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kuroo-shitsurou · 3 years

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Stay (Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader)

note: saw this fic on my old wattpad and decided to post it here. my apologies if any of the details don't match the canonical events that happened in the main story. i think i wrote this a couple of years ago before i read the manga. just wanted to show some love for my favorite salty boi. also, a little ooc because my younger self just wanted a normal high school romance with this mfer okay

word count: 1.2k

Karasuno High.

A well known school located in the Miyagi prefecture. Most famous for the so called little giant, the Karasuno High School's boys' volleyball team has been at it's best ever since a new batch of students joined the team. They were led by Sawamura Daichi, a flexible receiver and a strong captain that everyone could look up to.

Before they went to nationals, one name began to stick out to the public. He started to gain more and more popularity after the shocking events he featured in during the final round of the inter high.

It was none other than Tsukishima Kei.

The tall, blonde, bespectacled boy amazed the Japanese audience with his ability to remain calm even in the dire situations their team has been through during the match against Shiratorizawa Academy. His exceptional reflexes and surprising willpower helped stop the spikes of the top ace of their prefecture, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Tsukishima paid no mind to the rapidly growing fanbase he had. When people would ask him for autographs or pictures, he'd simply click his tongue and leave them, shoving his headphones over his ears to block out any complaints that came from the fan.

Although they fell a bit short during the nationals, you were still proud of how Tsukishima and the rest of the team worked their asses off to get where they are now. The days of hard, tiring training in the hot and stuffy gym paid off, even if they didn't make their initial goal.

Other than that, many scouts had already offered Tsukishima scholarships to colleges even when he was still a first year. Many people saw his potential, but he turned them down easily. After all, it was still his first year. Why the rush?

You rubbed your eyes and tilted your head to the side. School was still a few hours away, so you had to wake yourself up before you would get reprimanded for sleeping in class.

"Oi, chibi," A lanky blonde approached you and handed you a small can of coffee. "Drink this."

Tsukishima, now well-over 6 feet, towered over you. The third and second years have retired, and surprisingly, Tsukishima was vice captain. He said he didn't care about volleyball, but his actions said otherwise. Now being a third year, he was a lot less sardonic with everyone around him, but he was still incredibly salty (You and Hinata agreed).

"I'm 5'6. I'm not short, Kei, you're just incredibly tall." You took the can of coffee from his hand and nodded towards him as a sign of thanks before taking a big gulp of the beverage.

"Really, really?" He teased, "If you're not short then how come I still need to bend down to be at face level with you?"

"Kei, you're 6'5. That is incredibly tall." You reasoned.

"Aw, _____ is making excuses." He bent down to reach you, "I wonder if-"

To shut him up, you grabbed his collar and smashed your lips against his. His eyes widened, and his face immediately turned red. Once you pulled away, you smirked at his incredibly out of character expression. To add to his embarrassment, you took his black rimmed glasses and put them on. You knew he found you absolutely adorable when you wore glasses, specifically- his glasses.

"How cute." You chuckled gingerly.

"Sh-Shut up." He took a seat beside you, not bothering to take his glasses back, though he couldn't see very clearly.

A comfortable silence wrapped the both of you as a light gush of wind blew past the bench. Your hair was pushed back, and he could smell the faint scent of strawberries coming from you. Ah, he loved your scent. Truth be told, he loved every single part of you, physical and abstract.

"Why are you here so early anyway?" You asked, finishing the coffee.

"I knew you'd be here, obviously." He replied bluntly, scooting closer to you and leaning down to rest his head on your lap. Thankfully, the area was cleared of students other than you two, so this display of affection wouldn't be humiliating for the blonde.

"What about Yamaguchi?" You ran your relatively small fingers through his well-kept hair, feeling the softness of his tresses caress your fingertips.

"He'd come here soon, but I wanted to spend some time with you. Give me my glasses so I can see you better." He grabbed his glasses and put them on his face. He could finally see you properly, though he has memorized every feature there was on your face, so he didn't really need his glasses for that.

Another silent moment passed by. The peacefulness relaxed you, and you felt drowsier.

"About the scholarship," Tsukishima started, and you felt your blood run cold. "I was thinking about accepting it."

"The one to what school? You received so many scholarships I can't remember which one." You giggled, but deep inside, you were crumbling.

"Sendai University, actually. I also want to keep playing professionally even after I graduate."

For a split second, your hand stopped playing with his hair, but you covered it up with a playful laugh.

"Gosh, Kei. You've really gotten far." Your voice cracked, and you could feel your heart breaking in two. You didn't tell him about your plans yet, so it'd be hard to tell him, since graduation was coming soon.

Tsukishima noticed this.

"What's wrong?" He sat up, looking you straight in the eye.

"What? Nothing, Kei."

"_____, we've been together for three years, I can tell that you're hiding something from me."

Tears finally welled up in your eyes, and you didn't bother to wipe them away, since you knew you couldn't get out of this situation that easily. He wouldn't let you.

"Why are you crying?" He wrapped his long arms around you and pulled you on his lap. You could feel his warmth, hear his heartbeat, and smell the vague scent of strawberry shortcake.

"Kei, I'm-," You tried to calm yourself down, "I'm studying college in America."

Tsukishima swore his world collapsed under the despicable wrath of reality. The hammer of truth smashed his dreams of graduating college together with you into millions of tiny splinters. His heart shattered as he stared at your shaking form.

"_____, why didn't you tell me?" Instead of being mad like you expected him to be, he embraced you tighter, and his own salty tears made their way down his cheeks.

"I didn't want you to worry or-" He cut you off with a simple,

"Idiot!"

You piped down.

"Why would you honestly think that I would be worried about you leaving? I'm scared, of course, but I'd never be worried. I know that we can still be together even when we aren't physically near each other. I love you too damn much to let you go. Fuck you, _____ for making me say all this cheesy crappy stuff, okay?" He couldn't believe that he, Tsukishima Kei, was saying all of this.

"Kei," You whispered, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry! I love you too, stupid megane."

"Who are you calling-?!"

"Shut up." You silenced him with another kiss, and he melted into it easily.

"Y'know, there's a thing called long distance relationship, right?"

"Yeah, but I can't really stand the idea of not seeing your tsundere ass all day."

"Fuck off."

"I love you too, Kei."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #kei being sweet #kei is a fucking dumbass i love him

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chrishoughton · 3 years

Note

Any comments on the new 2021 episodes?

YES!!

I'm super excited for this last batch of S2 episodes. I'm really proud of how they came out! Chipocalypse Now is insane and I hope y'all like it. And the episodes that follow are a blast. Now that we're deeper into the series, it's been interesting to see what types of story/character decisions can be made in order to "unlock" new types of episodes. Moreso the episodes are fun and silly. It's been a joy to gather a bunch of funny artist/writer weirdos together with the goal of entertaining each other.

On the production end of things, we saw a lot of our long-term crew members step into new roles. Anna O'Brian and Jon Wallach BOTH stepped up to take on a directing role (both were long-time BCG board artists). Kiana Khansmith guest-directed an episode! Kenny, Carson, and Rachelle were on fire (in a good way) in the writer's room. And in a big move- Kassandra Heller (m'lady) and Steve Lowtwait BOTH stepped into the Art Director role after we lost Romney Caswell to Netflix (a big red "N" fell on him on our walk to lunch one day). Nah, Romney left for Netflix to work on some very exciting stuff that I'm not sure if i can mention so I won't!

I'm so proud of all of these folks because they have worked tirelessly on making BCG the best it can be. A big portion of the work done on this last batch of S2 episodes was done during quarantine and a sudden shift to working remotely. The summer was very difficult but our team really banded together and pushed through. People were working on old computers and Wacom tablets, recording voices in clothes closets, etc. One of our BG designers worked at night bc her AC didn't work and it was too hot to work during the day! We worked through protests, riots, and wild fires. The same dedication can be seen from our two overseas partner studios, Rough Draft Korea and Sugarcube. They care a lot about BCG and did everything they could to minimize delays.

Big City Greens, for many people who work on it, is a passion-project. Our team (and the many Disney execs and departments who support the show) routinely go above and beyond. It's incredible. Personally, 2020 has been incredibly challenging but has also forced me to grow in many areas.

Tons of you have been sending me questions regarding the new episodes as well as other stuff I'm not able to talk about right now. But I LOVE the passion y'all share for BCG. I'm not ignoring your asks- I'm simply delaying my responses. 😉

More news to come! 2021 is gonna be fun!

#bigcitygreens #disney #new episodes

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venomous--fics · 4 years

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Kasady

Summary: You're Cletus Kasady's younger sister, but you've never told anyone. Now his name is everywhere in the news and everyone wants your side of the story.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, panic attacks, swearing

Mood music: Lover is a Day- Cuco

A/n: Aaaaye, sorry if this is a dumb idea. I just haven't seen anyone write this type of story? If someone has, anyone wanna link me a fic? Feedback is appreciated and requests are open! My queue is filled with the last batch I got, so expect those soon!

You almost dreaded leaving the apartment anymore. All you saw was his big, stupid, ugly face everywhere. Oh, he did that, oh, he did this, let's remind everyone that he's a monster in prison! Oh, but there's a plot twist; You hated it because you were, unfortunately, related to the guy. Nobody outside your adoptive parents knew.

You didn't like talking about, you didn't even like thinking about it. You had to put up with so much shit because of that guy. You were grateful that you were young enough that nobody knows or remembers what you look like now. You even changed your last name a few times. First, you changed it to Smith when your parents adopted you, then you changed it to Brock when you got married to Eddie.

It shouldn't bother you, you're a Brock, not a Kasady. However, you couldn't help but feel like that was just your identity. Once a Kasady, always a Kasady. You felt even worse because Eddie had taken up on the Kasady story as a huge part of his new job.

You were proud of him for finally getting back to what he loved, but sooner or later his trail would come back to you. What were you supposed to tell him? It felt like the walls were closing in on you, and that there was an anchor slowing crushing you. You had to remind yourself to just take it all in one breath at a time. This is just some fad, some story. It'll all go away.

What if it doesn't?

Your head was spinning and you closed your eyes as you sat on your bed. Everything was so quiet, and even that was alarming.

"Babe? We're home!" Eddie voice rang through the apartment.

You sucked in a breath and hopped up and out of the room, "How was work?"

You just wanted to forget about it.

"Eh, you know." he smiled as he hung his jacket up, "Same shit."

Venom appeared, looking a bit annoyed, "Easy for you to say."

"What's got you in a sour mood, big guy?" you asked, walking over and giving Venom a small kiss before turning to Eddie and giving him a kiss as well.

Venom hesitated for a moment, mostly out of embarrassment, "Well, nothing now, but some guy called us a dick."

"That wasn't very nice of them." you replied, "How about I make some dinner? I was thinking chicken nuggets or- Uh, chicken nuggets."

Eddie looked at Venom, "That's a tough choice. I guess chicken nuggets it is." You preheated the oven, "Why don't you two go get into something a little comfier?"

"Already ahead of you," Eddie said as he walked to the bedroom.

There was barely any noise for a couple minutes before Eddie said, "So, you know that story I'm working on?"

"Of course," you said, feeling the anxiety building back up.

"Well, I," he paused, you assumed he was putting a shirt on, "I've reached a dead end with it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was talking to Cletus- Red- Whatever the hell they're gonna call him.. And he was asking me if he knew anything about his sister." Eddie stumbled out of the room as he pulled up his sweatpants, "I mean, everyone was talking about that, but I figured it was a bunch of bs."

"Oh." you repeated.

"so, I spent a majority of my day trying to find any information on this poor woman- And it's almost like he just fell off the grid."

"Well," you awkwardly chuckled as you got the bag of frozen nuggets out of the freezer, "I guess when a serial killer is your family, you'd want to disappear too, right?"

"I suppose," Eddie said.

Venom, meaning no harm, but just wanting to be part of the conversation, "Maybe he killed her, Eddie. People said that too. Maybe that's why we can't find her."

Out of habit, you put your hand over a scar you had on your arm as a lump form in your throat. It wasn't a nasty scar by any means, it was barely noticeably at this point. It was just a constant reminder.

You had lied to Eddie and told you that a biker had clipped you one day when you were coming home from work, but that was far from the truth. You wish it had been an innocent accident like that. The reality of it was that, before you and Cletus were removed from your home, he had attempted to, as he put it, saw your arm off.

Lucky for you, and being the world's biggest crybaby, again, as he would've put it, your mother had heard you screaming. Of course, she always wanted to think that Cletus would just grow out of all of this horrid stuff. You always thought if she had changed her mind, maybe she'd still be alive.

Sometimes you wished Cletus had actually killed you too, it would've been less painful than everything else you had to go through. Growing up, with Cletus always on the news for the shit he'd done, and every thing inbetween, you were slightly grateful that people would make up the rumours that you were dead. Maybe then they'd leave you alone.

You put yourself on autopilot, taking a trip down trauma lane as you put everything into the oven and set a timer.

Cletus wasn't always outwardly violent, but that doesn't mean he was kind. He would always pick on you, or tell you that nobody even wanted you. He'd always take your things and ruin them, whether it be lighting them on fire or just cutting them up.

You were so young, and you tried to believe that maybe older siblings were just like that. Maybe it was normal for them to try to leave you to die in the woods, or maybe it was normal when he'd 'jokingly' push you towards oncoming traffic. You had a lot to unlearn when you got adopted. You never wanted to be around other kids, and you barely spoke, even when you had gone to therapy. Sometimes you'd get angry at nothing and beat up pillows, and no matter what, your adoptive parents also responded with love and understanding.

You never had to deal with siblings again. Your adoptive parents are the only souls, outside the social workers, who ever knew what had gone on with your birth family. you were thankful for that.

The cycle still repeats it self, however. Some days you feel fine, you don't find yourself thinking about it, but then one little thing comes barging in and ruins it all.

You had completely lost yourself in a memory, and not a good one. You could hear your heart beating in your ear, and you must've been staring off into space.

The basement was dimly lit, and you remember your dad said he would replace the bulb, but he always forgot. You were stuck to a chair, and you couldn't stop whimpering.

"You're such a crybaby."

Cletus came into view with a roll of duct tape. He fiddled with it, trying to get it undone. You shut your eyes and tried to keep quiet. Maybe if you were quiet, he'd let you go.

He finally got a piece cut and he was going to put it over your mouth, but you kept shaking your head, calling out for you mom. You were even kicking at Cletus, which just seemed to annoy him more.

"Stop it! Stop! Go away! Go away, Cletus!"

There was something inside Cletus that just made him hate everyone around him. He had no regard for any other form of life. He didn't even feel bad about what he had planned to do to you. In fact, he had blamed you for it, he kept telling you that if you weren't so annoying, or if you were never even born, he wouldn't have to do this.

Finally getting fed up with your struggling, he grabbed your face and put the duct tape over your mouth. This made your crying worse. You could heard footsteps from the floor above you, and you were praying that whoever was up there heard you and was coming to your rescue.

Cletus proceeded to duct tape your arm down to the arm of the chair, making extra sure that it hurt. You were no more than five years old, and you were already telling yourself that this was how you were going to die.

"You know that old bat can't hear you, stupid." Cletus spat as he turned away to get something.

That's when you remembered where you were. You were at your grandma's house for the weekend. You two would get left here every so often, normally when your parents had errands to run. This time, mom and dad weren't coming back. You were stuck here.

You were thinking about all the small details of her house now, to distract yourself from what was about to happen.

Mary Poppins. Your grandmother had an odd obsession with her. She had all this little figurines that she decorated her house with. You were never sure why she liked Mary Poppins so much, but you found it endearing.

She would always hum the songs when she was baking.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

You could practically hear her humming along.

Thats when Cletus turned back around and you saw the shimmer of the knife he had. You tried to just think of anything else, but nothing was working now. Everything was so quiet and the only noise was the sligh thum of the old light bulb.

"If you were never born, this wouldn't be happening," he sneered at you as he pushed the knife down onto your arm, "This is your fault."

He kept talking, and you wanted to keep crying, but you found everything so stressful that you were feeling tired. You didn't even have the strength to pay any mind to the burning pain in your arm. It was almost like you'd given up.

Then you heard her voice. It was calling out for both you and Cletus. It was getting louder, Cletus huffed and dropped the knife on the floor.

"One noise out of you and I'll make you suffer." he cackled a little bit, "Doesn't really matter, I was going to make you suffer anyways."

You watched hazily as Cletus made his way up the stairs. You tried to wiggle out of the duct tape restraints, but it caused too much pain, so you gave up. The voices were getting more and more muffled. Cletus was leading her away from the basement.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You felt more tears welling up in your poor little eyes, and you closed them tightly. Just make it go away. It'll go away.

You remember hearing a lot of noise from upstairs. It sounded like things getting broken, and then several big thuds. You closed your eyes tighter. It grew quiet again.

You heard the basement creak open, and you heard the soft whimpers of the family pet, Fifi. You loved Fifi. She was a good dog. Cletus came down the stairs, holding the dog by the collar, and you watched as Fifi wriggled and yipped as she tried to get free.

You were tried to scream at him, but the duct tape muffled any noise that came out of your mouth. Cletus retrieved the knife and dragged the dog back a few steps. You wanted to look away. You didn't want to watch. You were frozen in terror as Cletus held the dog down and lifted the knife.

He was grinning so sadistically.

You felt something warm wrap around you and you jumped ten feet in the air, pushing them away and yelling, "Don't touch me! Just stay back!"

Eddie flinched and held his hands up as he took a step back, "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

You tried to catch your breath as you stared at him. You looked like you'd just seen a ghost. Eddie looked a little startled as he lowered his hands and slowly walked over to you, "Are you okay?"

You took another step back as you tried to calm your nerves, "Yeah, I- No- Yes, I'm.. I'm fine. Sorry for- I."

"Why don't we go sit down for a second.. You look like you're about to pass out." What do you do? What do you say?

"Did I cause this?" Eddie sounded a little hurt, thinking that he'd unintentionally caused you any harm, "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't you. I just.." you needed to just think of some excuse, "The whole Kas- Cletus thing is just.. Stressful."

Eddie gently put a hand on your lower back and you flinched again, causing him to move it.

"I just mean," you sighed a little, "I see it everywhere. It's- I- Nevermind."

You were fighting with yourself. You were going to say it.

"It's alright. We don't have to talk about it anymore." He sounded so sincere, "And it'll all go away after-"

"That's just it," you wrapped your arms around yourself as you tried so hard to fight those stupid crybaby tears back, "It won't go away."

Despite your best efforts, the tears came running down your face, and Eddie went to wipe your face, but you flinched away and ran into your bedroom. You slammed the door a little too hard behind you, repeating, "It just won't go away." "Y/n," Eddie said, slightly confused as he walked over to the door. He couldn't open the door because you were sitting in front of it, and he could hear you crying. "Baby?"

He crouched down and sat down on the floor. He didn't understand what was going on, and Venom sure as hell didn't know either. They wanted to ask what was wrong, but maybe you'd tell them on your own.

"Sorry," you said between sniffles.

"It's okay." Eddie replied, leaning against the door, "What's going on?" You took in a few deep breaths before wiping your face, "It's a long story." Eddie, being a smartass, leaned forward a little to get a peek at the oven timer, "We have time."

You chuckled a little because you heard the door creak with his movement. Eddie chuckled too as he leaned back into his original position. Venom poked out of Eddie's arm and looked at the door for a moment before looking at Eddie, who just nodded a little. The little symbiote wrapped around Eddie's arm and got comfortable as you started talking.

"There-" you shivered a little, "Eddie, there's a good reason why nobody can find Cletus' sister."

Eddie looked at the door, intrigued. Did you know her somehow? Maybe through work? Were you helping her hide somewhere?

"And why's that?"

"Because, I-" you wiped your eyes again, trying to not burst into tears, "I'm Y/n Kasady."

Eddie tensed a little as he continued to stare at the door. "You're Y/n Kasady?"

You hesitated, "Unfortunately, but I mean, legally, I'm not really a Kasady anymore...Obviously."

Eddie looked down to the floor, taking it all in. Everything made sense now. "How come you never mentioned it?"

"You think I wanna talk about it?" you didn't mean to come off as bitter, "I just- I hated it. I hated everything to do with that name..Nothing good comes from being a Kasady."

"Nothing good comes from bein' a Brock either."

"Eddie." you whined.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll try to save the jokes for later."

"I just never wanted to talk about it." you continued, "Besides, what the hell would I even tell people? You think reporters want to hear a five year old talk about the most horrendous shit?"

"You were five?" Eddie's voice sounded so hoarse. He didn't knowing anything about the elusive Kasady sibling. The fact that it was you,and you were only five made everything worse.

You couldn't seem to stop yourself, "Cletus was a monster. He killed our grandma- He- He.. Oh god, he tortured the dog while I was duct taped to a chair. Not to mention that he tried to cut my arm off right before all of that- Yeah, that scar? It wasn't from some stupid biker."

"Jesus," Eddie sounded mortified, "I'm..Sorry."

"To make matters worse, I almost got lost in the system because he burned down the orphanage we were both at." you paused, remembering that day, "With everyone but us inside of it."

Venom wasn't going to say it, but he felt a little mortified. He had never met a human who was capable of those awful things.

"They had to separate us, because they thought it would stop him from acting out. That didn't work. Cletus just-" your rant broke off into another fit of helpless sobs, "He ruins everything he touches. I know It's been decades since all of that. I haven't seen him since I was five, but I still live in constant fear-" "He can't hurt you-"

"What if he breaks out of prison again? What then?" you sounded very panicked, "I have always been on edge. Cletus is a smart man, Eddie- It wouldn't take much to figure out where I am- Or my parents.. Or-"

"Hey, hey," Eddie said softly, "That's not gonna happen. You wanna know why?" "Why?' you croaked, slouching against the door.

"Because we won't let it."

You did feel safer since Eddie and venom came into your life. You also knew that they'd rather die then to let anyone hurt you. Cletus was nothing but madman, and it wouldn't take Venom very long to put an end to him. "We love you." Venom said.

You slowly turned to sit on your knees as you opened the door. You looked at Eddie and venom with a weak smile, and Eddie held out his arms, "Come here." You crawled into his arms, and Eddie held you close to him, "I'm sorry you went through that, but I promise you that nothing will ever hurt you again."

Venom untangled himself from Eddie's arm and wrapped around yours, "We will eat whatever tried to hurt you."

You curled up closer to him, feeling a lot better, "I know you will...Sorry for being a crybaby."

"Don't need to apologize." Eddie said sweetly, "If it makes you feel better, I can make something up for the story. Just to get it over with."

"You'd lose your job if they found out that you lied."

Eddie shrugged, "Plenty of other jobs in the world, love."

"It's okay," you said, "I think, maybe, I..If it's you, I can talk about it. I'm just afraid of how people will see me after. They'll probably think that I'm just like him."

Eddie rubbed your back softly, "Nobody will think that."

"Who cares what a bunch of losers think anyways?" Venom looked up at you with all the love he could muster, "We think you are wonderful."

"You guys are pretty wonderful too." you replied, smiling at them.

You gave Venom a kiss before you cupped Eddie's face and gave him one as well. Everything felt okay again, and this time you knew they'd remain that way. A startling beep rang through the apartment and you all jumped a little. You then began chuckling as Eddie helped you up. It was just the oven.

"You okay?" Eddie asked as he watched you get the food out of the oven. He saw you differently now. Not in a bad way, but in a good way. He know understood everything he needed to know, and he knew that you were doing everything in you power to get better. He was proud of you.

"Yeah, actually." you said, "I guess talking about it really does help.. I was just afraid that maybe," you laughed a little, "Maybe you'd want a divorce, because who wants an infamous serial killer as an in-law?"

Eddie, seeing the opportunity to lighten the mood with a joke, said, "A what as a what now? I thought you were an only child."

You looked at him with the softest expression, "Thanks."

He smiled as he came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, "Don't worry about it."

You wanted to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when Eddie went to grab a nugget right off the tray and yelped as it burned him. "They just got done." you said, trying not to laugh, "You watched me pull them out."

He went over to the sink and ran his hand under some cold water, "Yeah, but..Why are they still so hot?"

"Eddie," you laughed, "They just came out of a piping hot oven."

You got a couple of plates out of the cupboard as Eddie dried his hands. You were putting them on the kitchen island as you saw him go for another nugget out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes its good that not everything changes.

#eddie brock imagine #eddie brock x reader #venom imagine #venom x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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sparkles-and-trash · 4 years

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Modern ATLA headcanons; random batch ~

(Zukka, Tyzula, Kataang, Suki/Toph)

trash note: this doesn’t go with any of my other modern AU’s, these are just to get back into writing headspace and air out some ATLA thoughts living in my head rent free, as well as testing a couple of new ships!

- the Gaang have been friends since like, middle school

- Zuko became their friend in late High School, when he was kicked out of his family home and moved in with his Uncle

- everyone loves uncle Iroh and his teashop, he’s an adult they all trust

- he genuinely cares for all of them, too

- Hakoda and Bato are married, and Sokka and Katara loves Bato

- Katara and Aang are totally that couple nobody really remembers not being together

- Zuko and Sokka were truly idiots to lovers tho, took forever to realize their feelings for each other

- when they did tho, they were already best friends, so their relationship is very natural and easy from the start, which is great for Zuko

- Mai is aro/ace, and Azula and Ty Lee are High School sweethearts

- Mai was the first one from his old life to reach out to Zuko when he was cast out by his father, and Zuko never forgets it, he values her and her friendships so much

- Ty Lee is a competitive gymnast and Azula is very proud of her

- she loves showing her off and bragging about her lmao

- Aang is that kind of guy who sees a stranger in any kind of trouble, or sadness, and without a single drop of doubt he will drop everything to try to help them

- it’s one of the things Katara loves most about him

- it gives Zuko major anxiety tho, his stranger danger alert is always high

- Toph decides to go in a totally different direction than what her parents want for her, and they cut her off totally

- she honestly sees it as a blessing at this point

- Sokka and Suki dated in Freshman year of High School, but became the best of friends after, and they always joke about how dating each other led to the best friendship ever and a double bisexual awakening

- when they become friends, Toph has a crush on Sokka, but as they get older, the crush slowly transfers over to Suki, almost without her noticing

- one day she’s like, oh thank god I’m truly over Sokka! and then Suki walks in and she’s like.... fuck’s sake

- she’s almost as bad with feelings as Zuko, so she keeps it to herself for waay to long

- those to actually bond over being rich kids with so much emotional baggage lmao

- them having nights where they just sit in opposite sites of the couch, drinking wine, wearing facemasks and bitch about their families

- it’s therapeutic as hell

- I know a lot of people think Katara will be a doctor, but I really like her as a vet

- I think she adores animals, and that she has such strong morals, she is perfect to help those who can’t defend and speak for themselves

- she and Aang totally volunteer at shelters together

- Toph doesn’t have a seeing eye dog, but she still loves animals, and adores Appa, and loves brining him on walks etc

- they’re still benders btw so that’s mainly how Toph gets around etc

- always barefoot haha

- Sokka is the king of athletsure style

- Zuko is a typical all blacks kind of guy, which low-key hides his... sometimes unfortunate sense of style

- Zuko’s hair is always between like, book 3 style and shoulder length, so it’s kind of an awkward look, but it also kinda works?

- Suki is such a bicon y’all

- she’s really funny on TikTok and has a pretty big following

- Sokka also loves TikTok, but he posts so irregularly that he never really takes off they way Suki does

- Suki’s followers loves it when the gaang is in her videos

- they esp love Toph and her wittiness

- some followers starts shipping her and Suki, and at first Suki is like, omffg whaaat, we’ve been friends forever!!!

- and then, one day, they’re out at a bar drinking, and Toph is laughing at something Zuko said, and Suki is watching her like... she’s so cute and funny, wonder why I never realized befo-... oh no

- Sokka dies when she finally tells him

- you guys have to understand, Suki pestered him with his crush on Zuko for so long, finally it’s his turn

...this got long, oops, I’m gonna stop here for now!

requests for headcanons, either more of whatever au this is, or other atla or sp stuff, is open for a little while!

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minijenn · 3 years

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Keys to the Kingdom Preview

Fuck I finally managed to pull something together for this chapter (I mean I’m not even blaming myself this time, grief hits ya hard kids :|) Anyway this is mostly just establishing movie stuff but it does feature some of Sora and Kairi being Cute Idiots in Love so there’s that. Enjoy!

***

“Oh! Hey there, ya’ll,” the waitress greets the couple with a friendly smile. “What’ll you two be having this morning?”

“We’ll take whatever those things are,” Sora points to the nearby pastries while Kairi nods her eager agreement.

The waitress laughs, placing a plate down on the counter before them. “There you go, one order of the tastiest beignets in the entire crescent city.”

“Thanks!” the couple chimes before partaking of their first bites of the sweet treats. And sure enough, they’re quick to discover that the beignets more than live up to their delectable aroma.

“Oh! These are delicious!” Kairi grins, thoroughly satisfied by their decadent sweetness.

“Yeah, they’re sooo good!” Sora agrees, mouth half-full. “What did you say these things are called again? Bogies?”

“Beignets,” the waitress corrects, chuckling. “Ya’ll ain’t from around here, are you?”

Sora and Kairi exchange a slight, nervous glance at this, both of them knowing well just how important maintaining the world order is, even on a large group mission such as this. “Uh… w-what makes you think that?” Sora asks with something of a forced smile.

The waitress shrugs, still smiling. “Lots of folks come in from out of town around Mardi Gras time. It’s our busiest season, for sure.”

“...Mardi huh?” Sora frowns, completely confused.

“Land’s sakes, you two really aren’t from around here…” the waitress paused, hands on her hips. “You two lovebirds got names?”

Sora finishes off the last of the beignets by splitting it evenly with Kairi. He offers the waitress a friendly smile as he does. “I’m Sora.”

“And I’m Kairi,” she nods cordially just shy of enjoying her half of the treat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” the waitress returns just as warmly. “The name’s Tiana. And between you and me,” she drops her voice down to a whisper and the couple leans in to curiously whisper. “If you both think those beignets are good, just you wait until I open up my restaurant one of these days down on the waterfront. What I’ll whip up there will put these ol’ pastries to shame, guaranteed.”

“Really?” Sora asks, impressed. “When’s your restaurant opening? We’d love to come try it out.”

“Oh, well, uh…” Tiana glances aside, biting her lip. “That’s the thing. I still don’t have enough for the down payment for the place, but I’m getting really close. With some good old fashioned hard work--and all the tips I’ve been saving up over the years--then I’ll finally save up that last little bit, then I’ll finally be one step closer to making my Daddy’s dream come true…” She lets out a wistful sigh as she pulls something out of her apron pocket, a bright illustration of the kind of sophisticated restaurant she had in mind. The restaurant that’s always been her vision for “Tiana’s Place” ever since she was just a child.

“You sound like you’re very dedicated to making that dream happen,” Kairi notes, inspired.

“Yeah, I hope you can really soon,” Sora says just as encouragingly. “And once it does, save us a table. We’ll be some of your first customers!”

“I’ll be sure to do exactly that,” Tiana offers the couple a thankful nod as she heads off to continue serving the diner’s other patrons. It isn’t long before one of the cafe’s most common--and most wealthy--regulars happens to come in for his usual breakfast treat. “Morning, Mr. La Bouff,” Tiana greets him casually.

“Good mornin’, Tiana,” the sugar baron returns, taking a seat at a table by the window.

“Congratulations on being voted king of the Mardi Gras parade,” Tiana says as she serves up some coffee to another guest.

“Caught me completely by surprise,” Mr. La Bouff smirks, whipping out the morning paper. Naturally, one of the front page headlines features his victory as king of the upcoming parade. “For the fifth year in a row! Now, how about I celebrate with-”

“Beignets?” Tiana fills in, setting down a plate of pastries in front of him. “Seems like they’re the talk of the town this morning. I’ve got a fresh batch waiting just for you.”

“Well, keep ‘em comin’ till I pass out!” Mr. La Bouff exclaims as he happily begins to scarf them down. At the same time, his young daughter, a girl the same age as Tiana, clad in all the finest fashion her father’s money can buy, rushes in, beside herself with excitement that the entire diner can hear as soon as she enters.

“Oh, Tia!” she calls, running over to the waitress. “Tia, Tia, Tia, did ya hear the news?!”

“Hey, Charlotte-” Tiana attempts to greet her, only to be swiftly cut off as her friend joins her father at the table.

“Tell her, Big Daddy!” Charlotte cries with a huge grin, frantically fidgeting in her seat. “Tell her!”

“Oh, yeah,” Big Daddy chuckles, amused by his daughter’s usual verve. “Ya see, Prince Naveen-”

“Prince Naveen of Maldonia is comin’ here to New Orleans!” Charlotte practically screams, snatching the newspaper right out of her father’s hands. “Oh, isn’t he the bee’s knees?! Tell her what you did, Big Daddy!”

“Well, I invited-”

“Big Daddy invited the prince to our masquerade ball tonight!” Charlotte takes over once more, awash in obvious delight. “Tell her what else you did, Big Daddy! Go on!”

Big Daddy pauses for a moment, expecting his daughter to cut him off once more. When she surprisingly doesn’t he proceeds. “...And he’s staying-”

“And he’s staying-” Charlotte is the one that’s interrupted this time as Big Daddy abruptly shoves a beignet into her mouth so he can speak instead.

“And he’s stayin’ in our house as my personal guest,” the sugar baron finishes, with a broad, proud smile.

“Oh, Lottie, that’s swell,” Tiana grins back at her friend as she continues working all the while. “A little word of advice? My mama always said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Charlotte gasps in realization as Tiana serves Big Daddy up another plate of beignets, coming up with a daring scheme right on the spot. “That’s it!” she bolts up out of her seat, beignet in hand as she runs over to Tiana, engulfing her in a tight hug. “Tia! You’re a bona fide genius! I’m gonna need about 500 of your man-catching beignets for my ball tonight.” She runs back over to Big Daddy, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a large stack of bills, which she eagerly pushes into Tiana’s hands. “Will this about cover it?”

Tiana starts, dumbfounded by the huge sum Charlotte hands over to her. By all accounts it's more money than she’s really seen in her entire life, much less had to her own name. And combined with everything she’s managed to save up thus far, it’s more than enough to cover the remaining cost she’s been struggling to pull together. “T-this should cover it just fine, Lottie,” Tiana smiles in rising elation. “This is it! I’m getting my restaurant!”

Charlotte cheers, hugging her once more before she runs back over to Big Daddy. At the same time, Sora and Kairi don’t hesitate to offer their best wishes to the waitress, having just witnessed the entire scene play out while eating their beignets.

“Wow! Congratulations, Tiana!” Kairi exclaims brightly.

“Yeah, looks like we’ll be eating at your restaurant sooner than you think,” Sora laughs, just as happy for her.

“Thanks, ya’ll,” Tiana returns, holding the cash Charlotte just gave her close. “I guess dreams are coming true for everyone this Mardi Gras. Both for me, and for Lottie,” she chuckles as she nods back over to her best friend.

“Tonight my prince is finally comin’!” Charlotte squeals as she just about drags her father out of the diner. “And I sure as heck ain’t lettin’ him go!” With that, the La Bouffs leave, and with their beignets finished off, it isn’t long before Sora and Kairi do the same so they can rejoin their fellow lights. They pay for the pastries and bid Tiana a fond farewell and another round of congratulations as they head out, hand-in-hand.

Though as they do, they fail to notice a man sitting alone in the corner of the diner; a man practically drenched in deep, dark shadows, keeping a close eye not only on the latest happenings around town, but on the peculiar young man he just happened to spot with an involuntary veil of darkness hovering over his own heart. Darkness that the doctor already starts plotting to use to his advantage.

#god i hope im writing tiana right #i'm half tempted to watch princess and the frog again bc i watched it last week before #you know #idk we'll see what happens #jen writes #keys to the kingdom #keys preview

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stones-x-bones · 3 years

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Dreammaker || Morgan and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @inbextween SUMMARY: Bex goes to Morgan’s for another crafting lesson, despite the strange weariness that seems to be clinging to her. CONTENT: Allusions to Dometic Abuse as well as mentions

There wasn’t enough cover-up in the world to make the bruises go away, and Bex had half considered cancelling on Morgan. But she’d already texted her, and this was the one thing she’d been looking forward to this week, and fuck did she need it after everything that had happened. Instead, she’d donned the longest sleeves she could find, a nice decorative scarf that wouldn’t be too weird to wear inside, and she’d brushed her hair over the side of her face where it looked the worst. Maybe Morgan wouldn’t ask about it, anyway. Maybe she would just respect the safe word, if she did. She didn’t know, but she did know, despite the anxiety she carried with her, she felt safer heading to Morgan’s than she had coming home that Sunday night. The walk was quick and the cool, brisk air felt nice-- it gave her time to contemplate, to think, to decide what she wanted to do next with her project once she finished cleaning all the pieces for it. There was so much she could do, but she liked the idea of bringing a little color to it. Perhaps something with yellow flowers, or ribbons. Maybe something with cerulean. She let out a yawn as she turned up the driveway to Morgan and Deirdre’s and checked her phone before raising a hand to knock, still not comfortable with just walking in. She waited, rubbing the weariness from her eyes. “Mornin’ Professor,” she said when the door opened as she gave a weary smile.

Morgan had just enough time to get her clothes back on and give goodbye kisses to Deirdre, who was timing her visits to work around avoiding Debbie. Debbie’s wedding re-planning had taken on a new level of terrifying fervor, worse than the one she had meant to have in the fall which had been cancelled by--Morgan couldn’t really remember what. It didn’t matter as much now that she had a few of her friends back and Bex’s bone art lessons. Maybe she should be pushing the magic control harder (and the books were right there in her studio, so many answers were surrounding them if the girl would just look and believe) but in her company, she just wanted to keep Bex safe a little longer, bring her a little closer. Whenever the next magic disaster happened and Bex felt like asking, she’d be there.

Morgan opened the door, already smiling with excitement. “Hey, Bex! Come in, have some tea to warm yourself--” Bex yawned, showing a rippling of brown and purple on the side of her face. Morgan’s smile fell. “Up.” She finished, her voice trailing off. “Bex, what is that? Can I take a look? Are you doing anything for the swelling? Come on, the light’s better in the kitchen…”

Bex wasn’t one-hundred percent sure at first what Morgan was talking about. She heard the words, saw the concern in her eyes, but didn’t connect the dots just yet, still weary and exhausted from the week’s antics. “What is what?” she asked, but Morgan was already dragging her towards the kitchen and by the time Bex realized what she was talking about, they were in the house before she could bolt. “Oh, it--” she stumbled, paused, “--it’s n-nothing! I ran-- I hit a door frame. I just-- I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking…” It was the only lie she could come up with on the spot. She leaned her face away from Morgan and brushed more hair over to cover it up. “Can we just go get started? It’s been, you know, a long week and I just wanna do something relaxing.”

Morgan had to bring the girl’s face down to get a good look at the damage. It wasn’t big, but it was just far enough along to look as hideous as it must have felt. The wound curved between the eye and the cheek, and when Morgan ghosted her fingers over the spot, she saw that it followed the arch of her fingers. She frowned deep, scanning the girl again for any other signs. Maybe it was just one blow. Did cruel people ever leave it at that? Her own mother had only laid hands on her neck, and it was never a hit, just a claw Morgan couldn’t escape. It only came out when she struggled or fought her on the way to her ‘quiet time’ in her room. They did not hit in their house; Ruth Beck had been very proud of that rule.

“We don’t have to get into it, however much I’m concerned for you,” Morgan muttered. “But it’ll only hurt worse if you don’t do anything for the swelling. And I think I still have some salve left over…” From when Deirdre returned from Ireland. She’d had to look up the recipe fresh and extracting the good stuff out of arnica and yarrow without magic took a lot more time, but the salve yielded a hearty batch. Morgan pulled the first aid tub out from under the sink and fished out the little jar. “You’ll feel better with this,” she said, unscrewing the lid. “I’d like to put it on you, but you can apply it yourself, if you prefer it like that. But we’re not starting until after you take care of yourself, Bex.”

Bex stayed perfectly still as Morgan examined her face. Her fingers were just as cold as last time, but they didn’t bother her too much. They felt soothing against the burning ache of her bruise. Blinking, she pulled away when Morgan spoke, turning her face away again. She didn’t like the feeling of knowing that came from Morgan in those words, in the look of familiarity in her eyes. It meant that no matter what she said, she knew. Bex didn’t like that, people weren’t supposed to know. No one was supposed to know anything, and now more and more people knew so many things. “I put ice on it,” she mumbled quietly, watching Morgan open the cabinet and pull out a jar of something. “The swelling has gone down.” Really, she wanted to add, it’s not so bad. It could’ve been so much worse, it has been before. But none of those words were reassuring, not even to her.

“I’ll do it,” she finally said, holding her hand out for the ointment. From what she’d read of Morgan’s family, it was probably some kind of herbal remedy or salve, but it wouldn’t hurt to put on. She wasn’t sure it would help, either, but it was worth a shot, right? Once she’d finished, she brushed her hair back over and held it back out to Morgan. “I do take care of myself,” she said quietly, “it’s just hard sometimes.”

“Hey.” Morgan’s voice was quiet but firm. She didn’t like any of this. But who could she call? What was there to do besides wait for Bex to feel brave enough to do something, or try to convince her that there were people who would take care of her--really take care of her, without making it seem like they had to be paid back or that she had be grateful for receiving the bare minimum of decency. But none of that was anything Morgan could do now, not in a way that would stick. When Morgan spoke again, it was all sorrow and gentleness. “I’m not saying you aren’t taking care of yourself, honey. You’re doing the best you know how. But you shouldn’t have to do everything yourself. And there’s a difference between survival and care and comfort.” She sighed. “I’m not mad. And you haven’t done anything wrong. None of whatever led to this is your fault, just so we’re clear. Now come on, I’ve already got your station set up in my studio.”

Bex didn’t have much to say back. She never knew what to say anymore. Sometimes, she wondered if she just told someone, told them everything, really told them, if they would be able to save her. But she didn’t know, she couldn’t be sure. How was she supposed to know it was safe? And if it was, wouldn’t they want something from her? In return? Wouldn’t she owe them? She did want to owe anyone, anymore. Her parents put enough of a shackle on that. Instead, she tucked herself away again and nodded, before she followed Morgan back through the house, past the pool, down the deck and into the shed. Just like Morgan had said, there was now a spot set up just for her and she couldn't help but light up at the prospect. Even so, another yawn escaped her as she headed over, already pulling her jacket off and forgetting about the bruise on her wrist, too. “Can you show me which glues are best still, today? I was thinking of using um...flowers as the dressing. You know, that whole juxtaposition of life and death.” The whole juxtaposition of what she wanted versus what she had.

It took Morgan several moments to respond. She couldn’t stop staring at the bruise on Bex’s wrist and trying to figure out if it was from being grabbed or being restrained. It didn’t matter one way or the other, in the end, but she still wondered just how thoughtless, how cruelly bold they were to do this much harm and feel that they would suffer no consequences. How aware they must be of their control if they trusted their daughter to keep quiet, and for the length of human healing too. Morgan tried to shake her thoughts away and set the jar down on the table. “Why don’t you just hang onto the rest of this. Take care of wherever else you’re hurting as you get sore. It’s science tested, witch approved,” she murmured, trying to be gentle with some levity. She sounded off-key to her own ears and could only hope that Bex gave her points for effort.

She opened the glue drawer and spread each of them out on the table. “Okay, so this one is going to be good for the flowers. It’s a little thing because you don’t need much, just keep the pointy nozzle end right on the spot you need. And this one--” She paused, taking Bex in again one more time. “Are you sure you don’t want some tea? You look kinda out of it. Were you able to get much sleep at all?”

“Oh, um,” Bex said, looking down at the jar as Morgan set it next to her, “are you sure? It’s okay, I have stuff at home to help.” Technically. She had soothing cream and ice, that was enough, right? They’d go away soon, she didn’t bruise long, despite her fair skin. She’d figured that much out in her lifetime. “Plus, there’s always the age old frozen spoon trick, right? My nanny taught me that one when I was younger.” The candor with which she spoke was unintended, but when she had rationalized every moment of her parents’ cruelty as tough love, it didn’t seem so strange to her. She looked at the glues Morgan spread out before her, trying to keep concentration, another yawn slipping out. “Hmm? Oh…” she rubbed her eyes, wincing slightly, “sorry, umm-- yeah. M-maybe some tea would be nice. I uh-- I haven’t slept well this week. I’ve been having really weird dreams. Not um, nightmares, but just…” she trailed off. She wasn’t sure how to explain them. They were dreams, but they were so much more vivid than just that. She felt as if she were truly there, yet somehow always outside of them. Like she was outside of her own body. She looked over at Morgan. “Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Just because someone says hurting you is for your own good, doesn’t mean it’s true,” Morgan muttered bitterly. At least the Dolans had a few centuries of ritualized torture that enabled their survival to explain that particular psychotic methodology. But Bex was just a girl. A witch girl, but none of them knew that. If they did, they’d know that her power came from unifying herself, from opening her heart and her understanding, reaching out to the world instead of being locked up and run under a sharpening blade as if she were a set of defective garden shears. She cleared her throat, trying to pass off the words as a cough and went on with forced brightness, “I don’t know that one about the spoon. My mom taught herself about arnica and yarrow. She studied the chemical makeup of plants, tried to make hybrid superplants for her doctoral research.” Until the curse took away her funding and her reputation. Taking the brunt of her disappointment had made for a really fun year.

Slowly, Morgan set down her tools and came beside Bex, gently leading her off the stool. “Something about dreams. Which, I really want to hear more about. Because there’s no shame in having nightmares or re-living weird, bad memories out of nowhere. But maybe after you come and sit on the daybed with Niamh and have some tea. You probably shouldn’t be working with anything pointy or sticky if you can’t see straight or keep your eyes open. And I’ll be sure to brew you the good caffeinated stuff so you can tell me all about it. How’s that sound?”

Too weary and out of it, Bex didn’t quite catch what Morgan was mumbling. It was probably something about the ointment, she could still recall the recipes she’d found written in some of the Bachman family files. Arnica and yarrow. Bex didn’t really know those ingredients, only that they were natural plants. Bex was much more of a flower person, when it came to plants, but she knew enough about arnica to know of its healing properties. “Did she teach you about it, too, then?” she asked, looking over at Morgan, letting her prod her off the stool. She really wanted to stay and keep working, hell, they’d barely just begun. But Morgan was right, working with sharp objects while tired was a bad idea. She needed to keep in mind that she still had to look presentable even if there were circumstances beyond her control right now.

“They’re not nightmares, though,” Bex insisted, “they’re just really...weird. Like, really vivid.” She sat on the daybed like Morgan instructed, rubbing her eyes once more. “Trust me, I’d say if they were nightmares. Those get really bad usually. Like, windows shattering bad.” Loopy in her exhaustion, she didn’t even mind sharing that bit. Night terrors had been a long part of Bex’s life, she’d thought she’d grown used to them by now. But she hadn’t. “Lots of caffeine sounds perfect,” she added on quietly.

Morgan fluffed the pillows behind Bex as she spoke. Niamh picked her head up and squinted, affronted at the invasion of her napping space, then settled back down with a big sawn. To live a life so simple you were never scared to sleep all day. What a dream. “Vivid but not bad, huh?” So that ruled out mara. Maybe the girl’s parents were drugging her, or maybe some college kid was fucking with their own magic a little too excitedly. Maybe the kid was just stressed out of her mind. “You and Deirdre should really talk about window-shattering-bad sometime,” she sighed. Deirdre would probably know more about what to say or how to reach her. She knew what it was like to hurt like this and wake up ready to maim yourself in the morning if it meant getting a mother’s approval. Morgan sighed again and carefully bushed back some of Bex’s hair affectionately. “Lot’s of caffeine it is. You relax and make sure Niamh doesn’t get up to any mischief and I’ll be right back.”

Bex looked over at the cat and watched her yawn. She was really cute, but Bex hadn’t been around cats enough to know what affection sounded like. “Does she break a lot of windows, too?” Bex asked, brow raised. She tried her best not to flinch when Morgan reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, but she wasn’t sure she was very successful. It was all still too raw. It was the things she was so used to, but never would be at the same time. “Will do,” she muttered quietly, turning to look over at the cat. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. Bex was a little jealous. Scooting further onto the bed, she laid down next to the cat. “How do you do it?” she asked, eyes drooping a little. “Just sleep all day, without a care in the world.” She went to sit up, then, when she thought she heard Morgan heading back, but instead her head spun, and her vision went black, and she collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud.

Morgan worked quickly, but she could only get the kettle to work so quickly. She made the most potent tea latte she could and brought it out in an oversize mug to the girl. Maybe letting her rest would be kinder, but she hated the thought of sending her home, back to the people who would treat her like this.

She heard the body fall as she opened the door.

“Bex? Bex!” She shoved the tea onto the nearest surface and scooped the girl into her arms, shaking her. “Bex, wake up! Come on.” She pressed her ear to her chest and waited, and waited. “Fucking shit...shit…” But there it was. Slow as a banshee’s breath, but unmistakable. Morgan hefted her girl in her arms and looked down into her sleeping face, at a loss. “What’s happening?”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #dreammaker #chatzy: morgan #morgan #domestic abuse mention tw #short but sweet ;;);));)

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

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@gingerreggg ooo the lore deepens

Heads Up- Part 10 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

With Joseph going to university every couple of days, and Suzi visiting often but still usually sleeping at her own home, there were days that Caesar was left home alone.

Joseph had invested in extra door locks to keep him safe, makeshift mini-elevators to help the bodiless bust get up and down the kitchen and living room tables, and put up canvasses and customized paint holders to encourage his fondness for painting to pass the time.

Caesar was a great painter-- especially for someone with no hands.

With much practice in holding a paintbrush in his mouth, something that Caesar found much easier as opposed to colored pencils that broke when pressed too hard, Joseph's artistic masterpieces had begun producing masterpieces of his own. Simple, abstract scribbles at first, but over time began to make art of the things he saw around the house. Still lifes of tables, furniture, windows, in his own crude, mouth-scribbly style.

Today was one such day. Joseph was away at the art school, working on projects of his own. And Suzi hadn't called for today, and probably wasn't coming for a while.

And so Caesar spent his time painting. But he was tired of the things within the confines of the apartment, and opted for a new medium.

Pulling the blinds of the window open with his teeth, Caesar exposed the view of the vacant lot behind Joseph's house. One that was somewhat still a wild region, overgrown with grasses, with a few sparse trees, and further into the horizon, the skyline of the big city with towering skyscrapers that seemed like mere toys from such a distance.

A smile crept across Caesar's face. This seemed like a perfect muse for another painting.

And as Joseph created art with a purpose, he wondered if this was his.

---------

Suzi looked over at the bag Joseph had given her.

She was in her own home, an apartment somewhat smaller than Joseph's. The post-graduate artist hadn't really done very much in the past year, and her house reflected it: it was quite a mess, with many boxes, items and inexplicable odds and ends cluttering every tabletop and shelf, a problem compounded by the artist's somewhat scatterbrained nature at times.

She sat on her couch, typing away at her laptop. She'd been very curious about the past few days about where exactly that design on the bag came from-- definitely a Mesoamerican influence, perhaps some sort of mystical trinket from long ago.

It had been the bag that Joseph had found in his attic, that had contained the lump of clay that had become Caesar. As Joseph had said before, it didn't seem like a particularly special material at first: yet now, given that it literally was alive, there certainly was something unique about it. Especially given that all other clay they attached to Caesar, in their failed attempts to give him a body, had invariably remained lifeless and cold.

And as she scrolled through pictures on her laptop, she happened upon something extraordinary.

A site cataloguing local folklore, with details that seemed oddly familiar.

Legends told in ancient Central America about sacred soils that could channel strange energies. One myth, in particular, caught her attention: a tale of a talented artist who, in her sheer devotion to detail in her work, managed to usher in spirits of inspiration to take new life into her work.

Idols that harbored the souls of the ancestors that led them to convene with their successors generations on.

Suzi scoffed. This seemed like strange superstitious magic, wasn't it?

Yet deep down, as much of a mature, rational woman as she was, a small part deep within her had always believed in magic, wished to believe. Perhaps it was the hopeful, wide-eyed child within her now enveloped in the shell of a responsible adult, that sometimes shone through when she was around people she was comfortable, like Joseph, and now, Caesar too.

Perhaps that was why she wasn't too surprised about Caesar when she first met the living sculpture in Joseph's apartment a couple of weeks earlier.

Because a bit of her had always believed in magic-- and Caesar's very existence served only to confirm it.

---------

Joseph strolled around the art gallery of the university, beholding in wonder at the vast, museum-like halls bearing the works of its many previous students.

Statues, sculptures, paintings and murals of all shapes and styles adorned the walls, platforms and shelves of nearly every corner of the building's interior. Everything was art, they said, and the masterpieces certainly reflected it.

And as much as Joseph was in awe of the beauty of the gallery, something made him uneasy, as he looked at them, especially the sculpted statues that resided in glass cases, carved in eternal repose with their lifeless eyes gazing blankly into empty space.

Would this have been Caesar's fate?

Joseph couldn't bear the thought of Caesar, his roommate, his friend and companion, spending the rest of his existence like this.

What kind of life would that be?

Joseph's disturbed thoughts were interrupted when he bumped into somebody, as he was too preoccupied with the art to look where he was going.

"Oh, I'm sorry, young man," said an old, throaty voice, with a prominent Italian accent. "You need to be careful around here too."

"Apologies, Mr. Zeppeli," Joseph said awkwardly, with an uncertain scratch of his head.

Mr. William Zeppeli was one of the oldest professors in the university, and had long taught the class on the subject of three-dimensional art. Instantly recognizable by his trademark moustache and top hat, Mr. Zeppeli had mentored Joseph in his first year in the university, and was quite familiar with him.

"I'm glad to see you've come so far, Mr. Joestar," Mr. Zeppeli said with a pat on Joseph's back. "I believe you would be graduating this year, are you not?"

Joseph smiled proudly. "I sure will be, sir!"

Mr. Zeppeli gave a warm chuckle. "That's the spirit!" he said. "So, the final project is due next month. What is your grand masterpiece?"

"A bust sculpture," Joseph said impulsively, before realizing he probably shouldn't have said it out loud.

A proud, yet solemn smile emerged on Mr. Zeppeli's weathered features. "Come with me," he told Joseph.

He led Joseph towards the hall of statues, where Joseph was amazed to see a vast array of clay figures, of people, objects and places, all impressively detailed even for him. Sculptures of birds in flight, each feather intricately carved in astonishing perfection. Miniature models of famous landmarks around the world, such as a replica of the Colosseum in Rome. Faces of people molded in clay, so expressive they seemed they almost could speak.

Something that, at this point, wouldn't have surprised Joseph anymore.

"He would have loved to meet you," Mr. Zeppeli said woefully. "I've seen some of the sculptures you've made before and they remind me of him so much."

"W-who?" Joseph asked, curious at the person Mr. Zeppeli had referred to.

"My grandson," replied the old teacher with a bittersweet note in his voice.

"He went to this school a decade ago, and was one of the best students this institution had ever known. All these, the figures you see before you, are his creations, and I...I am proud to call him my grandson," said Mr. Zeppeli, as he wiped away a tear.

The old professor gestured to a small sign next to the case displaying his grandson's masterpieces. "He was a jolly fellow, if not without a strange sense of humor. You two might have become friends."

Joseph looked closely at the sign. There was something very familiar.

And as its contents sank in, his heart nearly stopped.

"IN MEMORY OF ANTHONIO ZEPPELI (1983-2008), GONE BUT FOREVER REMEMBERED," said the caption.

But what captured his attention, and struck him to the very center of his being, was the picture of the late artist displayed on the sign.

He had no pink cheek marks, and he, of course, had a body.

But he was, unmistakably and otherwise identically, Caesar.

"Is--is this him?" gasped Joseph in disbelief.

"I guess you'd recognize that face," Mr. Zeppeli gave a faint laugh. "Remember that statue of Julius Caesar displayed here, several years ago? He based it off himself. That isn't even remotely close to what the real Julius Caesar looked like, he was a talented, if strange, boy who found it amusing to stick his own likeness onto his art."

Julius Caesar, Joseph thought. His reference.

He felt a strange sensation, as if his whole world was suddenly shattered, and was slowly piecing itself back together like a jigsaw puzzle, into a new reality that seemed way too fateful for his peace of mind.

"Uh...uh...I just suddenly remembered I have a class to go to," said a flustered Joseph, quickly conjuring up an alibi. "See you later, Mr. Zeppeli!" he said, and promptly dashed off in a hurry.

-------

"Jojo? You would not believe what I just found," Suzi said, as she entered Joseph's house later that evening.

"Well, you wouldn't believe what I found out today," Joseph replied, with a shell-shocked look on his face.

Suzi was taken aback. "Looks like you've seen some serious stuff," she gasped. "Y-you go first."

"Do you know a certain Anthonio Zeppeli?" Joseph asked her.

"As in...the student who died a while back?" she said. "I've...I've heard of him, he was talked about a couple of times by my friends one year ahead of your batch. And about...what happened to him."

Caesar, who at just the right moment, had been bouncing by, was intrigued. "Happened to who?" he asked, pausing in his tracks.

Suzi sat down on the sofa. "They say he was a student from a few batches prior. He was a talented sculptor who was great at working with clay, marble, concrete..."

"Yeah, I've seen his stuff," interjected Joseph.

"Well, the thing is, they told he had been commissioned to carve a mural into a hotel's front lobby, nearly ten years ago," she told. "He was perched up on a ladder, chipping away at the wall, when suddenly, he broke a support on a stone ornament, shaped like a cross--"

"--and he was so startled when it began to topple, that he stumbled right off his ladder, fell to his death...and then the stone cross fell and landed right on top of him."

Joseph winced. That sounded like a terrible way to go.

"Well, there's something you wouldn't believe," Joseph said, pulling out a yearbook he'd borrowed from the library. Look at his face."

Suzi leaned closer for a look, and gasped in shock.

"I'd never seen what he'd looked like, but...but..."

"Caesar. It's you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Caesar exclaimed. "I can't see anything from down here!"

Suzi picked up the bust with some effort and rested him onto the tabletop. He hopped over to the book to check out what all the commotion was about--

--and was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

"See, this is what I was gonna tell you," Suzi said. "I'd been reading on the design on the bag that you found Caesar's clay in. There were legends in ancient Mesoamerica that artists who were talented enough would be able to usher in spirits of predescessors into idols of a special sacred clay to serve as inspiration," she said.

"And maybe, just maybe, Caesar is alive-- because he is Anthonio Zeppeli's soul."

"So am I a ghost?!" Caesar screamed in terrified confusion, hopping backwards a few bounces from sheer terror. "I'm a dead man in a clay head?!" he cried, disturbed by the revelation.

"More like a reincarnation," Suzi explained. "The legends told that they became spirit guides to their creators, that they held the wisdom and knowledge of the past, but remembered little of their past lives-- rather, they carried over some traits, but were their own, unique person."

"Did they have bodies?" Joseph asked right off the bat.

"Yes... you were just unlucky to not have enough clay," she added.

Caesar groaned in frustration.

"You know, I honestly wouldn't have believed some ancient mythology," Joseph said, "but given I've been living with a talking, walking sculpture--"

"Not exactly walking," Caesar corrected.

"...er, bouncing, sculpture for the last couple of weeks, I'd take any explanation at this point." he admitted.

"I think he chose you, Joseph," Suzi said with a smile.

Caesar looked at Anthonio's picture in the yearbook, and saw only himself. The same green eyes, blond hair, unmistakable face. He lacked the pink cheek patches, however, which Joseph admitted he'd tacked on to Caesar just for kicks. Anthonio had a body.

Could he really be Anthonio Zeppeli returned from the dead? Caesar pondered. If that was true, he remembered nothing of being Anthonio.

The idea of having once been a living human unsettled Caesar.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel oddly vindicated.

He'd wondered often recently why he even existed, as just another of Joseph's art. What use did he serve?

But now he wondered, upon hearing of Suzi's tale-- maybe this was his purpose.

--------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #battle tendency #jojo's bizarre adventure #caejose #caesar x joseph #gingerregg #hands of life au #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph

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fanfics-arent-therapy-but-idc · 3 years

Text

JATP FANFIC

Juke

Fluff

Oneshot

Time and Space

Julie and the boys decide to take a break from the band while Julie gets her bearings at college while they go and explore. Turns out that kindred spirits don’t take well to time and space.

Julie sat on the black swivel chair at the studio, back slightly arched over a keyboard as she recorded a new part to the chorus of a song she was working on. She hummed the lyrics lightly allowing her fingers to make what she heard in her head come to fruition. “Perfect” , she said once she added the keyboard to the song and replayed it. The song was mostly pop with a little bit of soul. It was right on brief as far as she was concerned, but the professors at Berklee were no joke. She just hoped that she did enough for an acceptable grade. After saving the song on her drive, she made her way to her room on 150 Massachusetts avenue. Her roommate, a dance major from Brazil, wasn’t going to be home until 11:00pm, meaning that she had two hours of alone time.

She entered the cozy room with a smile. Alana had turned on the L.E.D fairy lights and she could also smell the faint floral scent of the oil diffuser. She must have done this before she met up with her friends for their weekly Friday dinners . Julie locked the door, sat on her desk, and scribbled a note of gratitude, ending the note with a new Portuguese phrase that she’d picked up from her, “te amo muito”. After placing it on her bed, she began her nightly routine: shower, sing in the shower, wear her comfy pajamas(which consisted of an old, ripped up T-shirt that she had stolen from Luke years ago, and fluffy reindeer pajama pants), check her phone for messages, find out that she didn’t receive any, and ultimately sit on her bed for another hour with her notebook and a pencil. She usually felt most creative around this time, but tonight was not one of those nights. She stared at her phone that was all too proud to showcase her embarrassingly empty notifications list.

At first, the band came to the decision to go on hiatus for Julie’s sake. They had spent every hour of everyday together for two and a half years, cultivating a loyal following and making great music. A needed break, just so Julie could focus on school, was the logical move. Ever since they materialized as real people, they hadn’t spent much time exploring this new world. This was their chance. She mostly attributed the lack of communication to the fact that they probably still had no clue how to use smartphones and ignored the very plausible idea that they might have needed a break from her. She and Flynn spoke more often, but she was easily busier than Julie over at Northwestern with her double major in Performance studies and Film and Media studies.

Sigh. Julie fell backwards onto her bed and closed her eyes, remembering the day she left for Boston. It was still super hot in California, but she had a sweater stuffed into her carry-on for when she landed on the East Coast. The boys drove a separate car that contained most of her luggage, while her Dad, Flynn, and her brother were in another car, blasting the radio. Her father singing the loudest, trying to drown out the pang in his chest, Julie assumed. She was excited to go to college, but she would miss her hometown, her family, Flynn, and the boys. When they parked, the boys insisted on carrying all of the luggage. She had to wrestle Reggie to hold on to her carry-on. The boys wondered at everything they witnessed, none of them having taken a flight anywhere before dying. She distinctly remembers the way Luke smiled and waved at the troupe of pilots walking past them and towards their respective flights. When it was time for her to pass the threshold, her dad broke down, silent tears breaking through. “Mom would be so proud of you”, he assured her. Now it was Julie’s turn to cry. She hugged them all one more time, Luke last of all.

“Hey”, he started, “don’t forget about us when you become a cool, super smart, college student”. Julie laughed so hard that she startled the entire waiting area full of people.

“I promise that I won’t. And just because the band’s taking a break… that doesn’t mean you can’t call, or text, or video call. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Of course, once I figure out how to do that video call thing you’ll be seeing this face once a day”, he promised. Julie laughed again, wiped her tear-stained cheeks, and boarded her flight.

That was three weeks ago. The first time he video called her, the connection was poor, and they couldn’t hear each other. The second time he tried to call, she just got an embarrassingly bad grade on an exam that she had spent all night studying for in addition to being days behind on a project in the very same class. Julie lay in bed cringing at the memory of that afternoon.

“Hey Julie! woah, are you crying? What’s going on are you oka- “

“No- I mean I was, but I- I’m good now, just busy”,

“Oh. Well, what’s up?”

“Uh, nothing much honestly. Just… yeah just super busy”

“Julie, do you need me to hang up?”

“I’m so sorry, but yes. I’m just-”

“Busy? Got it. See you later”

She felt physically ill remembering that day. She had half a mind to text him an apology, but some sort of self-preservation setting inside of her stopped her every time. Knowing Luke, he’d probably texted everyone that she was super busy and not to be disturbed. Maybe that’s why she’s been left on radio silence for a week. Her dad even downsized from his daily calls and he always kept them under ten minutes; even if she insisted that she had more time. She was just about to call it a night when her phone vibrated. She froze. Don’t get too excited. It’s probably from one of your professors.

It wasn’t. Julie blinked and turned the brightness all the way up on her phone. The message read:

🎶Luke🎶: Hey, are you busy?

Julie was quick to respond:

You: No, not at all. Wanna talk?

Just as the little notification popped up to indicate that her message was delivered, there was a knock on her door. She assumed that it was Alana coming home early. She frequently forgot her keys so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility, but who she opened the door for was completely unexpected.

“Dad! Carlos! What are you doing here?” Standing in front of her door was her dad and brother. She hugged them tightly and to more of her surprise, just outside the doorway was Flynn, Alex, Reggie, and Luke, standing humbly behind everyone else.

“Don’t be mad at us”, Alex said, “Luke made it very clear that this surprise could not be spoiled under any circumstances”.

“But we’re not that good at keeping secrets,” Reggie added.

“So you all decided to ghost me?” she questioned.

“Sort of”, Alex responded quietly. They were all looking at her. Wondering if they had made a grave mistake and if she would slam the door in their faces. She wouldn’t.

“Well… the risk was worth it. I am officially surprised!” she whispered, realizing that her fellow, sleep-deprived, students would not appreciate the interruption. The look of relief on everyone’s face was hilarious.

“Come on everyone, let’s get out of this hallway. I know a good 24-hour diner just around here. They have seats big enough for all of us”, Julie suggested.

“That sounds great Julie, but please tell me that you're getting changed first?” Flynn asked.

Julie remembered that she was in her ‘comfy clothes’. Clothes consisting of Luke’s shirt and Christmas pajamas. “Uhhh, yeah. Give me a minute”. She shut the door, jumped into a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. “Okay, now I’m ready! Let’s go”.

The walk to the Diner was short, but Julie had learnt a lot. Carlos just started a photography club at his school, Flynn’s roommate, Justine, has an aunt who owns a hair salon, meaning discounted box braids all year. She was really excited about that. Reggie has been surprising fans at local cafes with acoustic versions of the band’s best hits. Alex has been holed up in every museum and library in California and Dad was up to the same old stuff, taking photos, cooking, and whatever old people do, Julie added to her dad’s protest.

“I am not old”, he responded as he pushed open the Diner doors. The place was pretty clean to most city-dwellers standards. The faded blue and yellow banquets surrounded the walls and long wooden tables were placed across from them. Julie took the liberty of snagging a few stools from the counter, seeing as the room was empty. Julie, Carlos, and her Dad sat on the stools while the rest of the crew spread out on the banquets. When the waitress came around she informed them that they were in luck and that there was a fresh batch of maple bacon and regular glazed hot out of the deep fryer. They ordered one of each for everyone, along with a pot of classic Diner coffee and a pitcher of water for Carlos. As they waited for their desserts, the group fell into a lull. Julie took this chance to get into Luke’s head. He had planned an entire trip across the country for her, but he hadn’t said more than twenty words to her since she’d layed eyes on him.

“So, Luke,” she started tentatively, “what have you been up to? Visit any museums lately?”

“Pfft I wish!” her father exclaimed. She peeked over at a mortified Luke and the sympathetic stares of his friends. “I swear all he ever does is sit in that studio, write songs, and sulk”, he continued mercilessly, only stopping when the waitress arrived.

“Here are the donuts. The coffee and water are coming right up”.

“Thank you so much,” her Dad responded kindly. “Now back to what I was say-”

“Julie, can we talk… outside,” Luke interrupted. Flynn and Carlos tried to stifle a laugh that ended in both of them choking on their donuts. Julie was… confused to say the least but she obliged, standing and walking shyly past the door he opened for her.

‘It’s freezing out here!’ She wanted to say to cut the tension, but she knew that the weather was not one of the topics of conversation that Luke had on his mind. They were walking now, taking small steps to nowhere in particular. Luke spoke first.

“So, as your father has so kindly told you, our beloved friends, and the entire Diner staff, I’m sort of miserable without you”.

Julie snorted. “Well, to be honest, I'm not having such a great time without you either. We’re really that co-dependent, huh?” Luke was smiling next to her and she was smiling back. She really did miss his smile.

“Ha, well, you say co-dependent, and I say that I'm deeply in love with you,” he shrugged, “same difference”. What? Julie froze. She was not prepared for this, but one could say that that was just bad planning on her part. Julie still remembers the day when she almost lost him to Caleb. The feeling of absolute darkness surrounding her heart, the feeling of heartbreak and anger. She was way too young to call that feeling love, but looking back, looking at all of the late-night songwriting sessions and the way she lost all ability to speak when he gave her that smile, maybe it was. Maybe it still is. Realizing that Luke was watching her, she tried to utter some sort of response.

“Luke, I-”

“You don’t have to say it back, in fact I'm asking you not to, but just hear me out on this one request. Please?”

“Okay.”

“Let me stay.”

“Where? My dorm room. I think that Alana and my dad might have something to say about that,” she answered, unsure of where this was going.

“Very funny Molina. He was doing his nervous finger twitch. “C’mon lighten the mood Julie!” She chastised herself.

“Right? I should drop out and pursue a career in come-”

“Let me stay here in Boston”, he butted in. She didn’t mind because she could see how much what he wanted to say scared him. “I'll get my own place, I'll work crappy retail jobs when all my money runs out, I’ll busk on the streets for all I care, but I… I need this. He was gesturing at the two of them.

Julie stood there unmoving. He needed her. The sentiment was horrifying and exciting at the same time, but she couldn’t hide her truth when he was showing his off right in front of her. To her, he was that bit of California sunshine she was always missing, the series of sounds that filled the empty part of a song she was producing, he was like the sweet glaze on a soft donut; he completed her. Without thinking, she grabbed his shaking hands and placed them on her cheeks. Like from memory, he was caressing her face. She placed her hands on his face and did the same. For a split second, Julie was sixteen again, in her mother’s studio, holding on tight to what she had left, what she wanted more than anything.

“I need you too, Luke. You're the glaze to my donut.” It was Luke’s turn to laugh now. Julie knew it was a stupid metaphor, but it got the job done and it made him smile.

“Oh my gosh that was terrible”, he teased, putting both hands over his mouth in shock, “how did you get into Berklee?”

“That’s a lot of talk coming from someone who didn’t get into Berklee”, she teased back, arms folded.

“Hey, don’t underestimate me! I could have gotten in had I applied”, he assured her.

“You don’t even have a transcript, Luke.”

“Once again, do not underestimate my skills of persuasion. I managed to get you to let three ghosts live in your studio” he replied.

“Fine. Then apply next semester,” she teased.

“Is that a challenge, Molina?”

“More like an invitation”, Julie looked him in the eyes now, all jokes aside.

“I’ll be there. Always”, he answered.

“Wow. That was, inspiring”, said a familiar voice, “but can we please get back to the hotel? The waitress just warned us that we don’t want to be walking around here after dark.”

Julie and Luke turned in unison to see a paranoid Alex standing in front them. “Oh, and congratulations on the two of you finally realizing that you are literally inseparable. This past month has been torture for me! Now c’mon, let’s go before we get murdered, but for real this time.”

The trio walked back into the Diner with Luke and Julie holding hands. This was met with various cheers, chants, and a relieved “finally”! from Julie’s dad. “Now I can use my studio in peace!”

THE END!

#jatp #julie x luke #julie molina #luke patterson #juke fic #juke fanfiction #team juke #fanfic #julie and the himbos #julie and the phantoms

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nosybookworm · 3 years

Text

Ninja Academy vs Hero School Rant

Naruto was my jam back in the day. I stayed up late to watch the new episodes, bought the dvd box sets and manga volumes, collected toys and cards just to stare at adoringly, even pretended to be sick so that I could stay home and watch a Naruto marathon. Point is, I LOVED Naruto.

I was invested in the characters. My heart ached for every single character that gave me a backstory. I ugly cried on more than ten occasions.

The action and moral dilemmas sucked me in and spit me out, made me the person I am today thinking critically about the stuff I love because wow that universe is in no way safe or sane for the people living in it lol.

The villains absolutely TERRIFIED me DESPITE STILL WANTING TO SEE MORE OF THEM, Orochimaru alone had me sleeping with the lights on and ripping the arms off his action figure just to be safe.

When I started watching My Hero Academia those old happy feelings started slapping me in the face drawing me in. MHA hits a lot of the same points that Naruto had and I didn’t really notice until the end of season 3 because those points weren’t as in-your-face or emotionally impactful as it was in Naruto I guess. Not to say it didn’t have an impact! Just that it rolled off me a lot easier which might just be a me problem.

I Mean:

The main character getting bullied/excluded because of something he can’t control.

Underdog character then meeting or making an emotional connection with a mentor figure truly feeling “acceptance” for maybe the first time and taking that all important first step toward their life long dream.

A teacher willing to sacrifice himself to protect the students.

A school training teens to protect/serve.

Rivalry that may or may not be actual friendship.

Students fighting against each other to “rank up” by showing how capable they are to their superiors.

Enemies invading to terrorize the kids and escaping to terrorize another day.

Traumatic family backstories that child will now attempt to seek justice through own power.

Previous underdog character actually having a secret power that no one knows about but a select few and that he has to train to learn how to use, but it makes him a powerhouse that is always surprising the enemy and inspiring his fellows.

Sure all that can be tied to any story when generalized like this, but the way MHA presents them is pretty similar to Naruto.

(Okay, ALL OF THIS is going to be my personal opinion. Things I want to say to get out of my system so that I can move on. It’s long too. So, now that you’ve been warned continue on.)

The more I got into it the stranger it felt because despite hitting those same points I loved they hit in a different way that....well... made me a little uncomfortable to sit through.

Like Aizawa

Very clearly the Kakashi in MHA. He’s sly hardly ever telling his students the truth but has incredibly high expectations of them, has been known to expel students left and right until his most recent batch of kids, is ready and willing to throw himself in harms way for them, and surprisingly competent despite his exhausted persona/personality. However the way these two teachers act get two very different results from me. Naruto got a chance to introduce Kakashi in a way that endeared him to me, the bell test was more than just showcasing the kids current abilities it was introducing Kakashi (the Jounin that is a kind of jack of all trades, the known perv that will publicly read porn, the guy that will happily mess with a bunch of kids to “teach them a lesson” and because its funny, the guy that requires the students under his care to care about each other because caring for his team matters to him more than any mission, that guy). MHA gave the quirk test. Aizawa mostly in the background taking notes and jotting down scores after his speech about expelling whoever comes last. We didn’t get to hear Aizawa’s thoughts until the very end when Izuku surprised him.

I didn’t really feel any connection toward Aizawa until I stumbled across fanfics that wrote him more involved with the students and I think that’s the problem. Aizawa is dedicated to his student’s education, he believes they will all be amazing heroes one day, but he hardly ever interacts with them. He can be seen watching their training from afar, sleeping in a corner as another teacher takes over for a bit, protecting them from danger or fighting along side them, and proudly declaring that Bakugo would never turn villain but all of that means very little emotionally when I can’t see him making connections with these students to make this standoffish confidence understandable. He comes off as one of those super smart teachers that have undecipherable lessons because he has no idea how to connect with his students enough to explain in way they understand. Similarly, he like jots down that he’s taking note of Bakugo and might need to step in before he goes down the wrong path but then does nothing and confidently tells the press Bakugo would never be a villain.

Kakashi was pretty standoffish too, no denying that, and the little episodes when the kids conspire to try to see him without his mask are the kind of outside interactions that would be weird for a modern teacher-student relationship like in MHA, so I get why Aizawa doesn’t really have that with any of the kids. However, Kakashi saw the path Sasuke was going down and spent time with him and confronted him about it (it did nothing to stop him but he tried). He took time to find a teacher for Naruto. He was present and awake for just about every milestone in there education with him. He told them when he was proud of them not other people. He involved himself in some of their high jinks to measure their growth and as such was able to have confidence in them when they went off on their own.

The Villains

And My Hero Academia villains, namely All For One.

I felt nothing when he showed up. I was all caught up in All Might and his passing of the torch. The guy without eyes didn’t feel threatening, didn’t feel like the big bad he was suppose to be. The League of Villains really didn’t feel like “serious enemies” either cause I actually really enjoyed them when they were on screen for their dynamics with each other. Similar to how I liked the Akatsuki in their more light-hearted scenes when they where super strong idiots banded together by sheer force of will and explosive personalities that refuse to leave a job half finished. With the League I would be just as entertained (probably more so) if they were in a slice of life anime just being terrible people together.

I get the feeling All For One was supposed to be MHA’s Orochimaru. (And I say this despite knowing Orochimaru’s introduction is probably a lot closer to Stain what with the confrontation and all, but his whole “the world is corrupt, I will cut out the wrong and remake it into the pure world it should have always been” aligned more with Pain especially with his quick turnabout saving Izuku.)

Orochimaru always felt in control even when he was in hiding or on the run, he felt like he had more up his sleeve which is the only thing I got from All For One when he was imprisoned. Both Orochimaru and All For One showed up out of nowhere, very obviously in a class of their own that the teenage main characters had no hope of beating, and a mysterious backstory that clearly put all the adults in the know on edge. But I just don’t see All For One as a villain. Nothing about him screamed “Run for your lives this man will smile as he tears you apart!” like Orochimaru. Nothing about All For One’s secret Mad Scientist lab gave me creepy vibes that left me on the edge of my seat clutching at the nearest pillow the way the Sound Village that practically worshiped Orochimaru and the many base of operations he had did.

Terrible Parents

The Todoroki family.

...

Look. The world of Naruto has terrible parenting, but they also live in a dictator/military run nation where kids can be a front-line defense or key players in a war zone so it’s hard to measure how to view these people. Cause a father that beats his kid and yells at him to get stronger has genuine reasons to rightfully freak out when children as young as 8 get sent to ninja academy. Families that have a rare genetic trait like the Hyuga or Uchiha have every right to be tough and stern if they feel that will protect their kids when they know putting them out into the world makes them an easier target for enemies that would rip out their eyes.

I can judge their actions based on their consequences. Like the Uchiha clan planning a revolt forcing their eldest to massacre them to keep the peace and their youngest to live with a crazy amount of trauma. Like the Hyuga clan branding their branch members to protect family eyes, but forcing them into being lesser than the main branch and all the trauma that forced on Neji’s poor head. The stupid level of expectation set on Hinata’s young shoulders that she couldn’t meet in the way her clan wanted that made her self-confidence practically non existent. The Hokage leaving Naruto mostly alone for his entire childhood in a village that openly hated him. The Kazekage trying to have his lonely three-year-old assassinated multiple times once by his beloved uncle - the only person that was kind and loved him - that scarred him so entirely that he carved “love” into his forehead and rampaged around the village and did casual murder intentionally for years before meeting Naruto.

All that... I can get behind as abuse. I want those sad kids to be happy. They deserved better and I will happily lose myself in a fix-it fic where they get that.

MHA gives me similar scenarios but without the clear-cut consequences that shows when parenting for that world is abuse.

Endeavor is not a good husband. He is emotionally abusive to his wife to the point she has a mental break and attacks a child.

However, in a world of heroes, in a world where high school students are trained to protect and serve and that self sacrifice is a noble heroic trait. How do I compare such a society to my own? They put children in harms way with hero internships yet don’t allow them to defend themselves if they don’t have a hero license, that would be like getting a learners permit but not being allowed to practice driving.

All this to say I have a hard time telling when bad parenting falls into abuse when it comes to MHA. Endeavor is not a good parent, he is an abusive husband, but is he an abusive parent? As a hero training up the next generation of heroes can it be argued that he is pretty okay even if his methods are a little harsh? None of his children fear him from what I’ve seen. Shouto happily tells him his plans to never use his fire and all the reasons why without fearing he might be punished for it. The other kids seem to be pretty okay going on with their lives. Toya being the exception but again I don’t know what happened to him and he’s a follower of Stain so did he have a falling out with heroes or did his father push too hard?

Nighteye & Tsunade

Okay so this is where I get super rant-y. I have feelings on Nighteye and none of them good.

Nighteye being the estranged comrade of All Might the underdog’s teacher, Tsunade being the estranged comrade of Jiraiya Naruto’s teacher.

Tsunade has been hurt deeply. She ran because she felt that was the only way to save herself from more pain. Here comes Jiraiya with his new little tag along demanding she come back home, she gets appropriately angry and tries everything she can to get them to leave her alone. Naruto being the special little underdog that he is immediately gets under her skin reminding her of all the loved ones she lost bringing back all of that old pain back, so she gets even. She beats him down and challenges him to an impossible challenge to show him how small he really is and get out of her own responsibilities. But he wins. He wins, and shows Tsunade how closed off she’s become forcing her to face reality head on and face her fears at last. He changes her whole world view through action.

Nighteye has been hurt deeply. He sees the future for every person he touches and as such sees futures in which people he loves get hurt and sometimes die. He believes there is nothing he or anyone can do to change these visions. All Might is his hero, His friend and mentor, his comrade. His friend gets hurt in a way he can never fully recover from and he sees a vision where his friend dies on the battle field. He then tells All Might who refuses to retire and leaves without a backward glance. They don’t speak until years later when Nighteye picks out a successor for One For All, but Toshi chooses Izuku and never meets Nighteye’s pick.

Izuku, needing an internship not Gran Torino, goes to Sir Nighteye All Might’s old side kick. He gets tested, told he’s not worthy of One For All, and has to work under this man as he tries to get Izuku to see how Mirio is more worthy of All Might’s quirk. Facing off against Overhaul when they are at their most desperate Nighteye uses his quirk to see what will happen and sees the worst possible scenario. They lose. Then Izuku flies in sweeps Eri into his arms and fights Overhaul saving the day. Izuku proved, unknowingly, that the future Nighteye sees is not set in stone with his actions and on his death bed Nighteye acknowledges that without acknowledging it.

Nighteye’s treatment toward Izuku makes me uncomfortable. This is a man in a position of power over this student telling him that he is not enough, will never be enough, and that he is a disappointment.

His glorifying of All Might makes me uncomfortable. He was All Might’s partner and yet he practically had a shrine of the man in his office. He made him more than just a man, built him up as The Symbol of Peace and kept him there (as many of Toshi’s friends seem to do except for Nedzu and Naomasa) despite getting close enough trusted enough to learn about One For All. And despite all that “love” and “devotion” he left Toshinori alone to deal with his new normal of a permanently damaged system alone for years then takes out all that frustration and grief out on his friends chosen successor.

Then when all is said and done and he’s dying and he’s confronted by Toshinori and Izuku what happens? Does he apologize? Explain his actions? Get closure in his final moments?

No. Well, Toshinori got some measure of closure. Izuku got a few words that essentially boiled down to “Good job, your better than I thought.” without talking about the newfound hope Izuku’s action gave him that his visions are only possibilities not absolute. All of his attention then goes to his choice for One For All, Mirio.

Understandably.

He’s dying and Mirio was always his main priority as a mentor, and you know who Mirio looks like? All Might. He’s blonde, buff, blue-eyed, cheerfully friendly, and with a happy-go-lucky persona about him. Sir Nighteye taught him to smile. Chose him to be the new wielder of One For All and without telling him anything planned to introduce him to Toshinori to make his choice reality. Doesn’t that sound... I don’t know... uncomfortably close to manipulation? Grooming? To taking this child under his wing and molding him to be pretty close to a new version of All Might?

I don’t know. Maybe if Sir Nighteye had lived this uncomfortable impression I have of him would be lessened as he began to internalize the full extent of possibilities for the future that he never thought possible before and acted more hopeful, more willing to take gambles because his visions were no longer a guarantee of what will happen.

#sorry for the rant #Naruto #mha #spoilers?

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 41

Warnings: mention of mental health issues

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

She stands in the doorway that leads from the house into the garage, watching him as he works. Just three hours ago those hands -so big and strong, calloused and scarred, powerful- had been patiently and gently braiding his little girl’s pigtails; securing them with ribbons. Now they inspect a variety of automatic and semi-automatic weapons; stripping them down, cleaning every individual piece, then expertly putting them back together. His movements are methodical and efficient; never hesitating, never second guessing, just fluid, effortless motions of a man with years of experience behind him.

It’s been years since she’s seen him THIS intense. A level that only comes with the game; memories of past jobs and the things he’s had to do to survive and the knowledge that he’ll have to resort to them in the near future. His lips set in a thin, stern line and his brow furrowed with both concentration and worry; eyes dark and focused. Haunted, even. A man whose fractured and tattered brain holds very vivid recollections of the things he’s seen and heard. Whose hands know what it’s like to take the lives of others; whether through hand to hand combat or with the squeeze of a trigger. It isn’t an easy thing to do; even when your own life is in danger. You always wish there’s another choice; one that won’t result in bloodshed and death. You kill out of necessity, not desire or enjoyment. Not because you thrive on the snapping of bones or the sight and full of someone else’s blood covering your hands and body. Not because you ‘get off’ on the sick thrill of watching someone take their last breaths; seeing hope and then life drain from their eyes. You do it because if the shoe were on the other foot, they’d be rejoicing in your demise.

There ARE mercs like that; who have become accustomed to killing. Desensitized. Physically and mentally enjoying the brutality and the finality. She’s witnessed it first hand; those that brag about their kills (the more gruesome the better) while their eyes glitter with victory and excitement. But that’s not Tyler. It never has been. The reputation of a merciless, savage, stone killed killer being built upon hearsay and other peoples’ expectations on what he SHOULD be like. She’d known he was different right from the start; the moment she’d stepped foot into that shack in the outback and actually engaged laid eyes on him and engaged with him. She’d gone into that meeting with that reputation and all the gossip and stories fresh in her mind; preconceived thoughts and opinions that had initially clouded her judgment. She’d been surprised -pleasantly- to discover he wasn’t what other peoples’ running mouths had put into her mind. Much younger than expected. Far more attractive. With those blue eyes that held so many regrets and so much pain. Guilt. Even. So troubled and haunted; a man with deep, buried trauma and secrets. And she’d been the fortunate one; who’d gotten him to open up and let his guard down. Who’d helped him learn to trust -and more importantly, to love- again.

This is the old Tyler. The one standing in front of her now. The one that’s focused on the job and everything that comes with it. His personality is different; closed off, irritable, unapproachable. Yet she knows how to deal with it. With HIM. She’s walked on the particular batch of thin ice before; learning how to take the extra ‘edginess’ that creeps into his voice, the up and down moods that encompass everything pure and utter calm to volatile rage. She’s the one person who can engage with him during those moments. Confident that he’d never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her. It’s the nature of the beast. That bad that comes with such an unpredictable and dangerous existence.

“Is it okay to come in?” she asks. And when he looks up and glances towards her, she notices how his features momentarily soften; the creases on his brow disappearing, eyes lightening, a small smile curving his lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re just so into it. I didn’t want to bother you. Or get in the way.”

“Babe, you could never bother me. You know that.”

His words -and the obvious change in tone and demeanour- help quell her own anxiety and frayed nerves. It’s been a hell of a forty eight hours. The last half being especially stressful; ews of more threats and the upcoming arrival of Saju’s brother (who’d insisted that the only safe way to speak was to do so face to face) and both Nathan and Koen planning on coming to temporarily bunk with Ovi in the guest house. It’s just too much, too soon. And trying to fake ‘normalcy’ for the sake of children is not an easy thing; exhausting both physically and mentally.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says as she walks through the garage, the cement floor cool against the bottom of her feet. In one hand she holds a plate of food; filled to the edges with reheated leftovers from last night, in the other a bottle of water. “You haven’t eaten much since yesterday and I know how you get when you don’t fuel up properly. Where do you think Millie gets her ‘hangriness’ from?”

“That’s all you.”

“Please. You get so bitchy and ragey. And I don’t want to put up with that, so…” she offers him the plate. “...eat. Please. You can’t run on an empty tank.”

“You worry too much.”

“So? I worry. It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it by now. Humour me, okay? I’m trying to take care of you here. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not. But you ARE my husband and I love you and I just want to baby you sometimes. So swallow some of that pride and toxic masculinity and let me do it. Stop being so difficult, Tyler James.”

He smirks at her use of his full name. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of stubborn people. I’m trying to take care of you. It’s who I am. Do you want to make me cry?”

“Never.”

“Then shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“You know what..” a slow grin spreads across his face. “...you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a very nice ass, though.” she praises, and he lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah? Well yours isn’t half bad either,” he says, his hand sliding down to tightly grip one of the cheeks through the fabric of her shorts; pinching lightly as he kisses her. Long and slow and soft; her body rising up onto her tip toes and then leaning into his. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to ever say I don’t do nice things for you,” she teases. “I swear if I hear one negative out of you…”

“I’ll be nice,” Tyler promises, and then takes the plate of food from her. “You do spoil me. I’ll give you that. You good?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admits. “I’m a little...on edge. This is all happening so fast and it feels like I can’t even catch my breath. And then I see you in here doing this…” she nods in the direction of the table filled with weapons and plastic containers packed with various supplies scattered about. “...I didn’t think this would all happen so soon. It’s a little...overwhelming.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you at all. It’s a messed up situation all around. And I know you’re just trying to protect us and I love you so much for that. I do. It just hurts. Watching you like this. Seeing the Old Tyler come back.”

He gives a nod in response, both brows arched.

“Not that I don’t love that Tyler because that’s the Tyler I fell in love with in the first place. It’s just scary. Thinking of you getting back into things.”

“You’re worried that new Tyler won’t come back.”

“A little, I guess. It’s okay with them both hanging around. But I don’t I’m ready to deal with just the old one. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her, as his hands move to her side and he places a kiss on her temple. “He’ll come back. I promise.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what’s right in front of us,” she suggests, attempting to be more cheerful. “We have our weekend coming up and then Millie’s birthday. Normal stuff. I need that right now. Normal. Our version of normal, at least.”

Tyler nods in agreement; kissing her once more before giving her ass a final squeeze and a light tap before carrying the plate of food to the work table across the room and perching himself on the edge. He watches her as he eats. The way she slowly circles the table, eyes thoroughly scanning the various weapons; some cleaned and complete, others still in pieces. Old habits die hard, no matter how many times you attempt to kill them off. This had been very much her life as well; time in the corps, time on the job. Their skill sets vastly different; her the brains behind a mission, him the brawn. But it’s still ingrained in both of them. And it fills him with both a sense of pride and sadness. Proud how strong and intelligent and resilient she is; knowing what she’s capable of and all the people she’s helped rid the world of and the lives she’s had a hand in saving. But also disheartened that she even HAS to revisit her former existence. She’d been more than willing to give it up, content in her decision to be a wife and a mother and concentrating solely on those things. And now her old self is making an appearance and he absolutely hates that for her. That she even has to think about anything job related, never mind the threats that have been made towards not only them, but their children.

“I don’t know who the guy is that gave you these things, but he is no rookie,” Esme comments. “It’s quantity AND quality. I don’t know I want to know how much you shelled out for all of this.”

“He owed me. A huge debt I could have collected on over the years but never did. So this is how he paid up.”

“Someone you were supposed to kill?”

“Something like that. People wanted him to suffer. Thought it made more sense to keep him in one piece.”

“Good call. He’s obviously a guy you want on your team. There’s more where these came from?”

“If I need more I just have to ask. That’ll cost me though.”

“How much?”

Tyler shrugs. “Haven’t discussed stuff like that yet. I thought you wanted normal. Because this...you...not normal.”

“This used to be. Normal,” she reasons. “The normal me.”

“It doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“It’s just kind of hard not to fall back into old habits. I figured as soon as you decided to get into it..to start a business...some of it might come back.”

“It doesn’t have to come back for you,” he points out.

“We’re a team, remember? Partners. Not just in marriage and being parents. In everything.”

Her fingertips skim over the barrel of an automatic rifle and he sees the look in her eyes; one he’s recognized some days when he glances in the mirror. The look of someone who has seen too much. Things a regular person can’t even begin to comprehend.

“What you take on, I take on.” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be that away.”

“It SHOULD be that way,” she argues, then sighs heavily and yanks her hand away from the gun, as if it’s dangerously hot to the touch and has scalded her skin. “Is it okay?” she asks, and then forces herself away from the table, nervously wringing her hands together. “The food?”

“It’s perfect. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Thank you. You’re a good little wife.”

She sidles up next to him, placing the bottle on the table and leaning stomach first against the edge. “I try. That’s what matters right?”

“Baby, you do more than try. You get shit done.”

She gives a small smile, “You think they’ll be okay?” she asks, as her fingers absentmindedly pick at the label on the bottle of water. “The kids? While we’re gone?”

“We’ll only be gone three days.”

“It only takes a second for things to go to shit.”

“It’s not like we’re leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Ovi will be here. Nathan, Koen. The neighbor and her people have their eyes and ears on things. They’re in good hands. I’d be the first to say you’re not going if I thought otherwise.”

“It’s the first time leaving Addie for even an hour,” Esme frets. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous about it. It’s not like she’s my first.”

“You’re a mom. Moms worry about their babies. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the last. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay. We’ve got good people taking care of them. I wouldn’t leave them with just anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You don’t even like leaving me with just anyone and I’m an adult.”

“And we need this. Some time away. Just us.”

Esme nods in agreement. “You realize we haven’t been anywhere together...without kids...in seven years?”

“We were in Dhaka,” he teases.

“Dhaka does NOT count. We didn’t even really know each other then. And no, Tyler. Knowing someone’s favourite sexual position and where their G spot is does NOT count as knowing them. Regardless of what you think.”

“We went away for the weekend after we got married,” he reminds her. “To Byron Bay.”

“I was pregnant with Millie so technically we weren’t alone.”

“Still acted like honeymooners though.” he grins. “Even with a baby in you.”

“We still act that way,” she laughs. “And it’s been six and a half years since we got married.”

“Six and a half? Feels like sixty,” he chides.

She frowns.

“I’m teasing,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. “That's a good thing though, yeah? That we still want to fuck each other as bad as we do?”

“It’s flattering. I mean, I’m not exactly the same person I was when we first met. I definitely don't look the same.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you just get better with age,” she laments. “I just get worse and worse every day. I’ve just become more of a mes. And not a hot one either.”

“Stop. Stop talking like that. I fucking hate when you do that. I wish you could just see yourself the way I see you; if you just saw yourself for one second through my eyes. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it does make me biased because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. Because I think you’re cute and sexy and everything and anything in between. But it doesn't make it less true. I wish you’d stop tearing yourself down like that. Because it fucking kills me inside and I don’t know what more I can do or say to make you see yourself like I do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits, her voice trembling, eyes welling with tears. “I just haven’t been ‘right’ in what seems like forever. Since before Addie was born. Maybe even before Declan. I thought maybe it was just postpartum and that it wouldn’t go away on its own. But now I realize it’s been there and it’s getting worse and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop talking like that.”

“But there is though.” Esme insists. “There’s something wrong. I don’t know what is; I just know it’s there. It’s always been there. Just sometimes it doesn’t bother me and other days it does but I just cope with it and deal. I don’t know what it is or how to stop it and just feels like it’s choking me and it’s trying to take over. And I don’t want it to take over.”

Placing the nearly empty plate of food beside him, he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her head. Drawing her into him; spreading his thighs as she stands between them, her head coming to rest on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he opts for silence. One hand still on her head, the other on the small of her back; securely holding her place, feeling the way her hands tightly grip the back of his shirt.

“And it’s not you,” she speaks through tears. “I know you’re thinking it is. That it’s you and it’s getting back onto the job and all the stuff with Mahajan and the neighbour and all of that.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“But it’s not that. And it’s not you. You’re the only thing that feels right and makes sense any more. It’s like there’s something or someone sitting on my chest and squeezing my heart and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning and I can’t save myself. Or maybe I just want to save myself. Maybe I just want to take over and then I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that.” It’s a plea; raw and emotional. Torn apart inside by hearing those words come out of her mouth; feeling the tears that soak straight through his shirt.

He’s been there. That deep, dark place that threatens to swallow you whole. You know you should be fighting like hell to scratch and crawl your way out of it, yet it seems so much easier to give in and let it take you. It’s tiring: physically and emotionally. All you want is relief. Even if it is permanent. But to hear her talk that? The one person who’d crawled into that dark place with him and helped him out of it? It’s a pain like he’s ever felt before.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t battle my own mind like this. I’m tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I can’t be a good wife and a good mother like this. I know I can’t. And you’d better off and they’d be better off it…”

“Don’t,” Tyler orders. “Just don’t. Don’t even say what I know is coming next. Because it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I need you. And our kids need you. So don’t ever think otherwise.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. One day I feel fine and the next I feel like this.”

“There’s a lot going on,” he attempts to reason. And none of it is good and it’s making everything else seem a lot worse. We’re dealing with a lot of shit and…”

“And now I’m moaning and crying to you and you have enough to deal with. You don’t need me being a whiny little baby on top of it. You've got enough on your plate. You don’t need this crap too.”

“Didn’t you just say ten minutes ago that we’re a team? That we’re in this together?”

“I didn’t mean this. I meant what you’re dealing with. Not my stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid shit,” Tyler argues. “It’s very real and very scary shit.”

“But it’s MY shit.”

“It’s OUR shit. You’re more important than any of this other crap. You’re all that matters. You and the kids. Everything else can wait until we figure out what to do for you. You don’t make me deal with all my mental crap alone. Why would I make you do it by yourself?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. I shouldn’t. I have a great life. I have you and I have beautiful, healthy children and I’m in this amazing country and everything should be perfect. I should be happy. And I AM. It’s not about you or the kids…”

“I know it isn’t. You don’t have to explain any of this to me. I’ve been there, remember? I’ve been in this place. Many times. And you’re the one that always gets me out of it.”

“But what if I can’t get out of it? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late,” he assures her.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of it? What then?”

“That’s just your brain talking shit. That’s not you talking. You’re the last person who would just give up. Just take a breath and try and relax. Don’t think about a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

She sniffles. “That’s pretty deep, Tyler.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For what?”

“Being like this. For being fucked up. This is NOT what you need right now. You have so many other things to worry about and I’m just making it all worse.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that by now. Everything else can wait.”

“Maybe we do need to go away.”

“That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite yes.”

“It just hurts,” she admits. “But I don’t know what hurts. Or how to stop it from hurting.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“That’s a turn of events,” she gives a small laugh. “You asking me that.”

“Are you? Taking them?”

She nods.

“You promise.”

“Every day, same time of the day. Maybe they’re not strong enough.”

“Maybe you need to call the doctor. Or the therapist.”

“She’ll want us both to go in. And I know you hate going there. And it will just make you miserable.”

“But if that’s what would make YOU feel better…”

“I don’t need to go see her. I’ll be fine. It’ll go away. It always does.”

“And it always comes back,” Tyler points out.

“Maybe I just need those three days away. Maybe I need that time alone with you. God, that makes me sound like a horrible mother. Like I can’t stand my own kids and I can’t wait to be away from them. Like…”

“You know what?” He takes his face in his hands. “Stop. Everyone needs to get away. Even from their own kids. We have five under six. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate you stroking my ego and trying to make me feel better. I do. But…”

“Just stop,” He presses a kiss to her lips. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a shit on your plate. That I put there.”

“Okay, YOU stop now. This isn’t about you, Tyler. This is me and my fucked up brain and…”

“And we’re going to deal with it. You think just any woman could deal with what you do? Not just five kids but everything else that you’ve got going on? Me and my bullshit? The job? Mahajan and all the Dhaka crap you’ve just still going up there? You think just any woman could put up with all that?”

She swallows noisily. “I guess not.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. I love you and I need you and I don’t ever want to hear you say I don’t. That I’d be better without you. You know where I’d be without? Dead. That’s a maybe. And I’m not just talking about what happened on the bridge. That was the start of it. There’s been tons of times since then that you’ve kept me going. So I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again. Understand me?”

Esme nods.

“Regardless of what your brain tells you. I need you here. My life is better because you’re in it. I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you. In more ways than one.”

Her smile is brighter now, her grip on his shirt loosening. “You really are getting sappy in your old age.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just love you and I don't want to do this life without you.”

“I love you,” she says. “You have no idea how much.”

“It’s fun to guess.”

“I don’t think you can count that high. It’s tough for a guy who has to drop his pants to count to twenty one. Good thing you never lost a finger or a toe.”

Tyler grins. “Smart ass.”

“I do love you. Maybe I loved you too soon. But it felt right and it felt perfect and I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips; thumbs clearing away the few remaining tears. “It’s going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“If I went down on you?” he chides.

“Well yeah, that’s an obvious answer. But maybe that can wait until later. It would make me feel better if we could get out of here for a little bit. Just go into town for a while. Just us. I can get Ovi to watch Declan and Addie and we can just do whatever.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta pick up something anyway.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that’s none of your business. A surprise.”

“For me?”

“Maybe…”

“How will it be a surprise if I’m with you?”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’ll distract you with ice cream.”

“Now THAT’S a good idea. Do you think you can spare some time? I know you’ve got a lot going on and…”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you. I’ll just finish up here and lock everything up. It’s nothing I can’t do later.”

“AFTER you go down on me,” she teases.

“I promise I will do that first.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m going to freshen up. I probably look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful,” he informs her. “Even when you cry.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. I won’t hold it against you though.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I won’t be long.”

“Maybe you can find a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top,” he says, as she heads for the door.

She pauses on the threshold. “I was going to save those for our first day away. So I can be wearing those in the shack and you can be having serious deja vu.”

“And getting a serious hard on.”

“I don’t think Koen would appreciate you living out your kitchen table fantasy.”

“He doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She grins. “I like the way you think. No wonder I married you. Smartest and best decision ever.”

“I knew your ex, remember? You definitely traded up.”

“I definitely did,” she agrees.

He sighs heavily as he watches her go. Never remembering a time he’d felt this helpless.

****

He’d forgotten how nice it is when it’s just the two of them. Even something as simple as holding hands while wandering through the downtown core or leisurely browsing in stores and window shopping at others; sitting on a bench and ice cream while chatting and people watching. Little moments that so many take for granted and that he’d never realized he’d missed so much. Aside from a three day honeymoon (if it could even be called a honeymoon) in Byron Bay, the only time they’ve ever been truly alone was in Ireland after she’d arrived to help out with the Michael McMann fiasco. There’d been no kids to interrupt them and they could actually eat their meals together and have conversations where they could actually listen to what the other was saying; give one another their unwavering attention and concentrating on each other for change. He’d missed his kids, naturally. Terribly. But there’d been something...special...about that alone time with her.

For six years they’ve put all their excess time and energy into raising a family. To the point they’d almost forgotten about what it was like to exist outside of that. Only a year before they’d been strangers getting to know one another in Dhaka; in the most carnal way possible. Shortly after, everything had gone to complete and utter shit and he’d woken in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body and he’d been so relieved to see her sitting there. As if his brain had desperately wanted her to be there when it woke, and was terrified she wouldn’t be. And then they’d found out she was pregnant with Millie and they were suddenly living together and struggling to learn how to co-exist as a couple and expectant parents. It hadn’t been easy. There had even been times he’d wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into it. There was no way he was capable of being a husband and a father; carrying too much baggage and far too damaged for her to actually tolerate for too long.

Five kids later and she’s still hanging in there. Putting up with him even on his worst days and always looking at him like he’s the most incredible man on the entire planet. Always trusted; always feeling safe and secure and confident in his ability -and willingness- to protect her. And he’s not sure what he must have done in a precious life to deserve her, but he knows it must have been pretty damn good.

“Do I get to see what’s in there?” Tyler asks, when she emerges from one of the women’s shops with a paper bag -complete with ribbon around the handles and pink and purple tissue paper sticking out the top- clutched her chest.

“Nope. I told you. I was buying something for when we went away.” She’s back to her normal self, or at a semblance of it. The colour back in her face and the sparkle returned to her eyes. And as much as she’d hate to hear him say it, she looks cute. With her hair in a simple ponytail and just the slightest touch of eyeliner and mascara making those huge eyes stand out even more. Clad in a simple cotton sundress dotted with black with yellow, pink and blue flowers.

“For me?”

She nods. “For me but for you at the same time. It’s a surprise.”

“A sexy surprise or…”

“I’m not telling you. Will you tell me what’s in yours?” she nods at the purchase he carries; a much smaller bag from the jewellry store three doors down.

“It’s not from me. It’s from the kids. They want to give it to you.”

“It’s from you. Don’t lie. Why do you want me to think it’s from the kids?”

“Because I don’t want you calling me cute or soft or romantic or any of that shit.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is it cute and romantic?”

“Esme…”

She grins. “Tyler…”

“You give me a hint and I’ll give you one. Deal?”

“Fine. It’s two pieces.”

“What color is it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You said I just had to give you a hint. I gave you one. Now you get to wonder what it is for the next three days. What’s my hint?”

“It’s something you wear.”

“That’s a shitty hint!”

“It’s something sparkly that you wear.”

“Where do I wear it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions either. There’s two things, actually. One is from me, the other IS from the kids.”

“Two surprises? My birthday isn’t for two months. And it’s past Valentines Day and not even close to our anniversary. So you’ve either done something really bad or about to do something really bad and want to try and soften the blow.”

“Or...maybe…” he lays a hand on her hip and pulls her into him. “...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe I thought you deserve nice things and I don’t always come through with them.”

“I don’t need ‘things’. You know that.” She’s never been a materialistic person; agreeing to marry him without even an engagement ring and not once, in six and a half years, ever mentioning the desire to have one. She’s simple and low maintenance; happy with just that rose gold wedding band and that weathered and frayed bracelet he’d bought off a vendor at the market in Dhaka. Seven years ago.

“I know. But I want you to have things. Don’t argue with me about the things.”

“Well I like the things?”

“I think you’ll love the things.”

Both her arms wrap around his waist, two fingers on one hand hooking around a belt loop on his jeans, and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. “As much as I love you?”

“I don’t know. How much is that?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“As much as Millie loves glitter and unicorns. Times a million.”

He grins. “That’s a hell of a lot.”

“You can’t compete with that. You can say you love me more but there’s no way. There’s no way you can love me more than THAT.”

“I love you more than your son likes hot dogs in his spaghetti.”

She laughs, her forehead falling onto his chest. “Okay, you win. Nothing can top your namesake’s love for that. I will never debate you again when you say you love me more.”

“You never stood a chance,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on the small of her back.

It’s both loving and protective without being overbearing. The desire to keep her safe is the strongest it’s ever been; eyes constantly surveying the crowd even in their own small town. Anxious to keep her as close as possible even as they walk the familiar sidewalks; pulling her tightly into his side or even bringing her in front of him if he feels someone passes by a little too close. And it’s on one of these occasions, when he draws her into his right hip, that she feels the press of his holster against her.

“Really?” she asks.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You really they’d try anything with all these people around? And never mind that, do you really think someone could be watching us right now?”

“Michael McMann was watching me for a week in Guatemala and nearly two in Colorado and we had no idea.”

“But Salena..Allison...said they were keeping an eye on things. That they’d contact us if they heard of any close by threats. It thought these people were still in India.”

“That’s what she said. Who’s to say Mahajan doesn’t have contacts that already live here.”

Esme frowns. “Have you noticed anything weird.”

“Nope.”

She stops walking. “Tyler…”

“Just keep walking okay. Walk in front of me.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Please? Just walk in front of me. I’d feel better if you were in front of me.”

“There’s someone watching us right now isn’t there.”

“I don’t know for sure. So just do me a favour…” he places his hand back on her hip and guides her in front of him, then moves his palm to the back of her neck. “...just walk. Normally. Don’t rush. Just pretend that everything’s fine.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles.

“Just a guy that’s been every place we’ve gone. Seems a little too interested in what we’re doing. Always looking away when I catch him watching us. He’s mostly looking at you so it could be just some fucking asshole checking you out.”

“Why would anyone check a woman out while she’s with her husband? Especially a husband that’s built like you?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.”

“Bigger than you?”

“Not by much.”

“Not by much? You're six three and you weigh two thirty five. That’s big enough!"

“It’s probably nothing. Normally they don’t like to call attention to themselves.”

“Who’s they?”

“Bad people. Usually they’re not that noticeable. He’s just been a little too...I don’t know...around.”

“Maybe he’s checking you out and thinks YOU’RE the hot one,” she teases.

“Stop here. I want to stand with your back against me and pretend you’re taking a selfie but you’re really taking a picture of him. Okay?”

“I haven’t done shit like this in a while,” she frets.

“Just relax and do it. Trust me.”

Sighing heavily -and nervously- she leans with her back pressed against his front and takes his cell phone as he offers it to her. Plastering a fake smile on her face in hopes of not seeming suspicious. The man in question passing by mere seconds later; at least three inches taller than Tyler and maybe twenty pounds heavier. He doesn’t even glance in their direction; not even the slightest bit of side eyes or a glance over his shoulder as he continues down the sidewalk.

“Get it?” Tyler asks.

She nods and turns and tucks his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Good job, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good job.”

“Can we go home now?” She’s dangerously close to tears; entire body trembling. “I want to go home now.”

“It’s okay.” he lays a hand on the side of her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“Okay,” he says, then kisses her softly before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her in the direction of the truck. “We don’t have to leave. It was probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”

“I regret all the times I ever called you that.”

“Three quarters of the time I WAS being paranoid.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. YOU’RE fine. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m with you. You should know that by now.”

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better when I’m home.”

“Alright. I’ll get you home.”

She snakes his arm around his waist and leans into his side; head tucked under his arm. “It’s going to be okay, right? We’re going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be just fine,” he assures her. And hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Text

Sometimes, when I don’t feel like writing the things I am supposed to be working on, I have a document worth of drabbley post-TYBWA stuff where I’m working out how Renji and Rukia actually manage to get family-approval for their relationship and subsequently get married. It’s pretty rough and I never finish any of the parts.

In any case, @sillier-things mentioned recently that she liked stories about making babies and I told her I would write her a drabble, so I wrote a little story about family planning, because I am a thirty-eight year old, deeply boring woman, and because I need, in my heart, for Ichika to have been extremely planned.

So, I wrote this, mostly for me, and I hope you like it, too. If you don’t, I��ll just write you another one. Takes place in the late fall, between the TYBWA and their wedding, they are betrothed. (Renji likes to pronounce “betrothed” with three syllables and in his Byakuya voice). PG for some raunchy sex talk.

Some background from the other parts that maybe I’ll finish someday?:

- Renji beat Byakuya in a fight and then turned in his paperwork for dating Rukia

- Byakuya was will to let Renji marry into the Kuchiki family, but Renji realized that Rukia would be happier living a more independent life, and asked Byakuya if she could marry out of the family instead. Byakuya refused to let her marry a nobody, so he did what anyone would: named Renji his vassal.

- Renji somehow managed to buy a house that his 4th Seat won in a poker game off some other noble idiot (I wrote this part once when I got really nostalgic about their house from Between Tides, I told you I was a deeply boring person)

- Byakuya is not as recovered from his fight with As Nodt as everyone thinks he is. (Renji and Rukia know, tho)

Rukia sat on a tall bar stool, while Renji stuffed gyoza on the other side of the kitchen island. She was going down a long checklist. “Last one!”

“Surely not!”

“Surely yes! Do you want to use the good silver chopsticks?”

“The ones that are slippery as hell? No.”

“You’re getting pretty good at them,” Rukia said, propping one elbow up on the counter.

“I’m not worried about me. We get to invite our friends to this thing, too, right? In addition to all 900 of your relatives?”

“They’re your relatives now, too, Mr. Branch Family Head,” Rukia reminded him. “Whether you marry me or not. And yes, we can invite our friends to this thing, or as I like to call it, our wedding.”

Renji plopped another dumpling onto his tray. “Well, I don’t want Ikkaku to shove a metal chopstick in my ear on my wedding day, so can we please use normal ones? Is that allowed?”

“We can use the second most fancy chopsticks, I still wouldn’t categorize them as ‘normal.’”

“So, is that it? You’re really out of questions?”

“I’m out of wedding-related questions. You still haven’t told me why you’re making enough gyoza to feed your entire squad.”

“Because it’s easier to make them in big batches, they freeze really well.”

Rukia waved an arm at the room behind her, which was mostly full of boxes. “You don’t have anything better to do? You moved in three weeks ago, have you unpacked anything?”

“I unpacked the kitchen stuff, obviously. And you’re here. I know how you like it when I wear this apron.”

Rukia folded her arms on the counter and rested her chin on them. “Renji. You’re still sleeping in the barracks, aren’t you?”

Renji stared deeply into his bowl of pork and cabbage. It was much more forgiving than his fiancee. “This house is really big. It gets lonely at night. I still don’t see why I had to move in first.”

“How am I supposed to marry into your family if your family doesn’t even have a house? What sort of poor excuse for a noble are you anyway?” Rukia teased him.

“The worst,” Renji agreed cheerfully.

Rukia’s smile wavered a little. “It’s not too big, is it? For just two people?”

“It’ll be perfect when you’re here, I promise. If it’s still too big, we’ll get that bunny you’ve always wanted."

Renji expected some shouting on the topic of bunnies, but instead, Rukia was quiet. He looked up from his dumplings to see her chewing on her bottom lip pensively. "Renji? Can I ask you something?” she asked as his eyes met hers.

“Nope!” he replied. “You said you were done! You blew your wad on centerpieces and great-uncles!”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Of course you can ask me anything, dummy,” he chided her.

Rukia sat up and leaned back as far as she could without falling off her stool. “Do you wanna have kids?”

Renji blinked. “Well…” he said slowly.

Rukia waited.

“To be honest, I’ve spent a lot of time on my figure. I’m worried you wouldn’t find me attractive anymore if I couldn’t lose the weight afterwards–”

“Oh, shut up, you are the worst!” Rukia looked around for something she could throw at him, but the best thing she could come up with was a dish towel, which he ducked easily. “I’m being serious, here!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry. “Do you want to have kids?”

“No! No dodging! I asked you first!”

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed.

“What if we said it at the same time?” Renji suggested.

“That seems like a terrible idea, but it is fair. Let’s do it.”

“Okay, on three, then. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

“Yes,” said Rukia at the same time as Renji said, “I do, but I feel it puts an unfair burden on you and I know being a good leader to your squad is something you take very seriously and I won’t feel like anything is missing from– did you just say 'yes’?”

“I knew you hadn’t thought this through properly,” Rukia muttered.

He threw a piece of wadded up dough at her head. She caught it.

“You moron!” she scolded. “You’re the head of a family, now! What kind of a dick do you think I am, that I would agree to marry you with no intention of bearing you an heir!”

Renji’s face split into a lopsided grin. “First of all, if you say the phrase 'bearing me an heir’ again, I am going to be so overcome with passion that I will be unable to wait until our marital vows, and I’ll have my way with you right here and now.”

Rukia rolled her eyes. As if he gave half a shit about wedding vows. As if they hadn’t done it already once today within five minutes of her walking in the door.

“Secondly, who the hell else would I marry? I’ve already incorporated Sode no Shirayuki’s tsuba into my family crest.” He shoved up his sleeve for emphasis, as if she had somehow forgotten what it looked like, the segmented oval of her released sword’s guard, bisected by a lightning bolt. She couldn’t believe he’d gotten it tattooed on the inside of his forearm on the same day Byakuya declared him a one-man vassal family. She also couldn’t believe he wouldn’t let her get a matching one until they were actually married. Apparently Seireitei tattoo artists were very serious about not doing clan symbols without permission. At least he was finally willing to wear long sleeves again, now that it was November.

“That’s your problem,” she informed him.

“My favorite problem,” he announced. “The branch family thing is nice, I guess, but mostly I just care about being married to you. You don’t need to feel obligated to–”

Rukia threw the dough ball back at his head. It hit him square in the forehead and bounced off. “Look, you lunkhead. I don’t know if I would be any good at being a mom, but it’s just stupidly obvious how good a dad you would be, not to mention how hot you would be in one of those baby sling things. Don’t you dare try to deny it, as you stand there in your dumb apron, making your freezer meals.”

His cheeks had gone a little pink. “All I was gonna say is that I think you would be a pretty awesome mom. You can skateboard. I can’t skateboard. You… you really want to?”

Rukia shrugged, a little defensively. “We had a pretty shitty childhood, y’know, but we all took care of each other. We did okay. We were happy. I feel like… like it would be nice to actually take care of someone. Give them food and hugs and tell them stories and all the stuff no one ever did for us. That I would like to do that with you.”

Renji was regarding her strangely.

“What?” Rukia huffed.

“I just really like you, y’know,” he said softly.

Now Rukia was the one with pink cheeks. “Also, I just feel like I could make a really good baby,” she proclaimed. “Especially with your help. Imagine a kid with my brains and aesthetic and your height and abs.”

“You do realize we’re just as likely to get an angry shorty with my hair and your stubbornness,” Renji informed her dryly. “Not to mention a foul mouth because there’s no way we’re gonna remember to watch our language around them.”

“Sounds perfect to me, either way,” Rukia replied.

Renji grinned and continued on with his dumpling stuffing. “All right, Kuchiki. I’m game if you are.”

“I am,” Rukia confirmed. “When do you want to start?”

Renji guffawed. “You do not mess around, do you? My hands are covered in ground meat at the moment–”

“Be serious! Besides, I already cast the all-purpose protection kidou on you today and I’m very good at it, so it’ll probably last a full eight hours.”

Renji shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You be serious. Wouldn’t you rather wait until you get a new captain in place?”

Rukia stuck her lower lip out. “Uhhh, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

Renji looked up, regarding her under lowered eyelids. “Yesssss?”

Rukia made a squirmy face. “The Head-Captain talked to me the other day. He, uh, said that with all the losses overall, and the fact that there aren’t really any good candidates, he wants to keep the 13th small for the next couple of years and let me, um, growintothecaptaincy.”

Renji raised one eyebrow at her, looking very proud, but not saying anything.

“He wants to do the same with the Seventh,” Rukia quickly excused. “And he’s going to talk to Captain Hitsugaya about mentoring me, both as a captain and with my bankai. That’s the real issue, y'know, that with a bankai like that, I should really know what I’m doing before I have any business captaining a squad.”

“I hear you,” Renji agreed.

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that what you told Captain Kyouraku when he asked you to take the Seventh? He said you turned him down.”

Renji winced.

“Because you told me,” Rukia went on loftily, “ that Souou Zabimaru was much easier to maneuver than Hihiou Zabimaru.”

“Something about how I still had a lot to learn from Captain Kuchiki,” Renji grumbled. “Besides, the Seventh is Iba’s squad. He’s not that far from bankai. I even told Kyouraku I’d help him train for it.”

“It might be awhile before you get another chance,” Rukia pointed out softly.

Renji was stuffing dumplings very aggressively now. “Your brother needs me right now, you know that, even if I wasn’t gettin’ married to the most demanding woman in Soul Society next month. I don’t care that much about making captain. I care a lot about my family.”

Byakuya’s battle with As Nodt had very nearly killed him. At the time, Captain Unohana had predicted that, even if he lived, he would never hold a sword again. He had proved her wrong, of course, trained in the Royal Realm, taken up his haori again. But he wasn’t the same. HIs power was greatly reduced, his endurance as well. He could no longer reach the advanced stages of his bankai.

Captain Kuchiki was one of the most powerful captains in the Gotei. It would take a strong opponent indeed to press him hard enough to even notice these changes. But Byakuya knew. And his lieutenant, who had finally bested him in battle, knew, too.

Byakuya’s previous strength might still return. It might simply take time. Having an eager young vice-captain– powerful enough to pass the captain’s exam, but lacking the experience, made a convenient cover for delegating combat and other physically taxing duties. Especially now that Byakuya had acknowledged Renji as a protege of sorts, head of a Kuchiki branch family, and promised Byakuya’s own beloved sister, it appeared outwardly that it was the captain supporting his vice-captain, rather than the other way around.

Rukia smiled fondly at the vice-captain in question. “I like you a lot, too, y'know.” She paused thoughtfully. “I don’t have to be a captain, either. It is a lot. I can tell Kyouraku to find someone else.”

“Tch!” Renji huffed. “Someone’s gotta bring glory to our family name. Makes more sense for it to be you, I’m the better cook.” He finished up the last of his dumplings, and put the bowl in the sink. “Although I suppose that puts a wrinkle in that thing we were talking about a minute ago.”

Rukia sniffed. “I don’t see why. We’ll make one right away, I’ll tell the Head Captain I need a year, and then I’ll get down to business after that. You can use the baby as an excuse to stave off any further attempts at promotion. And if Brother keeps trying to overdo it, we can plunk the baby in his lap.”

“Brilliant plan,” Renji assessed. “Zero foreseeable flaws. How many of these you think you can eat with dinner? I’m gonna freeze the rest.”

“One thousand,” Rukia proclaimed.

Renji rolled his eyes as he slid a tray into the freezer. “I have no idea how I am going to keep you fed, assuming I actually manage to knock you up.”

“I believe in you,” Rukia assured him. “On both counts.” She watched him as he continued to clean up. “You’re really on board with all this? You were probably looking forward to a few years of me bending you over the kitchen table as soon as we got home, not late night feedings and dirty diapers, huh?”

Renji finished drying his hands, and he reached over the counter to tip Rukia’s chin up with one finger. “Rukia. As much as I love having rauchy sex in inappropriate places with you– and you know that I do– the thing I’ve been waiting forty-six years for is to be a family, whether that means just the two of us, or us plus however many babies you demand I put in you. I’ve had enough waiting for one afterlife, to be honest.”

“How did you come up with 46?” Rukia frowned. “Forty-six years ago, we were still back in–”

“Don’t do the math,” he implored.

“Okay,” she agreed, smiling at him.

“We’re not gonna start trying before the wedding, though, right?” Renji asked, pulling off his apron. “I’m pretty bad at math, but your brother’s not.”

“I suppose not,” Rukia agreed.

“Then we should squeeze in as much lazy daytime sex as possible while we still can!”

Rukia shrieked gleefully as he ducked around the kitchen island and pulled her off her barstool.

This was going to work out just fine.

#my writing #renruki

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dansnaturepictures · 4 years

Photo

Celebrating 10 years of my interest in butterflies, and subsequent interest in moths, dragon and damselflies

As I tweeted earlier 10 years ago today I photographed a Silver-washed Fritillary butterfly at Bolderwood in the New Forest. I said to my Mum on the walk I’d like to know what species that was. I was excited coming home from school as a 13 year old one day that summer when she’d brought me a butterfly and moth identification book. Beforehand as a budding birdwatcher just into photography I had seen butterflies whilst out, it turned out I saw a Silver-washed Fritillary in summer 2009 at Acres Down in the New Forest identified later form a photo I’d taken of it, I could recgonise a Peacock or Brimstone and had heard of Speckled Wood but it went no further. But after that moment that summer from my first ever Small Tortoiseshell on a glorious day weather wise at Simonsbath on Exmoor on our West Country holiday to my first Common Grayling at another part of New Forest walks around Bolderwood I enjoyed seeing and sometimes photographing butterflies whilst out and then using the book to identify them. I also did this with the occasional day-flying moth or one that came into the house such as Five-spot Burnet and Yellow Shell. With my eyes open on that massive day for me looking back with the Common Grayling at Bolderwood we also noticed and then identified via the internet a Golden-ringed Dragonfly which paved the way for us to like the dragon and damselflies and notice and start to identify them too.

This of course overlapped into 2011′s spring and summer where I saw butterflies for the first time from Marbled White and Large Skipper and Small Heath to Small Copper. I mostly watched butterflies at our local country park Lakeside and other immediately local areas and the New Forest where we went nearly every walk back then, I saw my first forest heathland specialty Silver-studded Blue that year too. In those first two summers with perhaps the amount of new birds we were seeing slowing down whilst I loved birds so much and was proud of my way of life with my hobby, getting into butterflies and the satisfaction of zooming into the natural world and learning something new was a revelation and something that excited us so much. Moths here and there were along for the ride and 2011 was a year I got more and more into the dragon and particularly damselflies too.

This has set the tone for an amazing decade where beside my main interest in birds which itself has got deeper and deeper in that time and my photography I’ve had a brilliant interest in insects to compliment it and enrich my connection to and fondness of the natural world. I look forward to the sunny and warm/hot days which will allow these butterflies to emerge and fly every spring and summer the peak butterfly season and the sign posts the butterflies provide to take from spring into summer especially and its been a true honour to see 46 spectacular species, take so many photos of them and have some of my greatest ever experiences with these flamboyant insects. Over the 10 years the damselfly and dragonfly interest has gone nicely alongside the butterflies perhaps a little lesser interest for me and the moths are something I have dipped into. Its quite easy with butterflies especially to do a year by year look back as the peak season is probably March-October so its a cross-section of a year whereas if I did a post commenting on each of my birding years I’d have too much to write and be here forever with so many I am lucky to see each month. I used to even be able to list my top 5 butterfly days mostly when I’d seen a lot of species or individuals but I’ve had too many such days each year now luckily! So that’s what I do for the rest of this post, introducing pictures of these insects that I’ve taken in the past in this photoset as I go.

The other big thing about my insect season in 2011 was that I purchased an important bit of photography kit, my first ever macro lens which I only replaced this year and still have for backup. This helped me massively in terms of being able to get those precious pictures I needed to help use the book to identify species and just take for fun. I was able with the macro lens to get so much closer than I would with my normal lens and get that important detail. I found whole new thrills just from using the macro lens of chasing butterflies and taking little safety shots in case it flies off when one landed as I make my body (bend down) to get nearer and nearer to the subject and in the right position.

Something I always refer to as the thrill of the chase. It was a whole new way of photography to learn to the point and shoot stuff I do with birds for example and that shows why my butterfly interest probably wouldn’t have happened without my photography interest which I only developed two or so years into my birdwatching interest. One of my proudest 2011 butterfly picture efforts was the first in this photoset of one of my favourites the Red Admiral at yes - you guessed it - Bolderwood in the New Forest in a hot spell that October. 2012 was something of a comedown for many reasons we didn’t have our best butterfly season but still saw some, and the other insects the second picture in this photoset of a Beautiful Demoiselle at Whitefield Moor in the New Forest one of my best photos that year.

This only paved the way though for a rapid expansion in our butterfly interest and the species I could see similar to that of birds that year and years to follow in that we explored many more new habitats to allow us to see different butterflies as well as the ones we’d seen between 2010 and 2012. Visits to places like Martin Down, Stockbridge Down, Noar Hill and Bentley Wood in Hampshire (now what I call our butterfly big four) places we’d never been before allowed us to see lots of new species at these sites. We saw 11 new butterfly species for us that year the highest amount of new ones we’d ever seen in a year and those four places in particular we’ve come back every year since for those species and more. One standout moment of 2013 was visiting the Isle of Wight seeing my first ever Small Blue and the very rare Glanville Fritillaries at Ventnor one day in June I took the third picture in this photoset of the latter we have never seen them again since.

Our 2014 butterfly season was much the same as a year with those new places explored again seeing the ones from 2013, the ones we’d seen before and five more newbies. I recorded 39 butterfly species seen that year. That figure would stand as my highest butterfly year list total until 2018. I took the fourth picture in this photoset of one of my favourite butterflies the Chalkhill Blue at one of those places Stockbridge Down in July 2014.

2015 and 2016 for butterflies were two years where we used these newfound special and wild places and species and saw most of a defined set of them again including the ones I saw before 2013 and 2014 and the batch I first saw in those years. I took great joy in taking macro pictures of it seemed a slightly different set each year and I felt after a camera upgrade in 2013 my pictures were getting better and better of them. I didn’t see a new species again until 2018 but I just loved seeing the ones I had already again and again and learning what comes out when and all the little quirks. I was still so fascinated by these insects and so very happy to see them. In 2015 I took the fifth picture in this photoset of an Elephant Hawk-moth at Blashford Lakes and 2016 one of my favourite dragonflies the Southern Hawker at Rutland Water showing how moth and dragon/damselflies were still something we saw and photographed over that period. 2015 and 2016 also with us living right beside Lakeside such a good habitat for butterflies now saw the development of my little walks there within days often just with my macro lens to solely see or try to butterflies such as Marbled White and Small Skipper in summer especially. That went a stage further in 2016 with me working then to create something I do every year now seeing these species and more in cut throughs of the meadow area on my commute home on light and sunny/hot evenings then popping back over with my macro lens to see more and photograph them.

But what I had loved doing was just as I do with birds, for butterflies, (moths for a bit but I don’t anymore) and nowadays dragon/damselfly (joint list) alongside mammals is keeping year lists. My butterfly year lists managing in the middle part of last decade and beyond to get to above 30 each year were the ones I was second most excited about after my bird ones the real staple of my hobby. By 2017 I held ambitions to beat or level my 2014 total of 39. When I saw my first Brown Argus of the year at Stockbridge Down and my first Painted Lady of 2017 in the garden on one August day my 37th and 38th species that spring and summer I knew I had one more I felt I could see, the Clouded Yellow a rare and unpredictable one I’d seen ever year since my first in 2013. I got a bit complacent looking back within myself and wrote about this on social media and lo and behold I didn’t see Clouded Yellow that summer and didn’t manage it. I did take many pictures of butterflies I was proud of in 2017 though like the seventh in this photoset of a Marsh Fritillary at Martin Down.

2018 will go down as my biggest rollercoaster of a butterfly year and a classic and pivotal one for me. I had a poor start with the cold weather in March, but in the hottest and most truest summer for years I had a boom period catching up a lot of the species and seeing so many through spring and summer. I always had the chance to make our 2018 memorable as after years of searching for them mostly at Bentley Wood and my Mum’s husband but not us seeing one in 2017 there we had booked up to go on a wildland safari of Knepp in Sussex the rewilding project on 1st July 2018 to try and see them in the key days they’re around what had become our dream butterfly the Purple Emperor. We saw over 50 of them that day and had one of our greatest ever butterfly days as I took the eighth picture in this photostet of one. Only a week before, with a holiday to Yorkshire for Bempton Cliff’s seabirds in between a classic summer week, we’d seen our first new butterfly for four years a White-letter Hairstreak at Southampton’s Peartree Green a butterfly we saw again at Knepp that day. So there was a mini expansion here and in a glorious summer this helped with numbers. When I saw a Brown Argus during in Butterfly Conservation’s ‘Big Butterfly Count’ something I love doing every year now later that July at Lakeside I did what I couldn’t a year before and made it butterfly 39 of my year to match 2014. One key species I needed to see was left the Common Grayling which I did use the New Forest heaths and manage to see again to take my 2018 year list to 40. Sightings in September of one I’d only seen before in 2013 a Silver-spotted Skipper and eventually finally seeing a Clouded Yellow for the first time since 2016 and on 42 2018 was cemented as then my highest ever butterfly year list and most extraordinary butterfly year.

2019 surpassed 2018 and I always call it my greatest butterfly season but it was actually my greatest butterfly year with extraordinary amounts and a lot of species seen in very hot patches of especially February and a bit of March too with the sun shining so much a top start. Then despite a wet late spring a little through that time and the summer I saw all the ones I usually would. An unexpected Knepp trip last summer on our own for me without the safari brought us Purple Emperor again and White-letter Hairstreak views to mean I could match 2018′s total. What also helped were sightings throughout the year of two more new ones for me Lulworth Skipper at Durlson in Dorset a great southern specialty and a northern one a Northern Brown Argus at St. Abb’s Head, Scotland during our seabird holiday last year to Northumberland. I also caught up with another slightly forgotten one when I saw my first Small Pearl-bordered Fritillary since 2014 where it was a life tick at the same place at Bentley Wood. This allowed me to see 45 species in the end last year beating 2018 by three, and there was only one species I didn’t see last year that I have seen in my life the Glanville Fritillary. I took the ninth picture in this photoset of always one of the stars the Duke of Burgundy last year at Noar Hill.

From 2018 and especially 2019 leading into 2020 I got more interested in dragon and damselflies recognising and photographing many more species. Our discovery of Thursley Common in Surrey allowed us to see new species my last two dragon and damsel year lists have been my highest ever and have historic dragonfly days for us with so many seen as well as one at Rutland Water’s Lyndon reserve last year. For moths alongside the stack of day-flying ones I see each year which grows a bit as to what I recognise I have started to notice some coming in our house at nights and taking pictures of them and mostly using other’s kind knowledge find out what they are and add them to my moth list so its only a life list I keep of them now within my insect and mammal life list document separate to my bird year list one. Its still something of a side interest I don’t know what it is and photograph every moth I see but its nice to enjoy them now and again.

Then we get to 2020 which started a bit like 2018 with one butterfly seen in February then bad weather. But as spring was springing and common/early butterflies were all around the coronavirus hit the UK and the obvious need for lockdown looked set to threaten our year for butterflies and like it may be a dip. But with a new macro lens for me in tow I got it for my birthday this year producing butterfly shots I was so proud of I made the best of it. In fact, on daily exercise walks over Lakeside in the first bit of the lockdown and other local ones seeing butterflies alongside other wildlife became a strong source of hope and optimism for me and a brilliant way to escape the doom and gloom seeing these insects I adore with the moths and dragon/damselflies too. I discovered for butterflies I could see so many at local Lakeside and other areas such as the Small Copper in the final picture in this photoset taken in May species I would usually see further afield. I wrote this post on late May bank holiday Monday and timed it to go out but once restrictions eased a little we were able to safely whilst following social distancing rules get back out to other butterfly sites further afield for us where we’d usually go and my numbers we saw of species this year haven’t suffered greatly. In fact alongside the sense lockdown brought me of how much spectacular stuff I can see on my doorstep I saw most of my butterflies this year on my earliest or second earliest date ever so that’s been an interesting little quirk.

Thanks for all the appreciation you have ever shown my butterfly and other insect photos and thoughts. Here’s to the next 10 years!

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hellishvu · 5 years

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The Bad Softie: the sequel

— the long awaited part 2! finally had enough time to sit down and write an actual story :) i really wanted to post this story before i went to bed, so i will edit it in the morning!! please excuse any grammar mistakes as i am almost passing out as i write this message!

— where taehyung has the journey of finding his self expression with the help of you by his side.

warning: homophobia, bullying, and sad events!! be safe and take care of yourself <3

“Look, hows this photo?” You showed a photo of you and Taehyung at a nearby roller rink for a date. You wanted to post it on Instagram, having it small due to you generally not trusting a lot of people after what happened to Taehyung.

“You got my good angle this time.” Taehyung laughed as he had looked behind him to see the photo having his portfolio for the art school on your desk.

“What are you talking about? Every angle of you is the best angle.” You kissed his forehead as he chuckled going back to filling out the long application of setting up his portfolio.

“I have to go get a film from Jungkook. We are going to meet at the college.” Taehyung sighed as he stood next to you waiting for a kiss.

“Why are you just standing there?” You chuckled as you flicked his forehead.

“Hm? I’m not sure. Maybe this boyfriend is expecting a smooch? on the forehead perhaps?” Taehyung raised his eyebrow.

“Touché.. touché.” You kissed his forehead as he headed out to walk to the nearby college. You smiled as you waved.

Taehyung walked a very far distance, he liked it. Although it was sometimes freezing in the morning. It was the time to clear his mind, to calm him down, and to get that exercise that he had for his 2019 new year’s resolutions.

Taehyung saw those bullies, the one that constantly texted him day after day after he came out. The constant harassment that Taehyung despised almost every single day. The moment he woke up, you knew about it but Taehyung didn’t let you do anything about it. He didn’t want to give them what they wanted. Taehyung tried to walk faster pass them to avoid the hurtful words they had to say.

“Hey! It’s the faggot!” Taehyung winced at the name, the stupid name that haunted his dreams but rather they were nightmares. Taehyung picked up his pace.

“Not now. Please.” Taehyung pleaded feeling them come closer and closer; almost like they wanted to tear him apart.

“Grab him.” His old friend, well his ex-friend of Taehyung’s joined the group that decided to bully him constantly. They gripped him, Taehyung struggling as his camera fell out of his hand breaking on the ground. Taehyung held in his tears, as the memories of the cameras flooded in.

“Give us your fucking money.” Taehyung hurried to get to his pockets seeing no money and empty pockets. Taehyung prayed he had some type of money. “I forgot the money for lunch.”

“I don’t have any. I swear.” Taehyung said as he covered his face being scared of being hit.

“Yes you do, Taehyung you always have money, you’re like a peasant you buy me the snacks I want or else.” The bully slapped Taehyung across his face causing Taehyung to raise his hand up to his face seeing the tears fall.

“What the fuck is going on?!” You came screaming in pure anger. The rage you had experienced couldn’t be described as you saw all the bullies turn their head. You stepped in front of Taehyung as he started crying holding onto you.

“Get the fuck out of here and don’t ever speak to Taehyung ever again.” You spoke your words were venom. You saw the bullies run away as Taehyung sobbed again as you turned around hugging him tightly. You rubbed his back as you ran your hand through his hair to comfort him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay I’m here.” You whispered as you rocked with him hoping to calm his crying down.

“How did you get here?” Taehyung asked as he looked up you saw his red puffy eyes. You moved the strands of hair from his face.

“You forgot your money for lunch.” You snickered as you pulled the dollars out of your back pocket. You pulled Taehyung into a kiss. You wrapped your hand around his waist as you lead him to a cross-walk.

“Where are you taking me?” Taehyung asked sniffing wiping his last tears. You pulled him closer as you pointed at the sign.

“A ramen take-out place. Text Jungkook you don’t need the film. I can buy it for you.”

“But, you don’t have to. They broke my camera.”

“Oh, then I will just buy you another one. I want to help you Taehyung.” You smiled at Taehyung trying to help him forget the experience of what had just happened.

“Thank you so much.” Taehyung said in a shaky breath.

Taehyung woke up to the sweet smell of pancakes, the room is lightened by the sun in the morning. Taehyung yawned as he felt the fan breezing on him, you opened the door smiling jumping on him causing him to groan.

“Good morning baby.” You said as you laid on your back as you pinched his cheeks. Taehyung giggled as he saw your soft morning look.

“I have a surprise for you.” You gave him a wrapped present that you bought the early morning of today. You saw Taehyung rip into the present like he was a kid once again. You pushed the wrapping off to the side as Taehyung open a black box the suspense looked like it was going to kill him.

“Open it!” You said becoming impatient for Taehyung. He opened it to see two tickets to his favorite artist. You saw his eyes widen, as you expected a very big hug next.

“You didn’t!” As expected Taehyung hugged you basically jumping onto you causing you to lay down. You smiled as you felt his genuine happiness.

“When- How?! How did you get them?”

“I saved up some money plus you always talk about them and I thought you seeing them could help you.”

Those little things you did for Taehyung, whether he was too scared to go a grocery store from the anxiety of people, you make sure he felt safe and you made sure no person would lay a finger on him.

Taehyung had left the college he was first in. You soon enough leaving with him, it was self-care. That toxic place of just reputations wasn’t what life should be like Taehyung had thought. He fully immersed himself into art, whether it was trying acting, photography, or drawing. You supported him.

You drove him to art classes, photography classes, and acting classes. You helped him, you saw a man being free to become himself. When he got home from a lesson you would hear him go on tangents that you never got tired of.

“Oh god, I hope I’m not annoying.” You hit him on the shoulder.

“Of course you’re not annoying, Taehyung I’m glad. You get to experience this, you deserve it.”

“I haven’t turned it in.”

“What?”

“My application.”

“Tae-” The first 3 words, sounded disappointed and that’s what Taehyung hated so much. He wanted you to be proud of him and of the progress, he’s made.

“I’m scared, my whole life science has been shoved down my throat but what if I’m just not good enough?” Taehyung cleared his throat as he saw the corner of the desk being filled with pieces that he’s thrown out, crushed, or cut up.

“You have art, your way of thinking is so different and beautiful from many other people. You will become so successful with your art. You just have to put yourself out there.”

“What if they are just like the old college? Where I get harassed, degraded, and insulted?” Taehyung felt his eyes sting, the ripping of his confidence as the memories floods back in almost like an emotional tsunami.

“They won’t, I promise you. Most of the world nowadays are becoming accepting, they are just one rotten batch of apples. Your sexuality should never stop you from achieving your goals.” You held his hands as you pressed your forehead against his feeling his soft breathes.

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you, so much. I will turn it in tomorrow. It’s all finished but it was just collecting dust.” Taehyung said as you kissed him embracing him.

“The letter came in, oh god oh god!” Taehyung grabbed it from the dinner table that you two shared. Taehyung gave it to you looking away from it.

“You open it! I can’t I can’t!” Taehyung paces around the room and finds himself biting his nails which he hasn’t done since 9th grade.

“Are you sure?” You ask as Taehyung nodded pointing at the letter. The sound of the letter being opened as you pull it out, opening the destiny of Taehyung.

“Dear Kim Taehyung, we are happy to inform you that you have been accepted!” You scream as Taehyung jumps in the air, grabbing the letter seeing the big bold words. Taehyung jumps on you as he wraps his legs around your waist as you kiss him.

“Holy shit, I’m going to my dream fucking school.” Taehyung’s mind couldn’t comprehend. It was like he was dreaming.

“Well, now we have to get you clothes! For your new year!” You said as you opened his wardrobe seeing just jeans and t-shirts. Taehyung always found himself at night when you’re sleeping looking at fashion shows of more unique pieces of clothing. He fantasized about it like a kid wanting to be Batman.

“Maybe it’s bland. Just haven’t gotten to that part of my journey yet.” Taehyung talks about it like its a sacred thing. He always wanted to wear clothes that were not just 2 simple pieces.

“Baby, you can order online. I will get it from the post office if you want me to. I want you to self-express because you have the taste of the 9 gods.” You said as you logged into your home desktop that you and Taehyung saved money for. You clicked on a website known for streetwear and gestured Taehyung sit in the office chair.

Taehyung went nuts on that day, at first, he got little stuff of pastels. Wore them but hide most of it under a coat. Later days went by, weeks also and he was wearing pastels. From dark colors like black, grey, and light greys to pastels like pink, purple, and blues. He had alternated, he likes his dark colors and his pastels. He didn’t need to identify with one set of colors, he was a free man.

Now the day had finally arrived, and the temptation of saying “No I can't do this.” showered Taehyung’s mind as he got ready for his first class. You made him breakfast that was barely eaten due to the nerves in his stomach. You drove him, letting him take aux to help him calm down. You arrived and Taehyung was looking in his backpack to see if he had everything he needed.

“You have been so understanding.” Taehyung smiled as you held his hand. You parked in the back as Taehyung’s new semester had begun. The art school that he dreamed of taking since he was 13. It was in front of his eyes, you opened the car door, Taehyung staying the car as he watches you walk around to his side.

You opened the door, seeing Taehyung look up before he takes your hand pulling you into a tight hug you rubbing his back.

“You got this, you’ve gone through hell and back just to not go Taehyung.” You smiled as you fixed the hat that he wore. The love in his eyes, as you gestured that he started walking before he was late to his first class.

a/n: the end! I hope you all like it, feel free to read this for authors mindset on this, so the reason I wrote this story was to explain the heaviness of coming out, especially if you have an anti-LGBT situation. we love you!! and please stay strong and love yourself! because you are beautiful and there is nothing wrong with you, no matter what race, gender, or age. you deserve to be happy.

#bts x male reader #bts #bts v #bts taehyung #kpop x male reader #angst #fluff #mostly fluff #self love

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