#this day and it's because they detailed SPECIFICALLY very dangerous behaviors in a way that WAS often romanticized

[misc-obeyme]

omggggg congrats on getting 1k followers wooooo!!! im happy to be one of them!! can i request solomon + "Don't you know what you're doing to me?" or "I really want to kiss you right now"? it's hard to choose lmao

thanks!! ⭐

Ahh, thank you so much, anon!! I'm so glad you're enjoying my content!

Okay I went with "Don't you know what you're doing to me?" for this one. I love Solomon so much and I have to admit... the beginning of this was inspired by all the anons talking about Solomon being jealous in my ask box lately... So yeah, there's a bit of that happening here.

Thanks for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt "Don't you know what you're doing to me?"

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: jealousy, some possessive behavior, oral (reader receiving), Solomon has pact marks because listen I'm obsessed with them lol

Despite the fact that Solomon enjoyed teasing you, he never left you wanting for attention. He seemed to go out of his way to touch you briefly, to tell you to have a good day, to text you if he was going to be out late. And it wasn't as though you didn't see him frequently with your current living arrangements at Cocytus Hall.

And yet, sometimes, you felt that he was gone too long, that he was too busy with other things. What was he even doing when he wasn't at home? You weren't sure, but when you came back from a day with the brothers, you wanted nothing more than to see his face. Even if it was in the kitchen.

Lately, you were feeling his absence, feeling like you were missing out on time with him.

And now you were at RAD, which still hadn't opened yet, discussing details of the school with Diavolo, Lucifer, and the others. It was a massive project, of course, and everyone was involved in the preparations.

You were sitting next to Lucifer and Solomon was across from you. You had been simply discussing things with Lucifer when you noticed a small frown on Solomon's face. He was watching you and he didn't look pleased.

You kept your expression neutral as you leaned closer to Lucifer, acting as though you were pointing at something on the paper in front of him.

Lucifer unknowingly helped your cause by putting his hand on your back. You looked at him and smiled. He seemed a little surprised by this, but he smirked back at you.

You let yourself look across the table at Solomon briefly and found that his frown had deepened.

The rest of the planning session went on this way, with you deliberately cozying up to Lucifer while Solomon looked more and more irritated.

You thought perhaps you had gone too far when the two of you walked back to Cocytus Hall in silence. The tension was thick and you weren't sure exactly what was going through Solomon's mind. He didn't seem angry, but he was very clearly not speaking to you.

You fidgeted as Solomon opened the front door and gestured you inside. You went in, about to turn around and apologize, when you felt his hands on your shoulders, his hair brushing against your face as he leaned in.

"Don't you know what you're doing to me?" he said lowly in your ear, his lips lingering on the shell, not quite kissing it.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a twist of something thrilling running through your belly, and you had to fight to suppress a shiver.

"I don't know what you mean," you said, trying to sound innocent.

Solomon chuckled and it was an almost dangerous sound. "I think you do."

"I'm going to need you to be more specific," you insisted.

"Trying to make me jealous by flirting with Lucifer throughout that entire meeting," Solomon said.

You pouted even though he couldn't see your face. "It worked, didn't it?"

Solomon pressed a kiss to your neck. "Why would you even provoke me like that?" he murmured.

You considered your response. There was an air of danger around him and you had to decide if you wanted to appease him or if you wanted to make it worse.

You settled on something kind of in the middle. "You've been gone a lot lately," you said. "You can't really blame me for trying to get a little more attention."

Solomon turned you around, his hands falling to your waist as he pulled you close. "Darling. If you wanted extra attention, you could have just said something. You didn't need to go and hang all over Lucifer to make me jealous. Is this really the kind of attention you were craving?"

Your breath hitched as his lips latched onto your neck. Your hands flew up to grip at the back of his shirt as he sucked on your skin. "Yes," you said, closing your eyes and bending your head to give him better access.

Your legs shook as Solomon continued to suck on your neck and you knew there would be several dark marks there you would need to cover up later.

At some point, you grew impatient, tugging him along by his shirt as you backed further into Cocytus Hall. You pulled him through the nearest door, which brought you to the library. There was a large wooden writing desk in here and you found yourself pressed up against it in no time, Solomon's lips back at your neck.

You moaned, tugging at his shirt, forcing him back enough for you to pull it off.

You paused, taking in the expanse of his chest covered in pact marks. It wasn't the first time you had seen them, of course. But no matter how often you saw them, they always caused you to linger over them, brushing your fingertips along the circles and symbols.

Solomon seemed to find this tendency of yours cute and for a moment the dangerous look was replaced with indulgence as he took the opportunity to remove all of your clothing quickly and efficiently.

Before you had a chance to try for Solomon's pants, his lips were on your chest, kissing across it, lingering on each nipple until you moaned. You put your fingers in his hair and tugged slightly, overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth and tongue.

Solomon pulled away from you, taking your chin in his hand to make you look at him. "Now why don't you tell me what you want, MC?"

You were already throbbing with need and you knew he was trying to tease you by pausing to ask you this.

You put your hands flat on his chest. "Please, Solomon," you said. "I want you."

Solomon chuckled, your blatant neediness softening him just a little. "Now see, was that so hard?"

You were about to say something else, but you didn't have the chance as Solomon pushed you back onto the desk, lifting you up until you were sitting on it. You gasped as your hot flesh met the cool wood and you watched with wide eyes as Solomon knelt between your legs.

Solomon lifted one of your legs, pressing kisses down it until he reached your ankle. Then he propped it on his shoulder and did the same with your other leg.

Solomon put his hands on your hips, pressing his face into the skin of your thighs. He looked up at you from beneath his lashes, a mischievous smile on his lips.

And then his mouth was on you, his tongue expertly teasing you, the heat and pleasure pooling in your stomach and building up. His hands were gripping the flesh of your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises there to match the ones that were already on your neck. You felt the muscles of your legs clench and you tried not to press down on his shoulders too hard. Your hands flew to his hair, burying themselves in the silver strands as you moaned.

There was no question Solomon knew what he was doing and it wasn't long before he began to suck on you, pulling out those deepest coils of feeling, bringing you right to the brink.

"Ah, Solomon!" you cried out as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax.

Solomon did not let up, only increasing his attentions, making you squirm, your body clenching. Your hands twisted in his hair as you came, your voice ringing through the library as you cried out.

Solomon gently moved your legs off his shoulders, standing up to lean in and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on him. You could also feel the hardness of his erection against your leg.

Solomon's expression was one of happiness tinged with a little sheepishness. "I'm sorry I've been neglecting you, MC. Won't you let me make it up to you?"

You were still trying to catch your breath as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. You laughed softly. "I've been so lonely. You really owe me."

Solomon chuckled. He knew you were exaggerating on purpose, but he didn't mind. "Then let me try to pay back my debt."

You spent the rest of the night in Solomon's bed and he certainly made up for all the time he'd been gone. You didn't think of Lucifer even once.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon obey me #obey me smut #obey me solomon smut #misc 1k event #misc naughty times #misc writes

[howtofightwrite]

Clothes Followup

Hi there. Professional sportswear outfitter and part-time athelete here just chiming in on how these choices are perfectly believable, in my humble opinion: #1 SHOES "sneakers" is a loose definition. but, if the character is wearing casual/lifestyle "sneakers" like jordan lows, vans, etc., these type of shoes are FLAT (not narrow running shoes). Flat soled sneakers are often preferred training shoes for mixed arts or lifting at the gym. You could wear boots, but you're sacrificing agility. As a female, I can say that a female character likely would not inflict such a handicap as BOOTS on herself. Feet are very resilient and resistant to pain and injury. Being able to move on your feet matters a lot more than protecting them does. PASS #2 PANTS. you are not punching someone's pants while boxing. and have you watched fight club? they mostly wear jeans. they're durable, wick moisture (although it feels unpleasant), and if they're fitted properly, they're not going to get in the way of your agility. Jeans are light armor if you're speaking in tabletop rpg terms. PASS #3 SHIRT. a good tshirt of a decent quality will wick moisture, will not be bulky or baggy, and will move with its wearer. tshirts are not expensive and are the best option outside a sleeveless top or topless for martial arts. Especially if you have boobs. Boxing in only a racerback sports bra is also viable, but a tshirt will provide light protection to the skin, which is a good idea in amateur boxing. If they're WEARING GLOVES, nobody is grappling anyone's shirt so there is no risk of clothes-grabbing violations happening there. If this ring is literally underground, it's probably cold. Clothes can be shed between matches, but it's often more important to be clothed appropriately so as to prevent both overheating and chills. Becoming chilled between fights is a greater danger to performance than getting sweaty is. PASS I also have questions as to the type of boxing gloves being used. Are they full padded gloves? Light knuckle pads? Do the boxers wear headgear? Mouthguards? What areas are allowed to be hit or is it a free-for-all? Maybe you think these details are mistakes, but I disagree. Half my job is punching boxes all day. Hot, sweaty, fully clothed, wearing comfortable shoes. Lots of moving around. If I am going to punch boxes (or faces) for hours, that's exactly how I'd dress. The rest of my job? Literally outfitting people with boxing equipment. Literally selling people clothing for athletics. I am also a footwear specialist. Thank you for taking the time to read this. :) -lilkittay

So, apologies in advance, lilkittay, but you're about to get dragged. This might come as a shock, but I actually have a copy of the novel Fight Club. I just found it wedged between a copy of Hell's Angels by Hunter S. Thompson, and the Demolished Man by Alfred Bester. I'm not going to try to figure out what lead to that sorting peculiarity. The book is exceptionally good, and if you've never read it, it's an easy (if somewhat unpalatable) recommendation. Stick it up there with books like Native Son, or Ivan Denisovich, in that it covers some really ugly subject matter, but discusses a problem exceptionally well. And, in the 27 years since the novel was originally published, it has proved itself fairly prescient. It's not about the violence, it is an excellent discussion on the underlying psychology of toxic masculinity.

Now, the last time I mentioned Fight Club, someone immediately piped up with, “you've lost all credibility.” That's their problem, but I didn't actually define it, and it is a term that gets thrown around without being defined. Toxic masculinity refers specifically to an individual who cannot engage with their own emotions, particularly painful ones, in a healthy way, because they view those behaviors as effeminate. As a result, they respond aggressively and, or, violently. That's the toxic part. You get dumped. Your pet dies. You get passed over for a promotion at work. And, instead of dealing with that in a healthy way. In any healthy way. You go out into the world and try to make someone else suffer. That is toxic.

Unfortunately, Fight Club is not the grown up version of Calvin and Hobbes, though that is an amusing fan theory, and something that holds together better in the film thanks to Brad Pitt's costuming decisions.

I'm saying all of this to point out, the characters in Fight Club have no idea how to fight.

More than that, jeans are not light armor. Motorcycle leathers? Sure, those would be light armor. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're described as light armor in D20 modern. But, the only place I'd expect to see denim categorized as light armor is a game that used, “light armor,” for mage gear, “medium armor,” as rogue's leather and chain, and, “heavy armor,” as warrior gear. Which is to say, yeah, that's not how that works at all.

The problem with jeans as armor is, they're really bad at it. Someone with a crowbar? Yeah, jeans aren't going to do anything about that. Someone with an axe? I've heard about the aftermath, it was not pretty. Against a sword? Nope. Against a knife? Personal experience says the knife will win without issue. In an underground fighting arena against someone driving a shin kick into your knee? Yeah, your jeans may look fine after the fact, but you're probably not using that leg again anytime soon.

But, that RPG comment made something click together a little, so back to footwear for a second.

Why would someone wear boots? Now, personally, I wear motorcycle boots in my day to day life. Not because I'm a rider, but because I find them more comfortable and convenient than normal dress shoes, and so long as I keep them buffed out, they pass for men's dress shoes at a glance. The interesting thing about this is that my heel has a wide, flat, block of wood under it at all times. If it was a matter of life and death, I could probably grind off a significant chunk of my heel bringing a bike to a stop without suffering any injury. Now, I bring this up, because driving 200-300lbs of force behind a sharply edged wooden mallet into your unarmored instep will not improve your agility.

In the real world, armor doesn't work like D&D. There's no equivalent exchange between mobility and being able to soak a hit. (And if you think there's an irony in substituting a term from one RPG for another... well, yeah. You're not wrong.) If you think someone's going to stomp on your foot, bring steel toed boots. What you lose in agility today, you make up for in your ability to walk without a cane tomorrow.

The paradox of humans is that we are both stupidly resilient, and horrifically fragile, at the same time. Now, at this point, I do want to say something genuinely nice to you, even if it sounds a tiny bit condescending. You've never looked at another person as 150-250lbs of ambulatory meat and considered the best way to take them apart with your hands. And you know what? That is a good thing. Embrace that, and don't let go, because never finding yourself in that kind of a place is a credit to you, and the world you've been able to live in.

All of that said, fighting another human being is not a workout. It's engineering. You're looking at an organic machine with roughly the same parts and pieces you have, and your goal is to make that machine stop thrashing around, screaming, and leaking on everything, before it does the same to you. It's not better. It's not worse. It's different, and it comes with different considerations. You don't dress to look good or stay comfortable, you dress to avoid life altering injuries if at all possible.

Competitive fighting does land at a meeting point of these two considerations however. The fighter wants to come out intact, the sponsors want good show, one that will draw an audience. This leads to things like fighting in a sports bra. Yes, it may be the most, “agile,” option, but if you're going to be in a fist fight, a heavy leather jacket, preferably one with fiberglass plates may not breathe, but it will take far more abuse than your body can. (Actually, I think sometimes the inserts are made out of memory foam these days, which should also take a hit pretty effectively, especially against an unarmed foe.)

This isn't a major issue, but it is something to consider, when thinking about the temperature of the arena, it's important to remember that human body heat in a crowded space is somewhat cumulative. So, a room that starts out at around 60 degrees, could easily warm up to a comfortable temperature once the spectators are present. There's actually consistent math for calculating what you should set the thermostat for in an amphitheater when it's unoccupied so that the temperature is comfortable when the seats are filled, but I can't remember the numbers, and can't find it on short notice.

You do bring up a good point, the original Anon did not specify what kind of gloves were used. I assumed those were nominally regulation boxing gloves, but those could be something like the UFC gloves from a couple decades back, that left the fingers exposed while armoring the knuckles. The armor on those gloves allowed the wearer to inflict all kinds of horrific injuries on one's foes. In an event Michi is quite happy to recount, her younger brother almost lost an eye to a skull fracture from one of those during a poorly supervised sparring bout. It's fairly credible to suggest that an illegal fight club might use those simply to excite the crowds with actual bloodshed.

Now, as someone who has worked in shipping, I know full well that sometimes boxes do hit back. However, they are the exception rather than the rule. There's nothing wrong with practicing on punching bags, but boxes aren't trying to break you. At worst, they may just want to take a nap on the floor without regard to whether you're in the way or not. Live opponents? They're looking at you as however many pounds of meat machinery, and trying to end you. Looking good doesn't make their job harder, but armoring up does.

Anyway, like I said to the original Anon, nothing in their explanation was outright wrong. A lot of it was non-optimal, but not to such a degree as to shatter belief. The mistake you're making, and I really do say this with respect, is that you're looking at it like any other physical activity. As I said, combat is not a work out. Combat as a hazardous environment beyond the reach of OSHA. You wear protective gear (if you can) because that protection may be the difference between walking out alive and (basically) unharmed, or never walking again. You wouldn't (or at least, really shouldn't) take a bike out on the freeway at 60mph in jeans and a tees, you really don't want to get in a fight wearing them either.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write #martial arts

[katy-133]

Rick Sanchez Showing Signs of ASD for 30 Images

(Re-posting this from a previous reblog I posted in. For organisational purposes.)

(Using some notes from CDC.gov and NHS.uk)

“People with [autism spectrum disorder (ASD)] often have problems with social communication and interaction, and restricted or repetitive behaviors or interests. People with ASD may also have different ways of learning, moving, or paying attention. It is important to note that some people without ASD might also have some of these symptoms.” - Signs and Symptoms of Autism Spectrum Disorder, CDC.gov

Similar to the above quote, some of the below examples can be explained through Doylist (meta) explanations (for example, Rick usually wears the same clothes because that's a common trope in animation, due to asset limitations and marketing/merchandise reasons).

With that in mind:

Bad sensory, overstimulation: Rick preferring to eat just noodles (possibly due to texture/taste aversion), instead of having what everyone else in the family is having.

Getting very upset if someone touches or gets too close: Rick pushing Morty away when Morty runs up to hug him.

Stimming (repetitive performance of certain physical movements or vocalisations) by moving his fists in a celebratory shaking motion in multiple episodes.

Gets upset by minor changes. Rick getting mad at Morty for changing the position of his car seat, refusing to leave a dangerous situation until it's re-adjusted.

Rick: "Wait, did you f**k with my seat settings?!"

Having the same routine every day and getting very anxious if it changes: Rick being upset that Morty is busy and can't go on an adventure with him (like in a typical episode).

Gastrointestinal issues (for example, constipation). An episode focuses on Rick needing to go to a custom planet (that felt safe and secluded) to use the toilet and feeling great distress upon learning that someone else found the planet.

Has a safe food that is seeked out for comfort. Rick likes wafers. He's seen getting them from the kitchen in multiple episodes, Beth makes sure the house is stocked with them, and the Citadel of Ricks even has its own factory to produce them.

Referencing good sensory: Rick talking in detail about pancakes covered in syrup, not wanting the pancakes to go bad.

Rick: "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got pancakes back home with syrup on top of them. They're about to hit that critical point of syrup absorption that turns the cakes into a gross paste. And I hate to get all Andy Rooney about it, but I think we all like fluffy discs of cake with syrup on top!"

And Rick enjoying pancakes in S1E10 and S4E2:

Has obsessive interests. Rick becoming hyper-focused on giant mecha collecting and Morty reminding him to not go overboard on his new hyperfixation.

Morty: "Sometimes, enough is... ?" Rick: (Sadly) "Sometimes enough is enough."

Liking to plan things carefully before doing them: Rick keeping various helpful inventions in his lab coat just in case he needs them later (Vindicators episode).

Infodumping (to excitedly share a large amount of information about a highly-focused subject or passion at one time, usually in great detail and length).

Finding it hard to talk about feelings: Rick having hesitation in apologising and explaining his thoughts and feelings to Jerry.

Rick: "If I'm genuinely cool, I should be able to love you. Which I... therefore do."

Avoids or does not keep eye contact: Rick looking away or breaking eye contact with Morty. Image set of Morty calling him out:

Rick breaking eye contact while lying to Morty:

Having a preferred outfit to wear each day (can be cause of sensory issues). Rick wearing the same blue shirt for over 40 years (we see in flashbacks that it was brighter and has faded with time).

Unusual speech patterns, such as stuttering. Rick's stuttering decreases as seasons progress.

Vocal stimming (when someone repeats a specific sound or phrase to produce sensory stimulation). Some autistic children find it easier to make up their own words. Rick repeatedly saying, "wubba lubba dub dub." He will also repeat his own words (echolalia) immediately afterwards.

Delay edecholalia, scripting (when someone "saves" exact phrases and uses them later to make social situations easier). Rick (in The Ricks Must Be Crazy) remembers Morty's comment, "that just sounds like slavery with extra steps" and uses it later to try and win an argument with another scientist.

Not picking up social cues, finding it hard to understand what others are thinking or feeling. Rick making a joke and then realising the other person is in too much distress to laugh with him (has done this with both Morty and Jerry).

Rick: "You're not laughing?" (Expression changes upon realising) "Oh, right. You're dying."

Unconventional grief response, "inappropriate" facial expressions, lack of fear: Rick reacting to burying himself in a less uneasy way than Morty.

"To the point" style of social interaction. Rick often speaks bluntly and is seen as rude by other characters in response.

Rick: "Everyone, f**k off. Morty, I need your help."

Has a terrible memory but can remember ridiculously difficult information if it interests him. Rick forgets his portal gun and leaves it behind, but can remember the formula for various chemical reactions without using a reference (ending of M.Night Shaym-Aliens!).

And finally...

President Curtis referencing Rick's neurodivergency:

Rick's comment:

Rick: "I'm not touching that thing,"

Rick finding a roundabout way to let Morty know that he (Rick) also has ASD:

Rick: "Is this game popular with autistic people?" Morty: "Why would you say something like that?" Rick: "Because I'm starting to love it."

Wish I could have added more examples, but 30 images is Tumblr's current post limit.

(I understand that the potential meme joke by OP is that the "NOT YOU" image is of Rick from season 1, versus his markedly changed characterisation in season 5-onwards, that focused more on coding Rick as neurodivergent.)

I hope this has been in some part educational for a few readers. Happy Autism Acceptance Month.

But now for the disclaimer bit: Don't take it from me, learn more about ASD.

#tumblr won't let me add links sorry. #rick and morty #my text #storytelling #neurodiversity #long post

[ryuichirou]

Ryu, I really have to say, I absolutely adore the way you portray the octavinelle trio! especially Azul! Most of the time, the fandom tends to mischaracterize the 3 of them ;/,

for example, in Azul's case, making him a crybaby bottom. In Floyd's case, a lot of people in the fandom forget that he's actually really smart?? or that his "squeezes" are just harmless hugs. in Jade's case, they forget that he can be just as chaotic and unpredictable, just like Floyd. They're twins, after all!

Anyway, I really like reading your headcanons about them! and I was wondering if you have more headcanons you would like to share about these 3 ? Not ship wise, but more like general headcanons about each of them? 🤌🏻

Anon! It took me a while to get to your ask, but every time I sat down to write some replies, I took a look at it and smiled. I am so happy to hear that and so grateful.

These three are indeed often the victims of mischaracterization. Even in general, I feel like people often forget just how dangerous they are, and not only because of sheer power, but also because of how smart and cunning all three of them are. We had another reply about Azul not being crybaby just the other day, but just like you said, the tweels also get misinterpreted a lot. But this is not a post about the mischaracterizations… this is a post about headcanons!

I mentioned it at some point, but I’ll say it again: we love these three and their interactions so much that we would gladly watch a sitcom about them scheming and doing other stuff. They are such a fun trio with so much potential for both comedic and dark scenarios.

So, here are some headcanons about them! We also have a post with more headcanons about them, but in our Mafia AU specifically.

They have an unspoken rule that there shouldn’t be any sentimental moments between them, but Azul is the only one who takes this rule seriously. If Jade and Floyd want to hug each other or Azul and say nice things, they could easily do it and no ban would ever prevent them. But then again, it’s also because Jade and Floyd know that such behavior would piss the other two off and make them embarrassed and annoyed as fuck, so it’s worth it.

They are both closer to each other and further from each other than Azul thinks. It’s not like Azul has no impact and no value in the tweel’s life whatsoever; he kinda changed their life’s trajectory forever, because they would have never left the Coral Sea if it wasn’t for Azul’s ambitions. But also, their experience together doesn’t really give Azul any immunity in case he stops being amusing to them.

The dynamic in their relationship always shifts. There are moments when Floyd is “the sane one” of all people; Azul and Jade actually can get very annoying when both of them are focused on some great plan….

There are days when Azul gives the tweels the same vibes as their dad. Papa Leech doesn’t nag as much as Azul does, but the contract-oriented part with annoyingly high attention to details is certainly familiar to Jade and Floyd. If you told them that, they would disagree though, because come on, their old man is much more fun-loving. 

Floyd actually has quite a lot of videogames, but sometimes he spends months not touching any of them. And sometimes, when he’s in the mood, he can spend an entire week playing the game and skipping classes just because he is so focused and wants to finish the game as soon as he can. He likes fighting games a lot, but Jade and Azul are worse at videogames than him, so he can’t play them much. And looking for someone else to play with is bothersome…

They actually enjoyed playing music together. A lot of time it ended up in complete chaos because of Floyd’s desire to reenact the final scene of the movie “Whiplash” (which he hasn’t seen by the way), but still…. Sometimes Azul thinks than when the Mostro Lounge stuff gets more independent and doesn’t need as much of their help and control, they could play for their customers. One time he even said that and instantly regretted it, because he can’t just show these two piranhas his vulnerability like that. The tweels replied with “you’re a control freak, Azul; we’ll never get to that point”, by the way.

That school/camp they went to when they were learning how to operate on land was actually the greatest bonding experience for them. It was the first time when Azul saw the tweels being vulnerable. Probably the last time as well…

Azul taught Jade and Floyd the basics of cooking. It was brutal... Azul was learning at the same time though, because cooking on land and cooking underwater are two completely different things :(

#replies #headcanons #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech

[frecklystars]

im sorry i gotta vent one more time about this situation and then i'll put a lid on it for the night 😭

dude im still so so so baffled that my abuser, will full awareness that it's easy for me to run into the *thousands* of commissions of herself that she has floating around online, literally changed her fucking color scheme to barbie pink because she knows pink was a trigger for me because of her. that's so malicious. i asked a group of friends who also struggle with cptsd and i was like "hey am i being paranoid, or-" and they were like "no, that was intentional behavior. that is how manipulation works" and it just. hurts. it sucks.

because i know the truth of why she does those tiny, subtle little actions that she knows would hurt me, and i cannot point at them in the public and say "look how this person is intentionally hurting me" because she'd phrase it as "what did i do? i just made a pink OC :) i do nothing wrong." this happened one time when she joined a patreon that i was a part of, that she KNEW i was a part of, specifically because it would fuck me up knowing she was there. and then when the patreon artist confronted her about that she was like ":) i do nothing wrong. im just supporting an artist! what's so bad about that"

it just reeks of venom that somebody that is not in my life anymore would go such lengths. she told me in the very beginning "i'm getting too attached to you. this isn't going to be good for you." and i had no idea what she meant. i know now. she'd tell me some disorders she had that would "make her act this way" and i asked my therapist about those, and she said "well let's assume she's telling the truth and she has these disorders... yeah she's going to be attached to you for a very long time. it's obsessive behavior and it's manipulative and i'm sorry it's probably not going to stop until she's attached to someone else" ... yeah that's horrifying! i remember the days she'd tell me in a creepy voice "i'm getting attached to you... this isn't good for you." and i was like, wtf does that mean...

the fact that i've been out of contact with this person for over one year now, and coming up in one week it's going to mark another year that i am still harassed and in danger by this person. i wish i could go into more detail about all the stuff that i've been dealing with offline but it's just so much and i am just, i am so tired. i am so exhausted of dealing with this person whether it's online or just battling the flashbacks and triggers.

i still feel really. bad. when i see barbie pink now. the fact that she changed her OC to make sure it was specifically that shade of pink because she knew it would trigger me... on a st/rscream commission of all things. my god. ive learned my lesson that i can never ever ever ever look at any TF images whatsoever unless if it's strictly from the source material, because she's just. everywhere. google images. i can never look at TF fanart ever again because she is more than likely to have commissioned these artists more than once. i am never touching the fandom again and i'm fine with that. i won't make any more friends who are into TF and that hurts but in the long run i accept that.

but dude. barbie pink? really? my god. i keep hoping i'm just freshly triggered and i'll move on, but i don't want to be scared of barbie. she's the one who was healing me. i don't want to lose barbie, then i'm going to lose the entire hyperfixation. i can't let this happen to me again. i feel it slipping away from me but i don't know what to do to stop it from happening. this cannot be a tr/nsformers situation all over again dude this canNOT happen to me again, i will not survive this a second time

#vent #maybe i have to draw myself with barbie and use the colors or something #i dont know. #if more ppl were online i'd ask for advice #😭 dude im exhausted

[haleigh-sloth]

What was it about the mall scene that resonated so much with you? Until that point I'd only seen shigaraki as an angry boy doing angry boy things, and I like that about him, but my take away from that scene is that he's a genuinely dangerous person and things were about to get very real in the coming season.

It's really hard for me to explain, because there isn't any ONE type of story, trope, dynamic, relationship, etc. that successfully draws me in every time. I like all different kinds of things. But I have drawn the connection between BNHA and other media I enjoy (including non-manga/anime media) that I like arcs/stories about friendships and people getting through obstacles to come together in a way.

So, I guess with that--the mall scene literally immediately made me go "Oh, these two are going to be involved with each other in a lot of ways and it's going to be great". And they were, and they are.

I just saw the potential for chaos between the two of them immediately, and to this day, two years later, I still love them both together and am excited to see where the story takes them. I know the ending I want and it seems more and more likely it'll go that way, so that's what keeps me so invested.

Tomura specifically, I mean there were hints dropped during the mall scene that there was more shit going on than meets the eye. Both with him and Izuku both together, but also just him by himself. I didn't need context from the later arcs to wonder wtf the severed hands on the floor were (and wonder if they were the hands on his body).

When you look at the mall scene it really should occur to people that what he does is not normal behavior. I mean obviously, he's not an average dude, but the scene was really telling at how socially deprived he is and how willing he is to just tell people personal details. And not knowing much about him at the time, I watched that scene and was really confused by what he was doing and saying to the main character. Going up to someone you literally don't know at all, only met once whom during that encounter you were trying to kill, have watched on TV, seen in the streets from afar, and deciding that you have enough of a grasp on this person to go to them to help gain some personal insight into yourself is very weird. Like even for a villain/hero situation, it was very unique to me and I watched it and the entire time I was like "?????? wtf??".

I liked how weird and blunt Tomura was during that scene with someone he supposedly seriously dislikes (the current chapters make me question the truth of that tho), and I liked how it was so obvious that this character is just really immature, and very messed up--for reasons at the time were unknown to me. Idk, the mystery behind him sold me immediately.

But honestly the biggest thing that sold me on his character, and honestly BNHA as a whole, was just his weird ass choices during that scene, how it connected to the main character, and how it made Tomura more interesting specifically because of his weird behavior and how it separated him from other antagonists I've come across in stories.

I have grown to appreciate that scene more and more as the manga carried on, but a lot of the investments in the manga I have now, started with that scene and with these two characters.

#bnha asks #anonymous #bnha #shigaraki tomura

[villians-r-hot]

Never Letting You Out of My Sight

Word Count: 3,949

Warning: kidnapping, guns, reader is slightly beaten, alcohol, needles, drugging, blood, bondage/gagging, and murder

This is an Aaron Hotchner x Reader fic where the reader is asked to pose as bait so the BAU can catch a serial killer but it goes very wrong (Hotch has to find them in time)

You have been working at the BAU for around seven months now. You love the work, being able to use behavior to solve crimes was something you always found interesting. And now, with your team, you traveled all over the country to do this. Your team was made up of seven people: Rossi, Hotch, Morgan, Reid, Prentiss, Garcia, and you. That morning, you had gotten a call to come into the office quickly, the team had a case. You grabbed your overnight bag and headed to the bureau. 

Walking into the BAU, people were already milling around, getting paperwork done and settling in for the day. When you got to your desk, you noticed that Hotch had left a note requesting that you stop by his office. This already made you nervous because not only was he your boss, but you had started to like him. You don’t know if it was his seriousness or the way he commanded a room, but something about him was extremely attractive.

The only person in your team that had gotten there already was Reid, so before the team meeting you went to Hotch’s office. Of course he was sitting there, always getting to work an hour before anyone else. His door was open, but you knocked anyway while standing in the doorway. He looked up, clearly stressed from whatever paperwork he was filling out but then his face softened. “(y/l/n), come in.” 

You step all the way into his office and sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “How are you this morning?” He asked, putting down the papers he was working on and sitting back in his chair. 

“I’m doing good sir, and you?”

“I could do with a little less paperwork, but other than that I’m fine,” he chuckled. This was very different from his normal uptight nature that he had in front of other people, it took you by surprise. You were still thinking it over when he spoke up again.

“I called you in here today before the team meeting because I need to ask you some questions about our next case.”

“Oh…is this about our last case? I swear I didn’t know that saying that to a witness is bad, I just…”

“No no no, you did the right thing under those circumstances” he interrupted, “this is about something else.”

“Oh ok…” “So as you know, we’re taking a case in Florida. This is a case that involves a person who keeps kidnapping women and holding them hostage. But his time frame is speeding up and he’s killing them after three days instead of after a week. This is why we have to act fast and I believe we need to quickly take drastic measures to prevent a spree killing.”

“I agree…this could become worse if we don’t do something,” you added.

“Yes, exactly. So all the women are around 20 to 30 years old and they all have (y/h/c) hair.”

You could see where this was going and you started to not like it.

He continued, “So, Strauss and I were talking, and she agreed to my plan but I still need your permission…”

You interrupt him, “How many women has he killed so far?”

“They’ve found five bodies.”

“Ok, then I’ll do it.”

“(y/l/n), this will be dangerous and I legally have to warn you about what could happen.”

“I know, if he takes the bait and I’m held hostage, he might try to kill me. But I have to do something to help these women.”

He leaned forwards in his chair, “Are you completely sure (y/n)?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ok, I’ll email you the specific details of your assignment. Now we should probably head to the team meeting, they’ll be starting soon.”

You stand up from your chair and start toward the door.

“And (y/n)?,” you turn your head toward him, “you’re one of the bravest agents I know and I can promise you that I won’t let any harm come to you.”

You smile at him, “I know you won’t.” You walk out the door and head for the meeting room. Was that too flirty?

Hotch aside, you were becoming a little nervous for this case. You didn’t regret saying yes because it might help solve the case, but the thought of coming face to face with this killer was starting to make you feel uneasy. The team assembled and went over the details of the case. At the end, Hotch announced his and your plan to catch the killer. Although this surprised almost everyone, everybody agreed with this being the best course of action. 

You met on the airplane thirty minutes later and left for Florida. On the way, Emily and you were playing chess and she asked you, “How are you feeling about the plan?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I am nervous about it. But I’m more nervous about meeting the killer than the chance of him killing me. I trust the team and I know he won’t even get close to hurting me.”

“As long as you're confident, I am.” She smiled up at you before moving her bishop and “checkmate.”

You huffed and leaned back, settling into your chair to read over the case details again. 

After arriving in Florida, the entire team went to the police station and began to set up. You went into the bathroom to change into the outfit you were going to be in. It was shorts and a crop top, a usual clubbing outfit. The killer always took women at night right after they left bars or other late-night places. The team decided it would be best to put you in a bar a block away from the first abduction because it was definitely in his comfort zone. You also did your hair a little bit better than it was and touched up your makeup. When you came out of the bathroom, you went back to the room that the team was in.

“Hey, Hotch, am I gonna be on the company tab tonight?” you joked around while trying to tie the wired bracelet that would send audio to the team. You looked up when he didn’t answer immediately and he was standing there staring at you. You blushed as he snapped out of it and quickly said, “Yes, but don’t drink too much tonight, just make it look like you are in case he’s in the room with you.”

“Ok, sound goods,” you replied, finally getting the bracelet on. 

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

Three hours later, it was around seven o’clock and you were ready to start your assignment. They dropped you off a block away from the bar and you walked the rest of the way. Before you left though, Hotch pulled you aside and said, “You be careful out there. We’ll only be a minute away if anything goes wrong, but try to be as cautious as possible.”

“I will be Hotch.”

Walking into the bar, you went to order a drink and then sat at a small table near the back. Throughout the night, a few guys tried to sit with you or buy you drinks but you refused. Around eleven o’clock, you went to settle the tab and leave. Just as you were walking toward the door, a man stood up from his table and knocked against your side. You were thrown off balance but caught yourself on another table. “Oh, my apologies ma’am, I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, you’re fine, I should’ve seen you get up.” With that, you left the building and began walking down the street, hoping to catch the killer's attention. About twenty minutes later, you had started to give up and wait until tomorrow night when a truck pulled up. It matched the vehicle description of a truck that had been at a majority of the kidnapping sites. You involuntarily sped up but then relaxed and tried to look comfortable.

The truck pulled up beside you and the passenger window rolled down, revealing a man on the driver's side. He smiled at you and asked, “Hey, do you need a ride home? I’m driving back into town.”

Knowing this was your chance you said, “Um…sure, my apartment is about ten blocks that way.” You pointed down the road headed into the downtown part of the city. “Perfect,” he leaned over and opened the passenger door for you. As you climbed in, your heart was beating rapidly and you had to stop yourself from shaking. He rolled the window up, locked the doors, and began driving down the road. 

“Do you come into this part of town often?” he asked you.

 “I just moved here so I was just checking it out, seeing if I liked it,” you responded.

“And did you like it?”

“Yeah! I thought it was nice,” you try to put enthusiasm into your voice.

His mood kind of changed, which scared you, “Don’t you recognize me, (y/n)?”

You weren’t expecting that and so you looked over at him and tried to place his face. “Um…no I don't think we’ve met before,” you said uncertainly. 

“Well, (y/n)...I’m the guy you rudely bumped into not even thirty minutes ago,” his voice was getting louder.

The realization hit you, but you hadn’t really looked at his face when he was in the bar. He began to get angrier, “And guess what (y/n)? I have the only thing that’s protecting you.” He held up your tracking and audio bracelet that he must have snatched when he bumped into you. You began to panic as he rolled down his window and threw it out.

“I know who you are (y/n) (y/l/n). And because you dared to come after me, I’m about to make your life a living hell.” He suddenly reached over and jabbed you in the leg with what looked like an epi-pen. But instead of adrenaline, it had some sort of strong suppressant. Within seconds, your eyes drooped and your arms and legs went numb. A few moments later he reached over and buckled you into the seat as your eyes completely closed and you fell against the back of the seat.

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

Hotch’s POV

“What do you mean we’ve lost connections?” 

“Sir, her location stopped moving and then stopped updating completely. Best guess? Someone ditched the bracelet and destroyed it,” Garcia explained on the other line.

Hotch began pacing, “We have no idea where he’s taken her now, and we only have two maybe three days to figure it out.” He was scared out of his mind. He had not only promised her she would be safe but he also cared about her so much and couldn’t stand to lose her. 

“Garcia, get the team back here at the police station, we’re going to have to find him ourselves.”

Thirty minutes later the team was together and throwing out ideas as to where the killer would keep his victims. They narrowed it down to the east side of the city, which had the most private locations, but that wasn’t good enough.

“We have 36 hours at the most before he starts to hurt (y/n), so everyone get to work and don't stop until you find something,” Hotch said, starting to panic.

“Hey Hotch, we’ll get him. Nothing will happen to (y/n),” Morgan reassured. 

Hotch bit his nail and turned to work on the witness statements.

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

(y/n)’s POV

You wake up in a dark room, probably a basement, sitting on a bare mattress on the floor. Your head hurts and you can’t think straight but you try to sit up. When you do, your head spins and you fall back down. You hear a laugh from the corner of the room. “Trouble wakin’ up? Don’t worry, it’ll wear off soon and then we’ll have some fun.”

The man from the truck stalks out from the corner and into your field of vision. You try to sit up again, and this time you stay. “What do you want with me?” you ask him.

“The question I want to know is what do YOU want with ME?” he asked. “You searched me out and waited for me to take you. Then when I found you had a wired bracelet, I knew you were some type of cop.”

You don’t give away anything and just stare at him. He starts to walk closer, “You gonna answer me bitch, or am I gonna have to figure it out the hard way?” You remain silent but then he steps closer to you and backhands you across the face. You fall back into the mattress.

“Sit up,” he commands. You comply, not wanting to get hurt anymore, but it was the wrong call. This time he punches you in the nose and you hear a crack. Your nose starts to bleed. “Now, I usually wait a few days to start hurtin’ the women I take but I think I’m gonna start early with you.”

He rears his leg back and kicks you in the ribs. Again, you hear something crack and pain explodes across your chest. You groan and lay down on the mattress. “I’ll be back in a few hours to see if you want to explain some things, but in the meantime, I’ll make sure you don’t try an’ escape.”

He walks over to a cabinet that’s in the basement and pulls out rope and another one of those modified epi-pens. You try to back away, but the pain in your chest keeps you on the mattress. He takes both your hands and ties them together, which magnifies the pain. Then he sticks you in the leg again with the epi-pen and watches as your eyes begin to close and you drop your hands onto your stomach.

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

Hotch’s POV

“Hey, we’re close, Garcia has narrowed it down to four people who match the profile,” Reid tells Hotch.

“Who are they?” Hotch urged. They were closing in on 15 hours since the abduction. 

Garcia began, “Well the first three live inside the comfort area and have multiple assault charges on their records. Oh wait…scratch that, one of them was arrested three days ago and is in prison.”

Hotch addressed the team, “So we’re down to two people who live in the comfort area. Prentiss, Reid, and Morgan, go to the first man’s house. Rossi and I will take a team to the second man’s house. Let's go find her.” With that, the team split up and suited up for a raid. 

Hotch was extremely nervous. What if she’s not at either house? Or even worse, what has he done to her in the fifteen hours she’s been gone?

But he couldn’t doubt himself, not now. He had to be in a clear headspace for this raid. Rossi and him hopped in a car and followed the SWAT vehicle to the second suspect’s address. When they arrived, they saw a dingy house that looked like it was three floors with a basement. It was pretty far away from any neighbors. They pulled up without sirens and were as quiet as possible. The SWAT team decided on a quiet entry and so Hotch and Rossi were assigned to enter through the side door. 

Within a few minutes, everyone was in their position and so they went into the house. The side door opened into the kitchen. Directly off the kitchen was a door leading down to the basement. Hotch checked Rossi to cover his back as he eased open the door and pointed his gun down the stairs. Everything was quiet but there was a light on at the bottom of the stairs. Hotch decided to investigate and signaled Rossi to follow him. 

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

(y/n)’s POV

The man tensed up and grabbed a gun from his waistband. He signaled for you to be quiet but you shook your head and tried to move from the mattress. However, you barely moved because of the drugs he had given you. He walked to the cabinet and pulled out a bandana. He walked over to you and wrapped it around your mouth as a gag. You protested but couldn’t do anything to fight him off.

Between the binds on your wrists and the gag, you couldn’t do much of anything when you heard men whispering outside. You then heard multiple doors open inside the house. The basement door opened and you heard someone step carefully down the stairs. The man moved behind you and you could hear him cock the gun. You felt the cold metal of the barrel against your head just as a person turned the corner into the basement and froze.

It was Hotch and he had his gun pointed at the man behind you. “Get away from her,” he commanded. His gaze fell to you for a moment before going back to the man. He seemed more shaken than he was in other cases. You had seen him look plenty of killers in the eyes and tell them to drop their weapon, but he never looked this panicked. It was only a slight change, but after knowing Hotch for seven months, it was a huge difference. 

Rossi stepped out from behind him, with his gun also pointed at the man.

“Nope, I don’t think I will. You were the ones who sought out me, ‘member? You wanted this to happen,” the man replied.

“We WANT to put you in prison, now lower your weapon and step towards me,” Hotch said.

The man laughed, “You think I’m gonna give up that easily? After I’ve been killin’ for weeks? Think again asshole, if I’m goin’ down, she’s goin’ down with me.”

The blood running from your nose was starting to soak your gag and you coughed. Hotch looked down at you again, and held his concerned gaze longer. The man shook his gun at your head, “Hey, this is about me not her.” He nudged your head with the gun, making you flinch. Tears began running down your face again as he continued to argue with Hotch.

“You see! I’m in control. Try to shoot me and see what’ll come of it, I’ll pull the trigger before your bullet even reaches me. Then your precious little agent will be dead as well.”

Hotch shifted in frustration and impatience. “I’ll make you a deal, you come with us peacefully, and I can talk to the judge about placing you in a better prison.” While Hotch was trying to make deals, Rossi was slowly easing around the mattress. The man behind you didn’t seem to notice, “Which prison are you talkin’ about?”

Hotch continued, “Well you would be placed in the federal prison without the deal and they don’t like women killers in there. But I could get you into the state prison, which seems more your speed.”

“My speed? What’s that supposed to mean?” he started to get upset again. 

Hotch replied, “Oh just more people like you.”

The man started, “Like me? You’re just tryin’ to lump me into a group of common criminals when you know that I’m better than them! You’re lyin’ to me and….”

All of a sudden a gunshot goes off. You think that the man had finally pulled the trigger and shot you but then you heard something fall behind you and the feeling of the metal barrel leaves your skin. You look towards Hotch, who was still standing there, his gun still cocked. Rossi comes from the corner of your vision, holstering his weapon and disarms the man. “Good job distracting him Hotch,” he says from behind you.

But Hotch is only focused on you as he quickly holsters his weapon and runs up to the mattress. “(y/n), I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen.” He quickly removed the gag and unties the binds around your wrists. You’re still limp from the medicine and your body hurts. You try to move but the pain causes you to wince and Hotch eases you back. “Don’t try to move (y/n), I’ve got you.”

He starts to slowly move his hands around your back and eases you up slowly to a sitting position. You inhale sharply when your broken rib twists. “Do you need to lay back down (y/n)?” he searches your face for any sign of extreme pain. “No,” you breathe out, “I’m good Hotch, keep going…get me out of here.”

At that, he puts one arm beneath your knees and one arm around your back and picks you up bridal-style. He turns toward Rossi and Rossi just says, “I’ve got him, you get her to the medics.” Hotch turns and you rest your head on his shoulder and your arms are limp in your lap. He climbs the stairs quickly all while saying reassuring things like, “You’ll be ok…I’ve got you now…You’re safe…The medics are almost here.”

The ambulance pulls up as he carries you outside the house. You breathe in the fresh air and close your eyes. The medics open the back doors and Hotch climbs in and lays you on the stretcher. You groan again as you lay back on the bed. “What hurts (y/n)?,” one of the medics said. The ambulance begins moving towards the hospital. 

“My chest and my face, I think one of my ribs is broken.”

The medics are putting an oxygen tube in your nose and starting an IV and you’re getting slightly overwhelmed. Hotch notices and starts rubbing circles on your hand. You try to focus on that as the ambulance eventually pulls into the emergency bay. They wheel you out into the hospital and a doctor who works for the FBI meets them at the door. He walks beside the stretcher as you’re wheeled toward a room.

Hotch fills him in with all the information as you get loopy from the pain medication. The doctor leans down and says right before you black out,  “Everything will be alright (y/n), I’m here to help.”

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

You wake up several hours later in a hospital bed. There is a sling on your arm and it looks like there’s a bandage on your nose. You try to move around but the pain in your chest prevents that. Your groaning wakes up Hotch, who had been sleeping on the couch in the room. He is immediately at your side asking questions, “Does it hurt too much?”

“No, it’s manageable. I just have to remember not to move,” you huff out a laugh.

He smiles down at you, “I’m glad you’re back (y/n).”

“I’m glad to be back sir, but I think I’m gonna have to pass on any special assignments for a couple weeks.”

He laughs, blinking back tears. Then he does something wholly unexpected. He leans down and kisses your cheek. “After the last 48 hours, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a couple weeks.” You both laugh and he brings up a chair to sit next to your bed. 

“You should rest (y/n), I’ll be right here watching over you.” You slowly close your eyes, drifting back to sleep, absolutely certain that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you again.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #criminal minds #y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 21: May December

Today’s movie was May December. That… was an experience. It sort of reminded me of Power of the Dog in the sense that it’s another film that starts slow and builds steady and you don’t really realize either time passing or tension building until at some point you’re wondering if someone’s going to die. And it still managed to have that breath-holding finale without anyone… actually dying.

I would definitely need to watch it again to get more coherent thoughts but it’s also going to be a while before I have the fortitude to watch it again. It’s going to have to sit for a while.

I was pretty caught up on all of the recurring details, the mirrors, the recurring references in different contexts. Everything comes back to the same points, seen from different angles. The same story, different points of view, different biases, different possibilities. Viewing everything only through mirrors (literal mirror imagery like in the dress shopping and makeup scenes, or in the fight scene, etc.). The reference to falling off the roof in the beginning, leading to the x-rays of the kid who fell off the roof, leading to Joe almost falling off the roof. The ages 14 and 36 recurring, the specific age gap recurring. Affairs and almost affairs. Both Elizabeth and Joe’s sister having asthma. Trying to piece together the truth in the past through photographs, tabloids, interviews, letters, and the aftermath itself, the present.

My big takeaway honestly is that both Gracie and Elizabeth are totally deranged. I’m not going to try to figure out Gracie. I was right there with Elizabeth feeling like I’d been sent on a total 180 spin at the last moment at graduation. It’s not that I thought she had been abused; that struck me as a little… too much to be true in such a subtle story, I suppose. Too much to be coming out so late and so lowkey in the narrative. But that she and Georgie “talk every day”—that surprised me. I really thought the implication was they never spoke. Like I was bamboozled about that. It really underlined that this is the same woman who engaged in such awful behavior, that she has lied, she has manipulated, she has controlled the whole narrative. She calls her “naivete” a gift, and I think to some extent she is naïve, but she’s also damned confident. That ‘insecure people are very dangerous. I’m secure’ line??? Ended me. I don’t know what to do with that. Who's insecure? And also--she IS dangerous?

And Elizabeth—is of course obsessed with the part, becoming Gracie, etc., that’s pretty obvious and expected. What got to me is her casual manipulation of other people, her disinterest in her fiancé and the affair she’s having with the director and the affair she so easily has with Joe, and how she really doesn’t seem to have a sense of proper lines and boundaries, either. She is so quick to talk about sex scenes with the kids at the high school. That's damned inappropriate. I also thought there was some sense in which she maybe appreciated the kid in the hallway doing a little trick to show off—the closest thing the movie gets to answering that totally unfathomable question of HOW an adult could ever look at a 13-year-old kid as a sexual partner. The most distressing part of the movie to me was the scene with the audition reels of the kids who were up for Joe’s part. Those were real kids. That’s what 13 looks like. I think when you see so much of the relationship from the perspective of two adults, it’s hard to really think the implications of that through. It’s hard to see it. In part because you don’t want to. You see glimmers of it, like in how close Joe is in age to his kids, or in both Gracie and Joe's stunted development. But I think precisely because he’s so childlike in so many ways, it’s easy to imagine that you’re seeing him now as he was then—you forget the body he was in then and that there is a difference between ‘childlike/innocent adult’ and ‘actual child.’ But then you see those kids in the reels… damn. Interesting, very interesting, that the actor ultimately cast to play Joe was clearly not 13—he looked like he could be 16 or 17, easily.

Ultimately though I’d say that last scene really aligned Elizabeth with the viewer: the absolute insanity you’ll lead yourself to if you think too much or too hard or too obsessively about whatever the heck that was.

The most sympathetic character was definitely Joe. I feel so soft for him. He just wants to be a good dad, he never had any chance to grow up or to understand how he didn’t grow up, he has no idea what he’s going to do without his kids in the house… and he raises butterflies, with such gentleness and care. I hope he and his friend in the Facebook group continue to be friends… I was a little afraid that perhaps she ghosted him after she perceived his interest in her to be crossing a line, with the suggestion of a getaway together. Maybe she did. He just needs someone like that—someone who takes him seriously I suppose.

I’m skimming over some reviews and a lot of people seem to have found it funny… I don’t know, I didn’t find anything either funny or campy in it, I thought it was quite a tense drama, but maybe that’s a me problem, I don’t know.

#the year 2024 #2024: movies #2024: fandom thoughts

[restaurantmarketingblog]

[leonardcohenofficial]

it infuriates me the amount of media that attempts to portray disordered eating, even in a “non-romanticized” light, and just ends up being a guide for how to both engage in and hide disordered behavior like. i cannot name one film or television program or young adult novel that tries to do this that does not fall into the trap of spelling out tips and tricks on how to give yourself issues with eating, even if the intent of the art is meant to provide awareness to people about these issues/encourage people to seek help. it is understandably difficult to create works about eating disorders, and creators absolutely should be able to move through their trauma and share meaningful stories about eating disorders and recovery; however, it is my humble opinion that creators should be very mindful of what aspects of their stories can have DIRECT negative effect on their readers/viewers

#e d // #disordered eating // #this is okay to reblog if you feel so inclined/remember to tag with content warnings #even many memoirs from people in recovery from EDs STILL list out every disordered behaviour they engaged with and then their book #functions as a how to; i can tell you what books and movies and television programs SPECIFICALLY taught me behaviours i am unlearning to #this day and it's because they detailed SPECIFICALLY very dangerous behaviors in a way that WAS often romanticized #and this isn't really about triggers it's more about 'don't detail every step you did at the worst of your ED if a thirteen year old is #going to read this as a how–to of disordered behavior like #ugh i'm just in a really reeeeeaaaaally bad mood today not to ramble immediately after therapy but. just not happy re: that #and like. i say this as someone who talks about all this frequently in my art and will NEVER detail my behaviours like they do on #fucking like. SKINS because i think as a creator you do have a responsibility even when you're talking about deeply personal and intense #topics #UGH WHATEVER it's just been a Very Weird Day

[pumpkinpaix]

mdzs fandom, diaspora, and cultural exchange

Hey everyone. This post contains a statement that’s been posted to my twitter, but was a collaborative effort between several diaspora fans over the last few weeks. Some of the specifics are part of a twitter-localized discourse, but the general sentiments and issues raised are applicable across the board, including here on tumblr.

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably seen a few of my posts about this fandom, cultural exchange, and diasporic identity. For example, here, here, and here. This statement more directly criticizes some of the general issues I and others have raised in the past, and also hopefully provides a little more insight into where those issues come from. I would be happy if people took the time to read and reblog this, as the thought that went into it is not trivial, and neither is the subject matter. Thank you.

Introduction

Hello. I'm a member of a Chinese diaspora discord server - I volunteered to try and compile a thread of some thoughts regarding our place and roles in the fandom expressed in some of our recent discussions. This was primarily drafted by me and reviewed/edited by others with the hopes that we can share a cohesive statement on our honest feelings instead of repeatedly sharing multiple, fragmented versions of similar threads in isolation.

This was compiled by one group of diaspora and cannot be taken to represent diaspora as a whole, but we hope that our input can be considered with compassion and understanding of such.

For context, we are referencing two connected instances: the conflict described in these two threads (here and here), and when @/jelenedra tweeted about giving Jewish practices to the Lans. Regarding the latter, we felt that it tread into the territory of cultural erasure, and that it came from a person who had already disrespected diaspora’s work and input.

Context

The Lans have their own religious and cultural practices, rooted both in the cultural history of China and the genre of xianxia. Superimposing a different religious practice onto the Lans amidst other researched, canonical or culturally accurate details felt as if something important of ours was being overwritten for another’s personal satisfaction. Because canon is so intrinsically tied to real cultural, historical, and religious practices, replacing those practices in a canon setting fic feels like erasure. While MDZS is a fantasy novel, the religious practices contained therein are not. This was uncomfortable for many of us, and we wanted to point it out and have it resolved amicably. We were hoping for a discussion or exchange as there are many parallels and points of relation between Chinese and Jewish cultures, but that did not turn out quite as expected.

What happened next felt like a long game of outrage telephone that resulted in a confusion of issues that deflected responsibility, distracted from the origin of the conflict, and swept our concern under the rug.

Specifically, we are concerned about how these two incidents are part of what we feel is a repeated, widespread pattern of the devaluing of Chinese fans’ work and concerns within this fandom. This recent round of discourse is just one of many instances where we have found ourselves in a position of feeling spoken over within a space that is nominally ours. Regardless of what the telephone game was actually about, the way it played out revealed something about how issues are prioritized.

Background

MDZS is one of the first and largest franchises of cmedia that has become popular and easily accessible outside of China. Moreover, it’s a piece of queer Chinese media that is easily accessible to those of us overseas. For many non-Chinese fans, this is the first piece of cmedia they have connected with, and it’s serving as their introduction to a culture previously opaque to them. What perhaps is less obvious is that for many Chinese diaspora fans, this is also the first piece of cmedia THEY have connected with, found community with, seen themselves in.

Many, many of us have a fraught relationship with our heritage, our language—we often suffer from a sense of alienation, both from our families and from our surrounding peers. For our families, our command of the language and culture is often considered superficial, clunky, childish. Often, connecting with our culture is framed as a mandatory academic duty, and such an approach often fosters resentment towards our own heritage. For our non-Chinese peers, our culture is seen as exotic and strange and other, something shiny and interesting to observe, while we, trapped in the middle, find ourselves uprooted and adrift.

MDZS holds an incredibly important place in many diaspora’s hearts. Speaking for myself, this is literally the first time in my life I have felt motivated and excited about my own native tongue. It's the first time I have felt genuine hope that I might one day be able to speak and read it without fear and self-doubt. It is also the first time that so many people have expressed interest in learning from me, in hearing my thoughts and opinions about my culture.

This past year and a half in fandom has been an incredible experience. I know that I am not alone in this. So many diaspora I have spoken to just in the last week have expressed similar sentiments about the place MDZS holds in their lives. It is a precious thing to us, both because we love the story itself, and because it represents a lifeline to a heritage that’s never felt fully ours to grasp.

It’s wonderful to feel like we are able to welcome our friends into our home and show them all these things that have been so formative to our identities, and to be received with such enthusiasm and interest. Introducing this to non-Chinese friends and fans has also been an opportunity to bridge gaps and be humanized in a way that has been especially important in a year where yellow peril fear mongering has been at an all-time high.  

History

However, MDZS’ rise in popularity among non-Chinese audiences has also come with certain difficulties. It is natural to want to take a story you love and make it your own: that’s what transformative fandom is all about. It is also natural that misunderstandings and unintentional missteps might happen when you aren’t familiar with the ins and outs of the culture and political history of the story in question. This is understandable and forgivable—perfection is impossible, even for ourselves.

We hope for consideration and respect when we give our knowledge freely and when we raise the issue of our own discomfort with certain statements or actions regarding our culture. Please remember that what is an isolated incident to you might be a pattern of growing microaggressions to us. In non-Asian spaces, Asian diaspora are often lumped together under one umbrella. In the west, a lot of Chinese diaspora attach themselves to Korean and Japanese media in order to feel some semblance of connection to a media which approximates our cultures because there are cultural similarities. This is the first time we've collectively found community around something that is actually ours, so the specificities matter.

There is a bitterness about being Asian diaspora and a misery in having to put up a united front about racial issues. Enmity towards one group becomes a danger to all of us, all while our own conflicted histories with one another continue to pass trauma down through the generations. Many of us don’t even watch anime in front of our grandparents because of that lingering cultural antipathy. When the distinctions between our cultures are muddled, it feels once again like that very fraught history is flattened and forgotten.

Without the lived experience of it, it’s hard to understand how pervasive the contradictory web of anti-Asian and, more specifically, anti-Chinese racial aggressions are and how insidious its effects are. The conflation of China the political entity (as perceived and presented by the US and Europe) with its people, culture, and diaspora results in an exhausting litany of criticism levied like a bludgeon, often by people who don’t understand the complicated nature of a situation against those of us who do.

There is often a frankly stunning lack of self-awareness re: cultural biases and blind spots when it comes to discussions of MDZS, particularly moral ones. There are countless righteous claims and hot takes on certain aspects of the story, its author, and the characters that are so clearly rooted in a Euroamerican political and moral framework that does not reflect Chinese cultural realities and experiences. Some of these takes have become so widespread they are essentially accepted as fanon.

This is a pattern of behavior within the fandom. It is not limited to any specific group, nor does it even exclude ourselves—we are, after all, not a monolith, and we should not be placed on pedestals to have our differing opinions weaponized against one another in fandom squabbles. We are not flawless in our own understandings and approaches, and we would appreciate it if others would remember this before using any of us as ultimate authorities to settle a personal score.

It is difficult not to be disheartened when enthusiastic interest crosses the line into entitled demand and when transformative work crosses into erasure, especially when the reactions to our raised concerns have so frequently been dismissive and hostile. The overwhelming cultural and emotional labor we bring to the table is often taken advantage of and then criticized in bad faith. We are bombarded with racist aggressions, micro and macro, and then met with ridicule and annoyance when we push back. Worse, we sometimes face accusations of hostility that force us to apologize, back down, and let the matter go.

When we bring up our issues, it usually seems to come with the expectation that there are other issues that should be addressed before we can address ours. It feels like it’s never really the time to talk about Asian issues.

On the internet and in fandom spaces, Western-coded media, politics and perspectives are assumed to be general knowledge and experience that everyone knows and has. It feels like a double standard that we are expected to know the ins and outs of western politics and to engage on these terms, but most non-Chinese have not even the slightest grasp of the sort of politics that are at play within our communities. We end up feeling used for our specialized knowledge and cultural background and then dismissed when our opinions and problems are inconvenient.

As the culture represented in MDZS is not a culture that most non-Chinese fans are familiar with, we’d like to remind you that you do not get to decide which parts of it are or are not important. While sharing this space with Chinese diaspora who have a close connection to the work and the painful history that goes along with being diaspora, we ask that you be mindful of listening to our concerns.

Cultural erasure is tied to a lot of intense historical and generational trauma for us that maybe isn't immediately evident: the horrors of the Pacific theatre, the far-reaching consequences of colonization, racial tensions both among ourselves and with non-Chinese etc. These are not minor or simple things, and when we talk about our issues within fandom, this is often what underlies them. This is one of the first and only places many of us have been able to find community to discuss our unique issues without feeling as if we’re speaking out of turn.

With the HK protests, COVID, the anti-Chinese platforms of the US election etc., anti-Chinese sentiment has been at the forefront of the global news cycle for some time now, and it is with complete sincerity that we emphasize once again how important MDZS fandom has been as a haven for humanizing and valuing Chinese people through cultural exchange.

Experiencing racial aggression within that space stings, not just because it’s a space we love, but because it feels like we’ve been swimming in rapidly rising racial aggression for over a year at this point.

Feelings

This is a difficult topic to broach at the best of times, and these are not the best of times. Many of us have a wariness of rocking the boat instilled in us from our upbringings, and it is not uncommon for us to feel like we should be grateful that people want to engage with something of ours at all. When we do decide to speak up, we’ve learned that there is a not insignificant chance that we’ll be turned on and trampled over because what we’ve said is inconvenient or uncomfortable. When it is already so difficult to speak up, we end up second-guessing and gaslighting ourselves into wondering whether there really was a problem at all.

We’d like to be able to share what we know about our culture and have our knowledge and experience be taken seriously and treated with courtesy. This is a beautiful, rich world built with the history of our ancestors, one that we too are trying to connect with. When we find it in ourselves to speak up about it, we would appreciate being met with consideration instead of hostility.

We don't have the luxury of stepping away from our culture when we get tired of it. We don't get to put it down and walk away when it’s difficult. But if you're not Chinese or Chinese diaspora, you get to put this book down—we'd like to kindly request that you put it down gently because of how much it matters to all of us in this fandom, regardless of heritage.

What we are asking for is reflection and thoughtfulness as we continue to engage with this work and with one another, especially with regards to how Chinese issues are positioned. When we raise issues of our own discomfort, please take a moment to reflect before reacting defensively or trying to shut us down for spoiling the fun—don’t deprioritize our concerns, especially in a fandom for a piece of Chinese media. We promise most of us are not trying to start shit for the sake of a fight. Most of the time, all we want is acknowledgement and a genuine attempt at understanding.

Our hope with this statement is to encourage more openness and understanding between diaspora and non-Chinese fans while we navigate this place that we’re sharing. Please remember that for many of us, MDZS is far more intense than a typical fandom experience. Remember that the knowledge we have and research we do is freely and happily given, and that it costs us both materially and emotionally. Please don’t take that for granted. Remember too that sometimes the reason for our discomfort may not be immediately evident to you: what seems culturally neutral and harmless might touch upon specific loaded issues for us. We ask for patience, and we ask for sincerity as we try to communicate with one another.

We are writing this because there’s a collective sense of imposed silence—that every time the newest round of discourse crops up, we often feel as if we’re walking away having created no meaningful change, and nursing new wounds that we’ll never get to address. But without speaking up about it, this is a cycle that will keep repeating.

This is not meant to shame or guilt the fandom into throwing themselves at our feet, either to thank us or beg for forgiveness—far from that. We’re just your friends and your fellow fans. We are happy to have you here, and we’re happy to create and share and play together. We just ask to be respected and heard.

Thank you. Thank you for listening. Several of us will be stepping back from twitter for a while. We’ll see you when we get back. ❤️

* A final addendum: here are two articles with solid practical advice on writing stories regarding a culture other than your own.

Cultural Appropriation for the Worried Writer: Some Practical Advice

Cultural Appropriation: Some More Practical Advice

The thread on twitter is linked in the source of this post. Thanks everyone.

#mdzs #mdzs meta #the untamed #the untamed meta #cql #asian diaspora #chinese diaspora #race #racism #mine #mymeta #once again my tag failing me because this is a collaborative work #but! for the sake of organization #statistically average #cultural appropriation #cultural erasure #what else do i tag this im so wired

[shotorozu]

TITLE : hospital stay

PAIRING : bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS : you’re in the hospital on your boyfriend’s birthday, and bakugou seems to have no issue with spending it in there.

WARNING(S) : MHA MANGA SPOILERS ‼️ (recent arc)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, a quirk similar to the avatar but that’s about it.

note(s) : so, it’s bakugou’s birthday. and i had this idea since march 20 😦 so i’ve been waiting for his birthday to come for literally a month but i didn’t want to post this way too early. alsooo i don’t know if this arc happened near spring but lets pretend it did for the sake of the story

When you woke up, the fluorescent lights were the first to hit your face

Following by the incoming beeping of a monitor, and the sudden throbbing of your head, the dryness of your throat evident.

Blinking slowly (or trying to, your other eye being a bit delayed.) you try recalling what just happened. You’re in a hospital, that’s one thing you know, but the specifics are still unknown to you.

Right. You remember now, you were fighting along side your classmates, and you managed to get blasted away when you thought that shielding Bakugou Katsuki would work. Yeah, you were sure that you were going to get an earful from him, if he—

You jolt when you notice said blond standing right next to your bed, vermillion eyes staring deep into your own, and somewhat— you could feel the weight and intensity in the stare

“S-since when did you get here?” You’re startled, and your voice is hoarse. Bakugou doesn’t formulate a response, and chooses to avoid the question as a whole.

“Finally you’re up.” He rolls his eyes. He looks much better than you remembered, despite having a few bandages on his forehead— he looked well. “It’s been 5 fucking days.”

“Five days?” You question out loud, your sense of time all disorganized. You clench your hand, just to see if your quirk was still working. Seeing air, fire, water, and just.. something, would relieve your worries— but a look from the blond shot you down quickly. You decided that it was wise if you didn’t try.

The blond seems to be done with the conversation, since he immediately walks out of the room. Actually, why was he here? You’d expect him to be laying down in bed, but despite being hit with that beam, he was walking around like everything was fine.

He comes back with a few other nurses, and they’re relieved to see that you’re awake— and even though they’ve bombarded you with questions with how you felt, you couldn’t brush off the feeling of a pair of ruby eyes on you.

Just, glaring. It’s nothing abnormal.

When the nurses finally leave you alone, giving you details of a few injuries— like your injured— well, burned eyelid that honestly stung (it came from the fire aspect of your quirk) you would’ve expected to be alone in your hospital room for the rest of your time there but Bakugou stayed.

“You’re going to tell me why you jumped in front of me?”

You were expecting to be questioned by him, after all— what you did didn’t exactly shield him, since he was also pierced. You didn’t expect the interrogation to be happening this soon

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to fucking know.” And he suddenly changes his mind, just like that.

You would’ve said impulse as an answer, but you doubt that he would’ve taken that seriously. And besides, you were kind of glad he changed midway that he didn’t want your answer. Your voice feels parched, despite chugging down a glass of water earlier.

“Did you check up on Deku?” You cringe when you hear cracks in your voice, and the dryness is unbearable to your throat, but he nods. “Idiot’s knocked out cold.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that you were one of the last few people that were still rendered unconscious.

“Your throat sounds like the sahara desert. Do me a favor and drink up.”

You blink owlishly at the glass of water that was set on the mini table, and when you drink up— it actually does something to relieve (temporarily) the dryness.

It was a consequence of your quirk after all, using your quirk too much would cause your body to feel sore, and everywhere to feel dry, and he knew that.

Bakugou was acting uncharacteristically, and you just don’t know why. Maybe it’s not so uncharacteristic of him, since he’s been less of an asshole as of recently, but you know that he would probably deviate from the question if you asked, so the both of you sat in silence.

—

It’s the next day, the same as yesterday— except it looked like dawn when you woke up. Bakugou also appeared at the side of your bed once again, almost as if he was there for quite some time.

“Nice to see you too,” You think to yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t actually say that out loud. You try to stand up straight, but Bakugou’s quick to push your back against the pillows.

“Don’t sit up, that’s idiotic.”

“Right, sorry. How did you get here? Isn’t it too early?” The parched throat came back. Though the ‘magical’ baku-water helped, it’s effects were only temporarily, sadly.

“You call 7am early?” Right, because for him— 7am isn’t that early, you even remember seeing him up at 6 sometimes.

“Actually, wait.” You blink, trying to recall what day it was, and what month it was. You recalled it being spring but.. was it March? or was it April already?

“What.. day is it today?”

It was almost like he was hesitant to say, “..April 20.”

“What the— April 20?” You’re appalled, because the last time you remembered, it wasn’t anywhere near April 20, but maybe it’s your 5 day unconsciousness to be blamed. “Isn’t it your birthday?”

“Shut up,” He mumbles, and he shifts around the room in search of something, but it’s too dim to be able to tell.

“Medicine. The nurses said you should take it now.”

You don’t reply.

“It’s for your Sahara desert throat. The other things are for your fucked up eye and injuries.”

That seems to be enough to convince you to take the medicine, and despite wanting to run away screaming from the bitterness, you take the medicine— not wanting to be met with any consequences

“Why are you spending your birthday here?”

“Do idiots like you ask that many questions?” He shoots back, and you’re unfazed by the fact that he just called you an idiot. You wouldn’t blame him.

“No but.. you seem fine.”

“A few days ago I was not, but now I am because I took medicine.” He walks over to untwist a few medicine caps, it appears to be for your eye.

“So, Does my eye look fine?” You bat your eyelashes just to mess with him, and he flicks your forehead with an ointment cap “No.”

“Sorry, sorry,” You laugh, choosing to completely ignore the sudden sharp pain when you laugh.

He bends down to reach eyelevel, “Can you see?”

“Sorta.” Your eye has this thin blur filter to it, that can’t be good— can it? Going blind in one eye, and having to wear an eye patch.

It was almost on cue, because Bakugou says “You’ll be rocking the pirate look if you don’t take your medicine,” Instead of handing the medicine for you to apply, he quickly applies a decent amount around your eyes— not giving you a warning whatsoever.

You wince slightly, but you’re glad it’s over. But why is he playing nurse with you? And why was he brushing off the fact that it’s literally his birthday.

—

Through out the entire day, Bakugou continued to act as if he had some responsibility over you. From helping you put on your medicine, to just monitoring you with eyes of a hawk. The fact that he chose to ignore all your protests was just a part of him.

His behavior was also very.. interesting. It would swing from being his usual self, to being this eerily quiet and calm Bakugou. You would’ve guessed that you were having a fever dream, if it weren’t for the fact that he wore his usual scowl on his face.

What remained consistent, despite it all— was that he stayed. He ate lunch in your room. He only left when the doctors and nurses asked him too, but that was only temporary. He stayed with you the entire day, even when the clock stroke 5pm.

But it’s quite literally his birthday? Why would he spend it in a hospital room with some extra? Or idiot? Let alone, why would he take care of said idiot/extra on his birthday? You don’t know because he refuses to tell you on why he spent it here.

“Did you at least get some cake or something?” You ask for the umpteenth time, Bakugou’s paced back and forth for some medicine bottles and bottles of water, and you could tell that he was scowling, despite the fact that he was facing the other direction, “Why the hell would I want cake? You’ve been asking weird shit all day.”

“Because it’s your birthday? Seriously— have you been brainwashed into thinking that it’s not your birthday?”

“What— fuck no. I haven’t been brainwashed.” He turns over to you, “I know today is my birthday.”

“Okay, so you know. Why aren’t you celebrating then? Did people forget? Or am I finally going insane?”

Bakugou chooses to stay silent. He stands up, and walks over to you— everytime he moves closer, you could feel your heart pound, luckily not at a dangerous rate.

“Birthday, birthday, birthday” He grumbles, quiet, but loud enough for you to hear. “That’s all you’ve been talking about. As if like you weren’t the one in the hospital bed as we speak.”

“Okay, is it wrong to remember your birthday?”

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” He gets closer once again, almost to the point that your faces weren’t that far away.

“You’ve just been so concerned about my damn birthday, that you haven’t even taken a good look at yourself,” He gestures at you, by looking you up and down

You finally take observation of all of the gauzes, the IV tubes, and bandages, his words forcing you to look at what was reality.

“I don’t know why you did what you did, jumping in front of me like some kind of heroic bastard, it’s dumb. For all I know, I should be screaming at you, and wishing you the worst for that.” He clenches his fist when he recalls, the scene replaying in his head

“But what I am saying is that, you can give me a gift if you’re so fucking concerned about my birthday. It’s the least you can do.” His statement is solid enough for you to take him seriously. You wouldn’t have if he was scowling, but it’s quite.. different. An expression you’ve seen all day, but seeing it up close is a different story.

“And that would be..?” You gulp, anticipation bubbles

And just like that, he presses his lips against yours, the warmth of his lips sending shocks of warmth all around your body— the impact was abrupt, but the kiss as a whole was surprisingly gentle

Yet, it was also similar to his quirk, it sparked up spurs of need and sent goosebumps all over your body.

You place a hand on his shoulder, the tubes around your arms making it too difficult to wrap your arms around him as you deepened the kiss, Bakugou’s touch is cautious when he lays his hand on a spot that was the least affected, aware of your injuries. Pushing the small of your back with his hand quite gently, he kisses you like it’ll be the very last— even though you both know it won’t be.

When you both pull back, you’re taken aback— unable to think of coherent words, and a proper response.

But this damn bastard, he smirks at you knowing that he just sent shocks and explosions of intense feelings all around your body, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Wait, that’s unfair!”

“What?”

“I had no idea you even liked me!”

“For the fucking longest time I did, why the hell would I even be in some extras room, if I didn’t care about them?!” He tries not to yell too loudly but, the tone of his voice gets raised

You blink, “And you preferred playing nurse with your crush this entire time, instead of spending it properly like well.. everyone else?”

“Who the hell said— Fucking hell, do I have to kiss you again for you to understand?”

“Enlighten me,” Your mouth quirks up into a smile, which ultimately causes his cheeks to be set ablaze.

“Playing fucking nurse with you isn’t horrible. It’s one way to spend my birthday, even when you give me shit about it” His brows press together, trying to drown out his flustered expressions with a scowl, “There’ll be more birthdays to come, so why would I be ‘wasting’ it here? There, that’s it. You happy now?”

Silence.

“..More than happy. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your thing for playing nur—”

“Don’t you fucking finish that thought,” He says stern. “I’m going to get the nurses to check on you, and then— I’ll go home and come back again, tomorrow.”

He storms off, and when the blond is sure that he’s not in your line of vision anymore— he slumps against the wall

“Fucking hell, they’re driving me crazy.” He mumbles, recalling what he had pulled off earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #happy birthday bakugou ‼️ #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #tldr : bakugou spawns at y/ns bed at the start of every day and takes care of them #but ultimately kisses them when they kept asking about his birthday #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bnha fanfic #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you - chapter 7

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Platonic/familial Logan & Janus (& a little bit Patton), mentioned Analogical, mentioned Dukeceit Warnings: Brief instance of sex negativity, language, a couple of minor sexual references, as well as brief non-detailed mentions of past instances of: bullying, teen pregnancy in an unsupportive environment, teachers misusing power over children, an injury resulting from dangerous behavior, torture and injuries resulting from it. (much like last chapter, despite the warnings i swear this is mostly just very cute fluff, platonic loceit edition this time) Word count: 4676

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

–

Chapter 7

Logan had been having a productive day. (Had been.) It was satisfying and enjoyable. He’d woken curled in Virgil’s arms, his partner pressing the softest of kisses to his forehead, and the pair of them had cuddled, talking and exchanging gentle sleepy kisses, for a little more than an hour before Logan had finally roused himself to tend to his responsibilities, later than he had intended. Upon arriving at work, he’d greeted Remus—who had already arrived and opened up the lab, presumably at the normal opening time—and assured him that yes, he was fine, and there were no concerning reasons for him being two hours later to work than usual. (Remus had seemed a little skeptical when Logan had failed to provide any reasons, concerning or otherwise, for the delay, but accepted Logan’s word without too much pushback.) Making a batch of puberty blockers had gone much more quickly than he anticipated, and he’d gotten it out of the way with ease, allowing himself to focus on his normal workload before he got too far behind schedule. 

All in all, it had been an excellent morning. 

When Logan went to lunch, though, heading towards the cafeteria-style meal hall on the first floor of the Heroes’ Guild headquarters, he stepped out of the stairwell and found his path blocked by Vortex.

The man, short and muscular, stood with a wide stance and his hands on his hips; his supersuit was bright orange, textured like overlapping scales with a metallic sheen, with accents in red and a bit of yellow. His mask and gloves were red and his brown hair was combed upwards with a bit of a twirl to it, vaguely reminiscent of the logo—a letter V stylized to look like a tornado—on his chest. 

Fire and wind powers. And an ego and temper to match the most stereotypical depictions of such powers. For all Logan disliked Vortex, and hated the way he treated Janus, he had to admit he was quietly grateful Vortex had enrolled as a hero; the amount of damage he could do as a villain was not pleasant to think about.

“Good afternoon, Vortex,” he greeted mildly. “Excuse me.”

Vortex didn’t budge. “There was an incident last night, Logic,” he announced, not even acknowledging that Logan had spoken at all. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan said, choosing to ignore the belligerent tone in hopes of concluding this interaction as speedily as possible. “I’ve been assured that Count Ruthless was dealt with handily by the heroes who responded, and the damage he did to civilian property is being remedied. Is there anything specific you wished to discuss?” 

“Where were you?” Vortex demanded, no less rudely than before. “You weren’t on the scene, and you weren’t in your lab. There were no communications from you, either.” 

“Ah,” Logan said, and found himself at a highly unpleasant lack for words. It wasn’t like his presence was actually required or even expected for a villain as low in the pecking order as Count Ruthless; nobody ought to be surprised by Logan’s absence at the scene. But the lack of communication was harder to explain away—it was rare for Dr. Logic to be totally unreachable in the event of an emergency. And “I left my work phone at home because my boyfriend, who is also my nemesis, called me in a panic and I dropped everything to spend the night in his lair” would not go over well. “I—well—” 

“Babysitting,” a new and very welcome voice said from behind him. Janus appeared at his side and slung an arm about his shoulders, leaning comfortably on him. “For me, of course. So kind of him, honestly.” 

“Ah,” Logan said again, gratefully. “Yes.” That was a logical and plausible explanation, one that required no further information to be shared. Very helpful of Janus.

Janus, meanwhile, frowned at Vortex. “Also, he’s a doctor,” he said, tone icy. “Doctor Logic. And he’s your superior.”

Vortex looked like he had eaten something very unpleasant. “Sorry. Sir,” he said to Logan, shooting a venomous look at Janus.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “I appreciate the apology,” he said coolly. Glancing over at Janus, he added, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to share that information; thank you.” That should explain away his earlier stammering to Vortex.

“No, no, it’s all good,” Janus played along. “Vortex is acquainted with the fact that I have a child.” They tilted their head, glaring harder at Vortex, who was still standing with arms crossed before the pair of them. “Remind me what you said about that, back in our sophomore year? Something about how my, what was it, ‘whorish tendencies’—like you didn’t date just as many people as I did—‘destined’ me for villainy from the very start, right?” 

Logan pressed his lips together, forcing himself not to react. While the specific quote was news to him, he had already known about the history between Vortex and Janus. The two had been in the same class during their time at Brennan; to Logan’s understanding, Vortex had bullied Janus from very early on. It had only intensified after Janus became pregnant at fifteen—at that point, Vortex had gone from an outlier to a ringleader.

Logan was glad he’d shown up looking for an apprentice when he had, and had been able to remove Janus from the situation entirely. Very few people in Janus’s life had been less than cruel to him over the pregnancy up until that point—including his teachers.

“You know how there’s a super biology unit at Brennan?” twenty-year-old Janus asked, placing the cutting board he had just cleaned on the dish rack. Patton, who was all of four, was building a puzzle with large, chunky pieces on the floor of the living room. While at this point Janus had their own apartment, they frequently came over to Logan’s for dinner. The pair of them discussed whatever was going on at work, and after dinner Janus did their college homework, allowing Logan to seize the opportunity to entertain Patton until the tiny child dozed off, usually in his arms.

Logan looked over from where he was adjusting the seasoning of the soup and testing the vegetables for doneness. “Yes, why?” 

“I—” Janus swallowed. They seated themself on a chair at Logan’s table and picked at their fingernails. “I just—before Patton.” The little one looked up at his name, and Janus’s voice shifted at once to something far more cheerful. “Yeah, hi baby! How’s your puzzle going? It looks so good!” 

Once Patton had reported his progress in a serious little ramble, made all the more adorable for his tiny voice still full of toddler-lisp, and had resumed his work on the puzzle, the smile dropped off Janus’s face and she returned to what she’d been saying before. “I was at school, right? Just a little before I found out about him. And I tried to do this thing I used to show off with, where I’d jump off something on the playground and use my powers to catch myself. Grow wings, or really long legs, or go all snakey, so I didn’t get hurt. It—” They laughed, but it was thin and wavering. “It was stupid. But I—then I—it was just a normal day. But when I jumped and tried to shift, I couldn’t. And I was too startled to fly before I hit the ground.” He bent his head, avoiding Logan’s eyes. “I wasn’t that high up, I only sprained my ankle. But the nurse didn’t—he didn’t say anything about why I couldn’t use my powers. Just healed it and let me go back to class without my powers or any explanation. He—he had to have known.” 

Logan turned off the stovetop, moved the pot to a cold burner, and turned to face Janus, giving her his full attention. 

“And I had no idea what had happened for weeks,” Janus went on, voice trembling. “I couldn’t shift, and I didn’t know what had happened—I was so scared, and none—” They gulped. “None of my teachers said anything. None of them explained it to me.” 

Logan moved over to sit beside them and put a hand on their upper arm. 

“And then in bio, we went over shifters, and the teacher—she just—just read it out from the textbook in front of everyone. That we can’t shift if we’re pregnant.” Janus leaned into Logan’s touch. “I—I didn’t know. And she told everyone. The whole school knew by the end of the day.” He drew the back of his hand across his nose. “I know I was an—an annoying little piece of work when I was fifteen, but someone should still have told me!” 

Patton looked up again as Janus’s voice cracked on a sob. “Mama?” he asked, tiny face pinched up with worry.

“Hi, baby,” Janus croaked wetly, holding out his arms and letting the child climb into his lap. They wrapped their arms around their son, burying their face in his curls and sniffling softly.

Logan sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arm fully around them in a side-hug. “You’re right. You were mistreated. It was wrong and should not have been allowed.” 

Janus leaned into the hug, nestling against Logan with a trust Logan rarely saw him display to anyone else, Patton still cuddled close in his arms. He huffed out a laugh that held no amusement. “And Vortex had a field day with that, obviously. He left my boyfriend entirely alone and just picked on me for it.” They made a descriptive noise of disgust. “Honestly, half the reason I said yes to the apprenticeship was just to pi—” They glanced down at Patton. ”—upset Vortex. He was so sure you’d pick him. He was bragging about it ahead of time and everything.”

“I knew I was uninterested in working with him twenty-six seconds into the interview I gave him, actually,” Logan said.

That drew an actual chuckle out of Janus. “I’m not surprised.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “What did I do, though? I wasn’t even trying.”

Logan didn’t hesitate. “You had potential. It was clearly being wasted. I didn’t like that.”

“Aww,” Janus drawled, the sarcasm clearly covering up genuine warmth. “That’s—”

“I want soup,” Patton, who had evidently gotten bored, announced.

Janus straightened at once, attention entirely drawn to the child in his lap. “You do?” he inquired, doting and indulgent.

“Pwwwease?” Patton said, struggling with the l, and reached up to place his palms on Janus’s cheeks.

Janus’s whole face melted into a delighted smile. “Of course, baby. Hold your uncle for me.” She transferred Patton to Logan’s arms.

Logan accepted the small warm body at once, running a hand through Patton’s hair—which was getting long enough to warrant a trim—and smoothing it. The child happily wrapped his tiny arms about Logan’s neck, chanting, “Soup, soup, soup,” under his breath and watching Janus’s progress.

Janus crossed the kitchen and pulled down bowls from Logan’s cupboard—two regular ones, and one dedicated specifically for Patton’s use. It had pawprints and hearts painted on the rim; it was shallow, so food in it would cool quickly, and made of stoneware, which was harder to break and less sharp in the event that it did shatter.

In short order Patton was seated in his chair, which was not a high chair but did have a higher seat than any of Logan’s other chairs, happily digging his spoon around in his bowl. Logan and Janus, seated on either side of him, were both quiet; Janus still seemed to be turning something over, and Logan felt that work matters, which were not particularly pressing this week anyway, were less important just now than this conversation was.

“I would’ve done it,” Janus said quietly a few minutes later.

“Done what?” Logan asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“Gone villain. Everyone was telling me I’d have to.” Janus stared at the fridge, where a scribbled crayon drawing Patton had proudly presented to Logan last week was pinned up. “I would have done it. If you hadn’t shown up.”

Logan thought about the surly child Janus had been when they met him, crossing their arms and avoiding his eyes, clearly assuming Logan thought the worst of him, and the blank shock on their face when he offered her the apprenticeship anyway. He thought about the terrible look on Janus’s face the day Vortex had been accepted into the Heroes’ Guild, and the way they had wordlessly vanished into the training room with their dual knives in hand, emerging two hours and eight shredded dummies later and refusing to speak to Logan for the rest of the day. (Logan had hated signing off on Vortex’s contract, though he could hardly have rejected the young man’s application without accusations of favoritism that would only make things worse for Janus.) He thought about the way Janus spoke more warmly of their nemesis Viper than they did any of their coworkers.

Logan put his hand over Janus’s on the table between them and squeezed. “I know.”

Logan had seen that vulnerability from Janus quite a few times over the years. But out here in public, face-to-face with a man who they did not trust and in fact hated quite a lot, Janus’s masks and shields and walls were all up and the hurt they had never bothered to heal from was hidden away behind a sharp, dangerous grin. Janus was not afraid to poke at their own wounds if they thought they could gain something out of it. Vortex’s discomfort being a case in point. 

Janus clucked her tongue condescendingly at Vortex. “Always telling me I ought to be a villain. And now the head of the Heroes’ Guild calls my son nephew. How does it feel to be wrong, Vortex? Do tell me. I’m unfamiliar with the sensation.” 

Vortex ignored the pointed speech. “And where were you last night?” he demanded, eyes narrowing. 

“Spending the night at my boyfriend’s. I’m sure I don’t have to spell out what we were doing.” Janus sounded bored, examining his nails with pursed lips; it was a beautifully delivered lie. “Though perhaps your wife might appreciate it if I explained to you, since, you know, both of us enjoyed ourselves.”

“That is more than enough,” Logan interjected firmly, adding in a murmur to Janus, “I’d rather not rush you to my lab for burns, if it’s all the same to you.” He stepped slightly forward, emphasizing that he was on his way somewhere and had been interrupted by this whole interaction. “Vortex, thank you for the concern over Reflection’s and my own wellbeing last night. As you can see, our absence was simply a matter of poor timing. I’m going to grab some lunch now, would you care to join me?” 

Vortex scowled. “No, thanks, I just ate,” he said, far more politely than the look on his face, and he begrudgingly stepped aside and allowed Logan and Janus to pass. 

“So,” Janus said in an eager, gossipy tone when he and Logan were seated at a table in the cafeteria with their chosen meals in front of them. “Spill.” 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Logan lied, taking a bite of his lasagna.

“What did I give you an excuse for? C’mon, Doc. It pissed Vortex off no end, that’s always a promising start to a story.” Janus leaned forward, propping her chin up on both hands. “It’s not like anyone can hear us.” This was true; the tables in the cafeteria were located inside of booths protected with noise-canceling barriers of Logan’s own design. The barriers both allowed privacy while eating and drastically reduced the amount of background noise in the cafeteria, making the space much less overwhelming to be in.

However, being able to safely share information about last night with Janus did not mean Logan wanted to. He shrugged. “Personal matters. My presence was requested elsewhere when the response team was doing their work.” 

Janus stared at him, pausing mid-chew, their expression growing more and more dramatically unimpressed until it shifted into theatrical disgust. Ah. They had put the pieces together. Unfortunate. “No,” they said, breathless with horrified glee.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Logan tried. 

“You missed out on hero work because you were at your boyfriend’s?” Janus demanded, sounding equal parts scandalized, annoyed, and delighted. 

“It’s more complicated than that—” 

“Oh my god, this is great. You are never allowed to yell at me for kissing Remus ever again.” 

“I do not ‘yell’ at you,” Logan protested.

“Fine, but you get all huffy about it.” Janus grinned and pointed at him with her fork. “Not allowed anymore.” 

“If you would choose other times to engage in such activities than when both of you are supposed to be working, I would have no objections to how you choose to spend your time.” 

“Right, because responding to a villain incident is totally not a time you’re supposed to be working. That’s totally different.” Janus sounded far too smug for anyone’s good. “That’s totally a responsible time for you to be getting some—”

“That is quite enough, thank you,” Logan interrupted. He frowned; he couldn’t exactly share any details with Janus about why he’d gone to Virgil’s so unexpectedly in the middle of the night. “I would like to cease discussion of this topic now.”

Janus rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine.” There was a brief silence as they both ate; then Janus looked up. “You haven’t been over for dinner in ages. Patton misses you.” 

Logan hesitated. “I know.” Once Janus had graduated college, joint dinners had alternated between their two residences for some time before settling into a solid routine—weekly at Janus’s, and once a month at Logan’s. This state of affairs had kept up with little interruption for several years. And then Janus had decided, against all Logan’s good counsel, to start dating his intern.

“I don’t work with him, we’re in different departments that have almost no overlap. So it’s not a conflict of interest. Also you can’t make me,” they’d shot off, rapid-fire, when he’d suggested a little more than a year ago that perhaps it might be wiser to remain on friendly terms only with Remus.

He had to admit that, against all his trepidations, the pair of them had made it work remarkably well. And, well, he was hardly in a place to criticize Janus for making less than perfectly sound decisions when it came to dating choices—and unfortunately, Janus knew this and would call him out on his hypocrisy should he try.

The thing was that Janus, together with Virgil, comprised the entire list of people who existed in both Logan’s work life and his personal life. He preferred to keep the two as entirely separate as possible. And Remus, as fond as Logan was of him, was located firmly in the “work” side of his life. Dinners at Janus’s were not work events, they were family events—but now, for the last several months, dinner at Janus’s was an event that included Remus. Hence Logan’s hesitation, a vague tinge of anxiety twisting in his gut despite himself. He had not been to Janus’s apartment for dinner in over six months, though Patton and Janus had come to his own as usual. Still, the frequency of their visits was drastically decreased, a state of affairs that pleased no one.

“He’s safe, you know,” Janus said, eyeing Logan shrewdly. “He’d never tell anyone.” 

Logan frowned. “You cannot predict every eventuality. Knowledge is powerful, and the further it spreads, the harder it is to control. The only ‘safe’ option is to never tell anyone. Two people is already more than I would like, no matter how much I trust you.” 

“He was fucking tortured for you,” Janus said sharply. “He didn’t say a word.” 

Logan froze. “I—I’m sorry, what?”

Janus blinked. “Oh. Right,” she said awkwardly. “I, ah, wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” 

“I—please elaborate?” 

Janus hesitated, but Logan could see the cogs in their brain turning towards the conclusion that at this point an explanation was owed. At last— “It was ages ago now. When he was kidnapped,” Janus said, frowning at his food. “That one time. The day we started dating. By the time I got him out, they’d already tried to get information out of him. He just—” They swallowed. “Just dissociated through it. Told me it was only a little worse than what he’d used to be used to. While I was resetting his dislocated fingers. He said it wasn’t that bad.” Their voice trembled slightly. 

Logan was silent for a moment, resisting the irrational urge to go find Remus right that moment and check that he was okay, apologize for not having known, ask if he knew his own wellbeing was unquestionably more important than any of Logan’s tech.

The kidnapping incident had been over a year ago. A new villain had wanted to come onto the scene with a splash, and had assumed that kidnapping Dr. Logic’s intern would be a good way to lure him out for a fight. To prove them right would have put Remus in danger of repeat incidents, so Janus had gone instead to extract him with as little fuss as possible. Remus had showed up to work the next day with a few bruises and scrapes, but he’d claimed they were superficial and had come about from the brief struggle he’d put up at being grabbed off the street. He hadn’t seemed to be concealing anything, and at the time Logan hadn’t known that Remus had good reason to be able to hide or downplay his injuries and to lie convincingly about their origins.

“Neither of you told me that,” Logan said at last, struggling to keep his tone even, fighting back the urge to be guilty, to tell himself he should have known, should have figured it out, should have looked back once he learned more about Remus’s childhood and put the pieces together, should have done something.

“He asked me not to,” Janus said shortly. “And I saw to it that he got proper treatment for his injuries.”

“Reflection, that was still highly relevant information,” Logan scolded. “His wellbeing is my responsibility, particularly in a situation like that. You should absolutely have come to me and—“

“No,” Janus interrupted. “I should not have gone back on my word to him. He’s an adult, he received the necessary medical attention and then made his own decision about how to move forward. And I was not about to betray the trust of the first guy who saw me having a kid as a good thing and not a—a fucking turn-off.”

That was right; Janus and Remus’s relationship had been so new. Of course Janus would have been in a particularly irrational frame of mind when it came to Remus, just then. Not to say that Logan was wrong. Simply that Janus’s mistake could be explained. He sighed. “Very well. I understand that the past cannot be changed. I also strongly disagree with your decision in retrospect.”

“Sure. Sorry. I’d do it again, though,” she said bluntly. “But my point was—you can trust him. With all of it. I promise you can. He looks up to you so much,” he went on, tender but also intensely sincere. “He’d never share your secrets.” 

Logan drew in a breath. “I… have not come out to anyone in a long time,” he said quietly. While his alter ego was openly trans, he rarely had to actually state it to new acquaintances—people picked up on it from his social media, or the flag on the strap of his wristwatch, or the events he attended. And he was stealth at work. It had been quite a while since he’d had to spell it out.

“Ohh,” Janus breathed, understanding. “You’re scared?”

“No,” Logan protested, then winced at how quick and loud he’d spoken. “I do feel… some trepidation about the idea,” he admitted.

“Okay,” Janus said, serious now. They hesitated, clearly thinking hard about this. “You know, you don't have to tell him,” she offered. “Even as yourself.” 

“No.” Logan shook his head at this idea. “I—I would want to. If I were to interact with him in that context. That is an important part of my other identity.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I just—I don’t know.” 

“He’s safe,” Janus repeated, this time more gently. “Frankly, he’s more respectful of my gender than I am.” He snickered. “I think he judges me for not raising Patton gender-neutral, actually. Just a bit. Not that he’s ever said anything.”

Logan, who also did that, refrained from commenting. He could hardly fault Janus, who’d been a teenager just beginning to understand their own gender—he’d had to explain so many concepts from the ground up to Janus the first few months he’d known him, even things as basic as pronouns—for not having been prepared to think in the long term about such things. And Patton was certainly doing fine so far.

Janus was still watching him, clearly trying to think up more arguments in Remus’s defense. “I’m not breaking up with him anytime soon, you know,” she said. He crossed their arms. “Not ever, actually. Not if I can help it. So he’s not going to stop being around.”

This was a good point. Logan hesitated again. “I will think about it,” he said at last. In theory, he had no objection to Janus’s proposal. But in practice, it was hard to make the decision when it required breaking so many of his most well-established habits.

“Good.” Janus gave him a small smile. “Let me know. Anytime.”

Logan nodded. “How is Patton doing at Brennan lately?” he asked, changing the subject. 

Janus lit up. “Oh, he’s absolutely beating all the other children into the dust, you know how it is,” they said proudly. “Leaving them all in desperate tears, inconsolable in the face of the knowledge they’ll never be as good as him. Laughing in the face of their despair.” 

Logan blinked and nodded, trying very hard to keep a straight face as he imagined Patton actually doing any of what Janus had just said. “I see. Where are his lessons at lately? Children with emotion-based powers don’t usually start focusing on deliberate control until… seventh grade, isn’t it? So it would be more centered around managing his emotions to build up to that, and learning to use his common powers?” 

“Yes,” Janus confirmed. “He’s been—” 

The lighting in the cafeteria went red. 

“Another one?” Janus asked, sounding surprised and annoyed. Red lights meant a villain incident at the third level or higher had been reported. Two incidents large enough to warrant a red alarm in less than twenty-four hours was… unusual, to say the least, though Logan was not surprised at this particular one. Virgil had been very clear about his intentions for the day, and though he was unlikely to be doing anything that impacted civilians, two villains fighting each other was more than enough to draw attention and get a report filed. 

“I’ll handle it,” he said, holding down the button on his wristwatch that would transmit his voice to the heroes’ intercom channel. “Everyone, please resume normal operations until further notice.” 

Logan made a quick stop at his lab to grab a few gadgets he thought might come in handy, as well as an iced coffee and a bluetooth speaker, before checking the location of the reported incident. Count Ruthless’s lair, as expected. He left without much fanfare—after all, he preferred that this encounter draw as little attention from his coworkers as possible.

-

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @the-sympathetic-villain @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-the-lemon-berry @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @crazydemigod666 @perplexed-kale @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @virgil-is-verge @simplestoryteller @oblivionartworks @so-youre-a-rock-with-issues @emoprincey @theblackcatscratchpost @biwithapie @poettheythem

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #platonic loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #ts logan #ts janus #trans logan #nonbinary janus #if you're going my way i'll go with you #ts fic #ts fanfic #peregrin writes #fanfic #fanfiction

[anonymous-southern-armadillo]

SOA Headconnon.

(Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy) Opie jax and clay didn't make the cut pardners.

Synopsis: What dating the boys is like. (Chibs, Tig, Juice and happy only, sorry)

Warnings/disclaimers: Language. Non-graphic mentioned NSFW themes. Angsty themes. Fluffy shit fellers. So with that being said “typed”. This is going below the cut!

Chibs Telford

Dating chibs is a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because he can be so sweet, Heart on his sleeve whenever it’s just you and him.

He literally pulls his bike over if he sees wild flowers he knows you would love, picking them and dropping the vibrant flowers off at your home or work.

The boys often tease him for being a softie for you, But he prides himself for it.

The curse part though….

The croweaters absolutely loathe you because the relationship you and chibs have.

You can’t go to the clubhouse without hearing them whispering your name with venom.

But chibs knows how to make you feel loved, The whispers from the other women forgotten whenever he whisks you away for a night alone.

Lot’s of rides on his bike.

Wearing his leather jacket around the clubhouse to show everyone your his.

Expect this man to Shower you in small gifts.

Especially after arguments, That’s when he really pulls out the extra sweet shit.

Such as:

Chibs knew you were beyond pissed whenever he came home and the front door was locked, The windows as well. Luckily he knew how to break in without having to kick the door in. Whenever he walked into the silent living room he could hear the soft footfalls from upstairs, Knowing you were up there probably preparing for for bed. Creeping up the stairs silently, Chibs slowly pushed the door open seeing you pacing the floor. You were still pissed if the scowl on your face was anything to go by. Chibs sighs and leans on the threshold of the door, Watching you with guilt. He knew the argument was his fault, But in the heat of it he was stubborn and refused to admit it. Walking into the room he uttered your name in a hushed tone, Yet you heard him and curse under your breath.

“What do you want chibs?” You don’t look at him, instead you busy yourself with trying to fix the room you destroyed in a fit of rage.

The Scotsman walked over with his hands behind his back, Hiding what he held from you. “I wan' to apologize for being stubborn” He said while grasping your attention. “Also I have you somethin' ” You turn around and glare at him, It wasn’t as harsh as it once was but still cold enough to make him feel bad for the argument. Knowing how pissed he made you.

“Filip if you think you can use whatever gift you got me to mend this argument then you better get the hell out of here now” You huff, Word’s cold but you were still mad at him. That much obvious to chibs.

Sighing, Chibs slowly holds out his hand, The wild flowers of various kinds on display. You were mad at him, But the defeated look on his face and the small boutique of wild flowers helps ease away the anger and soon being replaced with guilt of your own. Smiling at Chibs you let a small giggle escape your lips.

“I swear you make it impossible to stay mad at Filip, Get the fuck over here” You say and pull him into a hug, Forgiving the man then and there.

Chibs wasn’t one to initiate cuddles.

BUT that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to them either.

He usually waits until your asleep until he ever so gently pulls your back flush against his chest, Large arm slung over your waist as his face nuzzles your neck.

Chibs makes it known to almost every in charming that you are, in his words, “His old lady” and he’d be damned if he ever lost you.

Insufferable. Dating this man is insufferable in the best way possible.

He never misses the chance to slap your ass, Whether it be in the privacy of your home or his dorm, Or in the public eye.

Tig trager

He’s not afraid of some PDA, He will make you sit on his lap and leave hickies on your neck just to show whatever man dared look your way that you were his.

Tigs, Although insufferable can be sweet. He makes it his goal to buy you whatever you want, He even surprises you with beautiful pieces of jewelry. He spoils you.

High sex drive. What’s surprising?

He literally takes you for drives on his bike to beautiful private places just so he can sit on his bike, Back against the handle bars with you riding him. Something he loves doing in his free time.

But he also loves binding you over the seat of his bike and taking you from behind, His hand tangled in your hair as you release a string of curses and moans of his name. 

He likes spoiling you, Like said before. He buys you all sorts of quite Revealing choices of wear. 

Mini skirts, short shorts. Plunging V-necked shirts and tank tops. 

He didn’t mind when you showed off your skin, He enjoyed the sight very much. 

But he also respected when you chose to wear more decent clothes most of the time, The sleazy ones more like a surprise for him.

Dates with him were spent at either the clubhouse bar or some bar out in town. He would occasionally (after chibs talked him into it) take you to restaurants that you liked, Letting you order whatever you wanted.

His flirtatious behavior though get’s him in more trouble then anyone could count, Leading to some angsty arguments with you two.

The party was in full swing at the clubhouse, Everyone in a particularly good mood after a successful deal made for more guns. Although specific details weren’t handed to you when it came to the business, Something your boyfriend tig would rather keep you out of. Speaking of tig though, you spot him by the bar with chibs and Bobby, talking amongst themselves. Chibs offering some blonde chick standing with them a small smile but warning flashing across his face making you a little curious. Shrugging it off, You smile and decide to join tigs side, The night boring without him pestering you with his constant talking and handsy self. Who would have thought you’d miss all that in a matter of minutes?

Once behind him you noticed that he was talking up the blonde chick, Shamelessly flirting with her. Bobby meets your furious gaze and tries nonverbally telling tigs you were behind him so the fool would hopefully close his trap. Luck wasn’t on tigs side tonight as you angrily placed your hands on your hips, Clearing your throat.

“Having a good time over here boys?” You say and the venom laced in it has chibs downing his beer and bidding the men goodnight. Mumbling something about having to talk with jax about something.

Tigs whips around so fast you fear he got whiplash, Bobby now amused at the horrified look on your boyfriend’s face. “Y/N! Baby, I was just getting you a drink” He tried to lie smoothly but you shake your head and ball your fists by your side. Seeing right through it, You knew he loved you, He showed that every day in small simple ways that you adored, But he always done this. Flirt with other women and shower them in his attention. You didn’t mean to be jealous, It wasn’t really that even. It hurt, Seeing and hearing him show and tell other women how gorgeous they were, It made you feel insecure, As if you weren’t enough for him.

You jab a finger at him when he tried explaining himself, The blonde behind him snickering at the scene. That pissed you off more. “Getting me a drink? By flirting with her?!” You scoff and turn around ready to leave the bar, But his large hand delicately grabbed your wrist and made you spin around.

“Shit I’m sorry babe I – I didn’t mean to” He stuttered out with a look of guilt. But you squirm free from his hold and storm out of the clubhouse with a heavy heart. Tig always causing the dull ache to burn your chest with his carelessness.

But he makes it up to you in the sweetest way possible.

Like trying his best to cook your favorite meal and surprise you with the house candle lit and the table fixed up nicely with your favorite flowers placed in the center of it.

Once all is forgiven, He would let you sit in his lap and curled up against his chest while you watch some old film on TV.

Like jax, He wouldn't initiate cuddles but he secretly loved when you cuddled him, Especially when you ran your fingers through his dark curls.

Juice Ortiz

Despite his flirty behavior and insufferable attitude, You loved tigs and he loved you, Even though he was hesitant to say those words back.

Juice wouldn't open up to you about himself much in the early stages of your relationship, He seemed shy, Nervous.

But after a month of dating, He started to be more open.

Juice seeked relationship advice from chibs, Not sure what he was doing and confused about his feelings for you.

Sweet. Absolutely sweet yet distant.

But chibs guided him through it and juice learned that he was indeed in love with you.

Lot's of sweet calls from him if he goes on a particularly long run, Telling you how much he missed you and loved you. Because he dropped the L bomb early into the relationship.

He doesn't really care for going out in public for dates so most the time it's either a picnic in the middle of nowhere or dinner at your house while binge watching shows.

Juice isn't eager to let you ride his bike with him, Afraid you'd fall off and get hurt.

If he did though, He made sure you were safe.

Making sure the helmet was on tightly. Urging you to hold onto him good enough multiple times before slowly driving you through the town of charming.

Overprotective, Like, Really overprotective.

Doesn't let you do anything if he thinks it's dangerous, The boy doesn't like seeing you get hurt.

With that being said, His overprotectiveness starts small arguments between you both.

More like harmless bickering.

Like:

Standing in the kitchen of your small home, You grab a cutting board and a knife, Preparing to cut some onions for the stirr fry you were cooking for yourself and your boyfriend juice. Tonight rare, No club business to attend. Just you and him, Spending the night together.

As soon as the sound of chopping fills the kitchen, Juice rushes in and quite literally takes the knife from you. Confused you look up into the wide brown eye's of the man you love. “Juice, what the hell are you doing?” You placed a hand on your hip and quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs and starts cutting the onions. “Well I felt bad for making you cook dinner for us both by yourself, Thought I'd come in and help you” He shrugs and avoids your suspicious gaze narrowed onto the back of his head as he turned his back to you.

“So this isn't because you heard me using a knife?” You crossed your arms with a knowing look, This not being the first time you and him have danced this little dance.

Sheepishly peeking at you over his shoulder, Juice continued cutting the rest of the onions. “Maybe...” He trailed off, Your huff of frustration at his overprotective behavior caused him to place the knife down and turn around. Leaning on the counter with his hands resting on the top by his sides. “What? You always end up with cuts on you're fingers or hand whenever you have a knife! I don't like seeing you get hurt babe” He exclaims with those adorable eye's begging for this not to end in a argument.

Scoffing, You un-crossed your arms and fixated a stern stare on him. “Everyone get's hurt sometimes Ortiz, That doesn't mean you have to keep a close eye on me or treat me like I'm a baby!” You told him as he simply sighs and averted his eye's to the floor.

“Maybe I just wanted to help you cook! Maybe I wanted to chop the veggies for you!” He argues back as frustration of his own began to build up inside him.

“Maybe I wanted to do it!” You walked up to him, So close that you stood chest-to-chest. Juice looks down at you with an expression of seriousness, You mirroring his expression. But a small smile tugs at his mouth, a laugh threatening to tumble out. You quirk a brow, Curious as to what was funny.

“If you cut the veggies we would end up at the emergency room because you would end up chopping half you're hand off” He snickers, A full laugh finally rumbling through his chest. You couldn't help it, You began laughing as well. Forehead hitting his chest as you both laughed hysterically at his little joke. Although he was overprotective, He was also right. You couldn't look at a knife without cutting yourself by accident.

But sometimes arguments with you and him could get bad, Like him spending the night in his dorm at the clubhouse bad.

Usually he would be at your doorstep with some form of gift with glossy eye's. Apologies flying from his mouth.

The damned puppy dog eye's of his, He made it hard for you to stay made at him.

happy lowmen

Sweetie, A total sweetheart and you are absolutely privileged to be his old lady.

Dating happy is probably the best thing that could ever happen to you, Not only was he sweet with you, But a secret romantic.

Expect lots of roses to be gifted to you while your at work or simply chilling at him. He makes it a habit of having the red flowers shipped to you almost every day.

Like if he saw a little stuffed animal of your favorite kind, He would get it. just sweet simple things like that.

Date nights are spent at his house where he cooks you a big meal and you both eat outside under the stars.

Just like the other guys he showers you in gifts, But the ones happy gets you are more sentimental then anything.

This man loves cuddles, You can't change my mind about that.

Loves being the little spoon, He likes when you hold him, The feeling of your chest pressed against his back comforting.

But he is always open to being the big spoon himself, Holding you close to him just as comforting.

Happy loves when you ride with him, Your arms tightly wrapped around him as he flies down the road making him feel special that you chose him out of all the guys in charming to be with.

When he introduced you to the son's they all started teasing him about how you were to obviously to gorgeous for the older man.

But you always shut them up with a sassy remark or just plain out mouthing off. Either way the understood that you love happy and seeing him act like a complete lovestruck puppy around you made them ease the teasing some.

Although loving and sweet, It's apparent how much of a clean freak he is. You even nicknamed him Mr clean much to his dismay.

Sometimes you accidentally leave dirty dishes in the sink or throw laundry in a heap on the floor to fold later. Both duties forgotten as many other things keep your mind occupied.

Happy isn't very happy whenever he comes home to such things, He doesn't get mad, But it definitely gets under his skin and irritates him.

He huffs, Ignores you, Angrily doing the small chores you forgot himself. He never once raised his voice at you, Something he refused to do, That's why whenever you accidentally frustrated him he chooses to ignore you.

Like:

You have been struggling with house work and general work, Both things piling up and becoming one big jumbled mess. The morning you woke up for work, You noticed happy was still home and cooked him breakfast before he headed out, You had the dishes neatly stacked on the counter ready to be washed. But time spent with happy flew by faster then you thought, Making you four minutes late for work. Quickly shrugging your coat on and rushing out the door, You completely forgot about the two specific duties that set abandoned in the house.

So whenever you came home, Happy's bike in the driveway. You felt joy flutter inside you at the realization he was home, But whenever you walked inside the house you instantly felt the joy being replaced with guilt and fear of the beginning argument that would soon commence. You saw happy in the kitchen washing the dishes, His back facing you while you shrug your coat off and tossed your keys on the sofa. Walking into the kitchen you wrap your arms around his middle, Placing a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“I was going to do that after we ate breakfast, But I lost track of time and ended up being late for work” You muttered, The silence you received letting you know he was pissed.

“Go sit down and I'll finish it hap, Then I'll order something for dinner” You said while rubbing his belly through his shirt, But he still doesn't move. His muscles tense. “Please... Mr clean” You try and break the very cold ice.

Happy shrugs you off though and starts rinsing the dishes he had washed, Giving you the silent treatment. You step back and watch him for a moment, Guilty for not keeping them clean. You knew he hated whenever the sink was cluttered.

“C'mon happy, It's not the end of the world because a few pans and plates where sitting in the sink” You lean on the table and crossed your arms, “I was going to clean up whenever I got back home from work” Happy scoffs and picks up a dish towel to dry his hands off, Leaning his back on the sink and looking at you with a blank expression.

“Why not do it as soon as the dishes are dirty?” He asks Finally, The words coming out raspy as his frustrated was crystal clear.

“Because I was late for work! I didn't have enough time to do it this morning hap!” You exclaim while motioning towards the sink. Starting to grow irritated by how he was acting. “I mean -- Jesus christ happy what do you want me to do, Call into work and tell them I won't be coming in because I have to wash dishes or else my boyfriend will be a dick all day?” You huff out angrily, Crossing your arms again as you look away from him, Jaw clenched.

“I'd appreciate them to be clean when I come home so I can at least cook my girl some fucking dinner! But y'know what? fuck it -- I'm going outside to fucking calm down!” He yelled while throwing the dish towel down out of pure rage. He then proceeds to storm outside, placing a toothpick between his lips.

You sigh and rub a hand down your face, Hating whenever you and happy argue. But sometimes he could be a dick, A real major dick. Walk over to the sink and finish washing what little dishes he left, Once their dry and put away. You start preparing him and you something for dinner, Just simple macaroni & cheese and chicken strips. It wasn't anything fancy or special, But you wanted to at least make him dinner after pissing him off unintentionally. It didn't take long until it was all done, You scoop some Mac & cheese into Two plates, Soon placing three chicken strips in each plate and walking outside onto your porch. Happy was in a chair looking out over at the yard, You hand him his plate hoping he'd take it. He did but doesn't look at you, Just held his food. You sat down in a chair beside and find yourself poking around your food rather then eating.

“I'm sorry I yelled” He broke the silence, Looking over at you. “I had a rough today and stupidly enough took it out on you... I'm sorry” He whispers and you forgive him the moment the sad glint swims around in his eye's.

“It's okay hap, I'm sorry I didn't clean the kitchen” You decided to slowly munch on the Mac & cheese.

He smiles a small smile and placed a hand on your thigh, Gently rubbing it. “You didn't need to do it, I was the dumbass who made that mess. Although I don't recall piling a bunch of clothes in the bedroom floor” He jokes. You almost choked on your food as you remember the laundry you needed to fold. About ready to get up to do so, He shakes his head in denial. “We can do that tomorrow, Right now we just need to eat this gourmet meal you made and relax” Happy once again jokes and you giggle at how he described the food. You and him sit outside on the porch eating dinner and laughing about random things, The argument forgotten.

IN CONCLUSION:

Happy is always guilty whenever he does raise his voice.

He also felt bad for making you make dinner and surprises you by folding the laundry early the next morning.

Which you rewarded him with some *coughs* early morning head.

Although he wasn't expecting such a reward, He excepted it graciously.

And he returned the favor like a gentleman.

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #SOA #filip chibs telford x reader #chibs x reader #chibs telford #juice ortiz #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #tigs trager #tig trager #tig trager x reader #happy lowman #Happ Lowman x reader

[sslow-dancer]

hi! can i request a one shot with polnareff x reader but he’s still stuck as the turtle but a twist like the princess and the frog? the reader kisses the turtle and he comes back to being his old (part 3) self because the reader is the one? lots of fluff plzzz? ty ;w;

A/N: Okay but this idea is so unbelievably cute?! I apologize for taking forever to get it done. I went a bit deep and overboard with the storyline on a request that is so simple and I’m pretty sure this is my longest one up to date actually BUT- it’s whatever. There’s plenty of fluff near the end, I promise. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!! 🤍

(If this flops, I will be so sad omg)

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“You’re The One, My Love.” (Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse and depression

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, jean pierre polnareff x reader, turtle pol, magical, kiss, twist, slight angst, sfw, fluff

Description: One day after having to escort Polnareff as orders from your boss, you begin to grow quite fond of him. During your usual hangouts, you jokingly offer to kiss him as a way to recreate one of your favorite fairytales.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle as Jean pulls you into a kiss, you feel him smile as he holds your face gently. You’re happy to see the man you love not be as serious and hurt as he was when you first met him. Your expression reminiscent of the memories shared between you before this moment.

~A Year Before~

Your personal servant had drawn the curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, body awaken by the bright sunlight shining from your windows and murmurs outside your bedroom. You groaned in frustration as you threw a pillow at him, he managed to catch it and place it back by your bed frame. You huffed,

“Didn’t boss say I have the week off? I’m allowed to sleep in.” you stated blankly, remembering how you had the strong urge to strangle him for ruining your slumber. He shook his head as he sat by the edge of your bed and pointed at the clock that stood on top of your nightstand. You distinctly remember the screen marked 7:25AM exactly. You sighed as you thought you could’ve at least slept in by 10. You sat up and criss crossed your legs and played with the lose strings of your blanket as he replied.

“Technically you do, but today is last minute and different. Sr. Giovanna wants you to escort out a close individual he works with today by 8.”

Frustrated, you plopped your hands down onto your lap and rolled your eyes as you said back,

“Not to be bratty but...can’t he just do that himself or get one of you to do it?” you raised your pointers and middle fingers to create air quotations “This individual must be pretty important if not even the boss can take care of it.”

Your servant shut his eyes and sighed. After what you had just told him, deep down you felt bad about how much he had to deal with your bull on a daily basis- not to mention your constant grumbling in the morning whether he woke you or not. Either way, you were pretty grumpy most mornings. He shook his head again.

“It’s not that either. Sr. Giovanna could easily lead him out but he’s currently finishing business with other people in the country. Sr. Mista is with him as well so you’re the only one we have present. They both must attend all meetings, they are not to miss one.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s so important about him or her or whatever the hell they go by?”

“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said finally as he patted your bed as a way to non-verbally tell you to get ready.

You huffed when he exited the room, plopping your back down hard into the foamy mattress. You roughly grabbed at the pillow you had thrown earlier and placed it over your face, you screamed into it for a good 10 seconds.

Looking back, were you being a little too dramatic? Yes, sure- of course. It’d make anyone cringe if they were to had witnessed it though you didn’t really mind. You were still maturing anyway. You were still getting used to the life Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista had offered and gladly given to you.

Before meeting your boss Giovanna and his right hand man Mista, you had been living life miserably at home. Though before anyone asks, no: your parents were not abusive, no: your siblings weren’t either, no: nor were your friends or teachers. You had just become very distressed with the life you were leading on. You didn’t like the person you were and were expected to become. Anxiety took over rather unexpectedly. So what did you do when you had enough? You moved on to drugs.

You were surprised to find out how easy it was for a person in their late teens to gain access towards those terrible substances. But none the less, you later learned your dealer was from the mafia known as “Passione.”

Was it dangerous for you to have figured out that information? Yes. However, you remained cautious and never told a soul...until one day you bumped into the now late capo, Bruno Bucciarati.

You were walking down your local dealing alleyway, hands in pockets and school bag still in sight. You usually dealt after school as many adults were distracted by the kids that filled up the streets. Thus making them barely notice the illegal activity going on as a large number of students would walk down alleyways as a shortcut to their home. You were swift in paying back and receiving your desired substances anyway.

All of a sudden you heard a distant call, a call out of your name. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at the direction from where the call was coming from, that’s when you saw him. He stood a few feet from you.

“I’m glad I was able to find you...my name is Bruno Bucciarati. Your parents sent me to look for you, they’ve mentioned to me that you’ve been coming home late from school lately.”

You only shrugged and completely ignored his claim. You began walking away but were stopped again when he said,

“Leaky eyed Luca deals with you, doesn’t he?”

You kept your gaze forward and your back turned away from Bruno. Turning your head slightly over your shoulder, you mumbled,

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Without having to look at him, you knew he had tilted his head when he answered.

“That depends. If you answer honestly, no trouble will occur. I’ll remain calm with you, that is a promise.”

You blinked, sighing as you kicked at the small pebbles near your feet, staring at your shoes as you thought about what he said.

You had been dealing with Luca and you knew that his business was risky. Though you didn’t care. You felt that you needed to get the drugs you wanted pronto and Luca was the only one who would give them to you quickly. You shook your head, deciding to give up as you didn’t want anyone to notice you both speaking. You turned to face him and quietly replied,

“Yes, he deals with me. He’s the provider, I’m the receiver.”

Bruno smiled, satisfied with your answer.

He followed up with informing you that Luca had been killed at a local airport and was told to investigate his death. He didn’t provide too many details as to the cause of his death but you didn’t feel like asking anyway. Bruno admitted he came to speak to you as hours prior one of your parents really did come to speak to him about your behavior. After connecting some dots, he suspected you had something to do with Luca’s death as you were not attending school and were gone for most of the day. Not to mention, your teachers had called your parents that day as well.

Luckily, he was able to clear you out as a suspect as you cooperated with him and weren’t sweaty or completely jittery. He also gave you a little talk about using drugs. He promised he wouldn’t tell your parents that you got yourself involved in that abusive life if you promised to not buy more again.

You truly felt at the time that he was the only one who understood and cared for you in just the short time you met him. Your eyes watered as you complied with Bruno, promising to do what he suggested. A promise you have held onto forever.

After some investigating of your own, you found out that it was your future boss that killed Luca. You were rather impressed than angry that he was able to kill him. You honestly believed Luca would never be caught.

Back to the day you had to escort this individual- after some more complaining and grumpy remarks towards everyone in the household, you were finally ready to meet them. Your personal servant led you to the front door. He made sure to quietly remind you to be polite.

Your attention turned to another servant walking down the stairs towards your direction. A pillow in hand with a piece of cloth covering whatever was on top it. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, laughing as you sarcastically remarked,

“Is this some kind of joke? It’s not April, is it?”

“No, but I guess this household treating me with the upmost respect is.”

Your eyes widen. ‘Did that thing under the cloth just speak?” you asked yourself.

The servant removed the cloth and there revealed a turtle. A turtle with a key-shaped hole embedded on its shell. You almost assumed that the turtle smirked at you when he added,

“I know, don’t be too surprised. I plan to get out of this animal once my soul decides to give up. I haven’t always looked like this, ya know.”

Your mouth gaped open as to say something, but you quickly shut it as you didn’t know how to reply. He chuckled,

“Hand me over to them, we’ll talk more when we get to my destination.”

You hesitantly took the pillow from the servant’s hands and remained in shock as you walked out the door. You were careful not to drop him as you got down to the front gates. Gulping as you asked,

“So...my servant wasn’t that specific on me having to leave you in the car or actually riding with you. It’s kind of my fault as I don’t like to listen and talk in the morning...”

You nervously laughed as he looked up to you. He replied,

“It’s quite alright. I was told you have to ride with me. But don’t worry, you won’t have to stay for long. It’s only around a 10 minute ride.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You sat behind the passenger seat and placed the pillow in the middle, right next to your side.

The ride was relatively quiet, you looked out the window as you kept a fist under your chin. Your expression showed that of concern. You were too nervous to say anything. Even though he had joked back earlier, you were afraid he didn’t like you as his voice stayed stern throughout your small talk. You were afraid you had offended him in some way.

Your mood changed when the driver alerted that you had arrived. You thanked him as he opened the door for you, your hands grasped the pillow tightly so the talking turtle wouldn’t fall. You asked him with a small voice.

“Is there anywhere you’d like for me to set you?”

“Yes... put me on top of that balcony over there. I want to look at the lake.”

“Of course.”

You did as he said and sat him on the balcony. Your eyes gleamed when you caught sight of the glimmering water and greenery of the setting. You’ve always known that Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world but at that time you had forgotten and were fascinated all over again. Like when a child sees a playground for the first time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, you nodded.

“Yes, it really is. It’s no wonder you asked me set you on here.”

“Yes... I wanted to look at one more beautiful sight before I go. Like I said earlier, my soul is no longer fit to be here, so I might as well admire my surroundings for now.”

Your mind quickly became curious after he said that. You wanted to know more behind what he meant. You weren’t going back to that car until you got answers. So to make things easy, you started off with asking his name.

“If you don’t mind... would you like to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jean. Jean Pierre Polnareff.”

‘So he’s French.’ you remember thinking, his accent wasn’t too thick but you assumed and your assumption was right. After that, you went on to tell him your name and your experiences before meeting boss Giorno Giovanna. He shared the same with you.

You talked for so long in fact that you paid off the driver of your assigned car to go back and finish his shift early, promising them that you’ll find a ride later yourself.

You ended off the chatty night with placing Jean under a nearby bench and waving at him. You were saddened but Jean said he enjoyed your company so much that he’ll try to stay for longer and that you’re welcome to come him visit him everyday.

And so you did.

For months you came by to talk to him. You were happy to see that his soul wasn’t giving up yet- you knew you would cry if it were to one day. You had come to realize that you love him but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you. You had only seen his face once- that was the day he decided to show you the physical embodiment of his soul.

You thought (and still think) he was so beautiful. The missing of bottom limbs and blindness in one eye did not bother you at all. His white-silver hair, style and personality is what did it for you. What it did to make you fall in love with his vanity and him. Just him. Jean himself.

~A Year Later~

It’s been a year now and as per usual, you spent half your days speaking to Jean by that same lake you were ordered to drive him to.

Boss Giovanna and Mista have noticed how fast you are in missions since then. They appreciate that you get things done but they still remain curious as to why you’re more happy and less grumpy than you were before. Though they don’t bother to ask, as they’re kind and don’t want to ruin your pure joy.

Today isn’t particularly different. All you had done earlier in the day was speak to a few citizens in town and dealt with giving details to your boss about a certain drug epidemic at a school. Nothing too out of the ordinary, a situation like this occurred at your old school too years back. Your duties were basically done once you learned information got to police.

You drive down to the park where the lake is at, smiling when you see a familiar small green circle on the balcony, looking over the glimmering waters. You park in the nearest lot and lock your car after getting out. You excitedly run over to Jean and smile when he turns his little head to greet you.

“I’m glad you’ve come again.” he says with a smile.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” you reply in a genuine tone.

You go on to talk about random topics and subjects as you always do. The conversation moving onto favorite pieces of literature and genres.

You roll your eyes in embarrassment as you tell him your most favorite one- one that is a fairytale and goes by the name of “The Frog Prince.”

“Well... it’s very fem of me but I really enjoy fairytales. Especially the ones from the Grimm brothers. My favorite is actually “The Frog Prince”

You place your elbow on the rail and use a hand to cover your burning cheek. Hoping that the redness rushing to your face won’t be noticed by Jean and that the sunset covers it up. Jean only laughs and hopes to comfort you when he says,

“Oh, that’s fine. Who cares if it’s feminine? They’re very well written stories and people shouldn’t be ashamed for what they like. I admire that your favorite genre is fairytale, you don’t hear people say that as often, you know?”

His words do comfort you and you thank him for that. He welcomes you and you feel like you’re actually looking into his sapphire eyes. The ones you fell in love with so long ago. You speak up before you’re even able to fully think.

“Say, the frog prince and the princess kissing, huh? Why don’t we kiss and see if it turns you back?”

Shit.

‘Did I really just ask that?’ you ask yourself ‘What the actual hell is wrong with you?!”

“I don’t see why not...”

“Huh?”

You’re stunned. You thought he would get offended for spurting out such a stupid thing. Of course your request won’t work- that shit is from a story book. It’s pure fiction. This is real life.

He’s a turtle now and you’re a human. You can’t and you won’t kiss him. You raise your hands up in defense.

“Hey, no! No need to play along after saying something so stupid to make me feel better. I just blurted that out I’m so sorry-“

“No, it’s okay. And I’m not playing along, I’m being serious. Go ahead. I’ve grown to like you a lot, a small kiss wouldn’t hurt.”

This answer is not what you expected. You nervously fiddle with your fingers as you look around. You sigh as you give in.

“Fine. I like you a lot too and I’ll do it. Let me just-“

You lift up the top half of Jean, his front turtle legs up in the air and his little face staring up at you. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you slowly lean in and- kiss✨

The turtle falls out of your grasp. You stop puckering your lips and open your eyes. In a panicked state, you frantically look over the balcony and both sides of you to find him. You look forward and gasp. You grab at the railings to hold you steady.

There sits a groaning man on his knees. He rubs at his neck as he silently curses to himself, blinking fast and harshly as he tries to understand what’s going on around him. It’s dark now but the moon shines bright enough for you to get a better glimpse of him. You furrow your eyebrows as you slowly recognize who he is- Jean.

He has that same white-silver hair, sapphire eyes, big stature though the only difference is no eye glass in sight and his “legs” aren’t made out of metal.. they’re completely real. Flesh and all and you know that blood flows right through them like the rest of his body.

“J-Jean?” you whisper.

The man doesn’t hear you. All he does is groan and cross his legs in front of him. He stretches his arms and looks over any possible injuries on him.

“Jean.” you say again, louder this time.

He finally looks up at you. And there they are, those sapphire eyes you love so much. That face you’ve grown to be so fond off. His expression more than surprised. Though that expression quickly changes and softens- his eyes crease and a small smile appears. He says your name. And you tear up after he does.

He attempts to get up but his legs give up on him. You sprint to his side before he falls, letting him use your shoulders as support. He blushes.

“I’m sorry... I haven’t had real legs in years. Apparently I forgot how to use them...”

His voice is softer than before, the sternness isn’t there. He sounds younger almost. You giggle, as you use a hand to wipe at the tears of your eyes.

“Okay, I think I can stand now. Let go of me so I can look at you fully.”

You do as he says and as you watch him wobble, you reach out to help again but he shakes his head, waving your hands off as he’s able to maintain balance. You grin proudly when he does.

Jean turns to face you, he clasps your hands together and brings them up to his lips. You blush as he proceeds to hold them over his heart. He looks at you with pure love in his eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. What you suggested was silly but it worked.”

“Yes, you’re welcome...” you say softly, looking down. He makes you look up again.

“You’re the one, my love. You always have been and always will be. My feelings for you started when we first met, I meant what I said. I have grown to like you a lot though it’s more than “like”- it’s love. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way.”

You tear up at this and hug him. He hugs you back and you can’t believe that he does.

The turtle is no more and you have your true love back to human form.

He raises your chin up with his thumb and pointer, he kisses you and you kiss him back. The kiss long and meaningful.

You’re happy to know that the man you love, loves you too.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo imagines #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #jjba x y/n #jjba oneshot #jjba imagines #jean pierre polnareff #polnareff x reader #part 5 polnareff #magical #kiss #sfw #slight angst #fluff #jojo fluff #jjba fluff #oneshot #gender inclusive #gender netural #frog prince #fairy tales #jojo part 5 #jjba part 5 #jojo part five #jojo vento aureo #jojo golden wind #jjba golden wind #golden wind

[kaaytea]

hey! i hope youre doing great! if it isnt a problem, could you do atsumu, oikawa, sakusa and kuroo with a s/o who overthinks alot and notices that theyre hanging out with someone else alot recently and is scared that they're going to leave but they reassure reader that they won't leave? it'd be nice if it was fluffy :(((

Hi cutie! I'm doing well and I hope you are too! I apologize if Sakusa isn't very..Sakusa-y?? I'm still figuring him out a bit 😅 I tried my best to make it fluffy enough, I hope what I wrote will suffice

The Dangers of Overthinking

⤷Includes: Oikawa, Kuroo, Atsumu, Sakusa

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

Oikawa

It's no secret that Oikawa is a pretty popular guy

And usually this doesn't bother you much, no matter how busy Oikawa was he always had little ways to reassure you he wasn't ignoring you

Gradually you started to notice him spending less time checking in on you throughout the day, the most you'd get is a pat on the head, a quick kiss, or a short text before Oiks slipped away with the rest of his team

You did your best to ignore the little voice in your head expressing that he was avoiding you. Oikawa was committed to his sport and that was fine, this behavior was normal

But the one thing you couldn't shake was whenever he went off with the team there was a person you didn't recognize in the group

You'd met his team HUNDREDS of times and by this point you knew everyone by name, number, and position from the hours you've sat with Tooru and watched game recordings. It was the middle of the season so they couldn't have suddenly got a new player

So who was this person? And why was your boyfriend always gravitating towards them?

Overthinking was dangerous for you, the longer you dwelled the further you fell into the dark doubts tucked into the back of your mind

This continued on for weeks until one day you just stayed in bed wrapped in blankets with only your thoughts

Setters are trained to notice small things, little details that could reveal a weakness in defense, anything that would help them decide who to set too

Oikawa was beautifully gifted in that aspect of a setter, it didn't take long to notice how distanced you'd become

Originally he thought it was a personal matter so he let you have your space, except unlike the other times you didn't bounce back. Infact, you were getting further from him the longer it went on

Oikawa quietly opened the door to your bedroom, letting his volleyball bag slip off his shoulder and placing it by the door

He sat down carefully on the side of your bed before he playful poked your side

"(y/n)-chaaan~"

You didn't respond and only pulled the sheets tighter around you causing a pout to form on his face

He gently pulled the sheets away from your head and pressed his hand to your forehead

"You don't have a fever so you're definitely not sick.....wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"You're not gonna leave me, right?"

Your voice was so quiet he just barely heard what you said

The hand on your forehead slipped down to your cheek, his thumb brushed softy across your cheek bone

"Why would I leave you?"

"You keep hanging around that person"

"Ah, be a little more specific sweetie"

"The blonde one! The blonde that's been hanging off you when you're with the team!"

You finally open up to him and what's he do? LAuGh! He's laughing at you!

Tears started to burn in your eyes as you quickly went to pull the covers over your head and flip onto your side facing away from him, only Oiks was a step ahead and pulled you into a sitting position facing him

"W-wait wait, Let me explain! (Y/n)-chan, that's our new manager. They've been helping me plan out drills for the team."

"Oh"

Well now you felt a bit silly

After a few seconds of silence you sighed and hid your face in Oikawa's shoulder. His arms wrapped around you body and he leaned back against your headboard

He spent the rest of the night holding you, whispering promises of never leaving you and how you're more important to him than anything else

Kuroo

Kuroo's friendly personality seemed to just attract people

I mean it was definitely something that hooked you so it was understandable why people tend to flock to him

It's just frustrating when he seems to have plans with people all the time, you barely see him these days

You didn't want to bring this to his attention in fear of being seen as clingy or controlling; Tetsu was your partner and had his own life, he wasn't a pet you could whistle for whenever you felt lonely

But you couldn't help but feel a bit....rejected

You were only about 5 minutes into lunch break and so far all you've done is lay your head on your desk and watched the rain fall outside

The gloomy day enhanced your depressed mood, your mind caught in the whirlpool of overthinking

Suddenly a little package was placed in front of you, followed by the sound of a chair being pulled up to your desk

You lifted your head from the desk only to find the very person that's been stuck in your mind sitting infront of you

"I got you melon bread from that bakery you like down the street, I would have given it to you earlier but you weren't here when I got to campus this morning."

"I missed my train..."

Kuroo snorted at your response and muttered something about you being cute before pulling out his lunch and beginning to eat

You opened the melon bread package, it looked delicious but your appetite seemed to have vanished

Kuroo watched you tear off a piece of the bread before placing the piece back on the wrappings with a sigh

Something was definitely wrong, you never turned down pastries from that bakery

"Not hungry?"

"Not really..."

"Did something else happen this morning? You're looking a bit...dejected"

You could never lie to Kuroo, and at this point you were so fed up with feeling alone that you didn't care about looking clingy, so you told him

He listened carefully to what you said and when you finished your rant he reached over the desk to hold your hands in his

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that. It won't happen again, I promise.....You've gotta tell me these things though, ok? I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

You could tell he meant every word he said, if there was one thing you knew about Kuroo it was that he prided himself on staying true to his promises

You felt a weight off your shoulders the second he pressed a kiss to your hand

You even got your appetite back and devoured the melon bread he got you!

Atsumu

You'd of never expected Atsumu to spend time with someone outside of the volleyball team

Especially one of his fan girls of all people

All this interaction between the two started abruptly during lunch break. The girl had bounced up and pulled him away from your little group before anyone could get a word in, everyone just stared as the blonde was dragged down the hall

You were use to the fan girls, 'Tsumu never gave them the time of day so it was never a problem, but this just felt...off

Why was he suddenly paying attention to one of them? Was he bored of you? We're you just not enough to satisfy his ego?

You were torn from your thoughts by a gentle call of your name

You turned your attention from the clipboard in your lap to the direction of the voice meeting Kita's soft but steady eyes

"You seem less energetic than normal, have you eaten anything today?"

"Oh I'm fine Kita-senpai, you don't have to-"

You were cut off by him handing you a banana and a rant about how even their manager has to be in peak condition

You couldn't refuse Kita so you took the food with a smile and powered through the rest of practice

You left immediately after you finished cleaning the gym, ignoring the calls from Atsumu to wait up for him

You tried to walk fast so he wouldn't be able to catch up but the universe seemed to be against you as he easily jogged up to you minutes after you left

"Wassup with ya today? Kita-san said you were actin' weird."

"I'm surprised you noticed he said anything, your attention seems to be on other people."

Atsumu stepped infront of you, blocking you from walking further down the road

"Wass that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know Miya, why don't you ask your little fan girl"

You stepped around him attempting to run the rest of the way home but his hand grabbed your arm, spinning you back around to face him

Atsumu's hands held you in place to keep you from running away

"That's what this is about? That annoyin' scrub who won't leave me alone?"

"Annoying scrub?"

Atsumu went on explaining how he was partnered with her for a project in Japanese history and how even after they finished the project she wouldn't leave him alone (no matter how many times he told her to go away)

After he explained you felt a little better but you still felt insecurities scratching at your mind

You reached out for his hand and started walking again, keeping your eyes on the ground as you walked

"You didn't think I was cheatin' on ya.....right?"

"....."

".....I'd never leave ya for someone like that, yer the only one I've got my eyes on. Plus, yer the only person I've found that can tolerate me."

You laughed slightly at that, he wasn't completely wrong. Atsumu was a rather complex person but you found something enjoyable in that complexity

He let go of your hand and pulled you into his side, keeping his arm wrapped around your waist as you walked

Sakusa

Ok so maybe you were a bit jealous

Not much, but just a bit

You should have expected Sakusa would have admirers as the ace of Itachiyama (not to mention he was a very handsome guy)

But it still catches you off guard with how outwardly flirty your fellow manager was

Like they even know you're in a relationship with Kiyoomi and yet they continue to throw themselves at him

Being jealous over that was honestly very silly on your part because Sakusa has expressed their flirting makes him uncomfortable

So really there wasn't anything to worry about

Well...

That is until one day you overheard them telling Sakusa they enjoyed going out last night and that they should do it again

Which he responded with a "maybe"

If you were paying attention you would have noticed the flat tone to his voice and how his body language exuded 'Im very uncomfortable please go away'

But you being you, the second the manager opened their mouth your mind shut down and your blood went cold

They went out together last night?

You avoided everyone for the rest of practice, offering instead to clean practice jerseys and water bottles

Those were jobs usually done by two people but you needed to get away from everyone and you were hoping the jobs would take up the rest of practice

By the time you were nearly done with cleaning the water bottles, Sakusa had joined you at the outside fountain, mask pulled up on his face, his bag on one shoulder and yours on the other

"Do you want help?"

"You don't have to Omi.....it's my job anyways"

Despite your dismissal of his offer, he placed both your bags down and helped you clean the rest of the bottles, even going as far as carrying them back into the gym for you

You followed him over to the equipment room, you unlocked the door and took the box from his arms and put it on It's shelf

"You ready to go?"

"Almost, I have to throw the jerseys into the dryer. You can go on ahead without me."

"I'll wait, I want to avoid Komori. I don't feel like being dragged out with his friends again."

Dragged out with his friends? So it wasn't a secret date, Sakusa was forced to go by his cousin

Sakusa made his way by you to the gym's laundry room, Swifty tossing the practice jerseys into the dryer and then returning to your side

"You can stop worrying now, I know you overheard our conversation earlier. I would have much rather spent the night with you than them....they're too pushy for my liking."

He picked up your bags again and offered you his arm (something he much preferred over holding hands)

though he was usually a stoic person, you could just see the warmth his eyes held as he looked at you

You linked your arm with his, soaking up the heat from his body and the calm atmosphere that surrounded him

#kayquests #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanon #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader