#somehow will as a teacher is so much more threatening than will as a cop. i think he’d look silly in the uniform | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tw-episodereactions · 9 months

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Teen Wolf 1x09

The Chemistry teacher cleaning off what looks like an already cleaned chalkboard and sighing about it is hilarious to me. Have him kicking the photocopier after it errors out for the third time in the middle of making 200 copies of something, it would be way more realistic.

So I’m guessing this is Adrian Harris then, and he does actually know something about what’s happening.

The Alpha has fairly neat handwriting, good for them.

The little red x’s somehow make it funnier than crossed out names. Like, this dude went and found a different pen color for the drama.

Are we supposed to think that all the other Harris’ are dead or just not the right Harris? Could go either way with the Alpha.

Eliet is the weirdest way to spell that name that I’ve ever seen.

Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Adrian Harris. So this dude either taught college and got fired/lost his job but insisted on hanging onto the title or he’s got an advanced degree of some kind and doesn’t want to (or maybe can’t) get hired at a college. Yeah, he’s got enough of an ego that that tracks.

Eeewww, why is his hand wet?

Oh, hey, Laura Hale wrote that list! Clearly dramatics run in the Hale family.

First time we hear the Alpha! Absolutely no way to figure out who it is from the voice. But waiting so long makes this particular moment seem incredibly important.

Also, I’m assuming it’s only Alpha’s that go into this much larger, stereotypical werewolf shape, and that they’re the only ones with red eyes and voices that change.

Still don’t know why Scott and Fuckface have two different eye colors, and still don’t know why Laura was in the form of an actual wolf.

More than halfway through with the season and we still basically don’t know anything about werewolves. Awesome. Love that world building. Why would you have a werewolf mentor character and not actually use him for exposition about werewolves: their abilities, their culture, their history? Oh right, cause Derek is a fuckface, not a mentor.

I don’t buy that the cops got there when they did. They haven’t been very good at their jobs thus far, and there’s no reason to think that they’d spend all that manpower to surround the whole school.

Also, like, we didn’t get anything of importance so why the fuck did the Alpha even speak? That was badly done, imo.

It would have been funnier if Fuckface just holed up in the school and waited until the next day. Again, I don’t think they have that many cops and that school’s huge.

Also, didn’t the lacrosse field back up to the woods? Like, I feel like he could have snuck through the woods. But, whatever, we have foot chase, I guess.

Lol, poor Scott trying to drive Fuckface’s car while being chased by Kate. Awful position to be in, why are you even here?

Again I say, poor puppies.

So what we’re supposed to be getting from this is that Kate isn’t a very good driver and Chris isn’t a very good shot, right?

It’s fun how Fuckface takes absolutely no responsibility for the position he’s in. Completely blames it all on Scott, who, may I reiterate is a sixteen year old boy who literally did nothing wrong. Who was violently attacked, beat up multiple times, shot, stalked, had his mind manipulated, and threatened with murder.

All, while Fuckface did, what? I mean, like, obviously he came to Beacon Hills to follow his sister, found her dead, buried her and then did what? Like, Laura at least had a list of names and probably more than that. She was following some sort of clues, doing some sort of investigation, but all Fuckface has been doing was randomly tracking the Alpha’s scent, stalking Scott, threatening Scott, beating up on Scott, yelling at his comatose uncle, attacking Deaton, and almost getting dead twice.

How is it that he has way more puzzle pieces than Scott does, is way older than Scott, and yet is looking to Scott for plans, then getting pissy when those plans don’t work out? Like, he’s sixteen, back off. Fuck.

Sooo, Fuckface has had two months to talk to Harris or look through his shit and has done nothing with it? Sounds about right.

Aaand, now we have Allison’s necklace. Let me guess. They’re going to make Scott ask Allison about it instead of Stiles. Because it’s not like Stiles hasn’t been known to fixate on weird things and wasn’t the one recently broken up with.

Why aren’t the just researching the symbol like Allison did? Again, Stiles loves a good deep dive, why do we even need to start with the necklace that she only just started wearing like the week before.

Also, I reiterate, Fuckface has had two months with this knowledge and done nothing with it,

So did Fuckface infect Jackson with his memories? Or is Captain Douchebag a Hale by birth? Actually that would make so much sense considering his personality.

Oh, so this is a hallucination. Got it.

So Fuckface poisoned him. Lol.

Jackson just asking a nurse to look something up on her computer is hilarious. I mean, the physical security has been a little lax, so I can’t imagine the computer security is much better, but still.

OH MY GOD, NO, WTF MRS MCCALL?! I expected you to say no! Massive breach in protocol: HIPAA violations, ethics violations, security violations. Anything he does under your password you would be liable for! You are breaking federal law!

Christ Jackson, you are a rich bitch and you couldn’t have looked that up on your own computer?

Oh good, a medical billing summary. SO MANY VIOLATIONS.

Also, the time on the computer reads 2:59 am.

Jackson does the same thing Fuckface does, he’s cruel and a bully to those he thinks are weaker and meek against those he thinks are stronger than him.

Funny how he both thinks Scott is weaker, but also thinks Scott is a werewolf.

So, one thing I really hate in this show is that no one tells anyone their plans before they do them, and it always ends badly. Like, I get that you want to keep the audience from knowing the plan, but it’s so stupid how everyone essentially works in silos so no one really knows what anyone else is doing. It’s like they’re working together, but not actually working together. I hate it.

Did Scott & Allison switch English classes or did Stiles & Lydia? Because this is the lady who ran the parent teacher conference for Lydia and Allison, but she is not the teacher in the pilot who was teaching Kafka to Scott, Stiles, and Allison.

Maybe she’s like a drama teacher? Sure, we’ll go with that.

Also, Othello is an interesting choice. Like, not for the jealousy part. But. The man of color marrying a white woman without her father’s approval who ends up killing her because of the machinations of someone else? I’m not, like, casting Fuckface as Iago here, but I’m not NOT casting him as Iago either.

Oh, poor Allison.

Scott is so clueless here. He shouldn’t be, but he is. You broke her trust, kiddo, which can often be much more fragile than love. You’re going to have to work to get that back.

Scott you are correct that you know nothing about girls, but she is being super rational from her point of view, not psychotic. Don’t be a dick just because you don’t understand.

Again, why should Scott steal the necklace? Stiles has stolen like at least three things successfully that we’ve seen. Wouldn’t it make more sense if it was him?

There are so many close ups on Jackson this episode I’m afraid the camera’s just going to go down his throat one of these scenes.

Funny how Jackson keeps calling Scott a cheater, but it’s clear that he doesn’t actually care about cheating because he wants the same abilities. I mean, I know he’s just using it as manipulation, but I hate entitled shits like that.

If they win tonight they’re in the semifinals after two months of playing? What kind of half assed season does lacrosse have?

I mean, I don’t like Lydia either and they totally shouldn’t be dating, but again, this cruelty for cruelty’s sake is so frustrating to watch.

Oh. Good. Fuckface is making more terrible choices. And still throwing teenage boys against walls and threatening them.

Once again, 16 year old boys are doing more investigating than the grown man. And once again this is more like a procedural than a werewolf show. I mean, I guess that’s a choice.

Scott, breaking into a hunter’s house that is also you ex girlfriend’s house is not a good idea, and I know that you’re not, strictly speaking, doing this for Fuckface, but I also need you to recognize that he would never do this for you.

Goddammit Stiles, I don’t even care that you’re technically helping, this is a personality trait of yours that I truly hate.

Why the fuck would Fuckface be in the room with Danny when he’s a known fugitive. Like, it’s not like I knew the faces of known fugitives when I was in high school, but if I was a baby hacker and someone attacked my bff and his girlfriend, I’d probably have a good idea of what he looked like.

Also, is Fuckface reading the dictionary? Yeah, that’s subtle.

So either Fuckface knows what’s happening and is playing along or he really is a complete moron.

Once again, I feel like he should be taking pictures of the book instead of looking up words he doesn’t know. Although he didn’t get caught, so go Scott, I guess.

Honestly, Melissa’s pretty lax with her computer security. It could be anyone. I wonder how the Alpha got from the school to the hospital and back again in such a short period of time particularly since the school is at least a mile away from anything as per a previous episode.

Bets that the Alpha has an accomplice?

Oh shit! Hold up. Is the Alpha actually Peter Hale and the accomplice his nurse? The nurse would have no problem walking into a hospital and using the terminal, but mostly we’ve seen her and Peter several times with no follow up so far. They have to be important.

Kate being, like, Hey, you don’t have to be psychotic to be a killer. And then she does something, uh, really freaking creepy. I think the sex and violence wires got intertwined in her brain.

Again, what is it with not sharing information? Scott didn’t mention the book, and Stiles didn’t mention the info about the text. Sharing info is better, my dudes. Informed decisions are better.

Nope, nope, NOPE. Goddamn this guy.

So, he got what Stiles was doing, went along with it, but then punished him for it violently later.

I hate everything about this guy and I hate that they’re working with him. Can’t we just leave him to suffer and die in his burnt out house?

Why does everyone act like Scott should know things that are not obvious? Like, I’ve known people for years who don’t know what my name means. And, like, people aren’t stupid just because they don’t know French or whatever.

Question, did Jennifer, like, clear the building? Why is there no one anywhere?

Well, I mean, has Peter given up on Scott killing his ‘pack’ so that he can join Peter’s? Cause if not, then Stiles is safe. Fuckface isn’t safe, though, Peter, feel free to kill your nephew.

Also, did Peter turn Jennifer?

Apparently not.

His mind and personality was burned out of him and he killed Laura on instinct. Okay, that’s plausible. But, uh, the deer with the revenge spiral was three months ago and clearly was one of the things that got Laura looking into things back in Beacon Hills. Was that instinct too or was that premeditated to pull Laura back there to kill her and get the Alpha powers to push you over that plateau? I feel like the second is more likely.

So Harris had a drinking problem. Maybe that’s why he’s teaching high school now. And he knows nothing about werewolves, just twitchy about the Hale fire. I might buy that. I might not.

They show an awful lot of Fuckface crawling on the ground. He’s not very good in a fight.

Do you think Stiles ran? Probably not, but wouldn’t it be great if he did?

I was going to wait for dramatic flair, he says, being dramatic. Ugh. All of these Hale’s suck. I mean, I don’t know about Laura, but I’m guessing.

Kate’s gross. And also dumb. If Jackson had turned those scars would be long gone by now. Scott’s wound healed in less than 24 hours and it was much worse.

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #episode reaction #allison argent #derek hale #jackson whittemore #chris argent #kate argent #1x09 #peter hale

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oh-the--places--you-will-go · 8 months

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crAcked: Chapter 2

Characters: Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin, Emily Fields, Alison DiLaurentis, Mike Montgomery, Byron Montgomery, Ella Montgomery, Darren Wilden, Jenna Marshall, Toby Cavanaugh, Noel Kahn, Ezra Fitz

TW: Grooming, fire, violence, death

Word Count: 1,861

Author's Note: This is a PLL fanfic that I mainly started writing for myself. It's been a hot sec since I've posted chapter 1 but I finally mustered up the motivation to write chapter 2. Enjoy!

In all the chaos of Alison's funeral and that scummy cop, Wilden, vaguely threatening Aria and her friends, the small brunette had almost completely forgotten all about how Ezra Fitz had turned up at Ali's funeral. If Aria hadn't been so damn captivated by him, she might've stopped to ask herself why exactly a teacher that had never even met Alison was attending her funeral services. Sure, maybe he wanted to support his students--especially one student in particular--but still, why attend a funeral for someone you'd never even laid eyes upon?

The two of them had only had a brief moment to talk but the short conversation left Aria with more questions than answers. He'd apologized for "being a jerk" and he'd insisted that he cared about her. While she thought it was sweet, more than anything, it just left her feeling very lost.

So lost, in fact, that she hadn't even heard Spencer at first as they were sitting at the Rosewood Grill after the funeral. "Hello, earth to Aria," the brains of the group said. "Do you think Wilden knows about... You know, the...Jenna thing?" Aria let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair. God, I thought we were fucking done with the Jenna thing, she thought to herself. "I don't know, guys. I mean... How could he know? We all promised to keep it a secret, after all..."

The Jenna thing, as in when the girls accidentally not so accidentally blinded Jenna Marshall, the new girl in town.

When Jenna first got to Rosewood, her long dark hair and her stunning green eyes had gotten everyone's attention. She was gorgeous and the minute Aria saw her at Noel Kahn's Halloween party, she knew Alison was threatened by her very presence. Not only was she beautiful, but she had made it clear that she was her own person who could make her own friends. Ali didn't like that, not one bit.

So when the blonde got the opportunity to get back at Jenna and her reclusive step-brother, Toby Cavanaugh, Alison wasted no time. Like so many bad memories, Aria could never truly get that night out of her head. It haunted her day and night.

You see, a little over a year ago, the five girls had been gleefully trying on clothes in Emily's bedroom. It was like any other sleepover until suddenly, Alison exclaimed "I can see you!" and raced to the window, pushing Aria out of the way. Ali insisted that she'd seen Toby in the window and that they all needed to go "teach him a lesson." Immediately, Aria had gotten a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had tried to push back but Alison was not having it. Looking back now, she knew that she should've just stood up to Ali when she had they chance--they all should have.

Before she knew it, they were at the Cavanaughs' garage, hurling a stink bomb through the door and running away. What started out as a harmless little prank quickly turned into a raging fire that permanently blinded Jenna.

"We had the chance to stop Ali that night," Aria said regretfully. Looking at the other girls' faces, they clearly felt just as much as shame about the situation as she did. But what could they do about it now? Surely, they'd be in some sort of legal trouble if the fessed up to Wilden about it, right? And how would he even know in the first place? After all, Ali had gotten Toby to take the blame, somehow...

That night, as Aria was lying in her bed, attempting to sleep, she kept thinking about what Ezra had said to her. His words rang over and over in her head: I care about you, Aria, but this just isn't right. And as much as it felt right to her, maybe he had a point. After all, he was older than her, and wouldn't that make him wiser than her, as well? As she drifted off to sleep, she'd made up her mind. Tomorrow, she was going to nip this in the bud and transfer classes. Besides, with everything going on with her family, that weird cop, and the fact that the whole world now knew that Alison DiLaurentis was dead, she really couldn't handle anything else on her plate.

The next morning before first period, Aria went and sought out Ezra, who was grading papers at his desk. God, he looked so handsome in his tie and button-down shirt. Dammit, Aria, focus, she told herself. You need to do this. Giving a soft nock on the door frame, she said "Hey, can I come in for a second?..."

The young teacher instantly lit up when he saw her face and nodded, beckoning her to come in. Getting up from his desk, he said "Yeah, of course," and walked past her to shut the door behind her. Gingerly, she said "Oh, this will only take a second..." Besides, she didn't want to give people the wrong impression with the door shut--she was ending this and that was that. She took a paper out of her binder and handed it to him. "I'd like to transfer out of your class."

At her words, a look of obvious disappointment crossed his face, which was honestly a bit confusing. "Uh, I totally understand, but, um... I'd hate for you to have to drop the class, especially since we've already started working on our first novel. If you transferred to another class, you'd already be behind..."

Nodding, she said "Yeah, I thought about that, but... I don't know, I just feel like it's the right thing to do..." Looking up at him, he was clearly searching for words to say and he opened his mouth but then closed it again, as if he'd thought of something to say but then changed his mind. "Okay, then I'll go ahead and sign the transfer paper," he said, grabbing the pen off of his desk. "Thank you," she said softly, taking the paper from him and giving him a small smile.

Honestly, she thought he'd look a little more relieved, since he was the one who told her this...thing between them wasn't right. But then again, she couldn't deny that she was at least a little pleased that he wasn't jumping for joy at not having her in his class anymore. Maybe that that meant what he'd said was true--maybe he did really care about her.

Taking the paper back, she said "Thank you, Ez--Mr. Fitz.. I appreciate it." With that, she turned and practically bolted out of the door, sure that she'd change her mind if she stayed just one moment longer. She hurried down to the registrar to turn the paper in before she headed to math class.

However, the transfer was apparently not meant to be. During science class, a student aid had come by her class and delivered her transfer paper with a brand new bright red "DECLINED" stamp on the top of it. Shit, she thought to herself. Is the universe trying to get me to fuck up? Then again...what if this was a good sign from the universe? Perhaps a sign that maybe, just maybe, there really was a chance for her and Ezra?...

When she arrived at English and set the declination on his desk, she could've sworn she saw a small smile perk up at the edge of his lips.

Even though whatever was going on with Aria and Ezra was confusing, being at school was a million times better than being at home, that was for sure. Before Aria had gone away to Radley Iceland, she'd been keeping a huge secret for her dad. It turns out, those rumors about him sleeping with his grad students had turned out to be very true. Aria had seen it with her own eyes and she knew she'd never be able to forget that image of his father kissing another woman in the back of his car for as long as she lived.

At the time, he'd begged her to keep it a secret. Aria's father had told her that if she told her mom, their family would fall apart. She could still hear her own words in her head when she'd begrudgingly agreed to pretend as if nothing was wrong. Through her tears, she'd said to her father's face, "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive you for this."

And she'd meant what she said. From the moment she'd gotten back from her sabbatical, she'd been short with her father whenever he attempted to speak with her. After all, over the past year, she'd had a lot of time to think about the situation and she'd grown incredibly resentful of her father. How could he have put all of that pressure on his own daughter? And all to keep his dirty secret of infidelity? What a fucking coward. What a fucking piss poor excuse for a father.

So on Saturday afternoon, when she arrived home from a coffee run, she didn't know what to say when her father confronted her about her attitude. "You're not very good at hiding your feelings, Aria. And your mother knows that something's up. You need to get past this."

"I need to get past this? I need to get past the fact that I caught you cheating on Mom? I need to get past the fact that you fucking begged me to keep that secret for you?" She shook her head incredulously. "You've got to be fucking joking." Her father looked hurt and taken aback by her harsh words but she couldn't hep herself. What else was she supposed to say? How could he expect her to feel any other way?

Still, she wasn't done yet. "Are you still seeing her?" she asked, her words as sharp as knife. Her father shook his head and said "What? Why would you even ask me that?"

"Answer the question, Dad. Are you still seeing her?"

He shook his head, but Aria really didn't know whether to believe him or not. "No, I am not seeing her. I told you, I'm done with that. I'm done with her. All I care about is our family." Yeah, fucking sure, she thought to herself.

"Whatever, Dad," Aria said with a heavy sigh, the feeling of exhaustion suddenly taking over her body. She couldn't keep doing this, she couldn't keep holding up all this weight on her own two shoulders. But, then again, she couldn't break her mother's heart like that--or her little brother's. She had to protect her family, that was her job. It was part of the reason why she'd done what she'd done that night...

As she started to walk away, her father said "Aria, where are you going? I'm not finished with this conversation."

"Well, I am," she snapped back. She turned away from her father and swiftly walked up the stairs. She'd be fucking damned if she let him see her cry again. She couldn't give him that kind of power over her.

#pretty little liars #pll #aria montgomery #hanna marin #emily fields #spencer hastings #alison dilaurentis #ali dilaurentis #aria #thriller #mystery #pretty little liars fanfiction #pll fanfiction #pretty little liars fanfic #pll fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #pretty little liars fandom #pll fandom

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

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Analyzing Killua Zoldyck's Character

Illumi Analysis| Hisoka Analysis| Chrollo Anaysis|

What’s up y’all?! I’ve had at least 2 cups of coffee this morning and I am ready to write my butt off! This post will be about Killua Zoldyck, my second favorite character and you will know why by the end. If you’d like me to write about your favorite character, Be sure to send me a message and I will get on it ASAP.

Here we go!

I saw Killua for the first time on Tumblr. Someone created various icons for several anime characters and edited them. They were all aesthetically pleasing but for some reason, his picture stood out. Now that I look harder, it is because he was holding a Pepsi can instead of the off-brand one they drew for him in the cartoon. I noticed everyone on TikTok and Twitter had the very same icon as their profile picture (usually those that like to troll and say racist things to others). Once I started watching Hunter x Hunter, I realized the character immediately. Thank you for your edits!

Killua Zoldyck is the youngest child in the family and is the only child that developed a mind for his own.

Instead of taking the pleasure of killing, he runs/avoids and achieves this by becoming friends with Gon. It’s interesting to think that no one in the Zoldyck family wants to kill for fun except for Illumi.

I remember Zeno telling Chrollo: “Do you think I enjoy killing?”.

This makes me think that the family’s job is to destroy enemies that are a threat to society. Are the Zoldyck’s taking on the role of cops or an extension of such? If that statement is true why does Illumi take pleasure in abusing his power when his own grandfather only does it when criminals are involved? Granted, Silva and Zeno’s reasoning for brutally fighting criminals isn’t legal, and (to me) are considered to be vigilantes, at least they don’t go around doing the horrible things like how Illumi and Hisoka do.

This very reason why Killua ran away from home. He decided to rebel against his mother and implied: “Fuck you. I’m going to do what I want.” Killua and his siblings are victims of child abuse and show that they deal with that abuse in different ways. Killua masks his abilities in public and tries to keep them under control, Kalluto seems to be very quiet and obedient, Milluki is just as abusive as Illumi, and we already know about Illumi. Milluki is physically abusive; this can be seen when he is whipping Killua for running away and threatens to destroy Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio while Illumi plays mind games on Killua and uses his Nen to do the trick.

Killua’s character is very special and in a way takes the lead as the main character instead of Gon. I don’t know if that was intentional or not. Killua is a 12-year-old boy who leaves home to escape his abusive home and see the world for his own. During phase 1 of Hunter’s Exam, he instantly clicks with Gon; probably because he’s the only 12-year-old there. They constantly challenge each other to see who will win and who will buy dinner or some other reward. Because of his abusive home, Killua often masks his feelings. This is noticeable every time Gon talks about him being his best friend and he always reacts as if he’s embarrassed by it.

Gon is his shield from going bat-shit crazy like his family. They both have faced opponents (like Hisoka and others) where Killua could have unleashed his assassin abilities but didn’t. Yes, some of the opponents are stronger than him, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Killua is the best friend Gon could ever have. Since he knows about aura and any supernatural abilities, this is why he stops Gon and even insults him for pushing himself too far. Killua stopped Gon from using too much aura in the past especially once Kite’s arm was cut off by Pitou. Because Killua wasn’t there to stop him when fighting Pitou, this resulted in Gon’s downfall. Did Killua believe it was his fault that Gon almost died? He isn’t responsible for Gon’s actions but he focused so much on running away from his “demons” and masking his temper by maintaining his friendship that he wasn’t paying attention to Gon’s noticeable and developing temper.

Killua Zoldyck is a child that suffered from abuse and to escape that reality, he runs away, takes Hunter’s Exam only to match with his brother, chooses defeat, and then kills an opponent, not of his own free will.

But wait, there’s more.

After being rescued from his prison of a home, he goes to Heaven’s Arena, met Zushi and his teacher, develop Nen, follows the Phantom Troupe around and somehow managed to survive that, meet Bisky, join a game to get closer to Ging, witnesses Gon disappearing, trying to form a relationship with Alluka, and then tries to heal Gon with a quickness.

Whew, chile!

At the beginning of the show, it appeared as if Killua was taking on too much and only did so to keep his mind off what he escaped from.

One thing to point out is Killua’s motivation to heal Gon no matter what. It is implied that he doesn’t care what will happen to him or anyone else as long as Gon can live again.

Wait.

Isn’t that along the lines of what Gon said about getting revenge for Kite? He didn’t care about what happened to him? Hmmmm. I guess they’re very similar after all!

Killua and Gon are BFFs and will do anything for each other. Friendships in real life should be this way; let’s follow his fictional example.

Face

Killua’s face is the typical shape for someone his age. His eyes are wide, as blue as the morning sky, and honestly, I wish he’d smile more. Even though he is 12 years old, he still has a babyface.

Hair

Killua’s hair color is very similar to Princess Allura’s and Lotor’s. According to verywellmind.com, the color white represents innocence and purity. Ironically, Lotor and Killua are the opposite of that while Allura has maintained her innocence. Killua’s unique hair color and hairstyle are amazing! I love how it stays in shape while he is fighting or running.

Clothes

Regarding clothes, he is JUST like his brother. Again, Illumi irks me, but they both have a great taste in fashion. Through the show, Killua changes his clothes more than Gon, which is funny. I guess if Gon changed his clothes too much it would take away from his character. Killua’s default style contains a sleeveless white shirt with a purple one underneath, basketball shorts, and gym shoes. Just look at these outfit changes! This is why Killua is my 2nd favorite character in this show.

Behavior

As stated before, Killua cares more about others. This is ironic because the Zoldyck family only cares about themselves or their family while Killua feels the complete opposite. It’s almost as if he trusts strangers more than his own family. A common phrase: “She/He turned to the streets” that I’ve heard in my hometown can be applied here. Killua probably hates his family and turned to strangers to find love and comfort since they neglected that. He is also the only one that tries to develop a relationship with Alluka. At first, I thought “Wow he’s only developing a relationship with her to heal Gon” but then I realized it was bigger than that. Alluka has been separated from her family because of her dangerous abilities. She will demand something and if that person doesn’t fulfill her demands, they will suffer horribly. Killua learns that Alluka has a healing ability and while Illumi complains that Killua was hiding rules from him, he never took the chance to talk to him about it and continued to threaten Alluka. The family “banished” her to a confined room for who knows how long because, apparently, she had been possessed by a demon from the Dark Continent and they do not know when it happened. Despite knowing that Killua could parish with the rest, he still develops a relationship with her. He is the true example of excepting someone for who they are. As far as I’m concerned, running away was the best decision he made. It saved his life and in return, he’s going to save another. I do find it ironic that something considered to be so dark has the power to bring something back to life when usually it’s something bright like a light...interesting. You all know what I’m saying. Most television shows only portray angles to heal others while demons only seek to destroy. The Zoldyck family is wrong for pushing Alluka away. How could you do that to your own kid? Shit, you should be blaming yourself for not watching her and allowing the demon to posses her.

In conclusion, Killua is my second favorite character. He is bold, loves his friends, and isn’t afraid (anymore) to step up to people he may not win against. His character has blossomed from a young boy afraid to step up to his brother to a boy who isn’t afraid to do so. He has learned about Nen and has gone through many trials and tribulations just to say he is much stronger than before. What characters would you like to hear about next? Send me a DM!

Fin.

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wisteriavines · 3 years

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obscurity

my hero academia prompt:

I don't have the motivation to write it out neatly, so here it is in bullet points & for the purpose of this prompt, I will be using she/her pronouns for the main character

quirkless oc is our main character

she does not have big dreams or aspirations; is rather laid back about everything

the only reason she applied for UA is because some kids said she couldn't do it & oc is known for doing things in pure spite

she's accepted in Gen Ed 1-C

she & shinso become friends through the power of being outcasts and having cats

oc is chronically sleep deprived -- some teachers suspect that even aizawa gets more sleep than she does

her life is just full of coincidences

like, no officer she didn't know that the man that tried to mug her yesterday was an arsonist

or that her middle school best friend that went missing half-way through third-year is now a serial killer

if you haven't already guessed, the arsonist was dabi

he threatened quirk use against her but oc just had one hell of a bad day and was not impressed

like dude, that's old news, figure out a new threat and try again later

also, she’s kinda broke. all she has in her pockets are some coins she found in between the seats of the bus she took

“Look, I’m not gonna criticize the way you go about mugging people, but wouldn’t it be better to take my groceries too?”

the best friend turned serial killer won't stop stalking her

yes it's toga himiko

no she isn't going to report this to the police

they made a pinky promise in first year about not turning on each other should they become villains

you don't break a pinky promise

that's like treason

she'll call the cops on dabi though, no problem

she'll even use the taser she's allowed to carry against him

“I won't hesitate, bitch."

oc is directionally challenged -- Zoro from One Piece Bad

it's how she meets izuku, by somehow finding herself in his neighborhood

some old middle school bullies have him cornered and oc starts a fight the moment she hears "quirkless"

izuku has to drag her away from the unconscious and twitching bodies

he is very afraid because oh my god, are they dead - you didn't kill them did you?

oc is a mess, evidently

i would say that's fine but it's not because oc has another bestie from middle school that enables her

bestie is a nonbinary oc that likes pranks and mechanics

they follow oc into UA because they had nothing better to do

they're in the support course, class 1-H with hatsume

the two of them set an entire classroom on fire once

they've been banned from working together (not that it stops them)

shinso would like to know what the hell he just got himself into

“Why are all your friends dangerous or scary?” “…but you’re not dangerous or scary?”

oc does not see what the problem is

her mother does though

but like that woman is lowkey toxic so

believes quirkless to mean fragile

oc literally can't ride a bike anymore because of one scrapped knee

also the mom kind of wants to control everything in oc's life

oc's older brother is an asshole (affectionate)

her dad is rather willowy (derogatory)

the dad needs to grow a spine and the mom needs to see the error of her ways

the brother has moved out for college so like there isn't much going on with him

anyway, oc is just in the middle of things without knowing and generally not caring when she finds out

she meets the rest of the league and has opinions on them

specifically: kurogiri is a literal god-send of patience and tomura needs to fuck off with his daddy issues because she has enough of that on her own & from interacting with dabi

also, this "sensei" guy is kinda sus and why is no one else seeing that?

idk what the timeline is at this point but

oc & bestie act as support for shinso in the sports festival

oc backs out from the third event because ha no thanks

again, being directionally challenged, oc gets lost and somehow hears todoroki's whole tragic backstory

she is unsure what to do with this information

but decides to go to izuku (they're friends after the whole disaster of a first meeting) on how she can help

no one knows how, but "help" ends up with kidnapping todoroki

not that he minds, it's kind of fun

also somehow, oc convinces todoroki to dye his hair and change his name

class 1-A takes it stride and aizawa honestly doesn't want to know

he does get to know, though, because oc spills the beans to the principal accidentally

aizawa is now a protective and mad dad

shinso has resigned himself to his fate of somehow always getting involved by the second visit to the principal's office (don't ask about the first visit)

lets skip through the timeline to the eri arc (i'm calling it that)

since she is "associated" with the league, chisaki knows about her

he decides to kidnap her because she's quirkless and "clean"

oc should, logically, be afraid

she is not

she is furious instead

because what the fuck why is there a little girl here with multiple scars on her arms and legs

if someone from the league doesn't kill chisaki, she will

as you can see, oc has grey morals

somehow the league of villains turn into the league of vigilantes

they blame oc

all for one is not amused but he’s a fried potato head so his feelings are invalid

Discontinued Writing

Line Divider credit: @rookthornesartistry

#wisteriavines #obscurity au #discontinued wip #mha #bnha #original character #shinso hitoshi #toga himiko #dabi #quirkless #quirkless discrimination #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi x original character

11 notes · View notes

musicfeedsmysoul12 · 3 years

Text

Decagon: The Supportive Hero Chapter 2

Summary: When Izuku finally accepts that Bakugou is not his friend anymore, he ends up collapsing at home. He discovers that he has had a Quirk all along- the ability to bond with others and increase their Quirks. Izuku fully intends to become a hero still, now with a new Quirk by his side. A new school leads him to new friends and new bonds both Quirked and not, plus his mom finding a new husband has his family increasing and the support he needs keeps coming in.

Look out world, here comes Decagon!

On AO3

Pairings: Aizawa Shouta/Midoriya Inko so far. Others TBA

Warnings: Bakugou Faces Consequences. Bakugou critical. But also he ends up getting redeemed like WAY later so… yeah.

Other Tags: Shinsou is Aizawa’s cousin/nephew, Queer Platonic relationships ahead, Izuku has a Quirk.

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The Quirk specialist called in wasn’t the one Dr. Aizawa wanted, but apparently that one was in America for a conference. Instead a tall blue haired woman had been called in.

“Ah, hello. I am Doctor Yamanato Yuki.” she had introduced herself. Apparently her specialization in Quirks were sex based but she also had faimilarity with bonding Quirks.

“Sex Quirks and Bonding Quirks actually are incredibly similar when you break it down,” she had explained to Izuku when the boy had asked in curisotsity. The woman had gone red when he had asked but she had managed to stutter it out. “Sex Quriks often affect other people, much like Bonding Quirks. They affect the same areas of the brain to stimulate the Quirk’s effects on the person. So I learned a lot about them both.”

The testing was a bit boring. He and his mom sat in machines with weird stuff attached to them, and Eraserhead, which he had gotten more excited about after his brain fog cleared up, would activate his Quirk randomly so Dr. Yamanato would observe Izuku’s Quirk in use. He then sat in more machines to scan his head and body.

When they were all done that, Dr. Yamanato also took some blood to test it.

Meanwhile though, Izuku had to stay in the hospital. His body temperature registered still as below average, but rising up. Dr. Yamanato had more theories about that, but she wanted to check first.

Izuku didn’t mind the hospital too much, it meant that he didn’t have to go back to Aldera which he knew would be filled with kids gossiping about him now. His mom told him he didn’t have to go back at all.

“Your Quirk is very special honey, special enough that people would want it. Due to this, we can apply for a fund to move you to a better school where you will be safe.” Inko did not tell her son the risks of kidnapping him were incredibly high, and that he would be sent to the school Dr. Aizawa’s girlfriend’s son went to. Dr. Aizawa had told her a few quiet stories of how his girlfriend’s son had nearly been kidnapped multiple times for his mind control Quirk. She didn’t want to worry her son with that news.

Izuku did know that Bakugou attempted to get to him a few times. He had heard Inko talking about it with the doctor and even a security guard. Apparently Bakugou had come back and tried to force his way into the pediatric ward. The nurses hadn’t let him and he had tried to make them only for them to not only call his parents but the cops.

That had nurses gossiping all day, and Izuku had listened to a few talk about how awful he was and how they didn’t understand how a child could act like that.

Izuku felt a little pleased at that. He shouldn’t be, he knew and felt guilty. However, little boys who were bullied and tormented for years do tend to get glee their abuser faced consequences for their actions or ended up mocked for their attitude.

Or well, anyone would be.

Izuku waited a week for more info, during which he got to know Eraserhead more and more. He apparently also taught at UA, Izuku felt so happy learning that he ended up asking way too many questions. Eraserhead didn’t mind though and answered what he could.

“But what about your classes?” Izuku asked him a day after he being told, suddenly realizing it. “Shouldn’t you be teaching?”

“Nah. I’m the home room teacher for the third year this year and I expelled most of them. I have about five kids in the class and they’re currently doing work studies. I barely see them.” Eraserhead had told him, which sparked a debate on why he expelled most of his students that even Inko weighed in on.

“But if they were skilled enough-”

“It doesn’t matter, I won’t let kids who have no potential go out to either get themselves killed or others killed.”

“But couldn’t they learn?”

“They go to Gen Ed when expelled from my class and I watch them. If they actually show ANY potential and want to do better I will let them back in but otherwise-”

Izuku watched the back and forth of his mother and Eraserhead for a bit, head turning between them. Dr. Aizawa, who had walked in a few minutes before with Dr. Yamanato, also watched. His face looked amused though, confusing Izuku. More so when he told the little boy,

“I think I will be seeing more of you even when you’re gone. I have never seen Shouta look so engaged before.”

That was weird, Izuku thought as Dr. Yamanato caught his mom’s attention.

“Oh! Doctor! Do we have more information?” Inko asked the female doctor who smiled kindly.

“We do.” She got the other two to leave, leaving Izuku, Inko and Dr. Yamanato alone in the room. The doctor sat down in a chair with a clipboard on her lap that she read some notes off of as she spoke.

“Your son’s Quirk from what we found is the ability to form bonds, we know this. He is able to increase a person’s Quirk. Most likely they can either use their Quirk for longer, can aake it stronger somehow or possibly even mutate it depending on what sort of Quirk he has.” the doctor explained. “The bond however, goes both ways. We got permission from the Bakugou family to do some tests on their son. From what we can tell, the bond between Izuku and Katsuki was only half of a bond. It was parasitic in nature. Katsuki would draw upon Izuku but Izuku received nothing back from him.”

“Is that why he was so sickly for so long?” Inko asked.

“Yes. Izuku’s Quirk worked overtime to support the bond with Katsuki and yourself.” Dr. Yamanato explained. “The bond between the two of you is incredibly healthy, but from the bit of the former bond we can find between Katsuki and Izuku it was entirely one sided and drew too much from Izuku. If it had been both ways, Katsuki most likely would have been even stronger and Izuku would have experienced minor side effects of the bond.”

“Side effects,” Inko interrupted the doctor while Izuku reeled from all this information.

He had a Quirk. He had a QUIRK. A really cool one! He could bond with people, make them stronger… suddenly his thoughts went to why he expressed happiness before, when he didn’t have to go to school. His stomach dropped like a stone.

People would only want to be his friend because of it.

“What sort of side effects?” Inko asked the doctor, unaware of her son’s slowly worsening mood.

“Well from what we can tell from some of our physical tests, the bond with Katsuki did cause him to be sickly but the bond with you is altering his body a bit.” The doctor explained. That drew their attention, Izuku even pulled from his thoughts.

“How so?” Inko asked, voice as calm as possible so she didn’t freak Izuku out.

“He’s more…” the doctor looked thoughtful, trying to find the right word before huffing. “He’s much lighter than most boys his age. I believe it relates to your Quirk. Pulling small objects towards yourself- Izuku has made himself lighter. It may also play into why he does have a hard time keeping to a healthy weight.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Inko worried, a hand going to rest on her son’s shoulder. Izuku himself felt nervous.

“I’m no dietician. I would suggest swapping to a heavier diet for him and focus on muscle building rather than fat building, but that’s not my specialty.” Dr. Yamanato told Inko. “The broken bond between Izuku and Katsuki as well is what is causing him to be so cold as well.”

“Bakugou has explosions as his Quirk, was he making me warm?” Izuku asked the doctor who shrugged in answer.

“Possibly. Or it could simply be the shock from suddenly breaking a bond. It isn’t life threatening as you know but you will need warmer clothes from now on.” Dr. Yamanato told them. “Now, we did get a brain scan done and we think we see… the term I guess would be ports…” the doctor frowned and then shrugged, seemingly satisfied with her word choice. “Ports where more bonds could form. We counted ten. This number though is not a hundred percent accurate though, so be warned you might not be able to bond with ten or might be able to bond with more than ten.”

“... Is there anything else? How do I bond with people? What sort of bonds? Are they all like family bonds?” Izuku asked. Dr. Yamanto blinked owlishly before she smiled at him.

“Well, you’re eager to learn. From what we think happened with your mother and Katsuki, we think the bond had to be mutual with both of you wishing to be bonded.” Dr. Yamanato said. She used the clipboard she had on her lap to sketch out two stick figures with two arrows between them, going from one figure to another. “The bond requires mutual affection. Now, this affection can be good affection or… bad affection.”

“Bad affection?” Izuku asked, his mind whirling.

“Sometimes people like to pick on and be mean to others.” Dr. Yamanato explained. “This is cruel behaviour and bad affection. They do feel something for their victim but it isn’t affection such as your mother feels for you as her son.” She drew two more stick figures with two arrows between them, one broken. “However, once the bond is formed, then even if the person who is bonded to you breaks the bond, the bond continues until you break it yourself. At least, that is our theory.” Dr. Yamanato shrugged. “Quirk Science is half the time us screaming at one another and the other half threatening each other, I won’t lie.”

“I read an article saying Quirk Science is twenty percent guessing, forty percent chance, thirty percent sheer luck and ten percent drinking.” Izuku said with a grin.

Dr. Yamanato cackled.

“You got it in one kid.” She handed Izuku the notes she had taken, and then handed Inko a card. “That is my number. Now, I would like to step outside with your mother to discuss adult things if that’s okay?”

Izuku figured that meant it would be stuff his mom felt to scary for him but would tell him later if she felt it was needed. He agreed and the two women stepped out.

Outside the room, Eraserhead waited for them.

“Doctor, Mrs. Midoriya.” He greeted both of them.

“Ah good Eraser, are you the assigned hero?” Dr. Yamanato asked him. He nodded as Inko blinked in confusion. “Perfect. Now, Mrs. Midoriya,” Dr. Yamanato turned to her. “You understand that due to the nature of your son’s Quirk you are being offered the help moving him to a new school?”

“Ah, yes. Dr. Aizawa said that his girlfriend’s son goes there? His Quirk is something people might want?” Inko did not want to think about her son being kidnapped but it was a very really fear with his Quirk. If a villain got a hold of him and managed to bond with him… it could be disastrous.

“Correct. Now- I’m going to be completely honest. As soon as we place this information into the system anyone with even the slightest ability to check out the database will see it.” Dr. Yamanato said bluntly. “Any Quirk that benefits anyone will be of interest. This means you will be harassed by pro heroes, government agents or researchers who want to use your son for their own gain.”

“... what?” Inko asked shakily.

“It’s common,” Eraserhead said honestly. “Any Quirk deemed useful gets looks and greed. The fact it’s a bonding Quirk that increases other Quirks…”

“Frankly I would bet on Endeavour visiting at least. The man is a power hungry asshole,” Dr. Yamanato said, shrugging at their looks. “My wife has the ability to create children using any genetics from either parents.” The doctor glanced around and lowered her voice. “No one knows but she’s able to pick Quirks to.” That got startled looks from the other two. “She keeps it undocumented for her own safety. That gets out, she will be in dire risk. She managed to word her Quirk profile just right that she’s not lying either. However, Endeavour found out. I don’t know how and he forced her to give him a son with his and his wife’s Quirks.”

“Oh god,” Inko said. Dr. Yamanato nodded.

“Exactly. So be warned. I have some drafts of vague ways to word his Quirk description.” She handed said drafts to Inko and then bowed. “I must be off but take care of yourselves.” She lefts, leaving Inko and Aizawa.

“This… this is going to be hard.” Inko said to herself, clutching the note tightly. She had been aware the reason the government would pay for her son to go a new school with better security was because his Quirk could be dangerous in the wrong hands. She had heard of some of the kids who went there during her research of the school. Kids with healing Quirks that could heal almost any wound, kids who could copy other Quirks, kids with Quirks that released deadly gasses… and now her son would need to go to it because of the risk of a villain bonding with him…

“You’ll be fine.” Eraserhead said. He reached out to awkwardly pat her arm. “I’ll be here to help out for a bit if needed and I’ll make random visits until they decide the risk is over. I’ll help protect him.”

Inko smiled at the man, relief flooding through her. She would not be alone. She didn’t have to do this by herself. Not anymore. Even if it only lasted a little while, she had someone with her.

She could do it.

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“The power of the blasts lowered by 200% after the bond broke,” casually remarked Dr. Yamanato as she looked over the results of the youngest Bakugou.

“What?!?” Katsuki screeched and Dr. Yamanato ignored him, facing his parents.

“It looks like the bonding Quirk was very effective in boosting his Quirk. Thank you for letting me use his Quirk as a way to calculate how much Midoriya’s Quirk could boost another.”

“Of course,” Mitsuki said woodenly as she stared at her furious son. Masaru remained silent, staring at him as well. Dr. Yamanato, sensing that they needed to talk, quietly left.

“This isn’t fucking fair! It’s bullshit-“ Katsuki ranted right before his father spoke, cutting him off.

“Katsuki it is fair. From the sounds of it your actions were deplorable.” Masaru wondered where they had gone wrong. How their prideful son had become so arrogant.

“I am disgusted with you,” Mitsuki said bluntly. Katsuki flinched. Usually his mother would scream that, rage it. But instead she just said it softly, calmly. “I never thought I’d raise a thug like my own father. I’d hoped for better then that.”

“I’m no thug! I’m going to be a hero!” Katsuki roared.

“Not with your current attitude, and it looks like you’re back to square one.” His father said, motioning to how his son’s hands were slightly sparking but only creating small crackles and not the usually soft booms when he lost his temper. “Your actions have consequences Katsuki. We thought the school here would give you them but from our conversation with them, they aren’t.” The two adults traded looks.

They had spoken to the school and found that the entire system was rotten. They praised Katsuki and promised to ‘convince Izu-kun to get over himself and bond again’ stating their son’s skill and power meant he would be a hero. They were horrified at the way the school talked about Izuku like a thing their son could use, not even a person.

“You won’t be going back there.” Mitsuki said.

“What?!?” Katsuki yelled. “But it’s perfect for my-“

“Your hero origin story?!?” Mitsuki snapped. “That utter fucking bullshit you seem to adore sprouting? Here’s the thing Katsuki, you DO NOT have that sort of origin story. You’re talking about an underdog story. Newsflash, you’re not!”

“Your mother and I make good money, you have good health, you only go to that school because we thought you wanted to be with who we thought was your friend,” Masaru began listing. “We paid for the best Quirk Counselors we could, we always made sure you were healthy and happy, and again, we have money.”

“You’re no underdog. You’re the bully in a hero story, the privileged asshole the underdog takes down.” Mitsuki said cruelly. She would feel terrible later, but right then she didn’t care. “I’d say Izuku went through his origin story while at that school, not you.”

“You will not be going back there, and…” Masaru hesitated. Katsuki already was being punished. He would lose his hero origin story fantasy, he had lost a lot of the power of his Quirk. He would have to make friends in a new school, a school Mitsuki picked out dust to them being very stern on bullying.

What else could they punish him with? Taking away his Quirk gym privileges seemed to cruel after he would need to build his Quirk up again. Taking away his video games didn’t seem enough.

“You won’t be going to Hero Con for the next two years.” Mitsuki said. Every year they would take him to see all the merch, year all about heroes and just have fun. Izuku always went with them to. They would still offer the tickets as always to Izuku on his birthday but wouldn’t go or go with Katsuki.

A fitting punishment in her eyes. Katsuki loved Hero Con but the event occurred once a year and wouldn’t affect him to greatly on top of everything else he went through.

“WHAT?!? AREN’T I BEING PUNISHED ENOUGH?!” Katsuki screamed.

“For years of bullying and tormenting? No.” Mitsuki told him. “My father is in jail for his actions. I don’t want to see my son follow his footsteps.”

That quieted Katsuki and the adults took their son home hoping he was thinking and reflecting on his actions. They find that’s much hope though.

For Katsuki he was plotting. Okay, fine he wouldn’t go to Aldera anymore. But the nerd still lived around him and went to the park. Fingers and Wings also would still go to Aldera. He’d have access to Deku again, he would force him to rebond with him.

He would be a hero, and nothing would change that. He refused to let his origin story die like that. He wouldn’t!

Hearing his parents talk about visiting the Midoriyas to make him apologize he changed his plan. Apologize and then rebond with the nerd. Deku could never stay away from him, the fact he had gotten so upset would easily be brushed off as Katsuki going to far only once. It would all end up fine!

He would apologize and things would go back to normal. Deku would tell them to let him stay at Aldera. He would get his hero origin back, be the next great hero. With Deku along he guessed but the freak could be a sidekick in his agency he supposed. Providing him with strength on top of his own greatness to beat All Might and be the next number one!

Heading to the stupid nerd’s house, he plotted how it would go. An apology, then Deku forgiving him. Deku would offer to rebond, after apologizing himself for being an asshole and breaking the bond, risking his future.

They walked up to the apartment, and Katsuki sneered as his mother grabbed his shoulder.

“We’re going to say sorry and then leave.” she told him bluntly. “Nothing else.”

“Or your punishment will be worse,” Masaru promised his son, causing Katsuki to stare at him in shock for the dark tone. He had never heard his father use that before.

Mitsuki rang the bell and waited. Inko opened the door, face blank.

Katsuki felt some regret seeing Inko. He once called her Auntie Inko and she would bake cookies and give him and Deku treats. He used to like her a lot more then his own mom until his parents sat him down and explained why they didn’t speak to their parents, why he didn’t have grandparents like other kids did.

Learning how fucked up his parents’ childhoods were had him appreciating them way more as a nine-year-old. And made him think they were the most badass parents ever. His dad taking down his villain dad by walking right into a freaking police station? His mom stealing all the valuables in the house and running? Epic.

Stand there, looking at Auntie Inko and feeling those feelings again though made him feel small. Bad. Dirty.

He ignored it. Deku was a fucking weakling who wouldn’t get far in the future, no matter his Quirk. It was just a bonding Quirk after all. Katsuki would be the future number one hero. Deku was lucky to be part of his story.

“Yes?” Inko asked the Bakugou family.

“We would like to apologize to Izuku.” Mitsuki said, bluntly. Inko simply watched them a bit longer.

“We were just released today, we asked that the results from the tests Dr. Yamanato had done would be give to you after we left.” Inko said after a moment.

Katsuki didn’t move. He’d figured that the fucking hospital had been working against him, after he had gotten the police called on him for trying to see Deku earlier. He had been so angry then, he wanted Deku to take back his lies, or what he had thought were lies.

It took him using his Quirk over and over again to figure out the truth. Deku had increased his Quirk strength. By a lot.

He was still awesome, he wasn’t back to square one like his dad said. However he couldn’t do the same amount of damage as he could before. It infuriated him and he needed Deku to rebond with him.

“We’re aware but we want to apologize to him.” Masaru explained. Inko looked them over for a bit longer before she sighed.

“Wait here-” she began but a dark haired man appeared, looking tired.

“I’ll ask him. If he doesn’t want to meet you, would you be okay sending an apology letter?” the man asked.

“Of course,” Masaru said, bowing his head.

Katsuki knew Deku would come to the door. He never could stay away from Bakugou.

The man came back, and shook his head.

“He said an apology letter would work best for now,” the man began but Katsuki stopped paying attention.

What? The nerd refused to see him?!

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Katsuki screamed. “I’m fucking apologizig and the little shit won’t fucking-” his hands crackled with energy and he yanked himself from his mother’s grasp to step forward when his hands went cold and a scarf wrapped around him, holding him there.

“Do not take another step.” said the man coldly. His eyes had turned from dark brown to red, and his hair floated above his head, the scarf he had been wearing wrapped around Katsuki. “I’m the pro-hero Eraserhead, assigned to watch over the Midoriya family. Your actions of trying to force yourself into situations is not welcome here.”

Mitsuki grabbed her son, yanking him back.

“We’re sorry for his actions,” she bowed, forcing Katsuki to do so as well before she pulled him away from the apartment as Masaru spoke to Inko for longer. Mitsuki dragged her son to the stairwell, the boy in shock from losing his Quirk so suddenly still. “I cannot fucking beleive you!” she snapped. “That was the most disrespectful fucking thing I have seen yet from you, and apparently I haven’t seen everything.” she glared at her son, anger burning deep in her eyes.

“Deku-” Katsuki tried but Mitsuki glared at him, silencing him.

“Not another damn word.”

Mitsuki dragged her son down the stairs and to the car, unaware that part of his world view was shattering.

Deku… Deku didn’t want to see him. Deku refused to. Deku wanted a damn letter and not him in person.

Katsuki bared his teeth. Fuck that. Deku would understand where he belonged- under his feet, providing him with power for his future career.

He would make Deku rebond with him, and he would not take no for an answer!!

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You know, it occurred to me as I wrote this that Bakugou might claim that Izuku did not help him at all and the bond was completely fake. I tossed the idea around a bit but decided to leave it as Bakugou wanting Izuku to rebond with him. I felt that while Bakugou is a narcissistic egotistical brat, he also most likely would want the bond with Izuku to be more powerful. The punishment from his parents is something I feel makes sense. 1- the school was a large part in why Bakugou is the way he is. I mean, he was always a little shit as we can tell from flashbacks where BEFORE Izuku was declared Quirkless. The Deku name came before, Izuku was picked on by Bakugou before and more. However, the school did not help by praising him and saying he was going to be great. As well, excusing his actions against Izuku was bad. 2- Removing Bakugou from the school also robbed him of his ‘hero origin’ which you know was FAKE AS FUCK because Bakugou is not an underdog. Rising from a bad school only works if you’re also from a lower income and Bakugou really isn’t. 3- I don’t believe in punishments that are like: we take away everything you love and enjoy. It does nothing and is actually damaging. As well, as Mitsuki and Masaru come from bad families they also worry about being to harsh. So, change his school and also restrict him from Hero Con for a few years. A good punishment-more so since he will be sent to a strict school where his bullying behaviour is not allowed. Other notes: -I have six bonds including Inko for Izuku planned. Suggestions welcome but might not be listened to. -Dr. Yamanato is a character from another fic- my Omega Quirk one. I didn’t want to make another Quirk specialist character so I just reused her. Honestly I’ll probably keep reusing her because hey- ready made Quirk specialist here. -The Endeavour thing is more of a warning to Inko then a real plot point. If Aizawa follows it up I doubt I’ll focus to much on it. -Izuku’s low body temperature and light weight will be brought up often. This is solely to combat the trope where a medical condition is only brought up for plot. It won’t here. -This actually isn’t the full of Izuku’s Quirk. That will take way more time, effort and experimentation to figure out. -The reason Bakugou got such a big part of this chapter was for future plotting reasons. I don’t like… actually plot ahead much. I usually know the gist of what I want, and one thing I do know is Bakugou is a minor antagonist for a portion of this fic. Then he gets his redemption. As well, this chapter is more: Here is Izuku’s Quirk mixed with some plot so it’s not to info dumpy? -Inko is able to pull bigger objects now, she just has never tried because she doesn’t need to pull larger objects. -Japanese culture puts a lot of stock in apologizing and harmony. (Makes me wonder why Bakugou would be allowed to run around like that so much…) Hence why the Bakugou parents insisted on apologizing. (Oddly enough this makes me realize even more the ‘our son’s fault for being kidnapped’ thing is really a mistranslation/cultural thing where it isn’t meant like that at all based on my research) -I was told I use a lot of passive verbs so I tried not to here.

#bnha #bnha au #decagon #izuku has a quirk #Bakugou critical #dadzawa #more world building then plot #but plot

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theriverpersonshadow · 3 years

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Lamia Drama Part 13

I honestly just forgot to upload this for a while oops XD

As always, the Lamia species in this fic belong to @vex-bittys

I don’t remember if I ever made it clear or not, but Nikolai doesn’t actually live at Caring Coils adoption center. He has his own human!

A very bittersweet chapter, warning for discussions of old age and general, nearing-end-of-life care. This one kind of hit home for me, though Nikolai knows how to react far better than I did as a kid. If you personally struggle reading stuff like this, then you might want to skip this chapter. (Not that there’s anything to skip to yet, probably).

For those of you who want to stay, hope you enjoy and/or cry.

Nikolai was half lost in thought as he fumbled with the keys to his home: a cute, pink house in the suburbs with little yellow flowers in the windows. It’d been quite the day. He’d meant to half a talk in private with Keith – finding one’s bondmate was always a life-changing occasion, but he knew Keith had certain beliefs that would make it all the more world-shifting – but he’d gotten rather distracted. Partway through Alex’s session zero, a drunken imbecile decided to harass the Bitty Mamba and was threatening to call the cops when one eventually bit him, ranting and raving even as Nikolai had to physically wrestle him down to inject anti-venom. They had precautions for exactly such an event, of course, and were legally protected, but it was still an incident report that made him stay late. On top of that, it was grocery night, but thankfully Keith had showed him a lovely app that allowed him to pre-order his shopping. Generally, he liked shopping the old fashioned way, but it’d come in handy a few times. Maybe he could talk to Maia about Keith, she’d help him sort it out, if she felt up to it.

The lock finally clicked and Nikolai shoved the door open, trying not to squish the bags of groceries he was carrying. Buster started barking, running down and immediately flopping onto his back in front of Nikolai and entirely getting in the way, but he just rolled his eyes. “I’m home,” he said.

“Welcome home,” Maia wheezed from behind a breathing mask. The plastic covering was strapped across her face, covering her nose and mouth and muffling her, but she was still audible. She was sitting upright on the couch, her day caretaker, Emily, next to her. Maia’s skin was dark, but old age had turned it ashy and wrinkled. Once black hair had greyed, but her pale-green eyes shone as bright as ever. She was so thin these days, not that she’d ever been particularly heavy, but she used to have more muscle on her. Taking care of a shop full of lamia tended to keep you fit, but it couldn’t beat time completely.

Nikolai’s soul sank seeing her, but he put on a small smile instead, “Glad to be back.” He went to the put the groceries up in the kitchen, the smell of chicken noodle and cream of mushroom soup hitting him. Sylvester was there, bless that Krait. He didn’t live in the house, but he’d been coming over more often to check on him and Maia. Nikolai went over, purrs in his chest, “What? No welcome home kisses?”

Sylvester huffed, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink, “You didn’t give me much time you know.” He leaned in and gave Nikolai a peck on the fangs. “I’ve got the groceries, don’t worry about it.” He’d been coming over more often as Maia deteriorated, but he didn’t live there. He had his own job and apartment as a science teacher.

“Thank you,” Nikolai said, leaving those be to go be with Maia. The faint, but ever-sharp scent of chemicals nipped his tongue, something that was becoming increasingly common. He curled up next to Maia, letting Emily take her leave, and took one of Maia’s hands in both of his. Somehow, hers were almost as skeletal. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m…” she paused to take a deep breath, voice hoarse, “still kicking.” She shifted, free hand coming up to cup Nikolai’s face. “You worry too much.”

Nikolai chuckled, draping the tip of his tail on her. She was still warm, inside and out. “Good to hear it.”

There was a lull as she stroked the back of his head – he lowered somewhat so she could reach – but eventually she spoke again, “Eddy and Dart came over earlier...” Eddy was a kid down the street, Dart his bitty pygmy. From their adoption center, of course.

“Oh? How are they?”

“Doing well.” She paused to breathe for a moment, coughing a little into the tubes. “Got out the feather toy. Hope…” breathe, in and out… “you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’m glad someone got to play with it. Did he catch it?”

“Easily,” she chuckled. “Not what I used to be… wore myself out.”

“Pygmies wear everyone out,” he said with a chuckle.

“Too true!”

They took a moment to laugh together, TV quietly playing the background. Maia’s eyes had drifted to the door. She shifted about on too-thin legs, restless.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Nikolai asked. “I can go get the wheelchair and portable respirator.”

Maia huffed. “I can…” She tried to push herself up, shaking until she fell back down into his waiting arms. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said, going to get it and setting it up without a second thought. The two chatted idly as he did until, finally, she set up. He told Sylvester that they’d be back in half an hour, put on his service lamia vest, got Buster’s leash, and went outside. It was late and overly warm, but the sun was still out and kids and lamia alike were running around; that’s summer for you. It’d be fall soon enough, but for now they could just enjoy a nice stroll in the summer sun.

#Lamia Drama #Part 13 #Lamia Drama Part 13 #Maia the Human #Nikolai #Nikolai the King #Vex-Bitties #Despite not actually being bitties #I just like writing the big ones I guess?#Sue me XD #King Lamia #Tw: Old Age #end of life care #Medical #Bittersweet

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

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Total Flirt

Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 1.3k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“could you do 28 from the prompt list ("are you flirting with me?" "thank god you finally noticed") with jason todd??”

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I wanted to do a reader works with Dick and Jason finds her but I hated the idea of writing as cop right now so we are saying fuck canon Dick Grayson is a child gymnastics teacher! Idea courtesy of the Batfam Support Group Discord!!! The people are so amazing and kind and supportive it’s crazy - any batfam artists and writers need to join asap!

“Yes you did it!” you cheered, reaching to high-five Quinton, the eight year old who just mastered his standing back tuck. The beaming child threw himself into your arms then proceeded to do another jump. Letting him go get some water and a quick break you moved over to help Dick who was trying to convince a beginner that standing on a beam two inches off the ground wasn’t scary. Together, with coaxing words, she got on the beam and begun taking her first steps forward.

Between the two successes and many other wins and losses, it was an unbelievably long day. As your final classes finished you joined Dick in rolling up mats and cleaning up some of the loose chalk. With a sigh you moved on to your shared office and began wiping down boards and rewriting tomorrow’s schedule. “Long day?” a familiar voice jumped you out of your own thoughts. Whipping your head to the voice, you saw Dick’s friend Jason Todd. Occasionally he would pick Dick up for “nightly activities” which you assumed meant a relationship. The two bantered like a married couple, Dick always mothering Todd, who was a bit of a loose cannon and an intense flirt. You couldn’t really figure out the relationship between the two, and part of it was because of the way Jason talked to (and about) you.

You remembered the last time he picked Dick up. You had a late night private lesson with Dick’s younger brother Damian. The kid was untrained but crazy talented and strong. Dick begged you to teach him because he wouldn’t listen to Dick and usually ended up threatening his older brother with sharp objects. So, after a long night of explaining that you were a gymnast not skilled fighter and trying to show the boy basic gym skills he’d missed in previous “training” you went to grab Dick from the back where he was cleaning mat covers. To your surprise, Jason was there too. Not being much help he leaned against a shipment of foam cubes complaining about something to Dick. His eyes shot up when you walked in, his face easily falling into his usual smirk. As you walked closer you noticed his eyes fall down your figure, slowly raising again to meet your eyes with no shame. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, wondering if you had a stain on your shirt you brushed him off, turning to Dick. “Hey D your lil bro is done, I think he learned something hopefully so let me know if you need another” Dick nodded and looked over to Damian. Eyes widening he sprung up, “Damian NO!” and he took after Damian who you couldn’t sworn had a literal sword, but it was late. “So y/n got plans tonight?” Jason cocked his head grinning at you. “Oh not really, gonna go home and relax. Maybe pickup some dinner” you shrugged, confused as to why Jason was interested in you. Before he could reply Dick was calling Jason over, J looked annoyed to be pulled from you but he left before you could figure out what his goals were that night.

One of your favorite Jason-themed memories was when he took a lesson with you after he lost what seemed to be an intense bet. He said he’d had training when he was younger but you could tell now his skill had frozen over and been replaced with a reckless need to complete whatever he’s assigned no matter what. Reckless. After going over the necessity behind a perfect back handspring and letting him practice on the bounce track he was ready for the mats. Somehow he got turned around (?) and ended up flipping on to you, the two of you landing with him on top of you, arms cased next to your shoulder. Being just inches away from Jason was breathtaking, neither moving out of the other’s presence for just a second longer than you should’ve. Snapping out of his trance, you moved to get up and he hopped off of you. At the end of the lesson he went to leave, not before turning around saying “I think I’ll have to take more lessons if it means your there to catch me y/n” and with a wink he left, leaving you confused, but excited.

Now he was in the same relaxed position against the wall in your office. “God Jason you scared me! Yeah it was long, I guess I’m just gonna go relax, the usual” the butterflies appeared again, you smiled trying to peak over to Dick to see if he was coming towards the office. Jason filled you in, “uh Dick doesn’t know I’m here” he gestured to the back door which you could’ve sworn was locked. “Oh uh, are you surprising him?” you closed the door leaving just you and Jason alone. Again his eyes cascaded down and back up, no smirk this time. He looked sincere and slightly nervous, but after the second of doubt he wiped it off with a grin. “I’m here for you gorgeous” he started towards you with a wink, closing the distance between you in a few strides.

Then it all made sense.

The late nights where he picked up Dick but always tried to talk to you, comments on your skill and how great you were, and the stolen glances he was always taking: Jason liked you. Unable to contain the revelation; you placed your hand on his chest, looking up at him. “Have you been flirting with me?” you questioned, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Thank GOD you finally noticed!” he grinned. Shocked you were excited that he’d taken a liking to you, he was totally cute, your age, type, way taller than you, not to mention ripped and- “mph” as thoughts raced about how totally hot he was you didn’t realize Jason leaning down, closing the distance between your lips. Smiling into the kiss you bunched up his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Fitting together perfectly, his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you sweetly.

“There’s no mission this time is there” you gasped, pulling away from Jason to see Dick leaning against the office door. Sheepishly you slid out of Jason’s grasp, his hand moving to the small of your back. “Sorry D I came for y/n this time” Jason grinned while Dick rolled his eyes. “Whatever I’m going home” Dick smiled at you and gave Jason a glare. “I don’t care if you’re my brother I’ll beat you up if you mess this one up” Dick quipped before leaving. “Trust me I know this is special” Jason retorted as Dick walked away, grabbing your hand and giving it a tug.

The two of you somehow made it back to Jason’s apartment. It was messy but it was warm and comforting. Seated on his couch the two of you questioned each other about your lives, the feeling of just being in the other’s presence just felt right. “So, what did Dick mean by ‘another mission’ is that where you guys go cuz I just thought you were dating or something” you admitted, and Jason was stuck somewhere between a grimace, embarrassment, and laughter. “Well obviously he’s my adoptive brother not secret lover, that’s an easy one. And mission is something we do with our family, it’s boring but I can tell you about it later if you stick around” seeing as it was your first “date” on his couch you let it rest, happy to finally understand the relationship between the brothers.

“I think I’ll definitely be sticking around” you grinned, scooting over to give him a quick peck. With the grin that continued to give you butterflies, he squeezed your hand. “I think I’d like that princess”

#jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #dick grayson #dick grayson x friend!reader #dick grayson x platonic!reader #dc fluff #damian wayne #jason todd au #jason todd x y/n

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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you know something that i find really interesting is fandom's insistence on calling the AceOps cops in a derisive manner, despite the fact that we see weiss in volume 7 exercising her authority as a huntress to perform an arrest. wouldn't that make huntsmen akin to cops as well? and, further, i don't understand the refusal of fandom to judge remnant's law enforcement on its own merits, rather than drawing unfounded parallels to real world cops. They Are Not The Same.

One of the things I think is particularly important here is the acknowledgement that although RWBY’s law enforcement doesn’t exist in our world, it is a product of our world. In that (obviously) real people wrote these characters while immersed in a society where cops are lying, power abusing killers. It’s entirely possible (likely even) to get a story that uses fantasy elements to reflect real world social issues. That’s why English teachers are always pointing out those readings in class: “Sure, within the story-world that’s literally a lion, but here’s how we’re supposed to read that lion as an allegory of Christ.” RWBY might indeed have given us super-powered cops in a fantasy story who, despite all their differences, are very much meant to represent and teach us something about the real cops in our midst... but then RWBY failed to write anything that even remotely sits within our political climate. I’ve already explained ad nauseam the various ways that the Ace Ops don’t fit into this ACAB mold: they’re not liars, they’re not murderers, they’re not entitled, they make their own decisions after applying critical thought, their loyalty is no more “boot-licking” than what the team displays for RWBY, they live in a world where armed force is more of a necessity, etc. In addition, despite the writing (unintentionally I assume) portraying the team in a very positive light, we can’t even claim it’s cop propaganda. Because we’re supposed to hate them. That doesn’t make sense based on what the show actually gives us, but that’s the takeaway RWBY wants: Team RWBY good, Ace Ops bad. Which goes against the work propaganda is supposed to accomplish (a la B99). So the Ace Ops aren’t an allegory for real American cops and they don’t exist as cop propaganda... they’re just characters who happen to be this world’s fantasy equivalent of cops. A world where cops have none of our world’s history/associations. But many in the fandom don’t seem inclined (or perhaps are not sure how) to work through that difference. Because when you’re living in a country where cops are continually murdering black people and attacking peaceful protesters - when your life is in danger or you’re disgusted with their crimes - it is indeed very easy to see a fantasy cop equivalent and jump straight to their guilt. But that’s not the story RT wrote and, as horrified as I am with our real world authority, I’ve had too much training in analysis to willingly let those emotions color my reading of a fictional text. That’s not how this works. If it’s not there, it’s not there.

Man, I didn’t even think about that moment with Weiss! (Probably because it was stupidly played for laughs...) A while back I tackled the claim that Team RWBY owes Ironwood nothing because they were never working for Atlas/the military. I argued that doing everything they did (living there, using resources, going on missions, getting those licenses, etc.) and thinking they’re separate from this institution is crazy. That moment with Weiss is another excellent example. So the claim seems to be that Weiss hopes she officially has the power to arrest her father - to some extent expects that power given her willingness to make that announcement, even if she questioned it a second later - but she’s somehow not a part of this military? She wants the power to arrest others like an officer of the law but likewise doesn’t want to be held accountable when she keeps secrets from her commanding officer, disobeys his orders, threatens his operation, and knocks out four of his men? That’s... not how this works. If RT really wanted Team RWBY to be anti-establishment then they needed to a) make that establishment corrupt (rather than just giving us an exhausted man making hard decisions in an impossible situation) and b) not have the group cozy up to that establishment for weeks. This isn’t a “good, naive cop finally realizes how corrupt the system is and turns against it” story. Team RWBY has lied from the start. They’ve kept secrets from the start. They knew what Ironwood was doing - potentially using resources in a dubious manner - from the start. And they did nothing to change this. They actively encouraged it, all while benefiting off of what that gave them. The concept that they are entitled to all this power while they betray the man who gives it to him, only to “heroically” throw it all away for a suicidal plan remains incredibly absurd lol

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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herends · 3 years

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incoming: 💣 💼 😡 🐢 , each for matt & beth! —— from @kalixus.

💣 / a stress headcanon —— ok so the thing about matt is, she feels a lot of stress — all the time. it was part of her before the world ended, and yet somehow the end of the world put a lid on it, some. thing is, when stress gets real high, she needs to be doing something. something methodical that will require her mind to focus and will allow her to feel like she’s actively doing something ( feeling powerless amplifies the stress, overwhelms her and renders her almost entirely useless. nothing will set her off more than people telling her ‘leave it alone, we got this’ ). with a few trusted people, talks can help too —— talking at length, openly, about whatever’s stressing her and weighing options in a rather cold, analytical way, that helps her rationalize issues and tackle them with a clearer mind, but it can only be with people she really trusts and whose opinions she values. there’s a secret rank of respect by which she judges people and anyone below an eight simply doesn’t get to speak to her about anything serious.

💼 / a work headcanon —— having worked almost all her life, it’s hard for her to just... lie around. that’s why she began working on whatever was needed in atlas from the very first day in the camp. be it looking after the injured, putting up barricades or fixing the beds, she got to work straight away and never rejected a single task that was asked of her. even now that she’s “running” the whole operation, whenever there’s need of an extra pair of hands matt is first in line ( unless of course, the task required a specific skillset she’s lacking ). of all the jobs in atlas, she mostly appreciates those that involve building / construction of any sorts.

😡 / an anger headcanon —— yeah, it’s safe to say you don’t wanna see her angry. she’s not loud, or violent, or aggressive: but she can be cruel. she tends to be a rather keen observer, she might not be able to know all about a person upon first glance, but she’s capable of figuring out what will hurt them, what will truly set them off, and she’s not afraid to use this ability when she gets really, really angry. the thing is, it’s hard to get her truly angry: she can lose her patience, but anger is a really dark emotion for her, and not one she’s particularly familiar with. she’s aware of the effect it has on her, and doesn’t like it, it actually frightens her. it’s safe to say that the relationship between matt and anger is a dangerous dynamic at best: volatile, damaging and potentially toxic for her as much as it could be for the subjects of her anger.

🐢 / a mental health headcanon —— therapist wanted asap. no, for real, she needs to talk to someone. she used to be more open once, but losing her brother first, and then the apocalypse, really put a strain on her ability to verbalize her emotions, her fears and her doubts. she tends to keep everything inside until it becomes dangerous ( read: her issues with anger ), although even having a professional available is no guarantee that she would open up —— se tends to be extremely distrustful of people in general, but shrinks above all.

💣 / a stress headcanon —— beth lives in a condition of perpetual stress by now, although one could argue this began way before andrew’s death. the truth of it, beth’s probably better off when she’s stressed —— there’s some sort of flaw in her code that urges her to remain in some constant state of fight in order to work, to be effective, most of all to feel worthy of, well, being alive. this also mirrors itself in her relationships, her friendships and her dynamics with her colleagues —— they’re mostly based on more or less playful degrees of conflict, bickering, play-fighting and light bullying. calm doesn’t suit her, rest freaks her out, actually stresses her more than the generally accepted notion of stress.

💼 / a work headcanon —— she first said she wanted to become a cop when she was five, asked for a police badge at christmas that year, and by the time she was 10 every teacher knew she was obsessed with the idea of becoming a cop. she met her fair share of resistence, although lately most of it has been coming from her own questioning —— current events and her own experience in seeing the corruption within the force first caused her dream to begin to crack, and right now she’s stuck in a sort of impasse. not feeling quite at ease with her uniform but also believing it to allow her a privileged position for looking into andrew’s death and, generally, a lot of shady shit that would stay covered without the more morally decent cops like her. she’s considered resigning at least a couple times, lately —— the sad thing is, she doesn’t see herself doing anything else. her entire identity was forged around the idea of becoming a cop: frankly, she’s not sure what will be left when that uniform is stripped off of her.

😡 / an anger headcanon —— beth tends to lose her temper a lot. she’s more acquainted with rage than anger —— she will lash out, be visibly angry, become a bit impulsive and lose control a little. anger is different. anger is a sort of fuel for beth. it keeps her going, it motivates her —— when it comes to her looking into andrew’s death it’s not really the need for justice that keeps her going, because either way it’s not gonna fix anything, andrew’s not gonna come back. it’s the anger, really. it’s that she feels anger in its entirety and it gives her energy, energy that has to be channeled into a constructive direction or else it just threatens to make her explode.

🐢 / a mental health headcanon —— she’s been diagnosed with P.T.S.D., even though she audibly replied ‘that’s bullshit’ when the department issued doctor first delivered her diagnosis. she struggles to recognize the signs, as she doesn’t display typical symptoms of ptsd —— she doesn’t have nightmares or flashes, doesn’t have panic attacks, doesn’t flinch when hearing gunshots. it’s mostly subtler signs that might be mistaken for something different like depression: insomnia, hypervigilance, irritability, a tendency to isolate and not trust anyone with her investigations. her mother sends her a pamphlet about therapy groups and programs about once a month —— they’ve been piled up by the door of her new york apartment, by now they’ve become tall enough to make for a chic coffee table.

HEADCANON MEME / accepting .

#kalixus #a bad liar with a savior complex —— 𝖎𝖓𝖇𝖔𝖝.#the breath i’ve taken and the one i must —— 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖆 𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖞.#who is the lamb and who is the knife ? —— 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖜.#i feel like most of these are very obviously things anybody would say abt their muse but #eh ..#thank you for sending these tho ur the real mvp :c

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ty-talks-comics · 5 years

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Best of DC: Week of November 20th, 2019

Best of this Week: The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage #1 - Jeff Lemire, Denys Cowan, Bill Sienkiewicz, Chris Sotomayor and Willie Schubert

The Question is one of the best Objectivist heroes.

By extension, that also includes Rorschach since he’s a pastiche of good old Vic Sage himself and it’s easy to see why people gravitate towards them so much. The idea of Objectivism is… iffy to say the least, but being rational, utilizing one's free will and choosing to act in one’s own self interest can be seen as good qualities, especially in the ways that Vic and Rorschach operate. They have good, unwavering moral compasses and do their best to persuade others to their reality.

But their strengths are also their greatest weaknesses.

When Steve Ditko created The Question back in the 60s, he was all into Ayn Rand’s philosophy and that carried over heavily into Vic Sage’s characterization which saw him use almost any means necessary to keep Hub City’s chaos at bay, even going so far as to let criminals live or die on their own merits if Sage left them in precarious situations (Once leaving a man in a sewer drain and calling the cops to either find him or his body.). He was not a good person, but he was what the city needed to survive, much like Rorschach who chose to die rather than live in Ozymandias’ world built on a lie.

This book continues to build off of that characterization while mixing in elements from Dennis O’Neil and Denys Cowan’s 1980s run with the character and brings in his cast of characters and modernizes Hub City’s issues, hopefully to the delight of those wanting to see a return of everyone’s favorite conspiracy theorist/detective/agent of justice. Honestly, it’s a damn good job.

The book begins with The Question savagely breaking up a prostitution ring operating out of the city. He smashes faces into walls, elbows a big guy in the face and when he runs out of people to hit, he turns to the Councilman of Hub City who just so happens to be one of the patrons of the seedy motel. In fear, the Councilman pleads with The Question to not kill him and he responds by pulling out a phone and recording as much as he can, he then elbows the Councilman in the head and steals his ring, hoping that it might help him with other cases. One of the prostitutes thanks The Question for his help, but he rebuffs her and essentially says that she has no future, but the innocent little girl does.

In just one scene we learn everything we need to know about this iteration of Vic Sage; while he’s not a murderer, it is implied that he may have killed before, but he also knows that getting evidence and ruining someone's life with their evil deed is just as effective as a bullet. Though he saved the lives of the prostitute and the child with her, he insults her by calling her a whore, but insists that the little girl be given to the soon to arrive police. It’s another Randian idea that he doesn’t feel sorry for those that have “ruined” their lives in his eyes and he even notes this when he speaks about how Hub City itself is rotten and dying.

Soon after the bust, Vic Sage appears on his news channel and grills Myra Fermin, a character from the O’Neil and Cowan run, on the activities of her brother - incumbent Mayor Wesley Fermin. This is a bit of a change from the O’Neil run as Wesley was Myra’s husband in that series, but Lemire seems to be doing this in an effort to showcase some kind of family loyalty between the two. Sage accuses Wesley of being the man behind Hub City’s wave of crime, linking him to video evidence from an “anonymous source” of the Councilman in the brothel and this catches Myra off guard.

He then continues by saying that the Councilman’s arrest wasn’t mentioned in the police report, obviously showing that they’re corrupt as all hell and when the cameras are cut off, she lambasts him for ambushing her with his accusations and he says that she lacks spine and that the longer she chooses to ignore things, the more complicit she becomes. When the family lawyer comes to take her away from Sage’s “slanderous accusations” and threatens a lawsuit. Vic asks Myra what happened to her that she has to hide behind a lawyer and she replies by saying she grew up, labeling Vic’s objectivism as childish.

In some ways it’s easy to agree with her that the world isn’t necessarily black and white, but at the same time, it’s because of that that Vic’s able to operate in the way that he does. Of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean that either of them are right as Hub City is still suffering and neither of their actions seem to have changed much in that regard. It’s a sad reality that only Vic is able to see since it’s so plain in his face, but when his only solutions are to beat people up and occasionally have evidence that can easily be dismissed by bought off judges, it’s clear that cynicism would win out in the end.

Denys Cowan really does remind me of why the early Question series was so memorable as his style his only improved from the old days. His signature style of hatch shading, Sienkiewicz’s inks and Sotomayor’s colors really set the noir tone of the story. Though it takes place in the modern day, it looks like a 90s book set back in the 50s or 60s and I love that about this. Cowan manages to pull so much emotion out of a character whose most distinct feature is the fact that his mask has none. Vic Sage is angry, he’s tired of this shit and has been for a little while.

Sotomayor does an amazing job contrasting Sage’s double identities with The Question wearing his normal dark blue suit and orange undershirt and Vic Sage wearing a bright brown suit. This symbolizes the dual natures of the man himself, with one operating in the dark and other in the light. This is brought up when Vic goes to speak to his former Chemistry teacher, Tot. Tot is one of the few people that knows Vic is The Question and as they discuss Hub City’s need for Vic Sage more than The Question right now.

Cowan’s art is absolutely beautiful in these scenes. As I will continually state, everything feels very noir-inspired, grimy and dak. Chris Sotomayor is able to beautifully use all of his colors to illustrate the gravity of the situation and show how easily Vic is able to move between his two personas. Using the compound that affixes the featureless mask to his face, a puff of smoke is created and that allows for Sotomayor to transition the blue into brown and vice versa through the scene. It’s amazing to look at when combined with Sienkiewicz dark inks. What’s even better is that the smoke almost forms a question mark in some thematic fun.

Vic says that The Question can do things that Vic Sage can’t and it’s debatable as to whether or not that’s always going to be a good thing. Throughout this scene they also discuss the ring that Vic took from the Councilman and how he seems to have some sort of odd memory or attraction to the symbol on it. While we’re left in the dark initially, I have some speculation as to what it could possibly be and how it may tie in to another incarnation of The Question or if it’s just something completely new and interesting. Sage is convinced that Fermin is involved with it somehow and the conspiracy begins as he notes that Fermin’s lawyer had a similar ring.

When Vic gets back to his office, he starts obsessively drawing the symbol almost from memory and then he questions how he can Google search it...then he does just that, commenting on how the internet has taken the fun out of detective work. It’s a funny crack, especially as he finds information that he absolutely needed and starts building a board for every piece he has, focusing on an old society that used to call Hub City home.

One of the best bits of the book have to be The Questions inner monologue throughout each page. He details, moment by moment, his actions and the actions of two other occurrences at the same time. It feels very Ditko-esque with just a little bit of Rorschach omnipresence thrown in there for good measure, though Sage mentions how he was actually oblivious to the other two events. Likely meaning that he’s writing a journal of the important things shortly after everything’s gone down.

As he enters the former home of the Hub City Elder Society, Myra accidentally walks in on her brother in the middle of putting the screws to the Councilman and in another part of the city a white police officer shoots an unarmed black man. We don’t get to see much more of the other events as the book then mostly spirals into a nightmare for Vic.

Cowan’s art takes a dark turn as The Question walks through the dark tunnel, discovering the symbol on the wall and starting to see horrific visions. Eventually, he stumbles upon the bodies of the Elder Society and a dark hole in the middle of the cave. Cowan and Sienkiewicz turn this into a horror show as the skeletons are strewn across the cave and The Questions visibly hit with fear, wondering if he should let his identity slip away and let the darkness tell him his real name.

Sienkiewicz earns his money through his dark inks in these pages and the few panels he’s given to illustrate nightmares on the level that he did with The New Mutants. The lines are scratchy, dark, sometimes incomprehensible and I absolutely loved them. At one point we get a close up on The Question’s blank face as done by Coan and the following panel is one of those nightmares - a jagged, green face begging “Charlie Victor Szasz” for help. The panel that follows sees The Question jolt back, his body language being the only thing that betrays his blank face as we can clearly see how afraid he is.

He runs out of the tunnel monologuing about how fear pushes one away from the truth and how he only knew fear, especially after having found a blank face mask similar to his own in the cave, only… it was far older than he. Tot calls him soon after and tells him that he’s been trying to reach him for three hours, much to Vic’s surprise. The city is in chaos after the shooting death of David Fuller, the black man mentioned earlier, and there are riots in the streets. Vic’s talk show would have been airing during the time The Question was in the tunnel and the City NEEDED his commentary, but whatever’s going on with the Elder Society and the mask demanded his attention more.

It’s astounding just how bad Hub City was able to get in a few short hours as Cowan portrays the riot as deafening and violent with Vic standing on one side of the street with no violence and the other side being a madhouse with car windows being smashed, bricks being thrown and molotovs flying in the background. At the same time, Myra wasn’t supposed to see what her brother was doing and unfortunately, she picked the wrong time to attain a moral high ground to things. Wesley has her detained in the room to decide which side she’s on, especially knowing that she’s turned a blind eye to his activities in the past.

Vic goes to visit his friend Richard Dragon, the man who taught him how to fight. While he drives, he listens to Wesley Fermin’s statement on the shooting and Fermin tries to deflect any blame from the Officer in question even though there is clear video evidence, he calls it “supposed video evidence.” He comments on the Officer’s history on the HCPD and says it’s too early to lay blame on anyone, claiming that the officer had just cause to “defend” himself. The riots only get more heated.

Vic and Dragon’s prior history is acknowledged, even Vic’s time as a man of Zen is brought up before we learn that he dismissed the “new-age bullshit” in favor of just hitting people. Dragon pours him a cup of tea and Vic tries to seek answers about things he’s seeing, calling them more than visions - memories maybe. Vic notes that all of this has an occult “mumbo-jumbo” feel to it and says he doesn’t believe in superstitious nonsense to which Dragon replies that he must feel the same way about metempsychosis. Before Sage is able to question him about what that means, he feels the effects of whatever drug Dragon put in his drink and he’s sent into a colorful rainbow of a dreamscape, waking up in the past without his face.

I love the fact that Denys Cowan returned to a character that he really helped popularize back when he was first being showcased at DC Comics and Bill Sienkiewicz does an amazing job with the inks in this issue, really helping set the grimy tone. Chris Sotomayor knocked it out of the park with his coloring to give this book life. Of course, the book wouldn’t have been nearly as good if not for Willie Schubert’s expert lettering as well.

This book was an amazingly fun and dark read that really returned The Question back to… at least his 80s roots while still acknowledging the characters past and potentially some of the unexplored parts of his New 52 self. Jeff Lemire does a good job of reintroducing Vic Sage as a nightly news host as well as his supporting cast from Tot to Myra and Richard Dragon. He’s still a good detective and conspiracy theorist, only this time, he’s going to have to go to places that he normally wouldn’t.

As it tends to happen, I’m sure that Book Two will be the absolute best issue of the series and will give us some insight over the many times The Question has lived or died and that’s a mystery that I’m sure Vic Sage would love to solve and find a rational answer for. I honestly also hope that we get some clarity on the other reboots and retcons that he’s endured over time as that seems to be one of the main themes of the book. Vic Sage isn’t enough, so the Question is the other half, but if the Question is no one, then who is he?

#the question #vic sage #charles victor szasz #dc comics #dc black label #jeff lemire #denys cowan #bill sienkiewicz #chris sotomayor #comics #objectivism #steve ditko

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camiddletonxox · 4 years

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All She Really Needs

Characters: Michael Middleton x Charity Middleton (Ride or Die: A Bad Boy Romance)

Rating - Teen+, mention of death and cancer and trauma

Note - This has no prompt or anything tbh, this was just something I started writing, and obviously it turned into a story.

Tag list - @drakewalkerfantasy @ao719 @princess-geek @polishchoicesfan @binny1985 @desireepow-1986 @adriansbiss @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @hatescapsicum @itscassandral @gardeningourmet @heauxplesslydevoted @thequeenofcronuts @kaavyaethanramsey @choicesolivia @regencylady1810 @dailydoseofchoices @storyofmychoices @choicesficwriterscreations

Summary - Just a little fic explaining Charity I guess. SUPER SAD, PLEASE GET TISSUES AND DO NOT READ IF THE MENTION OF DEATH AND CANCER IS TOO MUCH ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Word Count - 1154

———————

There was a girl, Charity and there were girls like Ingrid, there were girls like Emma Harrison. Girls like Ingrid were all about being the best in the social circle of Mar Vista prep school, they aspired to be queen b and did not allow anyone to stand in their way. Girls like Charity Middleton were quiet, docile but passionate. They focused on their studies and their families and were a teacher dream. Even though Charity and Ingrid had remarkably similar grades and were expected to be in running for Valedictorian at the end of their senior year, they were as opposite as they come.

Girls like Ingrid were all about being seen with the quarterback of the school football team. They had to high the most expensive shoes and the most expensive bags, and the frilliest, most on trend designer dress and had to be able to hold their own in a bitching fight. They had to be important, in other words. Girls like Ingrid would parade around the school, bullying the nerdy kids or ignoring the new kid, they had a reputation to keep. Deep down, girls like Ingrid may have had an extremely hard upbringing and were that way because of the unfortunate upbringing they had.

Then there was the other category of girls, Emma Harrison type girls. To be honest, there not too much difference between the Ingrid and Emma type, only the fact that the Emma type of girls lived on drama. To the point it was unhealthy, they would cause drama for other students and then when they were confronted by teachers, they threatened to call their parents to come and speak to the teachers. The Emma type girl was someone whose father was ridiculously rich, had his own business, occasionally a luxurious holiday home in a location such as Barbados or Dubai. These types of girls were spoilt brats, they always wanted, and they never even tried to give back to the people who they took from.

Then there is Charity Middleton, a sweet, quiet girl. She was the daughter of a hero cop, Detective Michael Middleton and recently deceased paediatric surgeon, Clara Middleton (maiden name – Schutz). Charity was unique in school, se never had gotten into trouble with any teachers, she had the perfect attendance record pretty much, unless she was severely ill, then her mother and father would insist she was off school. She was the type of girl who would rather (when her mother was alive) go to the hospital to help at the gift shop or the charity shop they had there. She wanted to help people and she was smart, but she never used her smartness as a weapon. She was docile as they come, only speaking up in class if it were to do with their work. She had 5 friends, but for her that is all she would ever need. She stayed clear of drama, and she only focused on things that would directly impact her, she never caused drama. When all the Ingrid’s and Emma’s were out at a alcohol fuelled party, with sex and god knows how many types of drugs, she’d either be at home under a blanket watching some medical or crime drama or some boxset she and her dad would have seen a thousand times, but somehow each time they saw it, it was better than the last. When hr dad was on night shift, her best friend Riya and her would browse through Netflix for a scary movie to watch, it was perfect, it was just the way she wanted to be.

The sad thing about Charity Middleton was she lost her mother at 13, in a completely unpredictable turn of events. Clara was at work one day when she collapsed, and her husband and daughter’s life was changed. Clara was diagnosed with cancer, and very quickly told it was far too advanced to be able to do anything, she was given a year to live. Michael’s world crashed down around him, and their sweet, beautiful daughter was just as affected by it. In the months leading up to her death, Clara had to give up work and day by day got weaker. She became a different person, she as emotional and broken and weak, but try to put on a brave face for her 12-year-old daughter. But as Charity’s 13th birthday hit, Clara was given weeks to live, she became worse and she was slowly slipping the way. She insisted they celebrated Charity’s birthday as they planned and travelled to London, against the orders of her medical team. A week went by in London and the family had the most magical time, it was 2 days after their return, Clara was put into a hospice, and was told she had at least a week to live, it came to 10pm that night, when Clara gave up her fight, and passed away in her husbands arm, with her daughter in her arms.

As sad as losing her mother was, it did not change the girl Charity was, not really. It made her stronger and it made her appreciate her father even more. All they had was each other and they were determined to never ever take each other for granted. They made a promise to themselves, each other and to Clara to never let anything stand in their way of being father and daughter, from being a team. Charity grieved and still grieves to this day as her mum was everything to her, and still cannot even try to comprehend why what happened to her mother happened. What did Clara do to deserve all that pain?

No matter how much she hurts and no matter how much she wants to shut the world out, she does not, she continues her life the way Clara wanted her to and she goes out of her way everyday to be there for her dad as he is there for her. As much trauma as they face on the way, from grief to anything else, the thing is Charity knows how loved and cherished she is, and Michael knows how loved he is by his daughter.

The one thing her mother taught her was to never stop being who she was, to be herself and all will be well. Her mother taught hr to accept who she is and to never change who she was, for anyone. Her father loved her for who she was, and to her, her dads love was all that mattered. She just needed her dad, her first love. So as much as she wanted to have more friends, she knew she never had to change who she was, because the most important man in her life at age 15 (her father) loved her the way she was and would never stop loving and believing in her. And that is all she needed.

#choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices #fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #rod choices #rod dad #rod mc #choices ride or die a bad boy romance #choices ride or die #ride or die mr wheeler #ride or die main character #charity middleton #michael middleton #dad and daughter #rod dad and daughter

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firelord-frowny · 4 years

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Some of y’all might have black friends who seem to be ~lashing out in anger~ because of all the shit that’s going on, and when someone is lashing out in a direction that maybe comes really close to where you’re standing, I know it can feel hurtful and confusing, and it can be hard to know how best to respond.

So, I wanna kinda explain that right now, and all throughout ~american~ history, really, black people have had to suffer PROFOUND psychological wounds. And it might not always seem that way bc I mean, most of us are otherwise ‘normal’ people just going on about our lives. It’s not immediately obvious how hurt we are. But if you’re observant, you can notice big differences in how black people respond to hearing about heinously bigoted acts, vs how white people respond to them.

For example, I somehow wound up talking to one of my violin teachers about eye color. I don’t remember how we got on that topic, but it prompted me to casually mention how my mom was born with blue eyes, and that when she was a baby and her mom would bring her on the bus, the white passengers would coo over my mom’s blue eyes, ask to hold her, and then take her to the front of the bus to sit with them while her mom stayed sitting in the back. Now, obviously I know that’s some racist-ass-shit, but like... it’s not shocking, and I’m pretty desensitized to those kinds of things in the sense that I obviously know it’s horrible and upsetting, but also, I’m not gonna mope about it at all.

But my teacher had this horrified expression and he went, “That’s... sick!”

So, think about that for a minute. Think about exactly how much trauma and abuse a culture would need to suffer generation after generation after generation in order to not even bat an eyelash at an incident that would cause most decent people to reel in disgust.

That’s the trauma.

You can see it demonstrated in Jane Elliot’s “brown-eye-blue-eye” experiment, where white children were scarred for life after enduring only a few hours of a very watered-down version of what black people have to go through for our entire lives.

That’s the trauma.

Trae Crowder, “The Liberal Redneck” summed it up nicely in one of his recent videos: “I mean, black people catch all this shit for rioting, but really, given the circumstances, they almost never do it, you know? But you can only push a people so far, and apparently they draw the line at wanton public murder at the hands of the law.”

We go through so much ugly shit every day, and sometimes it’s small things like being condescendingly described as “articulate,” and sometimes it’s bigger, scarier things like being pulled over because the cop thought the car we were in was Too Nice to belong to a black person, or a professor accusing you of plagiarism because they think you shouldn’t know any words with more than two syllables in it. And this is stuff that more often than not, we just bend over and take it. We just smile and nod. Because I swear, our only real concern is getting home safe. We will put up with the most demoralizing shit if it means we can exit the situation alive and unhandcuffed.

Sure, we go home and lament to our families or friends in private, but we have to “Behave” out in the real wold, because we know that there are people out there just looking for their chance to either ruin our day or end our lives, and we have no way of knowing who those people are until we’re already in danger. It’s a constant state of fear and hyperawareness. But we don’t really call it fear or hyperawareness. We just call it part of the black experience. These anxieties are built-in. It does not go away. It’s not always at the front of our minds, but it’s always present. It’s a miracle for some of us if we can go a full day without having to consider how our blackness someone’s racism may negatively impact us.

So when shit like these most recent murders happen...

it’s essentially tearing into a tender, festering wound. It’s the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. It’s the tectonic pressure, built up for millennia, finally unleashing an earthquake that yanks the ground right out from under everything and everyone, and the only thing anyone’s experiencing is chaos.

That’s the trauma! Your black friends are reeling from pain and grief and fear and frustration that is centuries old, and to be blunt, some of us ain’t coping. I mean really, this is some shit that can’t be coped with. I don’t think there’s a “healthy way” to deal with seeing people in your community being killed in public on camera, and not being able to escape having to see the footage over and over and over again. There’s no “healthy response” to having to witness, time and time again, people keep their freedom after they murder us. There’s no “correct” way to react when people in positions of power proudly defend and even praise the people who threaten and kill us, while demonizing and punishing us for getting angry and demanding change.

So, all off this what I want you to think about when you catch yourself feeling hurt and attacked by some of the things you might hear your black friends say. Try to remember that when a person - any person - goes through so much endless trauma, it’s not always possible to refrain from lashing out. And if you feel yourself wanting to interject with statements about “not all white people” or anything of the sort... try not to do that. Try, instead, to express compassion. Try to BE that hypothetical white person you reference when you say “not all white people.” Don’t TELL us about them - BE them! When you hear your black friends expressing their grief and anger, listen to them. Tell them that you’re here to help. Let them know that they’re safe with you. Let them know that they deserve justice, and that you’ll do your part to shape the world around you into something better. Tell them that you’re sorry for all the pain that’s being inflicted on them. Tell them that you care how they feel, and you care about their safety, and that you know they’re right to be angry. Tell them that they can call you if they ever feel there’s anything you can do to help keep them safe. Be available. Be kind. Be patient. Be sad and angry with us.

I know during times like this, obviously we want the focus to be on all the hurt that’s being done to the black community. And I mean, obviously we do get the worst end of this shit.

But like.

Every decent person suffers from this crap. All of our lives are made worse. All of us are stuck having to fight for shit we should have never even had to ask for. It’s not fair to anyone, and it sucks for everyone, but we all have to deal with it, and we all have to make it stop.

Idk, I guess my point is just... be compassionate. Be a good person. Be one small reason why your black friends maybe don’t have to feel quite so scared.

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naesoonghonors · 4 years

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Persepolis, remember where -we- women used to be

Persepolis

“Since then, this old and great civilization has been discussed mostly in connection with fundamentalism, fanaticism, and terrorism. As an Iranian who has lived more than half of my life in Iran, I know that this image is far from the truth. This is why writing Persepolis was so important to me. I believe that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists. I also don’t want those Iranians who lost their lives in prisons defending freedom, who died in the war against Iraq, who suffered under various repressive regimes, or who were forced to leave their families and flee their homeland to be forgotten. One can forgive but one should never forget. “ - Marjane Satrapi

This movie admittedly made me cry. What can I say besides I’m a sap for the concept of change and being unable to return to the way it was before. There is a lot that can be sad about this film. There is biting commentary on class and race throughout. Just due to time constraints I really will not be able to discuss it all. So please watch the movie and read the book. It will be worth it. Regardless, In this autobiographical flick we follow Marjane Satrapi through her childhood and early adult years in Iran during and after the Islamic Revolution.

For now skipping straight to post Islamic revolution, Marjane is forced into a much more restrictive societal role. This is obvious visually with the forcing of the hijab on all women. Even those not Islamic or not believing in the tradition is not spared. This is done for the sake of the good men of the country. So they are not distracted by the women’s bodies. This completely ignoring the fact that the men’s fashion of the time was pants so tight you could see their underwear. While fighting with a professor about this same topic Marjane has a bit of a shocking wake up moments where she finally confronts how much bullshit she has been put through. She is proud to be Iranian. It is the country her family has fought and died for. But the country has turned to a bit of a dictatorship. In her class they take the time to have all of the students sit around and cut the Shahs face and name out of their history books. Hoping to erase the past, perhaps have their country forget about it and more easily submit to their wills. As a woman Marjane is now expected to dress ‘virtuous’. This boils down to nothing being visible in public sans hands and face. And Marjane complies. So one would think that she would be a good woman and would be safe from evil sinful eyes. Wrong, of course. For the audacity she has to be seen in public men seen to throw terrible threats at her with no regard. So even playing by the rule’s women cannot win this game. That is because it is not actually about the attire. It is a symbol of an ideology being forced on the women of a country. Women are depicted as taking them off as soon as they get into their apartments. This is also where they are able to speak freely, mostly of revolution.

Marjane does however learn some rules of the society she has been thrusted into and how to play to win. When women threaten her for dressing like a slut, she breaks down in tears in order to avoid their wrath. This is very out of character for Marjane from my perspective. Never before has she been scared to say what she thinks or wants. So she must fall back on these more womanly tactics. Even so. most of the enforcement of this comes from other women in her community. It begins in schools, the female teacher stating something like ‘To cover is virtuous. Veil is freedom. Those who reveal indulge in sin. Veil honors soldiers.’Perhaps using the older women’s internalized sexism or maybe just looking like more trouble than its worth the women move along. As clever as it was problems of gender, race, or sexuality are society and systematic problems not the product of individual interaction. When she appears in a public place to meet with her boyfriend she is generally hassled/ harassed by man also in the park. Cops appear in the vicinity and Marjane knows if she does not act quickly, she will be in trouble for her, well I guess her existence in general. So she quickly whips up some tears and cry sot the cops about how that man made inappropriate and lewd comments about her. So the man is quickly punished and beaten. This public shaming is simply a product of cops general feeling of superiority and need to protect a weak woman. Because otherwise they are weak sinful women. That is not to imply that women somehow have an easier life. It is more that they are just denied certain rights and gain more restrictions. As frantically explained by Grandma Marjane needs to be more careful with cops. If she gets in trouble, she could also wind up worse than just dead. That is because it is illegal to kill a virgin. In order to get around this it is normal for cops to rape women and then execute them. So women are not even protected. It is no wonder her parents wanted her to leave for Paris for a few years. One wrong move could get her locked up like her uncle.

The hypocrisy can also be highlighted later in the film when Marjane is pulled over by cops for running because it makes her butt jiggle. To which she tells then to stop looking at her ass. She is covered head to tow in black cloth. Truly what else is she supposed to do. Government issued orders to suppress female sexuality and freedom is not a trend that has halted even in the modern day. Even in America the land of the free there is a need to claw rights out of the hands of lawmakers holding then back for selfish gain. Humans have this very gross ability to allow things to happen when they view someone or something as lesser than them. Women being lower class citizens makes it okay to talk to them like children or publicly punish them for not wearing their scarf correctly. Because dehumanizing is exactly what that is. They would rather her butt no shake as opposed to her arrive at school in time for her education. Some cops, professors, and men of power refuse to look her in the eye specifically because she is a woman. How can women get anything done if they cannot even enter and equal conversation with a cop. A cop is meant to be a protector but Marjane is in much more danger being anywhere by them.

What is really important abut this movie is Grandma. She is genuinely the coolest. She is quick on her feet, and ready to play the game, or game the system while also being aware of the larger nature of the situation. Grandma can work to help keep her family safe and instill hope in those around her. And the most touching thing is as Marjane grows she gets her grandmothers beauty mark. Grandma passing down her resilience and spirit is possibly what kept Marjane alive in Paris when she was homeless. People are simply a web of interconnected identities and ideologies wearing a skin suit. If all the young men and women can come together in secret speak easies then clearly the government is not representing the true will of its people. Like grandma all one can do to survive is to keep moving forward and keeping hope. She is a demonstration of how a divorcing of concepts like age and religiosity/ fanaticism can help mentor a better next generation. Women need to be free to divorce their husbands, make their own way in the world, and feel able to contribute to the government and community around them. For a girl to grow up is scary, but we do not have to face the revolution in our times alone.

I feel as though i have not done this movie justice. If you have the time please watch through it yourself. All of these issues are beautifully intertwined and are much better enjoyed in their complete context. So please find a copy of this and check it out.

#ersepolis #honors #honors project

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aggresivelyfriendly · 5 years

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Here is this week’s installement! We meet Mack! Or do we? I write for the enjoyment of @dirtystyles and @bleedinglove4h, but I hope other’s enjoy it too!

Summer’s Child- Chapter 8- Who Are You?

"Who's Mack?" That was the question of every hour by his second weekend in San Francisco.

Harry was really glad for his experiences at Woodstock, or he knew that the city would have been a huge shock for him. A huger shock. There were sights and sounds that were entirely new to him, like he was a farm boy new to the big city, even though he’d grown up going to a much bigger city.

It was different from New York. New York was huge and chaotic and frenetic. The sights and sounds were things he’d experienced since he was a boy. And they differed to San Francisco, but mostly in New York he was a just another young person, not a de facto member of the counterculture.

Which he definitely seemed to be in San Francisco. He wasn't sure if it was his arrival at Haight Ashbury, his clothes, or his hair, but there was a definite us versus them feeling in the city. One group had open arms and a spliff to share, the other gave him a once over coupled with a sneer and saw no use for him.

Harry had always been a teacher favorite, and had never been around police except when they were peacekeeping and he was a member of the crowd, usually a small member of that crowd. Pandered to and played with.

Except the officer who had come to tell him and his father about his mother's accident. Harry knew his blue eyes with the kindly crinkles. He also remembered the harsh coffee smell of his breath and its sour words. He’d been so kind to Harry and Edward but there was no chance he’d be remembered fondly, not with the news he bore.

So, all the cops after that had an advantage. They weren't telling him his mother was dead and they immediately liked Harry, as adults had all of his life.

The cops outside the flophouse he found himself in the first night hassled the hippies, Harry included. He'd thought the proverb about not trusting anybody over 30 was ridiculous until that first time he got pushed up against the wall and roughly frisked just for walking down a sidewalk. The cop had called him dirty, which he currently was, no denying it, from his long pilgrimage across country, and had made sure the stucco of the building bit into his face. It was unnecessary roughness and mean spirited for the sake of it. Harry’d be unlikely to seek out or even trust the uniform again after that, no matter the age of the officer. Strangely though, the officer and his actions had nothing on the people walking their small dogs in Golden Gate Park, where he found himself now. If he wasn't waiting to find out who Mack was, apparently a legend in the district, he'd have left after the first well dressed, perfectly coiffed woman grabbed her purse tightly while she walked like her thighs were glued shut. He’d done nothing to any of these women, their purses were the last thing on his mind until they brought them to his attention. It was strange to him that their suspicion made him feel like he’d done something wrong. At least it was the cops job to confirm people were unarmed, which may have not been why they frisked him, but, these well heeled ladies had no reason to judge him, or those collecting around him.

Though he supposed a mass group of any kind drew eyes, especially a group of, well largely female hippies, dressed in light dresses and crochets. He didn’t get it though. How could you fear a girl with flowers in her hair? What did she threaten but your view of your past, or your way of life?

He was glad other people like him were coming, he felt like this was were he fit in now, not that he’d ever really. But, power in numbers. It calmed him down. He’d wanted to split, but after 9 days, this was his first lead on Jillian and he was gonna follow it. So far all of Cherie’s descriptors bore out. She was the first person who had recognized Jillian as more than a pretty girl in a photo.

That first night he and his passenger had wandered into a diner, the first one they'd seen. It was crawling with other late teens and early twenty somethings, in various states of dress and sobriety. Harry was hungry, his stomach fallow and gurgling, but his mind growled over the opportunity.

Harry had choked down a patty melt with a coke and pulled his picture out of his shirt pocket.

"Ah man!" The first guy he showed it to sounded promising. "That's one fine piece! You said she's your old lady? You guys looking for a love-in?"

Harry was so confused by the diatribe it took him a second to realize the guy had taken his picture and was showing it to the table, one guy let out a long whistle that woke Harry back up.

He got talking. He wasn’t here for a love-in. “No man, I'm looking for her, she ran away from home and sent me a postcard from here. Have you seen her? Any of you?"

"Nah, seen a lot of runaways, none that looked like her!" He shook his head and took another long look at the photo before handing it back. Harry wiped the picture of the guys prints andstopped for a second and stared too. He barely recognized himself. That Harry wouldn't be searching San Francisco, but that Harry was as close to Jillian as he'd ever been. He wanted to be him again.

He nodded, "Yeah," came out like air from a balloon. "Thanks."

He asked the other tables. Nobody had any memory of her, least not one they copped to, and the first table had made him feel more worried for her. He thought hippie boys were supposed to be feminist. That had been Jillian’s conviction. That they’d know how to treat girls equally.

Maybe you could put on the clothes of the new man, but keep the mentality of the past. Harry needed to go, there were other people to ask, who might not skeev him out. Maybe he’d ask mostly girls? He hoped she stuck to girls after that encounter. But would he scare the girls?

Harry checked in with Allen, hugged him goodbye, wished him well and left. He hoped that this place had all the safety his companion was looking for. He hoped he’d somehow find out one day. He turned back as he held open the door and felt a little encouraged, Allen was sitting with a different group of young men, boys, and he was smiling, and eating fries off someone’s plate.

Hippie hospitality? Maybe when you had little, it was easier to share it. The breeze hit his face and Harry could smell the sea and a darker odor he’d smelled on some of the men inside. The air was a caress, and Harry followed it to what he hoped was Jillian.

There were people cruising the street, and Harry talked to as many as he could. He’d approach with a blank face; he was afraid a smile was too open, and was trying to keep the desperation off his face as well. He was received mostly openly, though the picture usually clammed people up, but the longhairs were hospitable in their way. He got offered weed and hash but it was the place to sit he took.

There were couches, on the street, people smoking and chatting. He sat down on the sofa and passed around the picture, nobody knew her, or admitted they did. Harry accepted the small rectangle back after it made its circumnavigation, and looked down, brushed a finger over it. Could you love a picture? If it was all you had left. He spaced out a little. Harry looked up then, there were eyes on him, no doubt, the weirdo misty eyed over a photo. Maybe he could blame the smoke?

Chrissy, the one who'd offered him a seat, smiled sadly at him. He didn't ask her who she was looking for, but he recognized a fellow seeker.

Later, it was Chrissy who woke him up. There were still voices in the street, but it was much later. He didn’t even recall laying down, let alone closing his eyes. He’d just felt safe, certainly safer than the naps in his truck cab in parking lots for big rigs or under bridges in the flats of the country.

"Hey man, you have a place to sleep?" Harry thought about his room, all the way across the bay and shrugged. He did, but it was so far away.

"Cmon, you can crash on my couch, the guy who usually sleeps there is at a gig." She seemed like a caretaker, and he needed care.

He was too tired to dig deeper into that. The gig, or the guy.

He slept in his clothes, and when he woke up, it was to the smell of coffee. There was a mug, with a chipped rim, but his metaphorical name on it. She also offered him a smile and shared her sandwich, offered him the diagonal piece on her plate.

He spent another day on the street with Chrissy helping him this time.

"Don't put up posters man, usually they have the opposite effect. People hide out or whatever, lots of kids here don't want to be found. But I can help you ask around. I know everybody, they trust me. See if anybody knows your Jillian."

That was when he was leaving, getting in his truck and heading back to Berkeley, finally, after a lost weekend searching. "What do I owe you?"

She'd fed him twice and given him a place to sleep and beat her feet up and down Haight Street looking with him.

"Nothing!" Harry furrowed his brow. He was about to protest when she lay a hand on his arm and he saw the tears cloud her eyes. " Maybe I'll ask you to return the favor sometime?" He kicked over his engine and Chrissy watched him drive away, he knew because she waved back when he hoisted his splayed fingers.

Harry wondered who she was looking for, but figured she’d share that with him when she was ready. He and others may already trust her, but maybe she didn’t trust them.

He settled in and ate three full meals with Professor McCreedy before his feet itched and his heartache flared.

The squat man looked much less like a professor to him than his father. He wore sandals and had a massive beard. He reminded Harry more of dwarf than a professor. But he was funny and smart.

But not smart enough to notice that Harry's mind was over the bay. Or that hearing about the professor's memories of Harry's "looker of a mother" made Harry jealous. He couldn’t remember what she looked like. What if he didn’t remember Jillian’s face, or her moans, or the sound of her laugh soon?

Harry didn't want to be rude, it was so amazing to have a house to stay in so close to campus, and essentially rent free, but he had other places to be, memory loss to prevent.

Harry assumed there would be some kind of work expected of him for his room and board. He was waiting for it, but Professor McCreedy never brought it up. It surprised Harry that he was hoping it would be physical labor when he got to it. When he helped his dad out, it was almost always bookish things.

Harry missed the horses, and the pitchfork, the mindless repetition. He was sick of thinking and fear. Hearing about his mother, it made him want to go out and get in his truck and keep looking. If he’d been restless for three months, now his body was as jittery as his mind.

The first few days, Donald, as the professor insisted Harry call him, let him rest. Harry had looked haggard when he arrived, he knew it.He didn't need a mirror after seeing his host's face, but when he made it to the bathroom, he couldn’t miss it.He looked hollowed out and much older than 18. His hair was lank, there were plum colored smudges beneath his eyes, and his clothes looked grimy. He could see an oil stain from his patty melt days ago.

He used the toilet, and then popped out to grab clothing, so he could shower. He'd taken his case and motioned with his head. He was too tired to talk and received a limp salute in return. Harry gratefully took that as a yes.The shower washed off the three days of failure, the one week of anxiety as he hurtled across the country at 60 miles per hour, and the threat of dehydration as he swallowed the spray.

When he came out, he felt better, but resolute. He had all week to look. And another after that. And he'd made a friend who would help him, and introduce him around, so people trusted him. Harry would find her.

That was something he noticed, there was immediate inclusion but also distrust of newcomers. The dope on offer was both hospitality and a test.

He'd passed.

Then he passed out, from lingering effects. He woke up 14 hours later feeling better physically than he could really remember feeling since prom night. But he also felt like he was behind, like the hours he felt searching his dreamscape for answers had robbed him actual discovery.

He figured that was because he'd woken up chasing Jillian in his dreams. Everytime he got close, she'd turn into a bird and fly away. Once a hummingbird he couldn't quite catch though it hovered before him, then a dove, cooing at him, and then a mockingbird. It was the mockingbird that got him. It had been her favorite book in high school. He'd liked it too. It was one of the few non sci fi movies they went to the drive in for.

The mockingbird, he waited for it to turn to him, and it repeated Jillian to him when he tried to capture it. It had her eyes. The birds voice was hers, calling her own name. When he asked where she was, it said, "here." And flew away from him, across the bay, north.

He'd startled awake, ready to fly himself. He pulled on some clothes and left with a simple wave over his shoulder. He couldn’t eat, his stomach roiled, and he put no trust in his voice.

He didn't mean to be weird. But she'd said here and then flown away. It was an invitation.

He just didn't have the address for the party.

It took him another couple weeks to find it.

He'd been smoking with a new group of friends, well Chrissy's friends. It was relaxed, the grass and sitar music doing its job. "Hey man, you have that picture on you?" Chrissy suddenly asked.

He almost laughed. He always had that picture on him. He didn't sleep with it under his pillow or anything. And Harry didn't kiss it goodnight, well maybe just once, but he had it. He'd stopped showing it around suspiciously, because even though he was looking more and more like a young person who frequented the Haight, he was occasionally sniffed out as new by the actual young people of the district. Showing the picture right away made it worse, then they knew, and grew more suspicious of him. Like he was a narc, which he had come to know was a very bad thing.

He quirked a brow at Chrissy, she was good people, and she laughed. She knew he had it.

The picture was holding up pretty well, he'd taken to holding the edges and people followed suit, most of the wrinkles came from the first day, at the diner.

It had gotten better since then.

He handed the picture to the guy on his left. "Hey man, you ever seen this girl?"

He whistled. "Nah man, she your old lady?"

Harry had stopped even trying to answer that one, so he shrugged. And the picture went from person to person. Once again, nobody seemed to recognize Jillian.

He knew she'd been here, he couldn't fathom her being anywhere and not being memorable to the people around her. Harry was fairly sure nobody else had eyes when he was near her.

He took the joint coming to him and sucked in a harsh breath to fill his lungs with smoke in the way Ronnie had taught them. He held the joint between his thumb and hand, keeping it tucked into his palm. Ronnie’d learned that from an old lady in Kathmandu and came back to teach them instead of brag, essentially doing both. It made the joint less conspicuous until cops learned the trick.

It was a let down now.

The smoke didn't burn like it used to. He'd stopped coughing until his eyes watered a while ago. He'd nearly puked at Woodstock the first time, he'd coughed so hard.

Now he bong ripped with the best of them, when somebody was as posh enough to have a glass pipe.

He was sharing a bowl with a girl when the picture made it back to him. He’d been having a good day. Somebody had shown him how to use a magnifying glass to light the bowl, a solar she’d called it,. The science geek in him, left behind at graduation but soon to be resurrected, loved it. Cherie, the girl, who was patiently waiting for him to take his second hit with her hand extended for the lighter took the photo because his hands were full.

"Oh wow, man! I know your old lady!"

By force of habit Harry countered, "She's not my old lady." Before the words set in. "Wait! What?"

"I know this girl! We shared a flop for a week about a month ago. She was quiet, kinda dreamy, best tits I've ever seen in real life."

Harry shook off the first question that came into his head then. "Was she ok?" He asked instead. He almost dropped the e bong when he reached for Cherie's hands. "Was she alone? Waiting for somebody?"

"Nah man, I don't know about that." She shrugged. “She was working at the diner on the corner down the street. Seemed to eat there a lot. She partied but never got sloppy." She tilted her head. "She kinda kept to herself, but we'd dance most nights, she liked to dance and sing." She took a hit then, held in the smoke, started talking while releasing. "Come to think of it, I think that's how she got mixed up with that church. Some girl we were dancing with one night."

"What? A church?" He could remember when Jillian stopped going to vacation bible school because she’d overheard the teacher talking about the smell of her mother's breath. He'd quit then too.

"Yeah! Well, a kinda church. Bunch of hippie girls dancing around and handing out flowers on street corners, but that's on account of Mack." She chuckled while she leisurely took her second hit and he wanted to shake her shoulders.

Wait. "Who's Mack?" Harry had that feeling he'd had when he dreamed Jillian was in love.

"Oh man, he's the dreamy preacher! Not like movie star looks, but he'd got like a Jagger charisma, and he's hot! His eyes are so intense.” She focused on her memory until he jostled her shoulder. “Like kinda clean cut for me, but I even went to the service after that girl Rhiannon told me about him. I had to see what all the fuss was about.”

"They still hang around with the flowers? In the park?" It was a lead! His first real one.

She let out her smoke in rings. He didn't know that trick. "Yeah, dude! You look like you just found a fix! They still do, I haven't seen her in a while though, like a couple weeks. Not even at the service the first time. But I think he keeps ‘em outta the city when they first join.”

"Where though, where did you see her?" He ignored the kidnapping comment.

"Down at Golden Gate Park. For fellowship!" She said like it was obvious.

He didn't know what that meant. But he got to his real question. "When do they do that?"

"Every Sunday, sometimes Friday nights too, but they call that one worship." She screwed up her eyes. “Just sing then, groovy songs, change some of the words from the Beatles to talk about Jesus, I think.”

She kept talking, but he wasn’t listening. He was planning.

Friday night, he found himself anxiously waiting at Golden Gate Park. Young people, mostly pretty girls were coalescing.

None of the guys seemed like Mack, not even the tall man in the hat near the flower painted platform up front. He had a guitar strapped to him, and a few chicks hanging near him, he was letting one stroke his strings.

But Harry didn't think he was Mack.

Who's Mack? Where's Jillian?

Those were his thoughts for another hour, plus the last two days. The group had grown slowly and then all at once. Now, the hat guy was going around playing and the circle of dancers was widening.

Suddenly, the guitar and it's holder hopped onto the back of the 4 x 4 platform. He struck a cord and the whole group got into formation and looked up.

Harry found his body doing it to, and the scent he’d come to know as patchouli got stronger. He realized the front row had incense burners.

Harry wasn't sure where the strong jawed man came from, he seemed to have just appeared. The apparition was being lifted onto the platform by ten barefoot girls in long white dresses wearing flower crowns before he realized someone new had arrived.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #sc #summer’s child #cult fic #chapter 8 #who are you #return of the mac #tripod writing

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haikyuu-imagines-and-others · 5 years

Quote

I NEED TENDOU KIDLET SPAWN KNOWLEDGE! I need it like I need /AIR/

An Anon Request that was “/mysteriously/” deleted

Pffffft alright alright calm down - honestly, I only had Tendou having a single daughter for the longest time, but then decided just today that I wanted him to have a son, too… Ya know… so he can be haunted by his own childhood while looking at his offspring? Ah… fun :) Thanks for the request - Admin Satori <3

Tendou Satori:

Akito (Bright Person; Like Autumn Season) - Son (8 years old)

Mirai (The Future) - Daughter (4 months old)

So many people. So much talking. So much staring, he was sure. What did they think? He was a freak, right? That’s probably what they thought. He hadn’t changed much since high school, maybe a hair cut here and there and a few piercings when he revolted against himself… But he’d gotten over that relatively quickly… maybe… Probably not, he did have plans for another ear piercing at the very least…

Did they see the shining on his ears? The one in his eyebrow? The holes in his nose and lip? God, what did they think of him? That he was probably some delinquent who wandered in. They’d probably be calling for the cops or security to get him out of there soon enough. Oh god - then what? What would they do? What would they sa-

“Look, baby girl, look at daddy.” Tendou’s attention was immediately brought away from the surrounding crowd of parents and teachers to where you sat beside him on the bleachers, your hand holding his softly. Mirai, his daughter, looked up from your neck, where she’d been about to put your necklace into her mouth, and smiled toothlessly up at her father.

You’d felt him freeze, you’d noticed his zoned out expression. He was panicking and overthinking, and here you were… you and your daughter… to bring him back to earth and tether him still. You didn’t blame him. The two of you looked a little out of place in such a crowd of pristine parents.

Pristine since you and your husband had somehow made it possible to get your son, Akito, into a private school. He got in easily with his academics and all, and while the payment plan had been horrible in the beginning months… This was the best plan for his intelligence to flourish. This was also the first time the two of you had attended an event at his school - his very first volleyball game!

Mirai reached out to her father, and giggled happily when he leaned his face down so she was cupping his cheeks, “Hey there, little fry, don’t eat mommy’s necklace.. Daddy got that for her forever ago… If anything, I get dibs.” Mirai only giggled more at his talking, the movement of his mouth making her hands press further into his cheeks, feeling the row of his teeth from the outside.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, “You’d eat my necklace?”

He shrugged with a smile, “I did buy it…” Then he thought better of something and turned his head so he could press a kiss to your lips, only pulling a fraction of an inch away before you could recover from the surprise. He smirked, “Unless you want me to eat something else?”

But you didn’t fall for his clumsy flirting, and instead you leaned closer and ghosted your lips over his, “You forgot to eat before we left the house, didn’t you?” You pulled away enough to see his sheepish expression, shaking your head with a tsk coming from your lips. “I think they have-“

“A concession stand, yeah… Come with me?”

He didn’t want to go alone. Not with this many people around him.

Too many. Too many eyes staring.

His anxiety was creeping up his back, and while he wanted so badly to tune it out like he would in high school and college… he’d met you… and you’d helped him lower all his walls… The birth of your son had him even softer than before…. The birth of your daughter had him walking around as a sentient puddle at this point.

You wanted to. You wanted to go with him and protect him against whatever would absolutely not happen… but you couldn’t. “Satori, I gotta hold our seats…” You gave him an apologetic pout before leaning down and kissing the top of Mirai’s head, hiding your smile in her vibrant red locks, “Get me some chips or something, yeah?”

Tendou pouted, slouching forward in his seat comically and making Mirai giggle at her father’s silly actions, which only brought his attention to his daughter, “Mommy’s so mean to me, Little Fry Mirai!” His baby girl was too young to understand anything going on, so it wasn’t a surprise when he only got a playful raspberry in response. He gave one back at his sassy girl and you whined about being spit on from two different directions. “Fine, fine fine…. But you owe me!” He stood, tall as ever, and pointed at you with a mischievous smile, “Another baby.”

A violent blush overtook your whole body, and you smacked his pointing finger out of your face, “Satori!” He sent you a wink, even going so far as blowing you a ‘seductive’ kiss, before he was making his way down the bleachers to where he’d seen the concession stand before. “Your daddy is…..” You looked down at Mirai, who’d found interest in your necklace once more, “…. The love of my life…” You sighed with a bright smile, your hand brushing back her bright hair and feeling your heart swell when her red eyes met yours; Your husband could only produce identical copies of his own genes apparently.

He was a wonderful father, though.

Of course, he’d had such a low self esteem when the two of you met that even the thought of having a child with someone would send him into a self-depreciating spiral into darkness… but you’d shown him hope. You’d walked into his life, won his heart with memes and inside jokes and not being a complete dick about his appearance…. You loved him. The moment you’d met him, you’d known he was your forever… And while he hadn’t been so convinced and had been initially adverse to letting you close…. He grew attached to your persistence and determination…

And he fell hard.

It wasn’t surprising when you became pregnant after a couple months of dating him… Honestly, you were kind of surprised since you couldn’t remember not using protection… but hey, you took things as they came at you - you flowed without a fuss and handled situations as they were presented… And yes, you’d been worried that Tendou wouldn’t want to have a family so soon or even want you to be part of it or wouldn’t participate in being a father at all…

But he’d stepped up. Scared and worried and riddled with anxiety and voices saying he couldn’t ever measure up…. He stepped up and was there for you. The horrible morning sickness. The weird cravings. The first sonogram. He’d been the first person, including yourself, who’d felt your son kick from the outside.

Words couldn’t describe the way his face lit up from that feeling.

You’d like to think that was the moment he’d started being okay with being a dad so young.

Tendou wiped his hands on the edge of his shirt as he approached the little table, asking for their makeshift meal and a bag of chips for you… They were staring. Hardcore staring. He could feel the heat of embarrassment rising up his neck. Why was it so hard to ignore the staring? Couldn’t they just look away? He was just getting food like everyone else…

“Freaky weirdo~!”

Tendou flinched… only to immediately realize no one had said that to him…

Someone had said it… just not to him. He took his items and looked around the immediate area.

Nothing. Just staring people.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re different from us! Weird! Creepy!”

Around the corner maybe? Tendou forced himself not to focus on the people around him staring. He couldn’t focus on them right now. Not when he was hearing more or less the same insults he’d received when he was a kid.

“Were you grown in a lab? You’re so ugly!”

“I bet your mom left because you’re so horribly weird looking!”

“Freak!”

“Loser!”

Every insult had an aching spreading throughout Tendou’s body, sprouting from his heart - he remembered. He remembered every moment he was bullied and pushed around… and from the sound of it, so would this kid if Tendou didn’t put a stop to the vicious cycle.

Rounding the corner, Tendou felt the blood drain from his face… Everything faded away.

Akito. His son. Shoulders curled inwards, arms brought up to his head to protect himself as the kids surrounding him punched just beside him against the lockers. The slam of the metal making his son jump with fear, his lips curling inward to hide his whimpers and cries. There were tears.

Tendou could see his tears ….

“Leave me alone!” Akito begged, but the kids didn’t listen. “Leave me alone!” He wanted to fight back. He wanted to prove to them he was stronger than them and he wasn’t a freak or a weirdo. Akito may look like his father, but he had your fighting spirit… or was at least developing it.

His footsteps alerted the bullies. Their heads turning to see just who had interrupted their fun. “Oh?” He hummed, though he wanted to yell, “And just what are you all doing?” Akito looked up at the sound of his fathers voice, relief relaxing his expression just the slightest.

“Oh!” He’d caught them off guard. They hadn’t known their victim had been loud enough to draw the attention of an adult. “Uh… Nothing! Just talking to our friend here!” They gave sickly smiles as they pulled Akito from the lockers and wrapped their arm around his shoulders, though it was hard since Akito had his father’s childhood height. If there was ever a image definition of ‘uncomfortable’ it would be his son’s expression in that moment.

Tendou knew better of course. He’d been there to see it from the relative beginning… and he’d lived through it when he was his son’s age. He knew what was going on. But…..

No. No buts, he decided. The buts of bullying ended today. It ended here and now.

He gathered his courage and stepped closer to the boys, his red eyes seeming to glow with his intense glare directed towards the young boys. “If you ever touch him again….” He couldn’t threaten children could he? What kind of…. They hurt his son. He could see the signs of a black eye forming on the inside of the cup of his son’s eye. “It’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Ominous enough to be taken many ways….

At least if the kids told on Tendou, he could play innocent in that it wasn’t a direct threat. Not really. But they, the bullies, would know it was something to be taken seriously.

Without warning, Tendou reached forward and grabbed his son by the arm - with a grip that told him to hurry and follow, but making sure not to squeeze too hard… in case his son was really hurting from what had happened.

Akito was quick to duck under the bully’s hold, sending a sheepish wave in their direction as he allowed his father to pull him back down the hall. He wouldn’t be playing in the game today. The coach had already benched him since there were far better players on the team…. Not that it mattered much to Akito…. He just liked playing whenever he could!

But the thought of going back to the bleachers… where you would be sitting… where he’d have to explain his forming bruises and why his dad looked on edge….

The young boy felt sick to his stomach, and pulled his dad’s quick pace to a stop…. Tendou didn’t have to look at his son’s expression to know what he was feeling. Both of them loved you very much, but Tendou knew from experience that the moment you found out someone was bullying your loved ones…. You wouldn’t tolerate a single second more of it.

Which would always place them in the spotlight of everyone’s stares while you put the bully in their place.

There were too many people around for Tendou to be comfortable with that now.

Especially with his son being in the crossfire as well? He shook his head to push out the thoughts before turning to face his boy, kneeling down on one knee to be on his level. “This is gonna feel weird, but…. It’ll help hide it for now…” Dad always came prepared. Tendou pulled out a small tube.

Concealer.

Ever since his first run in with bullies in middle school, Tendou always kept a bottle on him. To hide the results of those run ins. To disguise the bruises at least until he was safe and home. This wouldn’t be any different…. Only it was entirely different.

This was his son.

Guilt rose inside his heart at the sight of the forming bruises, his long fingers rubbing the cream softly over the signs of bullying. He’d failed. As a father. As a protector…. He couldn’t keep his son safe. “I’m sorry, Akito….” His heart broke in his chest when Akito’s red eyes met his own; so much trust and understanding… Tendou knew he didn’t deserve it.

Akito was a bit taken aback…. His dad rarely called him by his name. It was always pet names. Kid. Kiddo. Fry. Noodle. Fire-stack. Troll doll. It was how he showed his affection, and it helped Akito quickly come to terms with his appearance because these were the same nicknames Tendou had been given when he was growing up. Troll doll and kiddo were Akito’s favorites, honestly.

But no nickname? Something was wrong.

And, much like you would, he acted accordingly. Akito wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and held him as close as he could. “It’s okay, daddy… I’m okay.” And he was. Sure he’d been hit, and bullied, and teased… and sure that’d taken a few hits to his pride…. But he was proud of his dad, and he was happy with how he looked.

You and Tendou had succeeded in making him comfortable with who he was.

Tendou held his son close, hiding his face in his shoulder and closing his eyes tightly. His baby boy was so strong… So much stronger than Tendou had been at his age. “Your mom is gonna kill them…” He muttered, and the responding laugh of his boy had Tendou’s internal panic settling.

Everything would be okay….

A/N: I did not write this request for a full 2-3 days just for it to have been deleted.... I am... SO mad right now.... shaking with rage....

#Admin Satori #Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu!! Scenario #Tendou Satori #angst #Domestic #Domestic OCs #Akito OC #Mirai OC

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