes on you was a nightmare. You just needed the yelling to stop before it got worse. “Here is the key to my office and the password to my computer as well as my work phone, “you threw it on the table along with the napkin you just wrote on. “Have a blast.”

“Well.” Dex stood up, pursing her lips. Her expression unreadable to you. Her regards of ambivalent contemptment for you was now replaced with judging disdain. “You're staying here until I can prove your involvement –

“ – or lack of involvement.” you interrupted.

‘We’ll see about that.” She scoffed before turning to your friend Luna, “You're coming with me.”

Before walking out the door, your friend slyly turned around without the other women noticing and gave you a smile of complete glee.’

You mouthed an, ‘you owe me’ and she gave you a thumbs up.

You stood awkwardly for a moment. The bar was less than quiet, people were petering out one by one, save for a few lonely souls left at the main bar, quiet and long gone.

Avoiding his eyeline, you made your way over and took a seat at one of the barstools.

“What do you like?” his voice flooded your senses. It was low and gravely, but with a hint of teasing that didn’t match the heaviness of his gaze. As much as the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering in a storm of fury within you. The titlewave of his presence was worth focussing on instead, your nerves be damned. You bit your lip and braved to make eye contact with him once more.

“Aside from the staring?” half of his mouth turned up into a smile before falling back into its neutral more intense state.

“Whisky.” You lkcked your lips before settling into your seat and finding a comfortable position to place your hands.

He grabbed two glasses before reaching high above several shelves to a tiny dark cabinet before pulling out a very complicated wooden box to reveal a small fat but decadent glass bottle, barely dented.

“Whisky.” He deftly poured a generous amount into each glasses.

You licked your lips nervously before nodding to him in thanks. He stared into your eyes and smiled, but you felt no mirth from his gaze, “my treat.” He leaned closer to you, the natural musk of his skin smelt as earthy as the whisky you were nursing in your hand.

You brought the glass to your nose and took in a deep breath of it, your eyes not breaking contact with his over the brim, licking your lips you took a sip.

It was smooth, the smoothest you’ve had in a while. The subtle notes of dark brown sugar didn’t help either. As slightly sweet as it tasted, it was even stronger, going straight to your head.

“Girl knows her whisky.”

You couldn’t help how quickly your eyes met his. How the slightest movement from him in this moment affected your posture, how your face changed and your eyebrows rose at his words, but you could hate yourself for it. No matter the fact that it was a human act out of your control, you could still regret it.

You finished off your glass, letting it thud against the counter as you bared your teeth at the strength of it. You felt headier than you should. You weren’t that drunk off of one drink, but from that serving alone you knew it could get you into trouble.

Were you looking for trouble?

He made a similar face. Letting out a strong low huff of appreciation before filling up both your glasses again. You opened your mouth to protest, but he leveled you with another look.

You licked your lips. “Please, I don’t think I—“

“Drink.” He said it low and gravely. The sound of his voice dancing against your ears filled your belly with a warmth stronger than the whisky ever could.

“I—“

He leaned over the counter, his face closer to yours, and oh what a mistake it was, what a mistake it all was. Your eyes glanced over every bump and curve of your face. The alchohol coursing through you was too strong to let you feel embarrassed about it.

“If your going to keep staring at me, then you drink when I say drink.” He graveled lowly in your face. His voice sounded even warmer than before. His breath tickled your nose and fanned across your face. You could smell the drink on his breath. You could smell it on him, and they both went so well together.

You should stop. You really should, but the temptation of his presence, being this close to him, was much more promising. It was worth risking.

“Drink.” He pulled away from you, and you bit your toughe at the loss of his presence before taking your glass and sipping on its contents once more.

“What do you want?” He said after a sip, darting his tongue across his lips before shifting his stance and tilting his head to the side.

You didn’t answer, weakly holding onto your glass.

“What do you want?” His voice sounded lighter, the words flowing out of him like a chuckle, but his eyes weren’t laughing.

“I,” you stopped yourself this time. You were both adults. There’s was no point of beating around the bush. He wouldn’t have kept you here for no reason.

“I want another shot of whisky.”

He nodded.

Taking the bottle once more he poured you a generous serving. You brought the glass to your lips. Instead of sipping its precious contents, your took the biggest gulp of it you could. Some of it sloshed on the side of the glass, your tongue darted out to catch it.

Upon doing so, this time you caught him staring at you. Somehow his gaze felt even heavier on you, his irises looking even darker than before.

You took your last drink, not breaking eye contact with him. He walked out the little opening on the side before stepping into your space. The little area between bar stools leaving him no other option other to crowd your space and you to let him.

Slowly, he brought his hand to your cheek, letting his thumb wipe at the corner of your mouth before slipping it into his mouth.

With a soft pop, he grabbed your glas from you and placed it on the counter.

“If we’re going to do this, your going to follow my rules.”

You nodded. Your chest was heaving and he barely touched you. You felt so overwhelmed you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

“You started this,” he slid his hand on the nape of your neck and roughly pulled you into him, “so you’re going to finish it,” he ended his sentence by bringing his mouth to yours. As if he was trying to take back every drop of whisky he gave you. His mouth was hot and heavy like his eyes. He mouthed at yours, he sucked on you, devoured you whole. His hands keeping you in place as he swiped his tongue roughly against yours.

He didn’t let you go until your lungs were screaming for air, but at that point you didn’t need air. You needed more of him.

Your chest rose and fell. Your mouth agape and panting. You felt almost dizzy as if cast under a spell.

“Yes,” you breathed out, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt, “please,” you panted, “please let me.”

He lived above his bar.

You figured it out as he dragged you up the stairs with his mouth on yours. His grip strong and tight as if you’d suddenly disappear on him, so you kissed him back with just as much desperation, licking into his mouth as he had done yours. The whisky tasting so much better on him. You longed to taste more to lick and suck every last drop of it out of his mouth..

You bit his lip as he sat on the edge of his bed, taking you down with him.

You started kissing away from his mouth, nipping at his cheeks in between, but you wanted his jaw. You wanted to start there and trail them down his neck, to get his shirt off and go even further. Mouthing at any and every part of his chest you could get to.

As if sensing what you wanted, he stopped you with a hard grip of his massive hand on your jaw.

“Now just what,” he huffed into your face, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Kisses.” Was all you could manage to pant out.

“Like I said earlier.” He squeezed his grip on your jaw a little tighter, making your cheeks puff up and your glasses slip a little too high onto your forehead. He gently took them off with his other hand before tossing them on his nightstand, “this all goes down how I want it to.”

He rubbed at your cheek gently with his thumb.

“That doe eyed look isn’t going to get you whatever you want, so you can put those puppy dog eyes away.”

A sound you’ve never made before fell out of your lips. It was high pitched like a wine, but even needier.

You squeezed your thighs around him, grinding slowly, chasing the feeling of his body.

He squeezed harder at your cheeks, bringing water to the edges of your eyes.

“What did I say?” He slowly peeled your skirt off your body after he rid you of your skirt, his hands roamed over your thighs, feeling and savoring every inch of your soft supple skin. They were calloused but not too harsh, smooth, and strong. They were large and hot on your body.

You leaned into his touch.

The thought of him slipping his fingers into you had you biting your lip. You wanted it. You wanted him oh so badly. So badly.

“I said it was going to be my way or not at all,” he let go of your face and slowly trailed his hand down your neck to your breast. He slowly thumbed at your nipple before pushing harshly, making you hiss, “and you said yes.”

He brought his other hand to your other breast, matching his movements for each one as he circled roughly at your nipples, each swipe of his thumbs caused you to cry out or wince at every turn and swirl of them on your skin. The flat of his palms were pushing and pulling at the swell of your breasts.

Every second felt like a lifetime, and with each small death and revival you grew wetter and wetter.

“You make such pretty noises.” He leaned in closer, kissing on your neck. “Wonder what you sound like when I do this.”

He wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, sucking hard.

Balling your fists into his shirt, you keened.

The combination of hot wet mouth seeing into your skin as he sucked at your breast and the scratchiness of his beard was sending you over the edge.

You couldn’t cum yet, you just couldn’t. Not like this.

Moving, you tried to pull away, but when he switched his mouth to your other one, making sure to bite the nipple first before soothing the sting of with a swipe of his tongue.

You came with a small cry, wining and writhing in his lap.

He whispered words of encouragement in your ear, gently rubbing your back.

“Fuck.”

He looked at you with such reverence. The dark irises of his eyes almost sparkling at you in the dark, catching you off guard.

“You're perfect.”

You snapped your head to the wide, refusing to look at him.

“Pretty,” he grabbed your chin, making you look. “Beautiful even.,”

He slid you off his lap, placing you on the bed.

“Take your shirt off.”

As you clumsily fingered your buttons undone, you watched him slide his shirt over his head. His low simmering gaze shifted into one of half incredulous as he watched your jaw slack once his undershirt was off and he was unbuckling his belt.

You didn’t have time to process seeing all of him as he shoved his pants and underwear in one motion, he was already siding himself over you, pushing you slowly onto your back.

“Thought I told you to take this off.” He smirked before finishing the last buttons and throwing your shirt somewhere far and forgotten.

“Tried t—“ he plunged two fingers into your pussy, cutting you off.

“Toosoon.” Your chest tightened causing your voice to rise unexpectedly shrill.

He added another finger, making you flutter around the three of them curling in and out of you.

“This what you wanted when you kept staring at me down there?” He leveled at you, quickening the pace of his fingers. Your whines and pants, the wet squelching sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you filling the room.

“Yes.” You replied sharply with a moan.

“Aren’t you just a dirty little thing.” he abruptly pulled his fingers out of you and smacked your ass hard.

You yelped and he slapped your ass again before digging his fingers into the meat of it, pushing you down roughly into bed.

You couldn’t keep up. From the handful of moments he was sweet, the small moments where he was cruel and hurting you, and the moments he liked to mock you and praise you. Which one was he? Which one was really him?

But you couldn’t find the time to care about it now. You would take every morsel of praise, each sliver of praise, the sparingly few moments of gentleness, and the sprinkles of pain and cruelty. You would take it all. Any and every little thing he gave you.

His body smothering yours into the bed, you took each and every hard thrust of his hips into yours. His nails digging into the flesh of your skin and every hard slapping sound of his hips meeting yours caused you to gush around his cock every little bit more.

You fisted the sheets and clenched your teeth together to keep them from clattering together at one particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you moaned. “ more. Harder.”

He bit the side of your neck hard, his tongue chasing the new indentions of his teeth on your skin before doing the impossible and obliging your request. Taking a fist of your hair, he pulled, thrusting down in unison.

The pleasure and pain tickled down your spine. It felt so good. You wanted his mouth on you once more. To bite you one more time. But as his cock slipply slid out of you, he cursed, tightening his grip on your hair even more.

“You're so wet.”

Your low howl of pain morphed into a moan as he pushed into you once more, letting go of your hair, he laid down on top of you, wrapping his hands around your front.

He moaned lowly in your ear, matching the responding harmony of the one spilling from your lips.

He set a new fast and languid pace that made your toes curl. He took this opportunity to twist and tease at one of your nipples.

“You're so pretty like this.” He kissed and sucked along your jaw, your neck, your collar, “making a mess just for me. Letting me use you however I want.” His words, the scratch of his beard as he focused on mouthing at your skin, if you didn’t wake up with a rash from the friction, you’d be surprised.

You managed to snake your hand behind you into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“Bite me again,” you rasped, “hard.”

And he did, way harder than before.

You squeezed around him tight, and you both moaned as you came. His thirsts became shaky, his grip on your sides even harder, before he pulled out.

“Turn over.” He growled through his teeth.

With shaky legs and your head in a daze you managed to fall over into your back. Your hands splayed beside your head as you looked up at him with parted lips, your chest frantically heaving up and down as you made eye contact with him.

The site of your swollen nipples, the way your plush lips parted at him without a throught on your mind as your lust blown eyes took him in, desperately trying not to miss the way he fucked his own hand as he looked into you, as you looked into his eyes once more as you’ve done all night, he came, thick wet hot spurts of him spilled all over your chest. Littered with marks of his teeth.

—

You squint your eyes even further shut as the late morning rays of sunshine perturbed you from sleep.

You rolled over in bed, reaching to find a certain someone only to feel nothing.

You bolted upright in an instant.

Your body protested the moment as well as your head as it grew even fuzzier at the movement. You groaned.

You were hungover and your body aches everywhere, some places more than others. For good reason too.

“Slow down,” a voice from the other side of the room called, “don’t move so fast. You're going to hurt yourself.”

Large warm hand pushed a mug in yours.

“Good morning by the way.” He kissed you on the forehead before bounding off back into the kitchen.

Without thinking you slowly raise the mugs to your lips.

Everything was fuzzy. Why was everything fuzzy? Were you that hungover? What….

“Glasses!” You gurgled out in a mumble.

“Oh!” He plated whatever he was cooking on the stove before placing two on the table, already set with forks and knives.

He padded over once more. Grabbing your glasses from the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He wore a casual pair of pajama pants and a wife beater that complimented his wide shoulders.

You thanked him softly and reached for them, but he pulled them closer to him.

“Uhh uh.” He smiled down at you, making you sigh in defeat.

With a silent laugh he placed them on your face for you before kissing you in the forehead again.

“I can offer you breakfast if you like.”

“I’d like that.” You hummed, smiling softly.

He beamed, taking your mug from your hands to place it by your plate.

He was sweet.

Your skin held no sticky or uncomfortable residue and you were wearing a worn green t shirt .. or was it blue. It was so faded it was hard to tell. Maybe it used to be gray.

You stood on shaky legs and he rushed over to keep you stable. You jabbed him lightly in the chest.

“I got it.” You huffed.

He raised his hands in mock defeat before crossing his arms.

“If you say so..”

You laughed before putting your hand under your shirt, raising it a little as you softly touched one of your nipples. Still swollen and it hurt like hell as you moved. Even the smallest bit of friction from the t shirt was too much.

He swallowed, looking at you with intent before quizzically raising a brow.

“You, alright?” He gruffly asks before gesturing at your chest with a hand.

“I think I’ll live.” You huffed out a laugh as you both made your way to the table, but it was more at his supposed bashfulness. He caused this with his own mouth, but seemed too shy to talk about it.

“Let’s eat!”

Whenever a man brags about his cooking you take it with a grain of salt. However, his eggs were no joke.

“These are so good!”

“Right?” His chest puffed a little as you devoured your food.

Placing your fork down, you winced again.

“Are you sure we don’t need to—“

“No!”

A few beats of silence passed and he scratched the back of his neck.

“No,” you said softer again, “just give me a few painkillers and it’ll pass.”

He stood there. His face scrunched and unsure.

“I’ll be fine,” you stood up and placed your hands on his shoulders, “I promise.”

“Okay.” He tentatively looks at you once more time before heading to his bathroom.

You were about to sigh when you heard the door rattle before opening.

What the..

“What are you doing here?”

Dex.. the lady from last night who wouldn’t stop berating you. Was now berating you in—

“Grey what the fuck!”

“Dex?” He frowned, “uhh, what’s going on ? Why are you up so early?”

Oh that’s right. That’s what was missing. You were so desperate you both overlooked the obvious.

“Your name's Grey?” You asked.

You felt pretty dumb after the fact, but it was automatic earnestness that overridden your brain and made you ask.

“Grey McConnell.” He smiled at you, making his way over to your side as you both faced off against Dex.

The action had you forming one of your own. You fought the giggle bubbling inside you and told him your name.

He said it aloud, feeling how it sounded in his mouth, wishing he could have known it last night, and you slightly froze at the sound.

“I like that.”

Your face grew unbearably hot and you looked away, refusing to look at him saying your name, like that.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Dex hissed once more.

“Meet me downstairs!” She glared at you, “we didn’t finish our conversation about Dillon Tryson!”

She looked Grey up and down .“You two.” She pointedly looked at him before storming he way down the stairs out of his apartment.

You stilled stunned for a moment, blinking.

“She’s not that bad.”

“You’re friends?” You asked incredulously. Thinking about it, it probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say given the situation, but he didn’t seem to take it personal.

“Yeah, yeah.” He slowly moved you towards his bed, “let’s find you a pair of pants that fit.”

“I think I can fit into some of your pajama pants or sweats if you have any.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As you both slowly made your way down the stairs he placed his hand on the small of your back, you hummed in surprise as your back arched into the touch. He breathed sharply through his nose which made you realize what you were doing.

“Fuck if you do that one more time I might have to drag you back upstairs and fuck you until you can’t walk.”

Your aching pussy throbbed at his words as you had to swallow your moan as Dex came into view at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry.” You managed to squeak out. Not entirely sure why you were saying sorry.

“I didn’t find anything comiramising, but I can’t shake the feeling that you're a liar! You're involved in this in some way!” Dex accused.

“You know you're not keeping that shirt or that pants right?” Grey questioned you as if Dex hadn’t said anything.

You purse your lips and force yourself not to look at the death glare she was sending your way.

“I’m sorry?”

“You're not walking out of here with this on.” He added before pinching at the fabric of your shirt with a smile, flapping it back and forth which made it rub against your painfully swollen nipples.

You couldn’t hide the wince of pain.

Mortified, your head snapped toward Dex, but she was looking up at the ceiling, rolling her eyes.

You grabbed Grey’s arms, but he didn’t let go, moving the shirt again, so you resulted in standing closer to him, but he only pulled you closer into him, your chest rubbing into his.

You were about to cry out but he shoved your face into him, muffling the sound of it as Dex snapped her head toward you both.

“Will you two knock it off! There is a woman's life at stake who deserves justice! This isn’t some fucking game!”

You looked up at Grey with a frown, and he only looked down at you with a casual smile. Like he was doing nothing wrong.

He might be sweet, he may be good at taking care of you, but he was a fucking menace.

He was going to be the death of you.

AN: thank you for reading!!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one!!

#Jake Johnson #Stumptown abc #Stumptown #Stumptown fanfiction #Grey McConnell x reader #Grey McConnell x black reader #Jake Johnson x black reader #x black reader #black writer #black fanfiction writer #black fanfiction #Jake Johnson x reader

[the-modern-typewriter]

Could you write smt with a villain who lets the hero get away with stuff all the time because of how they feel about them and lets the hero cross personal boundaries that the hero’s allies wouldn’t even dream of until one day the hero fucks up big time and the villain reminds them of their place

"I wonder, perhaps," the villain mused, "if you have forgotten who I am."

The hero's throat felt tight, attention pinballing between the villain's face, their casual posture, and the body on the floor. 

Their best friend looked so small. So unlike themselves. 

The hero opened their mouth but nothing would come out except the raw, painful shock of it, wordless. They felt like they'd taken a knife to the stomach, all the blood and guts rushing out of them, before the full extent of what had happened even registered. Before they could think what to do. All they could do was put a numb metaphorical hand to the area as a numb, metaphorical voice in their head told them with slight hysteria to 'apply pressure' as if it wasn't already far too light.

There was so much blood on the floor between the two of them.

The hero's trembling fingers flexed.

"I'm not your tamed monster pet." The villain met the hero's eyes, their own blazing. "I'm not some toothless thing no longer dangerous, except in the memory of what I once was. And I'm certainly not someone you can push, and push, and push without ever pushing back."

"I - I don't - you -" The hero's fists curled, hard. Anger began to bubble up their lungs.

"You have your lines," the villain said, leaning back upon their makeshift throne, fingers steepled, voice oh so calm. "Your boundaries. I have taken infinite care in the past not to cross them, despite the frequent liberties you take with me. Or did you think that my mercy was merely accidental? Something that required no effort?"

"I thought you were better than this." It came out croaky.

"Mm. This is one of your boundaries, isn't it? The wholesale slaughter of someone you care about? I pay attention."

"You're trying to hurt me."

It was such a dumb thing to say. So obvious. So not the point, and so exactly the point that the hero's head reeled.

The villain's lip curled in something like contempt, and something else entirely.

"You went too far."

"I didn't - if you'd just -"

The villain laughed. There was nothing joyous to it, not even a wicked sort of glee. "You didn't know? Is that it? You didn't care to know, or if you did, you figured it didn't really matter in your pursuit of what you considered right. What you wanted to achieve. I'm sure it was a great moment for you."

The hero's jaw clenched. "I haven't killed any of your people. I haven't gone out of my way to hurt you."

"No," the villain said. "You simply humiliated me."

"What?"

"The other night."

The hero stared at them. They'd thought -

"That's what this is about? That's what you killed them for?" It came out shrill. "You can fix a reputation. You can't bring someone back to life!"

All they'd done was use the villain as a cover, said they loved them and gushed and flirted so that no one would pay attention as they infiltrated...

"What you need to learn, hero," the villain's voice was no longer quite so calm either, "is that just because something doesn't matter to you, doesn't mean that it doesn't matter. All I did was hit back equally hard. You were not without warning."

"I didn't think you'd care, I-"

"-I realise I am partially to blame. I let you get away with far too much," the villain said. "I can see that now. The favours, the little insults, the flirting. The consistent way you would press past my boundaries when everyone else was smart enough to leave it alone. I suppose you called it bravery."

"You called it that too." The tectonic plates of the hero's world had shifted beneath their feet, or so it felt. "I didn't think it would make you this angry - I didn't -"

"No," the villain said. "You didn't think. I hope this will be an effective reminder to."

The hero shook their head, and their nerveless limbs finally moved, away from the door to crumple to their knees before their friend, to cradle their head. "You're a monster."

"Yes," the villain said, and finally their voice was almost kind, almost like how the hero remembered it being in the moments when - "yes, I am. That's the lesson, buddy." They rose to their feet, powers roiling like turbulent waters, and pressed a heart (their friend's heart, god was their friend's bloody heart?!) into the hero's hand. "Don't ever assume to embarrass me for your own gain again. Or the next time," they pressed their lips to the hero's ear, looming over them like the storybook nightmare everyone else always hissed that they were, "the heart I give you back will be yours."

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #fiction #story #ficlet #short fiction #dialogue #creative writing #hero #villain

[olliandre]

I’ve reblogged many posts about this already, but I still want to convey my own thoughts, because I simply cannot make peace with the ending. Although I’ve got issues with many things, this time I just want to talk about Mhok getting the worst treatment despite being the best character in the show.

To be honest, I saw the signs that his relationship with Day is not the best quite a long time ago, I simply chose to ignore it because I was so enchanted with the show and liked it so much. For me, the story started to be f*cked upon quite early, when the August plot began. Everything before was beautiful, since we’ve seen Day and Mhok getting to know each other better, opening up to one another, understanding the other better. Although it was Mhok who especially changed a lot for Day, supporting him in every way, I still found it endearing, since Day was in this fragile situation in which he needed someone to be there for him, help him find the light. It was so heartwarming, seeing him gradually open up to Mhok and trying new things out. I loved that for each other, they were both just normal people, Day with his vision impairment and Mhok despite being in prison. I could feel that they started to share this unique bond, that they felt things for each other. So, getting to know that Day actually likes August, felt surreal to me. They built this tension between Day and Mhok just to throw it to the trash bin.

Yes, thanks to Mhok Day could challenge those feelings and people from his past. Yes, Mhok was really important to Day and he couldn’t imagine his life without Mhok at that point. But. Was that really necessary though, to bring August in? I understand the intention that there are lots of people who pity those with life situations like Day’s, how bad it is, and that they wanted to show that Mhok is different. But. Was that REALLY necessary? They could have just showed that Day realized he didn’t really have feelings for August anymore, that Mhok took his place somehow. Day realizing how August treated him, in contrary to how Mhok was to him. They could show August pitying Day and Day getting angry and hurt over it. They didn’t have to go for what they chose. And when Mhok kissed Day after August turned out to be an asshole, it seemed so rushed, the kiss didn’t feel earned and it wasn’t satisfying at all. They made Mhok take advantage of Day while he was being vulnerable and then forcing himself on him, instead of being his safe-space like he was and still should.

I followed the show nevertheless, even if this plot point disappointed me. I wanted to see Day and Mhok together. When Day was putting this wall between them, with Mhok still flirting, it was such an imbalance. Up from this point, the show decided that to the very end it will be Mhok begging for Day’s affection, not the mutual relationship in which both sides cares about each other equally. I know that Day really started to love Mhok and I adored the rainbow scene in episode 9, because it gave such a good message of seeing without seeing, that you don’t need your vision to see things, and you don’t need to be with people who aren’t in this world anymore to be close to them. It felt like both of them grew in their own ways thanks to each other’s presence in their life. But even if Day loved Mhok, it doesn’t mean he treated him the way he should.

It was always Mhok caring about Day, being considerate of his feelings, forgiving everything and making a real effort to be close. While watching this, it just screamed to me that it was Mhok who loved more and tried more. Day, on the contrary, when Mhok made this one mistake, instead of cooling off for a few days and talking again in order to understand each other’s perspectives, like people in relationships would normally do, JUST BROKE UP WITH MHOK ON THE SPOT. For me, it showed just how shallow his love for Mhok was, to cut him off like this, instead of trying to work things out. Mhok has always been the person who encouraged him to be independent and helped him in not being as reliant on other people as he was in the past.

Yes, Mhok was a bit overprotective and liked to baby Day since their relationship started off from being a caretaker, but I have never once felt that Mhok pitied Day. He was the only one not feeling pity for him actually, the one who believed in him and encouraged him. It was so weird to me that Day could have even thought about Mhok pitying him, especially because he knew about Mhok’s trauma. He should have understanded him better, after all the time they’ve spent together. He should have had those second thoughts about his impulsive decision after thinking for a while. I’m so enraged by the fact that this one time when Mhok wasn’t perfect, when he got problems and needed Day’s support, when it was finally Day’s turn to make an effort in the relationship, Day just ended it, making Mhok this bad person who hurt him terribly. He’s hurt Mhok multiple times before, but Mhok has forgiven everything, forgotten everything. It reminded me of just how young and immature Day was.

But it wouldn’t be as bad if Day grew up after the time-skip and realized his mistake. If he apologized to Mhok that he couldn’t do better at that time, because deep down he was still a kid and he was going through a lot. If the writers couldn’t make him try to make it up to Mhok, they could have at least made him admit that his reaction too was wrong back then. But no, Mhok was pathetically begging Day to take him back instead, bugging him even after being refused to multiple times, apologizing and saying it was all his fault. Just how much Mhok can forgive Day, be the bigger person over and over again? This is going way too far and honestly, the way writers’ decisions cause him to treat Mhok, just made me dislike Day in the end. I’m aware of Day’s age, aware of how bitter and angry he was, I’m aware of his issues, that he couldn’t deal with that. I don’t blame him for that. What I blame him for, is that he didn’t actually grow in the end.

And don’t get me wrong, I loved Day and wished him the best from the beginning to end. I was hoping he and Mhok could work their issues out, mature and learn the healthy way to go about their relationship. However, after the story concluded, I’ve just realized how unlikeable Day could get at times and that the writers didn’t try to fix it at all. He was lashing out at people and didn’t feel guilty about it, I think he’s never apologized once, was always taking things from Mhok and didn’t give anything other than his very own presence in return. Even in the end, he couldn’t tell Mhok that he’s handsome. Just this small thing! And the fact that Mhok replied: „Fine. But I still love you” concluded everything they had from the beginning to the end.

I’m gonna be honest. If the writers wanted things to look this way, they may as well just let them live their seperate lifes. This is extremely unhealthy and I’m disappointed, so, so disappointed that the writers decisions basically smashed not only Mhok's, but also Day’s character in so many ways. Because yes, Day is also a victim of the script and I’m truly sorry they did him this dirty. Every character development writers had for him was trashed without a second thought.

#thai bl #last twilight #the last twilight #mhokday #mhok last twilight #mhok x day #day last twilight #mypost

[maxwell-grant]

Thoughts on Lupin: Part 3

Covered my thoughts on seasons 1 and 2 already and I just finished season 3 so I'm gonna write about it here. Bottom line: HahahahaHA this show rules so much man.

Everything that was strong about the prior seasons is still there if not better, and they patched up several things I otherwise disliked about it. Also god I missed the mark big time by watching the prior seasons with the English dub for some reason, no wonder I didn't like most of the characters when they all sounded like they were sleepwalking. Just, watch with the French audio, don't be an idiot like me.

I actually like Assane's family now? Maybe that's because of the dub thing letting me see the actual performances, but there seemed to be a lot more effort this season to make us care about Claire and Raoul's own struggles and the really bad things they have to deal with because of Assane and how they deal with them. There's an extent to which these characters exist because otherwise Assane would suffer no consequences and no caveats to just doing whatever he wants, a.k.a the cool Lupin stuff we signed up for but can't be too over-indulged in, and that made them feel more like roadblocks than people, but to me this time they actually feel more like people, and people who can have their own things going on or even get involved in the good stuff without compromising their importance, and those consequences thus actually matter more.

God I can't believe how great the disguises were this season and how many there were. Again, definitely feels like they had to refine the process in the first two seasons so we can have this one with Assane actually going the nine yards with multiple overlapping fake personas and disguises per episode. Omar is masterful in all of them and the show seems so confident that it even lets Ben, Guedira and Claire dip their toes in the action a bit. I was actually really impressed by Coach Alex, even though he does look a bit uncanny and a little A.I-ish. I could still buy that as a real person.

It's doing this thing I really like that The Shadow does, where the character has a lot of different methods by which he achieves his disguises ranging from high-tech/borderline fantasy to very simple DIY tools, but the process featured is obscured enough that you can never fully tell which is being used, and so the character can have this borderline superpower still grounded enough to not look like one.

I actually didn't mind the villain this time around. There's a nice progression of putting Assane against an invisible and seemingly invincible shadowy gang forcing him to do their bidding (which lets them do the heist-of-the-week format without compromising the larger plot), that turns out to be just one horrible man from his past armed with henchmen and a grudge, which means he gets to be developed and taken out within the season without much delay and without Assane having to make stupid out-of-character blunders to let him escape to menace another day (which was a problem I had with Pelligrini). I like that Keller gets to be legitimately scary as a threat to Assane's loved ones, but is also undone by being a stupid piece of shit who only knows how to abuse and manipulate children until they all turn on him, and once he and Assane are on even ground he goes out like a chump.

Putting Pellegrini completely out of sight and saving him for the final twist where he's been pulling a Kingpin in prison with god knows what consequences even warmed me up to him as a villain, if nothing else because, okay, a Lupin worth his name needs a Cagliostro menace, and the ending twist isn't even about him so much as it's about the betrayal of someone Assane confided in.

And unfortunately that ending twist is good enough that it would be awful if any of those three turned out to be the backstabbers and there's equal arguments for being any of them (I don't think it's going to be Pellegrini's daughter precisely because she's the most predictable, I don't think they'd do the Countess of Cagliostro that 1-to-1)

(Art is from the cover of Lupin: Échec à la reine, which is a prequel novel focused on Benjamin. I don't think it's been translated to English but it got published in Brazil.)

Look, it's good drama, yes, we need stakes to keep this going, yes, but BEN NOOOOO, GODDAMNIT ASSANE

Unfortunately I can't fault Assane that much despite the fact that he barely knew his mom. There was no good option there, Ben would have fumbled it if he was even a little on the plan, and I'm not sure if he later realized why Assane did it or if he didn't realize at all, I mean the ending twist sets him up as one of the potential backstabbers and it's gonna be really fucking heartbreaking if so, but...man, I don't fault the way everyone reacted to that episode, but I can't get that mad at Assane for what he did.

The heist he did with his mom at the prime minister's mansion complete with jetski escape added another 10 years to our lifespan. Utterly delightful. I love this show so much.

I was a bit iffy on how the prior seasons approached the existence of Arsene Lupin books in-text and I'm still a little mixed on it. However, the sheer reverence and omnipresent popularity of Arsene Lupin the character actually isn't even that unrealistic to the character's real life popularity in France or elsewhere, or how much the show has done to refuel said popularity. I mean, hell, I and others got to see it firsthand Lupin being the talk of the town non-stop. It still takes me a little out of the show, but it's far from a dealbreaker.

Major major leg that this thing has above so many other contemporary reboots/adaptations is that this is FUN, Lupin in general should always get to be fun and more than a little stupid sometimes, and this gets it. This thing delights in carrying us through every step of the process by which the main character does his impressive things, laying out all the components in plain sight and putting them together and even letting you feel smart for realizing how it's coming together and still being surprised when it does.

This is the show that Sherlock wishes it was, because of course Lupin can't make a comeback without putting one over his good old rival Sholmes.

The show was always strong, I think, but every season so far's just been refining things and making all of it's strengths better. It's so so good and I hope it keeps going, this thing does crazy numbers every season, I just never see it talked about much in English circles. I'm glad it's been going strong the way it has. Assane has become one of my favorite protagonists in anything and I might even watch the show again soon.

Still unbelievably good and has only gotten better from what was already a very strong start.

#lupin #lupin netflix #assane diop #benjamin farel #lupin part 3 #arsene lupin #pulp heroes #tv shows

[27emailsicantsend]

You know what I just realized when Ricky told Gina that she was super busy with the movie filming and barely had no time to make to to rehearsal not with her tight schedule on Halloween episode so you know what Gina did. She took care of issue next day when she told Quinn that she could film all day with Mack as that was most of her filming schedule with him so that she would have all the time to do HSM3 with Ricky. So she did something about it and made sure she would have time for Ricky and the drama club, unlike EJ. When EJ was so overwhelmed last summer with all of tasks and he didn't even ask Val for help or anyone as well to take some of burdens so he would have some time to spend with Gina so this really shows that Gina was truly committed to Ricky and drama club because she actually cared about them and they were very important to her more than anything else and didn't want to put them off or ignore it just because she was too busy. EJ thought the problem would go away itself and everything would be okay and the problems would keep increasing to the point that Gina just had it with him and had to end it. I find it very interesting that when you are truly commit to something, you do everything in your power to make sure you get what you want. If you don't care much about something, why bother to put all the efforts into it. Gina showed her commitment to the drama club and her time with Ricky and she proved it. EJ didn't bother to do all that so that really shows that he wasn't really committed to Gina at all. She wasn't first thing on his mind and not even his first priority and never was. It was all about impressing his father. So if he was really committed to Gina, his actions would have showed differently. This is not that hard. If you care about someone, you show it through your actions. Like he had many jobs and college courses and more and yet he made time to talk to Val on the phone says a lot about who he is truly committed to.

Yes! You expressed this perfectly, anon! I am sort of parroting you here, but truly everything EJ did s3 was self-serving. He wanted to impress his dad because it benefitted him not going to that college. If he didn't go to that college, it benefitted him so he could be with his girlfriend. I always felt so icky the way he twisted the narrative to make it look like he was doing it all for Gina.

I think it was actually crucial we got that scene of Gina apologizing to EJ, because if you were team EJ season 3, then watched that scene you might have went "now wait a minute, why is gina apologizing?" And then you would also wonder why her apologizing caught you off guard in the first place. Because the way gina and ej handled everything was not equal. Maybe the premise was the same, but the reactions were not. And that is all the difference you need in seeing where true intentions were.

Now, I'm going to give EJ some credit here: season 4 I genuinely felt like he was actually doing things for other people. Episode 5 is the biggest proof of that. He dropped everything to help his ex's new boyfriend basically get back with her. He said so himself he was not totally loving hearing ricky talk about gina, but he still pushed ricky to fight for her. Then we also got the scene of ashlyn telling maddox EJ had been rooting for them since the beginning. We see him tell ashlyn that he thinks maddox has feelings for her. Then we see EJ hear Gina out and own up to his behavior season 3, not trying to fight to win her back. His intentions became unselfish again and it was clear in his characterization season 4. You could genuinely see his growth and I found myself liking him again!

Joshua Bassett said it (I'm summarizing): Ricky and Gina represent a healthy relationship and posts like this prove why.

#hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #rina #gina porter #send me asks #asks #anon #ricky bowen #ricky x gina

[bird-inacage]

Love in the Air: Sky’s Denial of Prapai’s True Intentions

So for the last two episodes now, Sky and Prapai’s conversations have repeatedly revolved around Sky insistence that Prapai is only interested in sex, to Prapai’s attempts to reason there’s more to it than that.

Sky is so adamant in believing Prapai’s intentions are purely superficial because of his own history, which is colouring his judgement. This is incredibly understandable, as Sky has been massively affected by that experience and is still dealing with PTSD. Prapai also arguably poses a high risk prospect because of his own respective history as a playboy and all round flirt. If you were going to hedge your bets on boyfriend material, Prapai would not be the obvious or most secure choice. But these interactions are also a stark reminder that both Sky and Prapai’s assumptions are based on very little at all. Neither of these two people know each well enough to make any sweeping presumptions about one another.

Beyond Sky’s reasoning, there's evident denial too. It’s always easier to remain stubborn to your point of view, because to even consider the alternative is frightening - its a classic case of the unknown. You anticipate what will happen based on your own experiences, even if you understand that nothing is ever guaranteed nor set in stone. There is always the possibility that situations may play out differently to how you would expect, but can you bring yourself to find out?

So what if Prapai is serious? What if Sky admits that he wants Prapai to be serious about him? What does that mean then? There would be more at stake and far more to lose. Sky just cannot afford for that to happen again. 

As much as Prapai puts in a tremendous effort to get Sky to notice him, the irony is that he doesn’t actually need to do much convincing at all, because Sky is already interested. It’s because Sky’s already interested that he’s in constant denial. He’s not ready or comfortable accepting that fact. The more Sky spirals around these thoughts, the more he admonishes himself, because he sees himself falling prey to the same trap. Why has he seemingly learnt nothing? Why is his instinct still to be hopeful and wanting?

On the other hand, Prapai is also starting to turn a corner. His pursuit of Sky was initially driven mostly by curiosity and obsession. Seeking to solve why he had an inability to get Sky off his mind, but with no real conclusions drawn as to why that is. We now start to see the realisation creeping in for Prapai when he poses those questions to Sky “What if I’m serious?” He’s also addressing them to himself. Why does he care so much? Why does he worry? Why does he want this person to know as much about him as he wants to know about them?

Prapai even comments on how he has surprised himself with the strength of his feelings and the lengths he is willing to go to for Sky. It’s caught him off guard as equally as it has for Sky, just for completely different reasons. Whereas Prapai is somewhat perplexed or bemused by the growing revelation around his developing feelings, Sky is fearful and dubious.

I think its very natural to surprise yourself with the capacity you can possess to love someone. After all, it’s only once you do love someone, that you realise how far those depths can stretch.

It is through the act of nursing Sky that Prapai is now showing rather than telling him that he’s interested in more than sex. This act can also be seen as Prapai’s declaration to himself. ‘I do care about you beyond just the one night stand we had together’. I believe this has a considerable bearing on Prapai’s own growth and maturity. For someone who is so used to being written off as an ‘asshole’, it must be nice to prove (even to yourself) that you are genuinely capable of selflessness, and that you’re not such a bad person after all. I think there’s also something to be said about self-fulfilling prophecies. The more you are told that you are an ‘asshole’ or a bad person, the more likely you are to play into that stereotype that others have assigned for you.

At the moment the ball will be in Sky’s court. Whether Sky chooses to confront his and Prapai’s mounting feelings for each other, will take an enormous amount of courage. We obviously know they do, but it will be incredibly validating for Prapai to watch Sky slowly allow himself to reciprocate.

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #love in the air episode 9 #LITA analysis #LITA meta #prapaisky #god my brain's been on overdrive since yesterday's episode #it has not stopped whirring #the hands have not stopped typing

[shoujomangathoughts]

Chihayafuru Thoughts - How Taichi feels about Arata

The relationship between these two has always been fascinating to me. While the base of their relationship is definitely friendship, they also harbor complicated feelings toward each other. I’m not really going to focus on the romantic “rivalry” they have, although there are instances where that’s a factor. I’ll be using examples from all over the manga so here’s the spoiler warning.

Taichi definitely feels insecure and inadequate in comparison to Arata. The glasses incident is something he thinks of many times throughout the story (in Fukui, at the Yoshino tournament, when he tells Chihaya the truth, etc.) and it’s clear that Arata calling him a coward has led him to try to change that aspect of himself, hence Taichi’s line “I wanna be someone who doesn’t run away”. However, Arata’s karuta prowess also amazes and scares Taichi. Taichi feels as though Arata plays at a level that he himself could never reach, no matter how much time or effort he puts in, and he feels left behind (by Chihaya as well for that matter). There are certain scenes where this is apparent and it reminds me of what Taichi said about Emuro; that he “drew a line” based on their ability, something Taichi seems to do to himself as well.

This is also why Taichi has at times thought that Arata is more beneficial to Chihaya’s growth in karuta than he could be. He thinks of himself as lacking.

This insecurity around Arata occasionally causes him to lash out, muttering Arata is his enemy or feeling flustered at the idea of Arata making a team.

This line, following “Chihaya wants to be on a team with you again, but I don’t”, seems more about how Taichi doesn’t want to play with Arata because he doesn’t want to feel useless next to him like when they were kids (a similar feeling to how Desktomu felt at regionals in their first year). He wants to keep improving and meet Arata as an equal, and he doesn’t see an avenue to that if they played on the same team or if Arata was around more often.

I’ve seen this scene interpreted as Taichi saying this because the team is something Taichi has in relation to Chihaya that Arata doesn’t, but my view is a bit different. To me, this scene has always been about the fact that Taichi has gained a certain confidence in team matches (being the leader, prioritizing the team winning over his individual win, etc). Part of this confidence probably comes from the fact that Arata doesn’t play on a team, and thus Taichi doesn’t have to use him as a point of comparison, and that confidence would most likely be destroyed if Arata made a team. To Taichi it feels like the one area of katura that he hasn’t had to worry about Arata in is being threatened, hence why he says something snarky.

Then there’s also the feelings of jealousy that he harbors due to Chihaya’s attachment (oftentimes near idolization) to Arata. Taichi’s love for her often causes him pain because she would bring Arata up a lot and very clearly acknowledged him, whereas Taichi never felt like he was enough as he was and part of him longed for Chihaya to “see” him as well. He seems to think the qualities that Arata has are among those that Chihaya seems to notice in people (and for a while he’s not entirely wrong, karuta freak that she is) and that he himself lacks them. That probably lends itself as to why he seems very touched whenever Chihaya does see him (offering a towel, caring so much about him making Class A, Yoshino, the Taichi Cup, etc.).

However, it’s also clear that Taichi respects and admires Arata as a player and values him as a friend. He cries when Arata returns, calls him for advice after feeling entirely dejected, supports him after Arata defeats him and becomes the Meijin challenger, etc. Taichi just has parts of him that view Arata more negatively and he actively points that out to himself. He uses phrases like “it’s not Arata’s fault” because he understands it’s not Arata himself but rather some of the feelings he’s attached to Arata that make him feel the way he does. However Taichi also accepts some of the negative sentiment he holds for Arata and the rivalry he feels toward him. His feelings toward Arata are well summed up when Taichi says to himself, “I’m happy when I forget you, but I’m encouraged when I remember you”. It’s complicated, and the matches he and Arata played at the Meijin challengers were a nice exploration into how they view each other. Those matches culminated in a nice moment where they realize despite any complicated feelings, they’re grateful to each other.

Anyway, that was rather long even though I feel like I didn’t say all I initially planned to. I’ll probably make more posts like this, one potentially exploring the opposite of this one; how Arata views Taichi. If you read this far thanks for entertaining my rambles!

#chihayafuru #mashima taichi #wataya arata #anime #manga

[feral-fae-writes]

As the World Caves In || Putting the Priest Inside the Jam Jar

A/N: This is my first, multi-chaptered piece. It will be a slow burn. The way I wrote it is fragmented because the reader is traumatised, lol. Y'all also probably have a lot (and I mean a lot) of questions, and there are probably a lot of plot holes, but things will unfold in time, I promise. Hopefully, this will be the start of a masterlist for this work, and a bunch of others. Each chapter will have a song associated with it (the title is a link) and, by the end of this, I should have a Sierra Six playlist! I hope y'all like this first chapter; I loved writing it. Please let me know what you think. 🥺 I am down bad in the rabbit hole for this gum-chewing Ken Doll.

Fandom: The Gray Man

Pairing: Courtland Gentry x Gender Neutral!Reader, Sierra Six x Gender Neutral!Reader

Wordcount: 4,498

Type: Multi-Chaptered

Chapter Summary: Our reader is saved by Sierra Six, who is determined to stay an enigma, no matter what. There are more questions than answers, but no one said catching bugs was going to be easy.

Chapter 1: Putting the Priest Inside the Jam Jar

You had no idea how long you'd been tied up -- just that it’d been enough time for you to begin to feel restless, confused, and severely dehydrated. A few days, at the very least. You’d been kidnapped from your apartment in London, just having gotten home. The last thing you remembered was taking off your shoes, in the dark, too exhausted and half-drunk to change into your pyjamas. But you never got the chance. The next thing you knew, you were bound and gagged in someone’s basement. You found out later, through muffled conversation, that you were ransom for your parents. Problem was, your parents didn’t give a shit about you.

In fact, they actively made your life a living hell.

Ricki, your best friend, had told you to be careful, because you’d just moved entire countries, but no one told her about being wary of people inside your apartment. You were going to die here, completely alone. And that was terrifying as shit.

The slam of a door made you jerk up in fear. You let out a few muffled, frustrated screams for help. You hoped whoever it was would and could help you. If it was your captor, or someone equally horrible, you wouldn’t be in a worse position than you were in now, as far as you figured. Yelling and grunting echoed from above, and you soon realised whoever it was, was fighting. Someone had found you. Holy shit, someone was going to save you. You felt tears run down her face, unbidden, and you couldn’t wipe them away. Fuck. A whimper slipped out, hit the wall of your gag, and you slumped back against the basement wall. You didn’t want anyoneto see you like this; you also had no choice.

A heavy thump, silence, then the sound of two quick gunshots: a double-tap, to make sure whoever it was stayed dead.

You threw yourself against the opposite wall, again and again. You needed to make enough noise to be heard, regardless of who it was up there, regardless of the absolute pain you felt doing it. You heard movement, from the stairs leading upwards across the room, and fell still, eyes warily on the locked door. A grunt, the padlock fell to the floor with a clang, and then the door opened. A stranger walked downstairs, dressed in black -- black boots, black pants, black tee… Black eye. You stared at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face, back against the wall. His brown hair stuck to his face, and his lip was split and bleeding. You made eye contact, and then he crouched down to your level, still holding your gaze. You couldn’t move, and you weren't sure if you wanted to.

“You okay?” He asked, voice soft. “All things considered.”

You nodded. It’s not like you could do much else.

“I’m going to untie you now.”

You nodded again. He set about untying you, making a conscious effort not to touch you or hurt you, from what you could tell. You sat there in thought, cold and tired, but warmed by his non-hostile presence. His eyes were kind, and somehow like a kicked puppy’s. He was also really, really damn attractive. Maybe it was delirium, or the black outfit, but either way, you couldn’t deny it. You imagined no one could; the man was objectively sexy. And he had just saved your life.

As he untied the ropes, his fingers brushed your skin, and you shivered. He immediately drew back, appraising with those kicked-puppy eyes, and then removed the duct-tape. You didn’t trust yourself to speak just yet, glancing back to your bindings, and he took the hint. He began to work on the ropes again, and you were free. He offered out a hand, kneeling. You took it, staring up at him. You were shell-shocked.

It was probably some sort of fucked up survivor’s syndrome, but you wanted to make him cum right then and there. Instead of getting down on her knees, you felt yourself begin to cry more, thin reactive tears escaping down your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak, but could only manage a croak of a word as you got to your feet. You were going to faint. Your own voice sounded weird to your ears, after such a long time in silence, but it was surprisingly steady. All things considered.

“Thanks.”

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Your saviour was a hard man to read. You’re also pretty sure you don’t even know his name. Claire -- his niece, though you could tell they weren’t related -- called him Six. And he never corrected her, so you called him the same.

He had asked you if you had anywhere to go. You shook your head no, voice still hoarse from disuse. After saying that one word, you erupted into violent coughs. He held you steady as you shook like a leaf.

“What about your parents?” He had asked, once you were back upstairs, a glass of water in hand (pilfered from the cupboard) and a small dish of fruit that remained untouched (scrounged from the fridge, what little food that was there). A dead body laid not ten feet away from you, two gunshot wounds securely between its eyes.

Like shooting a zombie, you thought distantly. You couldn’t see Six’s gun on his person.

Your captor’s home was very nice, barring the blood on the rug, and the strong scent of smoking gunfire. You had no idea why you were taken for ransom, and, frankly, you didn’t care. The fact that your parents allowed you to stay in that basement for more than an hour told you everything you needed to know. As far as you were concerned, you were an orphan, alone in Italy. You shrugged your shoulders, to tell him that it didn’t matter. You were an adult, after all -- freshly 23 (no one likes you when you’re 23), and wanting to live your own life, separate from their money.

He leaned back in thought at your answer that was a non-answer, then leaned forward again, closer than you expected, looking you in the eyes. God, he wasa kicked puppy. You fought the desire to flinch -- for a moment, having a flashback to your captor, despite the fact that the man in front of you wasn’t threatening you in demeanour or tone -- as he let out a breath. When he spoke, his voice was ever-so-soft, as if he knew what you were feeling. Not a millisecond later, you realised that he did.

“I get it. You’re feeling betrayed. I don’t blame you. You need rest, and somewhere safe to stay.”

You couldn’t escape the corpse in the corner of your eyes. His gaze followed your own.

“I’ll clean up. Promise. I’m guessing you’re alone in Italy?”

Your focus snapped back to him and his inescapably puppy-like eyes. His eyes were a blue-grey, like a stormy sea. You nodded. He let out a sigh, breaking eye contact. Then, out of what seemed like nowhere (but you logically knew it came out of his pants pocket), appeared a silvery stick of gum, which he unwrapped. He paused, noticing your eyes, then offered out the stick, half in its packaging.

“Want one?” He asked.

You shook your head. He shrugged, just slightly, then popped it in his mouth, rising up from the table, as he crumpled up the used wrapper and slipped it into his pocket. “Suit yourself.”

You sat there, following him with bleary eyes as he cleaned his mess. The corpse disappeared, too, and it was as if nothing had ever happened at all. Later, you’d come to understand that for him, it was “just another Thursday,” as he and Claire liked to put it. And, gradually, you began to accept that, even not mind it, because it was the truth.

After he had finished his work, he took you to a hotel. It was clear he didn’t quite trust you yet, but it was also clear you didn’t have anywhere to go. Your parents would soon realise that you’d been saved and scorn you for getting kidnapped in the first place, or they’d think you died. Regardless, they’d freeze everything. You effectively had no apartment, no money, and no place to call home. They were very hands-off “parents” -- that was the whole reason you were in London. They hoped you’d eventually make your own life there, and then they’d cut you off. It made you wonder why they didn’t just put you up for adoption. In any case, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t go back to that apartment, but you would use whatever money you could. That is, you’d withdraw everything possible.

You came away with a few hundred and five thousand dollars off the card, and another two hundred thousand from the joint bank accounts, skimmed off the top. They wouldn’t miss either sum. You’d wanted to use some of it to return the favour to your knight in black armour. When you tried, however, he refused it for himself, but did take a small (to you) amount for Claire. And that was how you found out she existed, how you met her, and how you put a name to his face.

Now, a week later, you were curled up, hands around your knees on the bed, in the hotel room he had arranged with your money. They hadn’t been staying there until you came along with a handy alibi -- with you, they could pretend the three of you were a family: husband, wife, and daughter. It helped that you resembled Claire. It didn’t seem weird to Six, though he didn’t indulge in it at all (much to your disappointment): not in public, not behind closed doors. Six was in the shower, and Claire was asleep on the small couch across the room. She looked so peaceful, whereas your thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

She woke up. Goddamnit, based on her reaction, she could tell you had been and were staring at her.

“What?” She asked bluntly, still half-asleep.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“Where’s Six?”

“In the shower.”

Both of you fell silent. Truth be told, you hadn’t spoken to Claire often yet. It had only been a week. Claire spoke up again.

“Six gave me vinyls. Was that you?”

So that was what he had spent his saviour-stipend on. But you didn’t mind. You wanted to get to know Claire better. And if that took Six spending money that you didn’t really need or exactly want, that was fine with you.

“Do you like them?” You asked.

Claire nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks. Six told me how he found you. Were you really down there for an entire month?”

“I don’t know how long I was in that basement for.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I feel weird about-- sticking around with you two, when you clearly already have things figured out.” You replied. “I’m assuming you know about--”

“It’s-- it’s just another Thursday.” Claire cut you off, bristling in discomfort. She knew what Six did for a living -- what he had to do for a living. She remembered the note he wrote her, to play Silver Bird, and play it loud over the gunshots as he headed her way. How she had covered her ears and focused on the music. She didn’t like thinking about the events that led to that bittersweet, terrifying moment. Didn’t like thinking about her uncle Don, or the fact that he was dead.

“Right.” You replied, falling silent. The two of you had come to a mutual agreement.

“I’m glad-- that he saved you. And not just because of the vinyls.” Claire murmured after a moment, voice quiet. And with that, she, presumably, went back to sleep.

You heard the sound of the shower shutting off. A few minutes later, Six stepped out, hair wet, wearing black pants and a wrinkled white shirt. His attention was immediately on Claire. It was as if you didn’t exist. Watching him watch her warmed your heart. He was her protector, and yours, too, but it was obvious he’d do anything for her. All of his snark and dry demeanour melted away, all because of her... Part of you wished it would be because of you, too. Instead, you spoke up, this time to Six.

“She likes the vinyls.”

“She told me.” He replied. “Gave me a hug. Which I guess belongs to you.” He turned around to face you, eyes lighting up in a muted realisation. “I never thanked you for the room.” He said.

“I hardly think it’s worth thanking me for when you saved my life,” you quipped.

“That’s fair enough.”

Just before Six turned away, you caught the smallest of smiles on his face.

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“Why Bubblicious Watermelon Wave?” You asked, amused, seeing the bulk package of gum hidden away in a new hotel’s room closet, this time in France. It peeked out behind shirts and pants, jackets, white tees, hung suits, and a red blazer paired with red pants. His side of the closet. You wondered what he would look like in a tux.

“There is no other kind.”

You rolled your eyes at Six’s quip, muffled behind chewing gum. He, for his part, sounded slightly as if you had ruffled his feathers. Apparently, the quip made him remember… something. You decided not to press. Your gaze drifted over to your side of the closet. It was sparse and minimalist in comparison: a few dresses, two sweaters, a pair of pants, a graphic tee to go with it, and pyjamas -- all brand-new, because, again, you couldn’t go back to London. All three of you had duffel bags; it came with the territory of having to keep moving. You didn’t mind. Not like you slept much. Or like Six slept much, for that matter -- too many painful thoughts and unanswered questions. You shut the closet door, but not before sneaking a few sticks of gum into your pocket for later. Not for yourself, no. For Six.

Okay, maybe one for yourself. One for yourself, the rest for him. You had read somewhere that gum stimulates the brain towards focus. No wonder Six is always chewing gum, you thought. You knew he was an intelligent man; he had to be, given what you knew about him already. You also knew he knew a lot more (and thought a lot more, and felt a lot more) than he let on. One of those things was that you were kept awake by paranoia and nightmares. Your leverage was that you knew he was kept awake by his own vigilance and desire to protect. It became a running joke between you two, keeping each other company through your mutual silence.

That night, the silence wasn’t broken. But you came to an understanding.

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

You sat out on the balcony, unable to sleep. Again. You knew it was dangerous, being out in the open, alone, but you didn’t care. You were wondering why Six and Claire kept you around -- you knew you were a liability, so there had to be a reason. You were wondering about Ricki, and how Six found you in the first place, though, in hindsight, finding you would be easy for someone like him. Finding anyone would be easy for someone like him. Finding someone like him, though? He was terrifyingly proficient at what he did, but had a moral compass; there was gentleness under his glib demeanour, you could feel it.

The gentle opening of the balcony door stirred you from your thoughts. You jumped out of your skin.

You heard Six chuckle in amusement: a ghost of a laugh, just like he was a ghost of man. He sat beside you, but kept his eyes on the night sky -- you took no offence, it was par for the course for you both -- and you did the same. It wasn’t awkward. Neither of you were much for words.

Because of that, it was doubly surprising when he reached over a hand, just to place it over your own. You froze, but he didn’t remove his, only gently intertwined your fingers together, as if to reassure you. And it worked. You gradually, steadily relaxed. These were the hands of a trained killer, but you relaxed.

There were so many things you wanted to say to him in that moment, but it didn’t feel right. You were sure he knew your thoughts, anyway. So, you merely held on, as if for dear life. You didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. When you stole a glance his way, he wasn’t looking at the sky; he was looking down at your hands, puppy eyes glistening.

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It was inevitable: you had to go out for supplies. You didn’t mind it much, except for the fact that the three of you were constantly on the run. Six had explained the situation to you in bits and pieces over breakfast, and only what you absolutely needed to know. He and Claire were on the run from the CIA, after Lloyd Hansen took the fall for everything he and Claire had been through; he spared you the grisly details. His explanation made you feel even more like a liability, but he explained, through thin lips and a grim demeanour, that they’d be looking for a pair, not three people. You had asked him if you could contact Ricki, but he said it was too much of a risk. It pained you that you couldn’t let Ricki know you were alive, but it was best to let her think you were missing for now, Six said. He explained that if you called, even from a burner phone, they could track you through her and your parents, given she’d made her number known through your ‘Missing Person’ posters. Ricki had written a small description about how she’d dropped you home, and that you hadn’t responded to anything, which was unlike you. That was how he knew you were in trouble.

You realised that you were simply a detour: Six and Claire were just saving people while on the run across the world.

You’d like to say you didn’t care, but it did sting your ego a little bit that the reason he kept you with them was the fact that you were an asset. You were a person. Sure, you may have been a trust fund bitch, but you were a person. Six, thankfully, was polite enough to offer to contact Ricki on your behalf, on a secure line. But he wouldn’t let you speak to her yourself. Word of mouth travelled fast, after all. That much was clear by the bustling café you sat in, across from Claire. You understood, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

Claire was scanning the people in the café, a small toy-looking camera in her hands. It made you wary, because if Claire was watching others, it probably meant others were watching you. But Six seemed to take it in stride and as a given. As Claire began taking polaroid pictures of the people around you, laying the pictures on the café table, you felt yourself grow uneasy. Six casually began inspecting them, noticing your apprehension.

“We should go. Now.” He commanded, already getting to his feet, taking up the photos, and positioning himself in front of you and Claire, you noticed.

So your intuition was right. When he took you by the hand, you felt yourself begin to panic. You felt claustrophobic, and the world was caving in. You swallowed nothing, and tore your hand away, pushing yourself past Six and leaving him behind with Claire. You had to get away. You couldn’t be the reason either of them got hurt. His eyes went wide, and he yelled your name, but his voice fell into the rush and accented noise of the crowd around you as you ran. You knew he’d be running after you, Claire in tow, but you couldn’t turn around. You had to find somewhere you could calm down, which happened to be a concrete bench in a courtyard a few yards away. You held onto it, keeping your eyes on the ground, trying to come back to yourself, trying to focus on a distant sound of burbling water.

Of course, Six caught up to you. You saw Claire out of the corner of your eye, hovering close like a ghost, blatant worry in her eyes. A sudden, paralysing thought struck -- someone is going to steal her, too -- and Six took the opportunity to pull you in along with him, fingers gripped around your wrists as he guided you away from the bench. A panicking deer in headlights, you looked up to see where you were going, Claire in wait. But he stopped, halfway between bench and fountain, turning to face you. Following his lead, you stopped, too. His stormy blue-grey eyes were on yours, and he spoke softly -- a cool, calming tone that you’d never heard from him before. He was almost whispering.

“Hey, hey, hey, love. You’re safe, promise.”

“I-- I panicked, I’m sorry. I thought--” You stammered in reply, in shame, taking in a slow breath. “Too many people,” you lied, knowing whoever may have been following you would hear, knowing he would know the truth. On some level, you were aware you were still spiralling. But you felt calmer with Six there. He was a walking secret, and so, of course, it followed that he was intimately acquainted with everything true. He had to be; he had called you love.

“I know. Look at me,” he said. And you did. And you couldn’t look away. His fingers fell from your wrists, and then one hand appeared around your waist, holding you securely. The other cupped your jaw in his palm; his skin was calloused and scarred from old wounds. From fighting. You promised yourself at that moment that you’d never let him get hurt ever again, even though you knew you had no control over keeping it. He seemed to lean in then, tilting his head, perhaps seeing the thanks and promise in your eyes -- and he kissed you.

His breath was warm, and his lips were soft, and his beard tickled against your skin. It was a strange sensation, but you didn’t mind it. He tasted like watermelon. Like sugar. He tasted so sweet. Your widened eyes fluttered closed, and you melted, arms tangling themselves around his neck as you kissed him back, but whether it was for the alibi or because you wanted to, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that you were falling in love, and, now, your heart was buried with him.

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

You did get the supplies, in the end. Food, water, ammunition, snacks, more vinyls. But three months later, that kiss lived rent-free in your head. That, and Claire didn’t let either of you live it down. Six, however, acted like the kiss didn’t happen. To top it off, your card and bank accounts had since been frozen -- took them long enough. Lately, anything and everything was making you feel frustrated. Maybe it was being stuck in hotel rooms most of the time, despite Claire’s company, or the fact that you, essentially, no longer existed. No, it wasn’t either of those things.

It was the fact that there was something entirely wrong with what had happened, your panicking aside. Six hadn’t explained why he had rushed the three of you out of the café. He hadn’t told you that nothing was wrong, after all. He had said, “you’re safe.” Which meant, in fact, that you were not safe. It meant that whoever had been following you was a threat -- a threat that Six believed he could take care of.

You didn’t say anything when he came back that night bruised. He was bleeding, too. You saw a gash on his forehead, (one of many, hidden ones, you later found out) and you weren’t sure if he even knew it was there. If he did, it was clear he didn’t much mind it. You merely appraised it, and the dark blood trailing down his left temple. When he finally acknowledged your eye, you raised a brow in question. A ghost of an amused smile appeared on his face.

“Nah, I’m good. You’re not getting an answer.” He replied, letting out a pained sound as he knelt to remove his boots.

You got a very good look of his ass before he straightened back up, but that was information you’d address later. Six was hurt, and hurt like a bitch. Maybe now was time to ask other questions, if he wouldn’t answer unspoken ones.

“Who was it that was following us?” You asked.

“Someone who wanted to use you to get to me.” Six replied. “If they even confirmed your identity. Dead now.”

Your mind started racing, through explanations and reasoning and emotions all at once. Stopped.

“Wait, so, you kissed me--”

“So that if they did, they would focus on you, instead of Claire. If they didn’t, they’d just think you were my panicking partner.”

“I’m bait?!” In spite of yourself, your voice rose in pitch and volume. You hated falling into the trope of emotional bitch, even if it was justified. Claire was asleep.

“Claire has a heart condition.” Six replied, tone deadpan, if not for the slight, buried reproach.

“I know that, thanks,” you replied sarcastically, turning away. “I’ll let you lick your wounds alone, then.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Six chirped. “Glad to see you care.”

Unconsciously, you let out a small, catty growl. You saw a gentle upturn of the lips; he’d heard it. Hadn’t you been through enough, already having been a target for once?

Six strode (stumbled) past you, only to let himself literally fall onto the couch with a groan, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

You said nothing, just disappeared into the bathroom, mind’s eye already searching for the hydrogen peroxide. When you reappeared in front of him, hydrogen peroxide and cotton swabs in hand, he raised a thin, blood-caked brow. It didn’t escape your sight that he hadn’t followed your instructions and removed his shirt, and, to be fair, you could reason why.

“You sure you know how to use those?”

You stood your ground in silence; you didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just wanted him to know you cared. He must’ve seen something in your eyes, because he shifted slightly.

“Alright.” He let out a sigh, and then removed his shirt. As the black fabric peeled off, revealing tanned, honeyed skin, you bit your lip. He had abs. And scars. And tattoos. You took note of the Sisyphus one -- you knew he liked mythology; he and Claire had in-depth discussions about various myths every road trip you’d taken, which you listened to with muted, but vested interest. Again, you wondered why Six kept you around, as you knelt down to dab at his wounds.

“Because I, surprisingly, like your company.”

You’d said that out loud? Shit. He let out a hiss of pain, glancing down as you swiped at his wounds. “‘Lotta blood. Looks like more than it is, really.”

“Shut up and let me focus.”

“What happened to letting me lick my wounds on my own?”

“You’ve basically collapsed onto the couch, I can’t just…” You trailed off, gesturing at his present state to finish your sentence. Leave you here, like this.

Six rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can. All you have to do is give me some puppy mouthwash and a rag; I can take care of myself.”

You blinked at that. “Oddly specific.”

“Because it happened. Stabbed with a pair of surgical scissors. Good thing is, he missed the liver and the kidney.”

“Ah.” You didn’t know what else to say, so you just kept disinfecting his wounds. Eventually, his torso glistened with peroxide, shining with the wonders of modern medicine. The gashes had relatively stopped bleeding, and all that was left to be done was bandage him back to health, which you finished soon enough. As you got to your feet, looking over your handiwork, he opened one stormy, blue-grey eye.

“Mind getting me a blanket?”

“No,” you replied, turning away to find something he could cover up with, hopefully hiding the blush you felt creeping into your skin. “You’re going to sleep on the couch?”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Right…” You tossed the blanket his way, and he nimbly caught it with one hand. You noticed he winced, just slightly. “Sorry, I should’ve just given it to you.” Six didn’t respond, already adjusting the cover and his eyes closed again. You watched the rise and fall of his wounded torso, and let out a small sigh. You continued, feeling awkward. “Hey. I know I’ve been acting like a bitch, and I-- I’m sorry. I’m just… in over my head. Try to get some sleep.”

You let out an exhale, feeling a huge weight slide off your shoulders, turning to leave towards the bedroom. You weren’t sure he heard you. He probably did; he was a light sleeper, as far as you knew. You weren’t sure if you wanted an answer, but he spoke up -- voice gravelly, edging sleep and unconsciousness -- killing your indecision.

“I meant what I said: You’re safe. Promise.”

#sierra six #fae writes #sierra six x reader #courtland gentry #i love this man #the gray man 2022 #the gray man #court x reader #my fic #my writing #down bad for this man #working on chapter 2 now #if the formatting gets botched i will cry #chapter 1

[cranberrytart451]

Opinion:

The fnaf movie actually upset me in a way that bayverse transformers couldn't: I was never once convinced of character motivation.

I see a lot of people liking this movie, and that's valid. You can like something that is objectively bad, but you can't disregard criticism either.

If you want the next fnaf movie to be better, you need to separate your feelings from objective facts. Not in a "facts don't care about your feelings" way, but in a healthy way. By both recognizing bias and confirming emotions.

I also hate posts saying things like "if you didn't like the movie, fuck you. If you thought this scene was bad, you are stupid and wrong."

Shocker. It seems like it's the first time you've met a person with a different opinion.

Objectively, as someone who is not a filmmaker but knows a lot about how films are made, this movie took a lot of effort to even reach the screen. People poured their souls and passion into it, and that should be admired and respected.

But high effort doesn't always equal effective product.

Spoiler below:

First off, the camera work in this film was sloppy. This was not shot like a horror film. It was shot almost like a comedy.

There were too many close-up shots (reaction) and not enough wide. We never get the real scale of the animatronics in the film as the angles of the camera were parallel with them.

The lighting is too bright. Darkness should have been this movie's best friend as it would have made the puppets look more realistic and creepy. I work at Chuck E Cheese, and it becomes a liminal space the moment the lights are off. They should have used that.

The score is bland except for opening and closing credits.(I think the only thing the movie hits on the head is the opening credits with the arcade pixel art showing Springtrap leading the kids away.)

There are shots that are either too long or too short, messing with the pacing.

Do not get me started on the writing. This movie thought it was really clever, but no dialogue stood out except for "I always come back." (Which they should have left for the end credits scene)

Vanessa. Do I even have to start? She should have been the main character.

Do you understand the horror of living with a serial killer? A CHILD SERIAL KILLER!? Her entire life would be on edge. What if she didn't know her dad was killing and only found out through the course of the movie? This could have been a mystery horror movie.

They wasted what they had. That's the problem with this movie. It didn't focus on the right things and put too much emphasis on nothing subplots.

(Getting a little emotional because-)

(Are we gonna talk about how the aunt was killed in Mike's house and is never brought up?!)

Mike also AGREED TO GIVE HIS SISTER AWAY FOR DREAMS OF HIS DEAD FAMILY. Let me repeat. DREAMS. NOT EVEN HIS DEAD BROTHER'S GHOST.JUST FUCKING DREAMS.

... you might say he changes his mind. But the fact that he so readily does it in the first place pisses me off.

The aunt might be a karen, but she is right. Get Mike away from that kid. He doesn't prove to me in this movie that he is a good fit to raise her ONCE. He clearly loves her, but not as much as his dead brother or his own selfish guilt.

Characters can have flaws, but he doesn't redeem himself in my eyes by the end of the film.

Kid actors were kids actors. Nothing special. Not too annoying though.

The tone is inconsistent. Not even in an intentional way. It's just a roller coaster. One second, they build a fort the next Vanessa threatens to shoot Mike.

3/10

I wanted to like this movie. I had such a low bar for it. I can not believe it reached the depths of the ocean.

Fuck this movie hurt. I can't even say I liked it subjectively, cause it was so boring.

#fnaf movie #fnaf movie review #im sorry but i cant recommend this one #wathc the Bananna Spits movie or Willy's Wonderland instead #at least those movies are funny to watch with friend #rambling into the void #christ im just sad #ive been in the fnaf fandom from Markipliers playthrough #this movie would have been better with markiplier reactions #or having him as the main character #just my opinion

[meganechan05]

Someone on Twitter has been feeding to the fire that is my Evil Clone KingOhger idea 😂

Specifically the HimeRita portion so I'll probably be talking more about their clones in this post.

I'll start off with the guys first to get them out of the way.

Gira's Tyrant Shtick is real for his Clone. He actually uses it against Gira in a far more threatening way that scares him as it would remind him of Racles's tyranny. He also makes Gira question why he even continues using his Tyrant Persona when the people of Shugoddom already know he's a good guy.

Evil!Yanma takes his yankii personality to a whole other level and actually takes his "I'm the Best" as is by stepping over everyone compared to Yanma who views his people and fellow Kings as equals. He finds joy tormenting Shiokara and the Hacker Gang since he finds them inferior to him, taunting Yanma in the process at how his goals and views on others contradict each other ("I'm the Best" vs no social hierarchy in his country).

Kaguragi's Clone is much more terrifying to him on a deeper level. He's more open about his manipulation and will more often than not call Kaguragi out on his. "You'd say you'd dirty your hands for your people. Yet you were so willing to put your sister in possible danger by having her in Shugoddom soil for your plans? ...You say she wholeheartedly agrees, but would a loving brother who would take sole responsibility for the safety of his country drag his dear little sister into the fray?" (Think Iroki's taunt in the movie but at a much more deeper level. The Clones do know about the originals' deepest insecurities so...)

Jeramie's Clone would have way too much fun taunting Jeramie. He would put on theatrics when explaining all of Jeramie's insecurities to him. How he was only just a boy when his mother died and his powers sealed, giving him more survivor's guilt than he already does. How his vision for a bright future clouded his judgment which caused his writing to cause the 2000 year long misunderstanding. How such clouded judgement makes him unaware of the issues of those around him. How he has finally made friends with the Kings but know he will only outlive them due to his biology.

Evil!Himeno currently seems very cut and dry when it comes to how she takes Himeno's selfishness to a dangerous level. But I know for a fact that she would very much use it against Himeno. "If you were truly selfish. If you really are the best doctor in world. Wouldn't you have done it? Bring Mama and Papa back? Have your family back in your life? If you can heal people, why not try to resurrect the dead? A much better version than what Grodie can do. Wouldn't that be nice?" Or in a situation where she does kidnap Rita and turn them into a doll. "I can turn them into a puppet, you know? They're so stubborn. Wouldn't it be easier if you could just control them so you don't have to use word games to get them to agree?"

Evil!Rita is just outright terrifying (at least to me). Not bounded by Absolute Neutrality while having the memories and thoughts of the original. Not held back by the idea of "the law protects the people" or providing fairness even in a fight. Fighting style can also use underhanded tactics befitting of a country of (ex-)convicts. They call Rita a hypocrite for being impartial but holds bias for Moffun. Being impartial yet open themself up to Morfonia and their fellow Kings (especially Himeno). Question why they're so willing to be selfless when no one has ever reached a hand out to them for 15 years. Question why they endure suffering alone for the sake of Neutrality and the safety of others when no one would bat an eye for their efforts. Why Karras took the risk of making a mere child her retainer and heir. Why Karras and Shiron would make them King without thinking about the consequences of the effects it would have on the child's mental health with no support system ("perhaps they just didn't care as much as you think"). Why they always push their feelings aside to help the others when it's clear they were suffering inside yet never show it.

Stuff like that...

Now for HimeRita, I feel like if their friendship ever turns into a relationship, this story would only make the issue with the Clones worse.

Evil!Rita is emotive to a point where you can't really tell if it really is Rita's clone or just what people think Rita would be if they weren't bound by Absolute Neutrality. So it wouldn't be a surprise if they took advantage of hidden feelings. Same for Evil!Himeno.

There could be a point where the two would drop hints of HimeRita's feelings for one another and taunt them for it once the two have a look on their faces that point they've put the pieces together.

"Oh? You never noticed? How sad. Well. Not like it would ever get anywhere considering how Rittan over there is."

"Doubt they even know they even have those feelings in the first place."

The two would try to talk about it later in private which makes it very awkward and confusing for the both of them as neither even realized their feelings were more than just friendship. They would have a heart-to-heart discussion about it and even discuss their worries for anything that would happen in the future once they can talk more easily without the fear of the clones intercepting.

Only once they were able to agree on that, the two are captured and taken to different locations by the other's clone (according to said clones' plans). Both having extremely unsettling 1-on-1 conversations to mock and drive wedges between them or give them heartbreak. Maybe even have Evil!Rita tempt Himeno with the opportunity of being able to show Rita requited affection through the clone by taunting her of how Rita would never allow themself to return her feelings for the sake of work. Evil!Himeno would taunt Rita by mocking them and putting on the waterworks, questioning why they're so picky on making exceptions to Neutrality when others before them had no problems breaking Neutrality for love.

Putting the two in a tight spot with no one to help them.

...yeah...

#(but in typical Sentai fashion everything turns out okay in the end) #but you can't have a happy ending without suffering in Kingohger apparently ( ´TωT`)👍 #lowkey kinda glad we're too far into filming for them to add this plot *knocks on wood* #but damn I would be a complete MESS if they do have an Evil Clone Arc for at least one of the members *knocks on wood* #so much suffering and angst and ngyehhhhhhh #*knocks on wood* #kingohger #king ohger #ohsama sentai kingohger #rita kaniska #rita kanisuka #himeno ran #hymeno ran #gira husty #gira hastie #yanma gast #yanma gust #kaguragi dybowski #kaguragi dibousuki #jeramie brasieri #jeremy brasieri #kingoh au #kingohger au #what if #himerita #my mind is not okay