#I just wanted the focus to be on the parent child stuff and we keep cutting back to the stupid ship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mothwingwritings · 2 months

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Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face.

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head. You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often. And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond? If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now.

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process. Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential. How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him. “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for wanting to spend a night out with a guy?

I'm twenty, study in university and still live with my parents. I've been planning to move out since I was eighteen, but they told me to keep living at home and not get a job so I could focus on studying while they take care of me financially. This arrangement has worked mostly well in the past years save for a few small conflicts, but it's escalated in the past 3-4 months.

The issue is my time schedule. I have a very active social life, am active in the local art scene, do political work and a lot of extracurricular stuff for university (I'm a straight A student, I might add!). Because of this, and because I'm a natural night owl, I usually come home late several days a week (between 10pm and 2am) and stay out all day for most of the week. This means I can't do a lot of chores, and usually there's a lot of housework because my mum has a bit of a cleaning anxiety and wants to make sure everything is spotless 24/7.

Enter this guy, I'll call him Tim. I met him at a festival last summer and we became long distance friends. Tim has visited me for a day several times before, but this weekend he offered to come over for two days and we agreed to spend the night stargazing together without sleeping. I loved the idea and immediately said yes. It was gonna be just us, a couple energy drinks, and some bench in the city center, and I was really looking forward to it.

The thing is, my mum does not like Tim. Like, at all. She thinks he seems very sleazy and generally distrusts him because he feels "too nice" for her. Mind you, he's just a somewhat shady looking guy who is generally pretty anxious he might make a bad impression, so he overperforms the whole "respectable member of society" act a bit around new people. I've introduced him to my friend group and even the more sceptical people absolutely love him and think he's a very sweet, helpful person. In basically every stressful situation I've ever seen him in he's been deescalating, protective and helpful, and he has on several occasions been my first source of comfort when things went to hell.

Today I told my mum in an offhanded comment that I won't come home between Sunday and Monday and the situation escalated completely. She was crying, accusing me of ruining her month, saying I didn't care about this family, it got ugly. The main point she had was that I was staying out all night with someone who's a total stranger to her and she doesn't trust him at all. In the end we compromised that Tim and I would spend the night awake, but not in the city, at home.

I feel really humiliated by this whole situation and honestly, kind of betrayed, because I was promised stuff like this wouldn't happen, and it just hits in a much safer situation than ones I've been in before (I used to get blackout drunk and sleep at parties a lot.). I'm a legal adult, have been for years now and it's so disappointing that my parents still treat me like a child sometimes and are so judgy towards my friends too. At the same time, I'm wondering whether I've acted wrong too by not telling her about this earlier and not taking her concerns that seriously. I forget sometimes that I talk to Tim every day for hours, but my parents only briefly ran into him once, so of course their view of him is skewed.

PS: I should add that when I told him about this, he immediately apologized, asked if I needed anything or wanted to change the plan and decided to dig out the least offensive outfit he could find so he'd make a good impression on my parents. So he's definitely trying his best.

#am i the asshole #aita

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gx-gameon · 3 months

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Every few years Yugioh comes back and takes over my life.

And as I rewatch the anime I can’t stop thinking about a world where Jaden was raised by Yugi.

I don’t know if you all remember but a few years back there was a creator on here and they had an au were the Gx gang were raised by the Duel monster gang. But they are gone now and I can’t find their stuff😢 but it’s okay. I’ve got my own ideas on this!

Instead of having the whole Gx gang raised by the DM gang we are just going to focus on Jaden.

When Jaden is four all the drama with Yubel happens. His parents aren’t around very often, and Yubel is being Yubel. She sees Jaden fighting and losing duels so she lashes out at the other duelest because in the dark world if Jaden lost that duel he’d be dead. She’s just protecting him. He designs the Neo-spacians and they get sent into space, and his parents make the request for Yubel to be sent up as well (I know in the show it was Jaden but we’re going to say it was his parents idea first)

Jaden is now having horrible nightmares about Yubel and his shadow magic is lashing out. He’s four. He has so much power and no idea how to control it. So his parents, afraid of their child take him to get ‘help.’ Whatever it is that they do it blocks out Jaden’s powers and his memories. He can’t remember Yubel, he can’t see spirits. But it’s to late. He’s already branded a social pariah and his parents are scared of him and he doesn’t know why. His parents just can’t take it anymore and drop the kid off at a fire station (don’t know if this is a thing in Japan but in some states you can drop a kid off at any age at and just leave) or maybe they just die. Either way they are gone and he’s in an orphanage. Alone, scared, no spirits, parents, or friends.

Here is where Yugi comes in.

Our boy just graduated. DSOD just happened. (Jaden’s cards going to space were Kaiba testing things for his satellite thingy) Kaiba is AWOL. But Yugi doesn’t know why…yet.

Maybe he’s in town for a tournament, or college, but for some reason he’s in town, and what he does find is this kid dueling by himself in a park. No one will go near him and he looks so lonely. And Yugi knows that feeling. So he goes over and plays with the kid. Jaden is ecstatic, the king of games wants to duel him! Best day ever.

Over time the two keep running into each other until Yugi learns about the kids situation. No family, no friends, he’s alone in the world. And Yugi, he just can’t stand that. Yes Jaden is a little loud and over excited but he’s a great kid and Yugi can’t even comprehend why his parents would abandon him. So he makes the decision to go and adopt this kid.

But the adoption’s weird. He expected a lot of questions. He’s 18 after all, and while he’s got his grandpa’s support, he’s still 18 years old trying to adopt a 4 year old. But the orphanage basically throws the kid at him happy to be rid of the problem. (Everyone in that part of town knows what used to happen when Jaden dueled.) and Yugi is perplexed. He’s not mad, it’s the outcome he wanted, but why is everyone so scared of the kid?

He tries to find out but there are no records of Jaden. Who his parents are, or what happened. (Rich people have the ability to get certain records closed) so he goes to the one person he can think of who might be able to find those records, Kaiba. But when he gets there Mokuba is barely keeping it together. Yugi asked where Seto is and the kid just breaks down, telling him all about Seto’s trip to the afterlife to duel Atem and Yugi is floored. Why would he be so stupid. Mokuba begs Yugi to go after his brother. But Yugi hesitates, he’s got Jaden to worry about now.

“Who’s Jaden?” And it’s in this moment that Yugi realizes he was so wrapped up in adopting Jaden, getting him home, and trying to figure out why that whole town was scared of a 4 year old, that he didn’t tell anyone about Jaden! So he quickly explains to Mokuba who Jaden is and what is happening and why he needs Seto’s help.

Mokuba didn’t think he could like Yugi anymore then he already did, after all Yugi has helped him and Seto a lot, but now! After learning he saved a kid for an orphanage and an awful upbringing like he and Seto had, he adores this man. (Now if Seto would just get his head out of his butt and realize that Yugi isn’t just his rival but also a perfect match. He’s the biggest rivalshipper) but he needs Yugi to go after Seto, after all who else can?

So Yugi calls Joey to watch Jaden. And Joey is experiencing so many different emotions, having so many breakdowns. What do you mean you got a Kid Yug? What do you mean Kaiba went to the Afterlife to duel Atem? What do you mean you’re going after him? Why? I’m so confused!!

But he instantly loves Jaden. They both love dueling, they both have empty heads. Uncle Joey is in the house! He offers to go after Kaiba for Yugi, Jaden can’t lose him, but Yugi insist he go. He wants to see Atem, but he also knows he has a better chance than Joey at coming back.

So after Kaiba Yugi goes. Jaden’s safe with Joey and Mokuba.

And if this isn’t in the top 5 weirdest thing Yugi’s ever done, which is saying something.

He meets up with Kaiba and Atem. And Atem has spent the last month yelling at Kaiba for coming here because the man didn’t plan on how to get back. And here comes Yugi, Atem sees him and starts to lose it because, either Yugi is dead or he followed Kaiba here and he doesn’t know which is worse. Until Yugi starts yelling at Kaiba as well. Because “I had to leave my son to come get you!” And hold up now Atem and Kaiba are Floored because “son?”

Atem’s wondering if it’s been way longer than he thought and Yugi and Kaiba have just aged well, or did he miss something THAT big when he was with his aibou.

So Yugi has to explain who Jaden is. (Kaiba’s in love but he doesn’t realize it) and Atem is so proud.

Yugi drags Seto back down to earth but not before some adventures in the afterlife. That may end with Atem coming back down with them by accident. (A gift from the gods, Atem didn’t plan or ask for it, but he will forever be grateful for this second chance at life) Uncle Atem gets to meet his nephew and he’s pumped.

Jaden grows up so loved. Learning from the best. Seto finds out about Jaden’s past and Atem works with the kid on unlocking his powers once again while Kaiba tries to retrieve Jaden’s cards from space. (They are his soul cards, he’s suppose to have them, just as Kaiba is suppose to have Blue-eyes, or Atem the Dark Magician. And Seto just sent them to space!! Yugi was not happy when he found out, he doesn’t blame Seto, but he’s not happy)

Jaden grows up going to all of his dad’s tournaments. They give the kid a baseball hat and sunglasses so no one knows what the ‘prince of duels’ looks like.

Eventually Yugi and Seto get their crap together and start dating/get married. Seto is the most over protective Oto-san ever. Only rivaled by uncle Atem.

When Jaden is fourteen he’s ready to go to duel school. He enrolls are Jaden Yuki. His transcript does not mention his parents, as Jaden doesn’t want any special privileges at the school.

Yugi gives his son winged kuriboh on his way to his entrance test. The whole gang is there in a private sweet to watch the entrance exams and see Jaden’s duel against Dr. Crowler.

Seto is furious at his staffs behavior but Yugi and Atem are more focused on Jaden finally being able to see spirits again. They’re so excited. Seto less so, he’s happy for his son but he’s so focused on his employee bullying a child, his child. (Lets just say Crowler owes keeping his job to Jaden, he will have no clue of this until after Jaden graduates)

Gx is so much funnier because Kaiba is hearing about all the crazy things his staff is doing and he’s ready to fire everyone, but his son keeps saying he likes them, the school, the adventure. Jaden so desperately doesn’t want any of his classmates to know who his parents are, not wanting to be treated differently. So Seto can’t fire them, yet. But once Jaden graduates he is overhauling this school.

Yugi is at a cross between laughing at Atem and Seto being over protective and also losing his mind because who stored the dark lords at this school! “Seto, did you know about this?” (Seto’s never been more scared of his husband)

Season one is uninterrupted. But season 2 is close. Even Yugi wants to step in when the evil cult comes to light. But it’s season 3 that makes the family lose their minds.

#yugioh #yugi mutou #yugi moto #yami yugi #yugioh gx #pharaoh atem #atem #jaden yuki #judai yuki #joey wheeler #mokuba kaiba #seto kaiba #rivalshipping #future spiritshipping alert #dad Yugi #I have such a soft spot for the idea of Yugi raising Jaden.

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btslil-bbyboy · 4 months

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Charlie and Vaggie

This is a male reader insert! Charlie and Vaggie become parents This would be before the pilot, so there isn't any other characters beside them. Hope you like it! I was also wondering if I should make one for the Vees. All three of them handling a toddler is a cute image in my head idk what do you guys think? If so, how should proceed it? Should Velvet be the biological mother or should I do a Baby Daddy on Vox lol

Next Part 1

It was time. It was time for the baby to come! And Vaggie was not ready for it but she isn't going to show it because if she does then who's going to calm down Charlie who's running around the empty, trashy hotel for a warm bucket of water that they will need for this specific moment.

Vaggie bites down a pained groan as the contractions start to double the amount and pain.

"Shit." She slowly breathes out. Running a hand through her hair that grew longer over the past months with the pregnancy.

"Ok! I got the water. Now where are my gloves? Are these the clean towels that we recently washed? Omg, did we buy enough diapers!?-" Charlie starts to grip her hair as her horns start to protrude from her head.

"Charlie, babe. We have everything here. We double checked and got more supplies after we thought we'll be in lock down for at least two months. Now, can you calm down and please hold my hand?" Vaggie interrupts Charlie's rambling as it would lead to a panic attack. Usually, Vaggie would calm her down with sweet words and gentle touches but right now, the pain she is feeling can't make her focus on anything but the pain.

"Right! Sorry. How are you doing Vaggie? Need water?" Charlie kneels on the bed, taking a hold of the woman she loves dearly. When they first met, Charlie thought it was love at first sight. They both gave hints such as fleeting touches and lingering eyes until it turned more intimate that they got together. It was magical really.

Until they hit their five months into their relationship, Vaggie started to act differently. Vomiting in the morning, craving weird things (Charlie didn't point out because she loves Vaggie too much to judge her) and sleeping a lot. They both brushed it off until Vaggie mentioned how her stomach is getting bigger. Which also took them a little bit longer to notice but they got there.

Charlie of course told her dad, well not told him per-say but a small comment about how to prepare for a baby and such which her father answered awkwardly and fast paced as she's sure she guessed he didn't want to talk about this kind of stuff to his daughter that he hasn't seen for a few years now. And she's pretty sure he forgot all about it the next phone call he made as he asks for Charlie to check on how many sinners died in the last extermination.

But all in all, Lucifer hasn't connected the dots and now Charlie is here alone, taking care of Vaggie and ready to secure the baby once it's fully out. She is so fucking happy! She's going to make this Happy Hotel a family business! Just the three of them.

"I don't want to alarm but I think the baby is coming out right now." Vaggie huffs out gripping on Charlie's hand with all her might as her body pushes.

"Oh god, ok! Just keep pushing. I have everything ready, sweetheart. You're doing great!" Charlie wheezes out the last bit as her hand gets crushed. Shaking the pain off, Charlie drags a towel over, ready.

It took at least an hour of Vaggie screaming in pain and profanities that finally, Charlie places their child down in Vaggie's arms.

"It's a boy." Charlie whispers excitedly, doing a little happy wiggle as she looks at her girlfriend and son together.

Vaggie smiles tiredly, muttering out a 'Never again.' Which Charlie volunteers to be the next one to get pregnant.

"You know what name I'm thinking?" Vaggie mutters out as she hands the baby boy that has her grey skin but the two red dots on his face along with blonde hair that he got has Charlie written all over it. Charlie snaps out of her awe trance at the baby, looking at Vaggie with a big smile.

"(M/n)." They both said at the same time, leaning on each other as they looked at their son.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x male reader #charlie morningstar #hazbin vaggie #male reader #x male reader #hazbin lucifer

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icarusallusion · 4 months

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On the kick of relationships I feel were a bit wasted on lack of expansion and fandom media literacy.

Volgin and Ocelot. While they definitely do not stem from the same problems as Kazuhira and Quiet like I talked about in my other post, I still feel they aren't explained enough, hours of exposition but nothing quite explains why they are the way they are. Part of that leads to their allure as characters, the years of character building we don't hear or see, but their subtle relationship really falls flat on a lot of gamers I've found.

Into them themselves before I get into all the meta stuff.

Volgin doesn't waste time torturing and shocking people who minorly inconvenience him. He kills Granin pretty much just for fun, shocks and sexually tortures EVA, tortures his own men from the simplest lack of respect, and nukes a facility which kills multiple of his countrymen. All of these disturb Ocelot, but he never says much about it until it comes at the pain of Russia itself. (i.e killing Granin who benefits them and Russia in turn, not truly caring about torture when he learns its for a spy, feeling bad ahout killing Russian men even those who go agaisnt the GRU, and the nukes destroying Russian soil and countrymen)

However any time Ocelot calls Volgin out on his sadistic and cruel behaviors, Volgin never says anything truly negative back to Ocelot. For a man who does awful things to everyone else the way he hesitates to hurt Ocelot whether through physical or verbal means was always interesting to me.

Especially this interaction after Granin is killed by Volgin.

Volgin speaks down on Ocelot, however this isn't done in an insulting way, it's simply the truth in Volgin's eyes. Volgin raised Ocelot since he was 16, Ocelot is still decades younger than him, and is still ranks below.

To Volgin, Ocelot needs to be weeded out himself, of the care he deeply holds for Russia. Volgin undermines Ocelot and how he feels towards the war and cruelty surrounding it, that his feelings have no place within the war and that they're a threat to their organization. While on the surface it refers to how Ocelot is too hot headed and jumps the gun, that he won't be able to focus if he is always judging others. On a deeper level, it read to me as Volgin cares for Ocelot. That the judgement from Ocelot doesn't just break the GRU's unity, it breaks Volgin's unity with Ocelot.

Volgin doesn't want to get rid of Ocelot, that much is evident when in the final boss battle when this is their exchange.

Ocelot shoots at Volgin, disobeys orders, disrespects his title, etc, etc. Despite this, they have the same back and forth they always do. Volgin simply keeps ordering him until Ocelot just leaves. It comes across as Volgin trusts Ocelot to find the bombs, either that or views him too inferior to do any real damage on his own devices. All and all, Volgin doesn't care about Ocelot's disrespect towards him when if it was anyone else they'd be dead.

Speaking of the boss fight, it really added more to their relationship.

THIS ESPECIALLY

Volgin comes so close to shocking Ocelot, but he can't, simply just a warning. Then in the next scene, Ocelot looks to Volgin for reassurance on his aid to Snake. This back and forth always ends each word from Ocelot with an obedience to Volgin.

The fact Volgin and Ocelot have whole conversations with each other from body language alone and the way Ocelot himself relies on body language really is such a good detail

The way they simply talk with one another also always felt like a parent to a child to me. (Maybe a very bad parent but still) In a way, they are a very fucked up found family.

Ocelot kidnapped by The Philosophers as a baby, sent to the GRU to be a spy at 16 and being guided through the rest of his years up until the end of teenage life by Volgin who he knew he'd have to betray at some point. Volgin who was raised by a member of The Philosopher.

While family has never been something they have been expanded on with, I think that speaks more. Neither Ocelot nor Volgin have any semblance with family. They are each other's only sense of that. Through the traitorous attitude of Ocelot and through the hedonist sadism fogging Volgin, they are the only people who get each other but ultimately are not fond of each other in most scenarios. They serve as a twisted parallel of The Boss and Snake to me.

Which sucks even more when The Boss is literally Ocelot's real mom, don't know how to thread that in either, but it's just ughhh literally custody battle between The Boss and Volgin every time they're on screen together with Ocelot

I could talk forever and ever about the analysis between them, but onto the meta. My issues are not within any prejudice or forced characterization like Kaz and Quiet. However, I feel they come from the writers thinking they were not interesting enough. They don't put a lot of their relationship on the surface and by the time players realize their relationship the game is over. MGS is really a game that always deserves a second playthrough to fully grasp its ideas and characters.

Volgin and Ocelot didn't grasp a lot of people because they weren't pushed and pushed like EVA and Snake. They were an afterthought in the game while I think they really could've been given more, considering how much of Volgin affects Ocelot. Ocelot liked torture because of how Volgin raised him, Ocelot has a complicated relationship with Russia partially due to Volgin, and Ocelot's relationships with people are forever shadowed by how Volgin raised him.

I think they really could've been something so interesting, but so much of it was swept under the rug by other relationships and topics within the game. I don't know, tell me what you think this is mostly spit balling about two characters I really like. 🐆

#metal gear solid #revolver ocelot #volgin mgs #looking back on this definitely couldve written this better lol

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 5 months

Text

Moving On - Dave York x F!Reader Chapter 8 of The Princess and The Duke.

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.

Specific Warnings: Mentions of dick, mentions of sex toys, so much yearning, angst, step-cest, Mentions of poor parent-child relationship, parents touching sex toys without consent, mentions of childhood trauma(forgotten birthdays), food mention.

Big shout out to Hemmy (@angelofsmalldeath-codeine for writing this with me!)

Follow @vi-notifs for updates!

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

[Read on AO3]

Wordcount: 7.2k

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you returned home from the disaster of a dinner with your mother. You’re still not fully over the semi-public dredging of the traumatic childhood that you’d endured. You’re reclined on Ash’s sofa; you caress her head in your lap as you watch reruns of Buffy when a text notification comes through. Your stomach flutters with excitement when you see who it’s from.

Duke🎷: Hey, Nancy will be out for a few hours tomorrow afternoon. She should be gone long enough for you to get all your things.

“Hey, Ash?” You ask as you look up from your phone to see Sarah Michelle Gellar stake someone.

“Hmm? What’s up?”

“Are you free tomorrow afternoon to move some stuff out from my room at Dave’s?”

“I can free up my calendar, no problem. Nancy going to be there?” Ash asks as she tilts her head back to look up at you.

“Nah, Dave’s said she’s out for a few hours.”

“Shame. Would have liked to give the bitch a piece of my mind,” Ash grins at you and you stick your tongue out at her.

“Very funny,” you playfully scold her, “Alright I’ll confirm it with Dave.”

You pull your phone back up.

Princess🌙: Sure, you going to be there?

Dave types for a while before the message comes through.

Duke🎷: Only if you want me to be.

Princess🌙: We could use the extra pair of hands. How early can we get there?

You want to tell him that you do want him there, that you want to see him. But you refrain, knowing better than to say something so bold. It doesn’t stop you from thinking it.

Duke🎷: 1pm if that’s ok with you? I’ll be there.

Princess🌙 : Perfect, see you then.

Your gaze lingers, hoping – maybe foolishly – that he’s going to send another message, keep the conversation going. You’re about to lock your phone and turn your attention back to the TV when you see the little grey dots shuddering to indicate Dave typing. You bite your lip in anticipation, and you don’t miss the way Ash rolls her eyes at you before grinning.

Duke🎷: You got everything you need for the new place?

Princess🌙: Sort of? I’m taking the bed from my room at yours, if that’s ok. Otherwise, it’s pretty sparse, I’ll have to make a trip to that big furniture mall up near Tech Ridge.Duke🎷: Of course, it’s yours. If you need anything else, just let me know.

Princess🌙: Sure, thanks, Dave. See you tomorrow!

Duke 🎷: Anytime, see you then.

“Jesus! You’re like a fucking teenager,” Ash scolds you playfully as she nudges your knee with her fist.

“Fuck you,” you grumble as you ruffle her hair, heat creeping up your neck as you know you can’t deny it.

You set your phone down with a smile, feeling the anticipation bubble up in your chest as you try to focus on the TV. But it’s no use, you can’t stop thinking about Dave, you haven’t been able to since the diner last night.

~*~

Monday

Dave smirks to himself as he watches Nancy on the right screen of his work computer. She’s leafing through the photos Resnik had dropped off an hour ago. Dave has a set of copies up on the left computer screen as he sips his morning coffee.

He hates seeing photos of himself, especially when he looks so flustered. He needs to work on his cardio. Most of his recent hits have been more complex cloak and dagger affairs. Smaller margins for error. Cardio has been the last thing on his mind, and the only working out he’s been doing has been for his mental health. Weight training is a far more satisfying outlet than jogging around the block aimlessly.

His discomfort is quickly dispelled as he watches Nancy swipe the photos off the kitchen counter. The sound is muted but it’s clear she’s screaming bloody murder into the empty home. There’s a poisoning thread of guilt surrounding the scene, he never wanted to see Nancy in pain. But the memory of the dinner party burns any pity away as she tirades around the space where she had humiliated you only days before.

Dave picks up his phone and texts Resnik to commend him on a job well done when he sees a text from you. He opens it immediately, turning off the remote feed of your mother wallowing in her self-pity.

Princess🌙: Hey, you still ok for today?

Duke🎷: Of course, all good on your end?

Princess🌙: Yeah, just checking in, thank you again for this.

Duke🎷: Again, you don’t need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.

Princess🌙: Ok, well, see you at 1.

Duke🎷: See you then.

Dave watches as you start typing again, stopping for a few moments before starting up. It makes his stomach twist, like he’s waiting for something to happen. But you stop typing for good this time and he lets out a heavy breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

He loves that you’re talking again, even if it’s just about the logistics of moving your things out. It makes him check his phone at lightning speed at every news alert or email. Every time hoping it’s you, he doesn’t even know what you’d be texting about, other than the move. He knows that he’s kidding himself, you’ll soon be out of his life for good. Starting out on your own, finding someone more suitable, with less baggage.

But he lets himself live in the fantasy of it all for now. he takes peace in knowing you’re safe and that you’ll soon be free of your mother and her bullshit.

~*~

You’re restless as you pull up to Dave’s house. You’ve caught Ash stealing glances at you the whole drive, but she hasn’t said anything. You’re nervous, something about returning to the house has you on edge. But there’s excitement there too, you’re going to see Dave.

Ever since you reconnected in the diner on Saturday, you’ve been consumed with thoughts of him. When he held you, it was like being home. He makes you feel safe and peaceful.

“We’re here,” Ash says as you shake yourself from your thoughts, “Did you order that truck?”

“What truck?” You look up and your mouth falls slack as you see the white box truck with two men in blue overalls hauling the king-sized mattress into the back of the truck. The logo of a local removal company visible on the side of the vehicle.

“Not me, Dave must’ve called them,” you say as you get out of the car. You look up at the house to see Dave waiting on the porch for you. He’s leaning against the railing, his hand raised in a casual greeting as he nods to you.

“He’s down so bad for you,” Ash teases as she rounds the car, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she waves enthusiastically at Dave.

“Shut up,” you grumble as you nudge her side.

“Hey, Dave,” Ash shouts as she picks up the pace, practically jogging past you.

“Ashleigh,” he nods as he holds out a hand to shake, but Ash bats it away with her hand before throwing her arms around him.

Dave catches her with ease, despite her practically jumping at him. He steadies her before putting distance between them, holding her at arm’s length. You can’t help but smile at the sight as he shoots you a questioning look. You simply shrug, you have no clue what has gotten into her.

“You’re making your way into the good books, York,” Ash says as she squeezes his forearms. You watch as she says something under her breath to him before letting him go and barging into the house.

“What was that all about?” You ask as you reach the top step, trying not to show how nervous you are as you resist every urge to throw your arms around him like Ash just did. But you know that there’s no way you can risk such a PDA with the threat of the PI looming over you.

“She was grilling me about the truck,” Dave says as he looks you over, “How’re you doing?”

“I really appreciate you doing that,” you nod absently, “Things have been better,” you admit with a noncommittal grunt, “It’s good to see you though.”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your eyes go wide as you try and think of a way to walk them back. But Dave beats you to it.

“It’s good to see you too,” his voice is low as he gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “And I figured you’d struggle getting a whole king-size bed into that tiny thing.”

Dave gestures over your shoulder at the car and you wince at your lack of foresight. You turn back to see that the warmth has returned to his smile as he teases you gently. An echo of a time where things were simpler, easier.

“We should probably head in,” you say as you look over your shoulder again, paranoia prickles under your skin. It’s become something of a habit since you found out about the Private Investigator. Even in the safety of Ash’s place, you feel like you’re being watched.

“Good idea,” Dave gestures for you to go in with one hand as he waves in the removal guys with the other, “I got them to pack up the bed and desk, as well as your PC and some other bulkier pieces of furniture,” he explains as he follows you into the house.

“That’s good of you, thank you so much,” you say over your shoulder as you ascend the stairs.

“I put your prop box under a throw in the living room, I’ll get it for you before you leave,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, “Didn’t want the movers nosing around in there.”

Your chest constricts with affection at his thoughtfulness, and you nod in affirmation.

“Thank you,” you repeat and the soft huff of amusement from Dave makes your skin tingle.

“You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I know, but you’re doing all this for me,” you say with a shrug as you hear Ash bustling around your old bedroom, “I just really appreciate it.”

“Hey,” Dave says as he hesitates at the bedroom door.

“What?”

“So, Ash,” he gestures to the door, “How much does she know?”

“Everything,” you say as you cringe back, expecting anger or aggression. But Dave simply nods, as if confirming his own suspicions.

“Ok, good to know,” he says as he places his palm flat on the door, “Shall we?”

You nod and he pushes the door fully open for you. You smile as Ash finishes assembling a cardboard box with a frustrated grunt. There’s a stack of flat-pack ones to her side. She exhales aggressively, blowing stray blonde hairs from her face as she looks at you both.

“About time, these things are a nightmare to put up.”

An hour goes by as the three of you pack up the rest of your belongings, all the while you and Dave share glances and smiles. With the last few boxes being packed up Ash picks up the first of them to take downstairs. You look around to see the surprising number of boxes piled up around you. You’re even more grateful for the box truck now you can see the sheer size of the move.

“Right, I’m going to start piling these downstairs for the movers to load up,” Ash says with a dramatic clap of her hands, “Besides, you two clearly need a moment alone.”

She gives you a knowing look as you see Dave shift uncomfortably as he seals up a box labelled “pillows”. You flip her the bird as she leaves, grinning at you over her shoulder as she kicks the door closed. The sound of Dave putting down the tape dispenser is loud in your ears before the room falls silent.

“She’s subtle,” Dave says as he turns to look at you, flopping down on the floor next to the box, “I like her.”

“That’s Ash for you,” you shrug as you mirror him, settling down on the floor as you realize standing around and packing up your whole life is quite strenuous. The room feels too big and far too small all at once. The echo of your voices is eerie as the air is so suddenly thick with tension.

“How do I have so many pillows it requires a whole box?” You ask rhetorically as you try and fill the silence. You look anywhere but Dave’s face as you feel the desire to touch him build. You just want to bury yourself in his arms and never leave. You’re closer to him than you realized, only a few feet away. It feels like too far and not far enough all at once.

“You’d be surprised,” Dave says softly, “I think I filled three boxes with just records when I moved out of Carol’s place.”

“Records are cool, Dave,” you roll your eyes as you meet his gaze, but the moment you do you feel like you can’t breathe. Whatever you were going to say falls dead on your lips as you see the way he’s looking at you.

His eyes are glassy, his brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched, almost as if he’s in pain. But you know that look, it’s the look he gave you when you fell apart in his arms. It’s the look of restraint, holding himself back from crossing a line. Your fingers twitch as you start to reach for his hand, the temptation too heavy to resist. Just one touch, that’s all you need. Dave leans forward, his hand reaching for yours when the bedroom door swings open. You snatch your hand back and scramble to your feet.

“Alright,” Ash’s voice cuts through the silence like a blade, “They’ve got almost everything else packed up, let’s get this room-,”

She freezes as she looks between Dave and you, clearly unprepared for the intensity of the moment she interrupted.

“Do you two need a minute? Because I can go back out there and-,”

“No,” Dave says abruptly as he gathers himself up off the floor, “I’m going to check that the movers have everything ready to go, I’ll see you both down there.”

Dave grabs the box he was packing before he exits swiftly. He doesn’t look back as he shuts the door behind him. You let out a shaky exhale as tears spring to your eyes. You wipe them away before Ash reaches you, but she holds you just the same. Her arms wrap around you, firm and strong as you let her hold you.

“I expected to walk in on the two of you dry humping on the floor,” she chuckles low in your ear, “Not caught in whatever that was.”

You shake your head and bury yourself in her shoulder.

“I love him, Ash,” you mutter as you cling to her.

“Poor bastard,” she jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, “But seriously, he’s nothing like anyone that came before, I like him for you.”

“Yeah?” You pull back as you sniffle, wiping the back of your sleeve over your lip, “Why’s that?”

Ash raises an eyebrow at you incredulously, as if you had to ask.

“He’s clearly into you for more than just sex, or a kink, or some twisted stepdad thing,” Ash says as if she’s telling you the sky is blue, “We do need to talk about how he knew where you were on your birthday, maybe not now, cus that was weird and a bit stalker-y.”

“Not today,” you groan, and Ash puts her hands up defensively.

“I know, but that aside, he’s been looking out for you from the moment you landed back in Texas. The night with that douchebag Tristan, your birthday, Saturday night with your mom. No offense babe, but no pussy is worth all that effort. Especially when you’ve not fucked for what? Weeks? Months?”

“Too long,” you say as you can’t help but smile at Ash’s crass humour.

“Exactly,” Ash says with a triumphant smile, “I like him for you, he’d be good for you.”

“Y’know, that unfortunate stepdad thing aside,” you retort, and Ash shakes her head as she smiles at you.

“We could just kill her you know?”

“Ashleigh Mae!” You say with a dramatic gasp as you smirk at her.

“Just saying,” She holds her hands up in mock surrender, “I know a guy.”

“Whatever,” you say as you turn to the last few boxes needing to be filled, “Let’s get the rest of this shit packed up.”

“Yes, boss,” Ash gives you a mock salute before grabbing another box. You shake your head and gather the last few belongings into a final moving box labelled “Misc.”.

There’s a distinct lack of emotion as you head down to the kitchen, you thought moving out would have made you feel something. You set the box down and head into the living room where Dave is staring out of the window.

“Hey,” you say softly, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh, hey, you all ready to go?” He turns to you with a distant look on his face.

“Yeah, just getting that last box,” you say, gesturing to the grey fleece throw covering the box on the sofa. You recognize it as the one from Dave’s sofa downstairs.

“Of course,” he nods and folds his arms over his chest, his eyes dropping to his feet, “There’s something else I want to run by you.”

“Oh?” You look up from the covered box of props to meet his gaze.

“I’ve got a storage unit full of stuff Nancy wouldn’t let me have in the house,” he brings a hand up to rub his jaw, a nervous habit of his, “I was thinking seeing as you said you didn’t have much to furnish the new place, you could take a look and pick some stuff out? Consider it a late birthday gift.”

“Dave, you’ve already done so much for me, I don’t know if I could accept that,” you say as your heart aches at how much he’s willing to do for you.

“It’s all just sat there gathering dust, it’s a shame for it to go to waste when it could get some use.”

You mull it over for a moment, worst case scenario it’s a bunch of junk that you might get nothing from. Best case, you might not need to traipse up to the Furniture Mall on the weekend.

“Alright, I’ll take a look,” you smile as you pick up the box of props, “I’m keeping the throw, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Of course, wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll give the movers the details for the storage unit. I will text you the codes to enter/let me write down the codes” Dave nods as his smile reaches his eyes. You’re about to head out to the car when you remember one last thing you meant to ask.

“I know you’ve already done so much for me-,”

“I was thinking-,” Dave speaks at the same time as you and you both stop talking the moment you realise you’re cutting the other off. You can’t help but laugh as you wait for the other to start talking again.

“You go,” you say, eager to hear what Dave has to say.

“I hope this isn’t overstepping,” he starts again as he props his hands on his waist, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, “But I wanted you to know that, should you want it, I have someone I trust to install security measures on your new place. Would you be interested in something like that? I’ve just noticed how on edge you are, and with a PI sniffing around it seems like a good idea to deter any unwanted visitors.”

You feel your cheeks ache from how hard you’re smiling as Dave beat you to your own point.

“So, I was about to ask you for advice on who to call about that,” you admit, and you watch as relief washes over Dave’s face, “Because yeah, between the PI, and the prospect of living alone in a big city like Austin, I could use the extra peace of mind.”

“I’ll give him your number to get in touch and I’ll let him know to put it on my card.”

“Dave, you don’t have to-,”

“I couldn’t keep you safe in my own home, please, consider it me making it up to you.”

You consider it for a moment, a small voice in the back of your mind warns you about all the spending. But none of this is frivolous, it’s practical and a means to keep you safe. Most importantly, none of it feels transactional, he’s not doing this to buy you back. He’s protecting you.

“Ok,” you nod, convincing yourself as much as Dave, “Give him my number so we can set up the installation.”

“Excellent,” Dave says, and you stand there for a moment before realizing that this is it, there’s nothing left to say. You’ve got nothing more to stall with, you have to leave.

“Well, I guess this is it then,” you shuffle your feet nervously, “Can you get the truck to follow us to the storage place?”

“I’ll call them as soon as you leave.”

“Sure,” you say as you drum your fingers on the side of the box before you make yourself move, heading towards the door with regret and longing weighing down your movements. You get to the front door and put the box down, you can see Ash on the phone as she waves at you, “Hey, Dave?”

You step back from the door and turn to look at Dave again. His brow is raised in a silent question and your body moves before you can stop yourself. You take two long strides back into the house and wrap your arms around him. You bury your face in his t-shirt, hand fisting into the material covering his back as you breathe him in.

“Thank you.”

You breathe into his chest as you feel his broad arms wrap around you. He holds you tightly against him as he places a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. Another stolen moment, a risk you shouldn’t be taking.

“It’s ok, I got you.”

Dave whispers before giving you one last squeeze. His hold loosens and you don’t linger in his embrace, you know you’ve already pushed the limits. You step back with bleary eyes as you smile up at him before wiping away the tears.

“I’ll see you around,” you choke out before scooping up the box on the floor and practically jogging down the porch steps. You load up the box into the trunk of Ash’s car without a word before giving the movers the address to your new place.

“We’ll meet you at the storage place,” The driver says with a nod before getting into the cab.

“Ready to go?” You turn to Ash as she leans on the roof of her car, giving you an imperceptible look.

“Yeah,” she says with a nod before ducking into the car. She’s holding something back, but you can’t quite figure out what.

“You ok?” You ask as you secure your seatbelt, “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” Ash says as she pulls out into the street, “I’m just sad for you, for the both of you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, opting instead to set route to the storage unit on Ash’s phone before placing it back on the hands-free cradle. You don’t speak for the short drive. You’re too lost in your own thoughts to fill the silence. The moving truck follows you the whole way and once you’re booked it at the front desk you make your way to Dave’s storage unit.

Row after row of red roller shutters greet you, thousands of moments of people’s lives in stasis.

“These places always give me the creeps,” Ash says with a shudder as you get to the row where Dave’s unit is. You stroll down the numbered units, checking for 461 as you go.

“Yeah, it’s like a graveyard, rows and rows of dormant spaces.”

“Jesus,” Ash scoffs as she nudges you with her shoulder, “I was thinking more along the lines of where people hide their dirty secrets, or their drug money like in Breaking Bad.”

“I mean, those options aren’t exactly much better.”

“I’d much rather walk into this unit to find stacks of cash or his secret balloon fetish than dead bodies,” Ash says as you stop in front of the unit.

“Here’s to finding something less terrifying than a dead body,” you joke as you use the code lock to open it up.

The roller shutter opens with a rattle and a crash as the mechanism locks open. You fumble for the pull cord for the light. The bright fluorescent tube lighting blinds you for a moment before your eyes adjust.

There are metal racks lining the walls, with boxes of photo albums, books, and all manner of very personal items stacked up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room are larger items covered in sheets, the furniture Dave mentioned, you guess. There’s a whole rack devoted to records, and you watch Ash’s eyes light up as she sees them. She hurries over to the shelving unit and immediately pulls out a box labelled “The Stones”.

“Wow,” Ash lets out a low whistle as she steps into the tightly packed space, “Did he just pack his whole life up in here when he married your mom?”

“Seems that way,” you say absently as you notice a box filled with framed photographs, “It’s not like Nancy let him decorate his own home. You saw how sad and beige it was in there. All of this would have just been clutter to Nancy, and God forbid her man bring reminders of his life before, or his family into her home.”

You pull out the top one, almost without thinking. You see a younger Dave with a small, dark-haired girl on his shoulders, her tiny hands fisted in his hair as he smiles at the camera. A slightly older looking girl is hanging off his pant leg, caught in a fit of laughter as Dave has a hand on either child, steadying them both.

You’re not sure which one is which, but their names come to you immediately.

“Molly and Alice,” you whisper to yourself as you grip the frame in your hands, you wonder if it was Carol that took the photo. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any jealousy towards her. Instead, your mind immediately fills with the thought of having that life with Dave. Being the one behind the camera, capturing these moments of him and his girls. Being a part of those moments with him, a part of his life. A family.

You feel the shiver run down your spine as you refuse to admit to yourself that hope for that life with Dave has already taken root. It’s been festering inside you for some time but seeing him happy with his girls makes you face it. The need to have that life with him is all-consuming, threatening to swallow you whole. It’s too much for you to bear because you don’t know you’d be able to cope if it all came apart at the seams. Right now, you have to focus on you, on your life.

You put the frame down in haste and make yourself walk away, there’s a thick, tight feeling in your throat. You press on, moving to the covered furniture and pull the dust covers away to reveal a full-size record console. You recognize it mostly from film and TV, not having seen one in person before. The dark grey, mesh covered speakers the biggest giveaway, but you have no idea how it opens.

“Oh my fucking god,” Ash squeals at your elbow and you wince at the way your ears are ringing, “This is a Wrensilva!”

“A what?” You ask as you watch Ash run her hands over the wooden surface of the console, clearly looking for something.

“It’s only one of the best modern record consoles on the market, these things go for ten grand or more.”

Ash explains with an excited energy usually only reserved for Sarah Michelle Gellar, Taylor Swift, and women she’s dating. Her fingers find purchase on the wooden panel on top and the hinge moves soundlessly as she pushes the cover open.

“This is pristine,” She breathes as her hands ghost over the brushed aluminum dials and knobs, as if she’s afraid to touch it.

“Shame he never had the chance to use it,” you say with sadness as you remember the small tabletop turntable in Dave’s basement. A far cry from the opulent piece of art before you.

“Do you think we could play something?” Ash says, already rifling through boxes of records to find something to play.

“If you can find somewhere to plug it in, be my guest,” You shrug as you pull off some more dust sheets to reveal a hoard of expensive-looking furniture. Everything is lacquered wood, there’s a dining table and chairs that would be way too big in your new studio apartment. You eye up a mahogany wardrobe with beautiful glass doors that would fit well in your bedroom.

The final item you uncover is a beautiful wooden writing desk with a curved shutter. There are drawers on either side of the space where a chair would go, with intricate brass handles on all of them. You push up the wooden shutter to reveal the desk itself. It opens with ease, revealing small drawers and open spaces for letters and other small items along the top.

The flat surface has a leather mat inset into the wood, gold detailing in each corner. You run your fingertips over the smooth surface and imagine sitting at the desk with your laptop, pouring over legal notes and case briefs. There’s a perfect spot to put a desk lamp on the right.

You hear the needle drop, with the softest of scratches, and feel yourself take in a small breath as you wait for the music to start. The hauntingly beautiful sound of Nina Simone is crystal clear, and unbelievably rich through the bassy speakers. Clearly, Ash had found a power outlet. Feeling Good is one of your favorite songs, Ash knows this, and you smile as you look over your shoulder at her.

“Louis Armstrong, The California Ramblers,” Ash says approvingly as she saunters over to you, “Man has excellent taste.”

“I mean, have you seen me?” You scoff and Ash looks at you with a shocked expression, jaw hung open as she grins up at you.

“Are we doing this? Fully admitting you two are horny as fuck for one another?”

“After today, it’s more than a little obvious, don’t you think?” You say with a shrug, your lips pulled up into an unapologetic grin.

“Giiiiirl,” Ash squeals as she shakes her head in disbelief, “Ok but can we talk about those fucking grey sweatpants he wore today? I’m gay and I couldn’t help but fucking fixate.”

“Don’t,” you push on her shoulder as you feel your cheeks heat up, “I swear he wore them today to fucking torment me.”

“Is it as big as it looks?”

“Jesus Christ, Ash, for a lesbian you’re way too into dicks.”

“Women can have dicks too,” Ash points out and you roll your eyes.

“You’re way too into the dick of a cis man then,” you counter, and she just shrugs as she grins at you.

“You’re no fun,” Ash huffs, realizing you aren’t going to divest the size of Dave’s cock to her.

“It’s also fucking gorgeous,” you say as you head towards the door of the unit, not so much as looking at Ash as you go. The movers are waiting for you outside and you quickly tell them which pieces to take out to the truck.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Ash groans as she scrambles after you, “Could we at least go dildo shopping so you can point out an adequate substitute?”

“You’re so fucking gross,” you laugh as you turn off the console, putting the record back in its sleeve before unplugging it. Ash replaces the lid of the console and paws at it balefully, like a lovesick puppy.

“That’s not a no,” Ash wiggles her eyebrows at you as you put the boxes back on the shelving units.

“Only if you buy me one too, Nancy ruined my favorite one by fondling it before covering it in mashed potatoes.”

“No, not Vibro Vibescal?!”

“The very same,” You say solemnly as you make your way back to the door of the storage unit, “No way could I bring myself to put him inside me after that, food and pussies just don’t mix.”

“And no-one wants their moms touching their toys.”

“Ugh don’t,” you groan as you lean against the exterior wall, you’re so ready to get home and start unpacking.

“So, what will you call the new one?” Ash asks as she rests her head on your shoulder, snaking an arm around your waist.

“I dunno,” you muse, “Maybe Hole Filler?”

“I don’t get it,” Ash says, and you can hear the pout in her tone as you watch the movers grab the writing desk. The last item.

“Like Joel Miller, from The Last of Us?”

“Too far a walk to get to the punch line,” Ash grumbles as she tries to think of something else.

“We good to go?” You hail one of the movers as he passes you both.

“All set, just checking, this the address?” The man asks as he holds out his phone, the address already inputted on the Maps app.

“That’s the one,” you nod and start locking up the unit.

“See you there, ma’am.”

You smile to yourself at the honorific. The moment you’re happy everything is set up you loop your arm through Ash’s own. You stroll back to the car, your heart a little heavier. You try not to dwell on the way you can’t stop thinking about the photo of Dave and his girls.

~*~

You unlock the front door to your open plan apartment with a jingle of keys and hurried movements. The second-floor apartment is exactly as you remembered it. Dark hardwood floors, high ceilings with arched windows. The walls are a soft blue, bare, but for a few framed posters the last occupant left. You make a mental note to take them down. You head through the main living space, beckoning Ash to come inside.

“Shit, how much is this costing you?” Ash says as she steps in behind you.

“Not as much as you’d think. Two people died in the bedroom; the rental company couldn’t shift the place. Apparently, it was big news a year ago?”

“People died in here?” Ash whispers.

“Ash, people die in homes all the time,” you sigh as you watch the movers pile the furniture into the middle of the room, “I’m much more afraid of the living.”

“But like,” Ash looks around the open space with wide eyes, “Isn’t it weird?”

“All I care about is that it’s almost half as cheap as anything else for rent in this part of Austin,” you shrug, dead people can’t hurt you.

“You’re far braver than me,” Ash says with a shudder, “I couldn’t live in an apartment that has ghosts.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, Ash,” you laugh as the movers start to bring up the furniture.

“Where do you want us to set things up?” The lead mover asks as he wipes his brow.

“It’s fine, I’ll sort it,” you say with a wave of your hand, not wanting to pay extra to have them set up the bed and other items.

“Mr York pre-paid for the service, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Alright,” you nod, your heart fluttering at Dave’s thoughtfulness.

You instruct the movers to set up the bed in the other room, the only space that isn’t open plan. Then they set up the chairs and desk in the main room, the desk sits beautifully under the main window, looking out into the city below. They stack the moving boxes in your bedroom.

The moment the movers are gone you head back down to Ash’s car to get your prop box. You expect Ash to come back up with you, but she shakes her head.

“I’ve gotta catch up on work, but we’ll do something this weekend yeah? Maybe throw a housewarming? Invite Peter?”

“Sounds good,” you say as you pull her into a firm half-hug as you balance the prop box on your hip, “Thank you so much for today.”

“Anytime,” she tilts her head at you with a smile, “But please, don’t get murdered by your ghosts.”

“I promise,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you hold your hand over your heart. She sighs at your lack of sincerity before getting into her car. You wave her off as she leaves, only heading back up to your apartment after she disappears from view. You reach the top step, about to enter the main building when you feel the prickle of uncertainty under your skin. You look over your shoulder, scanning the street for anything out of place. But there’s nothing there, just the typical bustle of people going about their business. There aren’t any obvious signs of a PI, but you feel unease as you slip inside.

You lock your door behind you, already eager for Dave to get his security contractor in to set up the alarm and cameras. You set your prop box down on your bed before you start unpacking the rest of your clothes and bedding. The wardrobe just about fits all your clothes, but you make a note on your phone to plan a trip to IKEA at some point for a chest of drawers for the rest of your clothes. You think of anything you need for the kitchen, cutlery, plates, all that mundane stuff.

You set your laptop up on the writing desk and pull over one of the wingback chairs, it’s too low to really use the desk comfortably but it’ll do for now. Your dual monitors and PC tower won’t fit on this. Another thing to add to the list, a computer desk for your room as you’d left the old one at Nancy’s. But the writing desk is perfect for studying, with ample room for a laptop and books as well as a lamp. Another thing to add to the list.

“Fuck,” you huff to yourself as you realize that the small – if expensive – offering of Dave’s furnishings certainly made a dent in what you need, but your new place was far from complete. You order pizza before taking a long shower, the water pressure is delightful. You pad back out into the bedroom in just a towel, grateful for the generous adjoining bathroom, and pull the throw off the prop box.

You hold the fabric to your nose, inhaling the sweet scent of home, of Dave. It’s faint, but it still fills you with a rush and you think about that morning you woke up in Dave’s arms. The way his lips brushed against yours in the haze of waking. The first real moment that you crossed a line echo in your mind as you feel nothing but euphoria as you press your face into the fleecy fabric.

You throw the blanket over your shoulders as you open the box. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you see the olive-green hoodie and “USMC” logo front and center in the box. You drop your towel and pull the oversized garment on. You groan audibly at the smell of Dave’s bodywash, and his natural scent that you never can truly place as you pull it over your head. It’s like a hit of adrenaline spiking through you, it makes you bold.

You find a pair of leggings to pull on before grabbing your phone. You dial Dave’s number, heading over to the loveseat in the middle of the apartment. You flop down and to your dismay he doesn’t pick up. You glance at the time and realize it’s almost ten, a little late for a call. You open up Instagram to scroll when the call comes in.

“Everything ok?” There’s an urgency in Dave’s voice that makes your stomach flutter.

“Everything’s great just finished unpacking,” you say as you try not to whine at his voice in your ear, “Thank you, Dave. I know I keep saying it. But really, I can’t express how much all this means to me.”

“Like I said, think of it as a late birthday present.”

“This is a bit much for one birthday,” you argue, both of you are stalling again, neither wanting to hang up.

“I think you’ve had more than enough shitty birthdays to warrant being spoiled this time around.”

You don’t know what to say, because he’s not wrong. This is the most you’ve been spoiled in your life, not that the bar is all that high. But it’s nice to be seen, to have someone acknowledge it and try and make amends. Even if it isn’t his responsibility. But that’s probably why it means so much more to you.

“I found the hoodie,” you say as you bite your lip, all you can smell is Dave.

“I hope you didn’t mind me putting it in there,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a purr in your ear, “I always thought it looked better on you.”

“It feels like home.”

You know you’re being too forward, but you miss him, you wish he was here. But you can’t say any of that out loud, but you need to say something.

“You’re a good man, Dave,” you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I try,” he says, and you hear something low, sorrowful in his voice as he speaks, “Anything you need, you know where I am.”

“I do, see you around, Dave.”

“Bye, Princess,” The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you hear a grunt of discomfort on the other line as Dave realizes what he’s said, “I-, I didn’t mean-,”

“See you around, Duke.”

You hang up the phone before he can say anything more, astonished at your own boldness. You squeal to yourself like you’re a teenager again, drifting dangerously close to outwardly flirting with him.

But the thing that is clear to you now, if you ever really had any doubts about how Dave felt have dissipated.

He feels the same way, whatever it is you have, no matter how irresponsible it is, it’s mutual.

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nightwalker6200 · 3 months

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Okay but what if in the realization panel of Hirano to Kagiura- Kagiura does something stupid and gets his ass beat or something, and Hirano, supposedly good in a fight, comes to his rescue. Or Kagi gets threaten/ punched while Hirano is around and Hirano tackles/ fights the guy. After Kagi and him argue because they are both mad… and it comes to this conclusion after they yell at each other either in public or in the dorm or something:

(Yelling words… etc)

Kagiura, tell arguing: you could have gotten seriously hurt! Why the hell would you do that!?!?!

Hirano, angry and also yelling (the argument keeps getting heated): I didn’t you dumbass! Besides you would’ve gotten your ass beat if I hadn’t stepped in!!!

Kagiura: God you’re so stupid! The fight was my fault! Why didn’t you let me take care of it! Why did you tackle the guy!!! Huh!? You got in trouble-

Hirano: Because I love you, you stupid brat!

Kagiura: You always fix things and now you got in trouble with the headmaster and wait… what?

Hirano crossing his arms or not realizing what he said and continues lecturing.

Kagiura, normal voice: What did you just say, Hirano!

(Miyano or Sasaki or Hanzawa or Ogasawara if there: He said he loves you, you stupid brat… aw)

…….

Honestly though I think Hirano will figure out his feelings either when he gets sick after the entrance exams like Sasaki (Sasaki mentioned he won’t recover as fast as Hirano in v6? I think) and Kagiura takes care of him. Or when Hirano moves out… or a personal favourite, Kagi gets hurt somehow like a fight on the basketball court or something, and Hirano to the rescue… as we see in the manga, anime and books, Hirano loves taking care of people, he’s very affectionate in this way (giving Kagiuras little cousins a bath and drying them off and helping them get ready for bed even though, according to Kagi, they were old enough to do it on their own (an ironic statement), Hirano taking time to eat with Kagiura when he was sick, holding his hand when his was in the infirmary, listening to Kagi when he’s upset and hearing him out, helping with his homework, eating the foods the younger dislikes, waking him up every day, etc…) - I think this is his love language (Kagi is starting to figure out that Hirano likes taking care of people, which annoys Kagi in a sense that he wants to be able to take care of Hirano too - not just a one side gives and the other takes which is something Hirano has no problem with but the younger does. Kagi is right in wanting Hirano to see him as a equal because Hirano, by giving him all this attention, is still only seeing him as his kouhai, someone younger than him that he’s supposed to look out for and take care of (the sibling and mentor thing- also in a way a parent cares for a child; so this is why I’m betting on the sick scene where Hirano gets a fever and stuff after his exams and Kagi forces him to rest and eats with him, etc. will be where it clicks for Hirano)). The oldest love language is caretaking whereas Kagiura likes touch and closeness (and receiving words of affirmation), so either Hirano will figure out that he’s been taking care of Kagi, in the same way couples do, because he likes the younger - he realizes he’s grown affectionate or attached to the younger in some way (hasn’t figured out in what way yet but he is starting to), or when Hirano receives the same care and affection that he gives to others/ Kagiura - basically Kagiura doing something for or taking care of Hirano… thoughts?

I also like the idea (which I hope we see in full) of Hirano getting jealous (nevermind the fact that I want proof that Hirano is good in a fight, not just word of mouth)- like Kagi starts hanging out more with others or something. We’ve seen Hirano upset when Kagi doesn’t rely on him much and starts ignoring the older - AND, we’ve seen Hirano discussing how he admires and loves the focus and determination and energy (basically enjoyment and love) Kagiura puts towards basketball, and how he wishes that Kagiura would focuse like that on him. He wants Kagiuras attention and is “slightly” jealous over Kagis attention towards basketball. He wants Kagi to show him the same movtivation and admiration he has for basketball to him (vol 1). Hirano also enjoys and loves to watch how happy and focused Kagiura is towards basketball. He goes to the games and brings him snacks and drinks for after (taking care of him again). He enjoys watching others be happy and wants someone to look at him with that same emotion/ happiness…. Ironically he has yet to compare the joy Kagi feels towards basketball and towards Hirano - if he did, I’m sure he’d realize or begin to realize that it’s the same emotion. I also think that Sasaki and Miyano figuring out their own feelings while Hirano to Kagiura is just “starting” is helping Hirano analyze is own.

Sorry for the long ass rant but I’m also waiting for the 10+ second thing where Kagiura (maybe after a bad day or something) starts to pull away after 10 seconds and Hirano is like, “what are you doing?”

Kagiura “it’s been 10 seconds…”

Hirano after a few seconds of quietness and a frustrated look on his face, pulls the younger back to whatever position they were doing, “it’s fine, I’ll give you a pass tonight…”

So yeah.

#incorrect quotes #anime #manga #hirano #hirano and kagiura #hirano taiga #hirano to kagiura #kagihira #kagiura akira #ogasawara jirou #hanzawa masato #hanzawa to tashiro #sasaki and miyano #sasaki shuumei #sasaki #miyano yoshikazu #sasaki to miyano #hirakagi #sasamiya

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bloggingboutburgers · 5 months

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Hello! Hope you’re well. Your blog is much appreciated. I was reading through your old posts when something you said struck a chord. The distinction between QPR and romantic relationships- you said how it’s not about revolving our lives around the other. I like that!

I keep toggling between thinking myself as aro or not. My lifelong issue with the concept of romance has largely centered around this “they are my entire world”. It bothers me how it is made to be so much about the other person. I wonder how much of that is aromantic and how much is toxic romanticism.

I think there’s much to be said about how this concept has become very popular nowadays. There is a narcissistic and obsessive flavor to it. Also…This seems a more western concept of romance to me. I am asian and perhaps the collectivist culture helps lessen this singular focus on ONE person. But I might be wrong.

All this to say, there’s more than just this idea to make someone identify as aro but the way things are nowdays, I do find myself wondering:-).

Hi! I'm doing well, thank you, I hope you are too^^

Thank you so much for the input, honestly, you bring up very good points! I also agree that the whole thing of "making one person one's whole world" on its own probably doesn't just equate romance (one can also see cases of that in, say, parent-child relationships, or parasocial relationships I'm sure), so that's definitely important to stress.

I have yet to find the best words that would exhaustively define what romance is and why I don't want it, it's somehow a lot more elusive than sex! I guess it's probably a mixed bag of "making one person one's whole world" crossed with "making this specific type of relationship the end goal of everything that surpasses every other reason one might have to be happy somehow", crossed with likeliness of exclusivity and/or jealousy, and I could go on... There's much to be speculating about!

Like, heck, you also brought up, very validly, that our idea of what a healthy romance is is evolving as societies – and I love that! As much as I'm horrified on the regular of how much lowkey messed-up stuff most people will justify because "it's romantic", I also see more and more people bring up how it's mostly messed-up actually, and I truly appreciate it. It's nuts to think about but if our societies hadn't evolved the way they did in most of these broad aspects, we might have had a world without a concept of romance, or with a concept of it that wouldn't irk me so much so that I wouldn't have to define myself as aromantic.

It's all very interesting, and it's also why it's a valid point to have asexuality and aromanticism seen as spectrums as opposed to very clear-cut aversions – I may be on the dead end of sex-repulsed and romance-repulsed, but I can definitely see that benefit.

Thank you so much anon for enriching the conversation <3

#love this #anon #aromantic #qpr #romance

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sexualtensiongrowing21 · 3 months

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As the Sun Sets // Scars // Part Two

TW: Smut and physical abuse

Part three

After the welcome back dinner and the sorting ceremony for the first years we make our way back to the dungeons. Draco stays silent while we all listen to Pansy and Blaise talk about who they are going to spend the semester shagging.

“I heard Mclaggen is single this year. Looks like he has been training pretty hard as well.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Well I hear Chang is looking for a distraction from The Chosen One. I wonder if she likes the taste of chocolate?” Blaise jokes.

“Bloody hell, don't be crude Blaise.” I say while shaking my head.

“Don't act like you’re so innocent Scar, we all know you like to get down a dirty in the boys locker room” Theo joins in on it now. My mouth hangs open and I blush with embarrassment.

Pansy and I have been roommates since first year, and best friends since second. Her and Draco are the only ones who know the truth about me and my family. To everyone I am Scarlet Johnson. Not Scarlet Lestrange. Aunt Cissy convinced my father that it would be best if no one knew who my mother was. The fact that Raldophis Lestrange and Belatrix Lestrange had a child would make me a target. Not that they cared about keeping me safe, but the things I know. That I could be used against them. So it was hidden who my parents were. To everyone else I am a distant relative from the Malfoys from a pureblood family in France and that I was left in front of their floo one day.

Raldophis and Bellatrix wanted an heir. Someone who would join the ranks and bring honor to their name. But, instead they had me and they never let me forget what a disappointment I am.

“You know Pans, you could help me and Draco study instead? With O.W.L.S coming up soon we could make it like a study group! It will be fun!” I say while locking my arm into hers.

“Pass.” She says “Dray, you must have a list of lovely ladies to shag this year… or at least ladies…” turning her attention to Draco.

Draco huffs out a laugh. I roll my eyes while I pull her along.

“Yeah Dray, who's first on your list this year?” Bliase joins in from behind us causing Draco to shoot a glare in his direction.

No one calls Draco Dray except Pansy. Only because that has been her nickname for him since we were little. I also think he's scared of her, but he would never admit that.

“You know who looks rather fit this year?” Theo questions from beside blaise. “Patil” He answers himself.

“Which one?” I laugh “Both” he and Blaise say with a shrug

“Circe, could you be any more of a man whore?” I ask.

Theo pulls ahead and turns around putting his hand over his heart “You wound me Scar”.

Shaking my head we come to a stop once we finally get to the common room door and spot a group of first and second year Slytherins outside the common room trying to remember the password to enter.

“Move” Draco spits to the newer students. “pura sanguine” The snakes slide to reveal the door and we all step inside, the newer students follow with their heads hung low.

“Meet back in twenty?’ I ask while we all split up and go towards our dorms to unpack and settle in.

Pansy and I are pulling out all of our stuff from our trunks that are at the end of our four posters. The Black Lake against the windows is looking particularly dark this evening. I always loved falling asleep to the sound of the water humming against the panes. Our beds are across from each other on either side of the room. Third year Pansy threw a fit and demanded her dad bribe Snape into giving us our own dorm room alone. Perks of being a wealthy death eaters daughter I suppose.

“So Scar, got anyone on your to do list? Maybe Potter? Or one of the Wesselbee twins… Or both of them?” She laughs, flicking her want to send her clothes magically fly into the wardrobe.

“Oh Circe, Pans. No. They are just friends. I told you before, I just want to focus on my studies this year. I was never good at flirting anyways. ” I give her a sad smile.

“Hey, I can still study while having some fun on the side.” She winks. “Besides, I am a Parkinson, flirting comes easy to me. Come on. There has to be someone new you fancy. We are to be wed soon enough.” Venom laced in her voice. “Might as well have some fun before we are forced onto some oldy to produce an heir.”

Fancying someone requires me to actually get to know someone. Which also means that they need to know me. While I can give them surface level information like my favorite color, or my favorite quidditch team I can't trust anyone else to give anything real or personal about me. Last year I dated Adrian Pucey for a couple months last year. He is the closest thing to a boyfriend I have had. He showered me with gifts, sugar quills and affection. He really was a good boyfriend. That was, until I stumbled upon him with his trousers around his ankles and buried in Susan Bones while she was bent over a table in an empty classroom. Draco, Theo and Blaise almost killed him.

“What about Adrian? Did you ever talk to him after he left the infirmary last year?” Pans asked while fixing her makeup in our bathroom mirror.

I can't blame him entirely. I wasn't exactly the most attentive, what with running around with the golden trio and spending most free time with Draco and the rest of the boys. I wanted to hear him out. Let him apologize without the boys getting in the way.

“No. Draco never left my side, and then we left for summer. He sent me many owls over the summer, but Draco always incendio’d the letters.” I say solemnly. “I planned to find him tomorrow after dinner.”

“Would you like me to drag the boys away somehow? Distract them so you can talk to Adrian?” Pansy asked, grabbing my hand and rubbing circles on my knuckles.

“Oh Pans, that would be great! Thank you. You really are not the heartless bitch everyone says you are after all.” I playfully smile.

“Tell anyone and I will hex you.” She half heartedly threatens while pointing her wand at me.

—————————————————————————————-

After we have unpack we meet up with the boys in the common room. Theo is on the couch while Draco and Blaise are in the adjacent chairs. I jump over the back of the couch next to Theo while Pansy slides on the arm of the chair that Blaise is sitting in.

“Finally you two return. You know how long we have been waiting?” Theo teases while checking his imaginary watch on his wrist.

“They had to unload the eternity of their closest, Theo boy. You know how these two are with their clothes and shoes.” Blaise smirks from his set next to Pansy.

“You know us ladies, we must look our best when we visit gentlemen callers.” I laugh while patting Theo on the leg.

Pulling out my potions book I start to study while the rest of the group continues with their conversation. Draco and Blaise playing exploding snap, Pansy is doing her nails and Theo is reading besides me. After an hour or so everyone starts to trickle back to their dorms. The only two left are Theo, Draco and I.

After losing countless games (and galleons to Blaise) Draco gets up and looks towards the two of us “I'm gonna head on up. You coming, Nott?”

“Yeah, just gonna finish this section then I will be.” Theo says without looking up from his book waving his hand in the air to say go on without me.

“Night Scar.”

“Night Draco.” I say smiling in his direction and he heads towards the boys dorms.

After Draco leaves and is no longer in sight I get off the couch, put my book in my bag, and grab the blanket Molly Wesley made for me for Christmas last year wrapping it around my arms. Walking towards the common room exit I hear Theo snap his book shut and yell “And where do you think you're going all alone?” from behind me.

Throwing back an innocent smile while walking out I say “I'm going to get fresh air. Care to join me?”

Theo looks around before grabbing his cloak and following me out the dungeon door. We walk in silence till we get outside. Theo mutters a warming charm over us as I lead him to the edge of the black lake. This has been our go to spot since third year when Theo and Blaise found me in the midst of a panic attack after encountering my bogert. From then on this is where we go when we need to be away for a while. Hide for a while from all of the drama that occurs within the walls of Hogwarts. For Blaise when he found out about father number 4. Theo when his trip home left little to the imagination. Pansy for when she needed a secluded place to cry. And for Draco. When life at home started to bleed into his time at school.

I lay out the blanket and sit down tapping the spot next to me, motioning Theo to sit beside me. I sit cross legged while staring upon the edge of the lake. I hear Theo pull out a cigarette and light it next to me. The red embers burn as he inhales. Making smoke rings as he exhales. I have found whenever I have some time to myself I spend it organizing my thoughts. Always occluding.

“You know, You don't have to occlude around me.” Theo says from beside me as he inhales again.

I open my eyes and tilt my head to the side to look at him.

“Maybe you're a master in legilimency, secretly trying to get into my head to learn all my weaknesses.” I say swiping his cigarette from his hands and taking my own inhale with a smirk on my lips.

“Scared I might discover that you're secretly in love with me Scar?” He laughs while pushing his curly brunette locks out of his face dramatically.

“You wish.” I say while handing back the cigarette.

I can't say that I haven't thought about Theo in that way. We have been friends since first year because of Draco. I can deny how attractive he is. Tall, built like a seeker, honey skin tone, green eyes that light up when someone is talking about quidditch. The way his brows furrow when he is trying to understand something from his textbook. The way a single curl falls into his face throughout the day no matter how many charms he puts on it.

I have had a crush on Theo, one of my cousin's best friends since we were younger… But he doesn't know the real Scarlet. The girl whose mother is a delirious murder. Whose father only ever wanted an heir and makes sure she knows it. That the only attention he gives her is through forcing her to learn the dark arts and teaching her physical lesions when she gets them wrong. I cannot add to the stress of his life by adding the shitshow that is mine. So I fake it. Pretend that I am not crazy about the brunette sitting beside me. To protect him.

“How do you know I don't use it to protect you from me?’ I ask, eyeing him while he takes a drag.

He turns to look at me and smiles. He put his arm around me pulling me into him and kissing the top of my head

“Because I am one of your best friends! You don't need to protect me from anything. And hey, one of these days I'm going to get you to let your walls down with me.” he says matter of factly.

I just hum in acknowledgment and lean into him while we watch the giant squid rise above the surface and back down again in silence.

After a while Theo takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I saw Adrian at dinner tonight.” Theo says with an exhale of smoke. “He looked like he wanted to talk to you.”

“Really?” I say as a blush makes its way to my cheeks.

“Yeah. I thought you two broke up?” He says while passing me the stick.

“We uh.. Yeah we did.. But he has been trying to talk to me all summer.” I say taking a small drag.

A couple of minutes goes by in silence.

“Is it wrong to miss him Theo?” I say just barely above a whisper.

“He cheated on you Scar. He lied and cheated on you. He hurt you.”

I can feel tears start to prickle my eyelids. Quickly wiping the tear that was threatening to fall.

“I know Theo. It was my fault though. I wasn't good to him. I didn't give him the attention he deserved.”

“Oh bloody hell. Don't do that. Do not sit here and tell me it's your fault that he decided to get his dick wet by someone else.” He turned to face me now. Holding my face in his hand. His hands are so soft. Closing my eyes I relax into his touch. “You deserve the world Scarlet Johnson. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.”

Nodding and whipping the tears that fell I felt a pang of guilt in my chest at the foux name that came out of Theos mouth.

After an hour we decided to head back inside. We saw our goodbyes and parted ways to our dorms. Once I made it to my four posters and curled into the blankets. Thinking about what Theo said, “You don't have to occlude around me.” “You deserve the world” If only he knew how dark it can get within my head.

————————————————————————————-

“Again” “Crucio” he shouts from behind me. I drop to my knees. A thousand white hot knives cutting through my skin, and within a second I am laying on the floor. Every bone in my body is breaking. After what felt like hours it stopped. “...please… I can't… no more…” I struggle to speak. “Pathetic” he spits. “Get up.” He grabs my arm and yanks me to stand on my feet. Tears running down my face.

“Again.” “CRUCIO” he pours all of his magic into me. This time I scream. I'm begging him to stop. “please… father… no…. more…” I manage between screams, but he's relentless.

“Again” He yanks me up to my feet. I can barely stand on my own before he yells again “CRUCIO!” falling to the ground I know I am screaming but I can no longer hear myself.

“Scar!” Please stop… “Scarlet!” I can't take it anymore… Shaking me awake my eyes snap open. Everything hurts. But her grip is strong. She's holding me down.

“You're okay. He's not here. You're in our dorm. Scarlet you are safe” She stares, as my body is convulsing underneath her. Occlude, occlude, occlude. Breath. Breath. Breath.

Out

Ground myself.. I see the green curtains above my bed. I see the family signet ring on my left index finger. I see Pansy sitting next to me. I hear the lake hum against the window. I hear my heavy breathing. I hear Pansy reassuring words. I can move my toes. I can move my head. I can move my hands.

Finally my breathing slows. I look around and Pansy is next to me. “Father?” I slowly nod my head and she lets go and slowly gets off the bed.

I must have woken her, she is in her green satin pajamas and her short black hair messy. I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. Sweat covers my body. My throat is sore. I was screaming in my sleep again. Fantastic.

“I'm sorry for waking you Pans” I say over my shoulder while shutting the door to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower I walk over to the mirror and discard my clothes. Staring at myself makes me nauseous. The disillusionment charm has worn off by now.

My arms littered with a mixture of cigarette burns and various cuts and bruises. Lashes on my chest and stomach from curses I don't remember. Cuts on my legs are a mixture of my own doings and my mothers.

Turning to the shower and tearing my vision away from my reflection I try to relax my muscles with the hot water pouring down on me. Once I step out I cast my disillusionment charm over myself once more and get dressed for the day. It's breakfast so I head down to meet the rest of the group before classes start.

—————————————————————————————-

Walking in to the great hall I see Harry, Hermione and Ron and give them a wave.

“Where were you last night Scar? I didn't see you come to bed.” Pansy asks as I sit next to her.

“Me? I went out for a walk. Wanted some fresh air.” I begin pushing food around my plate.

Looking around I see Theo, Blaise and Draco deep in conversation about quidditch. Looking farther down the table I see Adrian. He really did change over the summer. His hair has gotten longer, lying lazily in his face. His eyes. His eyes always had a way to get me lost within them. All of a sudden, his eyes are on me. A blush creeps onto my face as he smirks. God I miss that mouth.

There he is. In the great hall I see Adrian. A toothy smile, and a wink is thrown my way while he sips his pumpkin juice.

“Earth to Scar.” Snapping her perfectly manicured fingers in my face.

“Oh I'm sorry, Pans. What were you saying?

“It's time to go to charms. If you would stop staring at Adrian, I was going to tell you that I have a plan to occupy the boys. I'll tell you about while we walk to class”

The rest of the day went by rather slowly. Charms with Pansy, Herbology with Blaise and Theo, Poisons with Draco and Theo, Divination with Draco and Pansy, History of Magic with Theo and Pansy, and Astronomy with all of them. Potions is my favorite class and being able to have Draco in my class makes it that much easier, except for when I have to fight over being his partner with Theo, but this time it looks as if Pansy beat us to it.

“Well hello partner” Theo sings while sliding in next to me. I roll my eyes at Theo.

“You're welcome by the way. I know you stole me away from Draco so that you could get an easy O.” I joke while settling into my seat.

“Or maybe I just wanted to work with you” He says while putting his arm around me and squeezing me.

“Oh whatever, Theo.” I giggle.

“Hello losers. I need your boy's help.” Pansy says while plopping across from us.

“Oh no. I am not helping you decide on an outfit again. Last time you made me try them on. Nope no again.” Blaise says while popping the ‘p’.

“Oh please you loved it Nott. No. I need help learning to fly. I need you and Draco to show me and for Theo to wait below to make sure that I don’t die when I inevitably fall to the ground.” Smiling while looking at her nails.

“And what is in it for me, Pans?” Draco grabbing another roll.

“Help me and you might find out.” Pansy says smirking in his direction.

“Fine. We'll be there. Scar will probably be studying for our first quiz from Slughorn anyways”

—————————————————————————————

After dinner I make my way to the dorms looking for Adrian within the swarm of boys playing exploding snap and wizards chest. Once I hear his laugh I make my way to him.

Making eye contact with me he says something that I couldn't hear from our distance. He pats his friend on his back and makes his way towards me. Once the distance is closed he reaches for me and pulls me in for a hug.

He whispers into my hair “There you are, angel. I have been waiting for a moment. I could swift you away. Are you free? None of your body guards around.”

“There are outside. Wanna talk?” He snakes his arm around my back as I lead him up to my dorm.

In my dorm we are sitting on the bed across from each other. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Circe I have missed you angel. I thought when you didn't respond to my owls you didn't wanna talk to me. What I did was inexcusable and I'm so sorry. I just think I needed someone who had time to care for my needs. Make me feel important, you know?"

I lean over to touch his face “I missed you too. So much. And I'm sorry. I should've worked harder. I promise I will do better this time... If you'll have me that is. ”

He leans his forehead against mine. His hands come to tangle into my hair. Slowly he inches closer to my mouth. Just a breath away. “Its okay, angel. You can always try harder.”

He closes the distance between our lips and my body tingles. He deeps the kiss his tongue asking permission to enter. As I open a small moan escapes from me and he starts to push me down on the bed. “I've missed this, the feel of your skin. You little moans.” he says between breaths as his hand travels down father gripping the hem of my shirt. Pulling it off of me he starts palming my breasts.

“Oh Adrian” mumbles from him as he works his way down my neck to my chest with his mouth. Flipping my skirt up over my hips he presses kisses on my thigh.

“That's it baby, Circe those sounds you make are so sweet.” I'm soaked, my panties are ruined by my arousal for the boy in front of me.

“Already wet for me baby” Slipping one finger in gaining a gasp out of me.

“Still so tight for me” Pulling down my panties, throwing them across the room and attaching his lips to my clit. Putting another finger inside, the knot that is building is starting to fray.

“That angel came undone for me.”

“Oh. Adri-”

“Tell me what you want, angel. Use your words” He growls while unbuttoning his pants but keeping the same rhythm on my clit and in my pussy.

“You- Ugh”

“Please- you, I want you I want to taste you too”

Without a second thought he disregards the rest of his trousers. He removes his fingers leaving me feeling empty.

He grips my hair and shoves my head hard onto his crotch, as I open my mouth to fit him inside.

““Dear Salazar. I missed your pretty mouth angel” He says between breathy moans never breaking the pace of fucking my mouth.

“Tell me you want me. Tell me how much you love me.” Adrian pants out.

Unable to respond with his cock jamming in and out of my mouth I hum around him.

“TELL ME. SAY YOU ONLY WANT ME” He growls out, fastening his pace. His hand came around my throat. Pressing hard onto my throat, hard enough to feel himself.

Pulling myself off of him just long enough to croak out “I.. only… want you.”

“That's right angel. Swallow all of me and I’ll make you come.” He grits out hammering himself back down my throat.

He shoves down my throat one more time and stays there. Trying to breath out of my nose I can feel tears streaming down my face as I feel his come shoot down my throat. His heart beats rapidly in his chest as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Come here angel.” He says pulling me into him. He brushes the hair out of my face and wipes the tears off my face. “Good job. Come on, lets snuggle.”

It's late by the time that I wake up again. My arms swing to the side to snake around Adrian waist but I am met with the empty presence of my bed next to me. A scrap of parchment is on my pillow, reaching for my wand on the bedside table. I cast a lumos to reveal what it says.

Angel, I'm sorry that I left but when Pansy came into the room, I just didn't want to get hexed in my sleep. I didn't wake you because you looked peaceful sleeping. I didn't want to wake you. Come find me tomorrow? Adrian

He is so sweet. I look over and Pansy is sleeping soundly in her bed. Reaching over to place the note in my nightstand I take a peek at the time. It's still the middle of the night. Rolling over to the new bed I engulf myself in the leftover scent of grass and broom oil. Slowly drifting back to sleep.

#theodore nott x ofc #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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emotionallychargedtowel · 1 year

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The Eighth Sense e5 & e6: portraying trauma with nuance

Episodes 5 and 6 of The Eighth Sense have really blown up a discourse bomb in tumblr’s BL scene. I had been putting off watching these episodes because I had gathered that episode 6 ended with something pretty distressing, and stuff like that sometimes hits me pretty hard, especially when it’s left as a cliffhanger. But I was already tempted to rip off the band-aid and watch it anyway, and then everyone has been debating aspects of these episodes. So I just had to see what all the discussion was about and figure out my own take on it.

In case it’s not obvious, the following will have spoilers for the series up to and including episode 6. I have a lot to say about this, because it touches on subjects that have been a major focus for me in my personal life, in my previous work as a trainee therapist, and in my research and writing. But I want this to be a manageable read, so I’m going to put things in bullet form when I can to keep them brief and organized and I’m going to make some section headings to help with skimming or skipping around. But before I launch into the rest, there’s one thing I should get out of the way: I don’t think any part of episodes 5 or 6 are a hallucination, a dream, or otherwise did not occur. I do think that there are aspects of the way the show portrays certain things that indicate dissociation and/or an acute trauma response. I’ll talk more about that below. (Hey, @waitmyturtles, this is the epic TES post I’ve been writing off and on for two days! I hope it’s of interest.)

Here are the section headings I’ll use below, to give a sense of what I’m going to talk about:

Conceptualizing Jae Won: Or, what I think is happening with him

Jae Won’s therapist - comments and interpretations

Jae Won’s therapist - medication management

Human beings’ amazing capacity for self-blame

Interpreting show production choices psychologically

Are the creators of The Eighth Sense going to pull a “who shot JR?” move?

Conceptualizing Jae Won: Or, what I think is happening with him

We don’t know how his younger brother died, but we know that he died in front of Jae Won when they were together, and it’s clear that he blames himself. I would be shocked if he was actually at fault even a little bit. But it does appear to have happened “on his watch” in a sense that lends itself to blaming himself. This is a huge issue, one that I’ll discuss in more detail later on.

Even before his brother’s death, Jae Won was clearly under a ton of pressure from his parents. And his father appears to be emotionally and, almost certainly, physically abusive. This is also far more likely to have pre-dated his brother’s death than to have only developed afterward.

In addition to pressure and abuse, I think it’s pretty clear that Jae Won was a parentified child. This means that he was put in a position of having to take care of his parents’ emotional needs as a child. This kind of role reversal has profound effects throughout the parentified person’s life.

Jae Won’s self-blame about his brother’s death means he was always going to be predisposed to stay stuck in the chronic version of the acute trauma response instead of moving through the natural healing process. In other words, he was almost certain to develop PTSD.

This is less clearly shown in the show, but my impression is that Jae Won has a deep-seated depressive tendency that existed before the loss of his brother. This would make sense for someone who faced the family-of-origin difficulties that he did.

When he did develop PTSD, as I have no doubt he did, Jae Won’s existing challenges were going to make him even more likely to develop the depressive symptoms of PTSD than others. We’ve seen some of these in the show already:

feeling alienated from others, unable to form meaningful connections with them,

anhedonia (an inability to feel positive emotions), and

negative beliefs about himself, other people, and the world.

All of this is happening at once. He’s dealing with PTSD, but he also still has all the same habits and beliefs he had before due to the parentification and training in people-pleasing, so he’s supposed to bottle up all of this pain. And if it’s his fault (in his mind) that his brother died, how much more does he owe his parents than he ever did before? This is a distorted, unhealthy way of thinking about all of it, but these kinds of maladaptive thoughts and expectations happen all the time with trauma survivors.

Jae Won’s therapist really sums all of this up very well when she says, “All your worries, not doing what you want to do because you do not want to let your parents down, and trying hard to be a good person to everyone because you do not want to disappoint others. Don’t you think it might be all because of your younger brother? Your younger brother, who got into an accident while with you. Your younger brother, who you couldn’t protect. And you are struggling to live your life for him as well.”

Jae Won’s therapist - comments and interpretations

I went into this series feeling nervous about its portrayal of therapy. I was very excited that therapy was being portrayed at all, mind you! It’s horrifying how seldom we see therapy mentioned as an option, much less shown, either in BLs or kdramas, and I’ve hoped for this to change for a long time now. But therapy is shown in an inaccurate way so often in media. And often, we see therapists and other mental health professionals breaking ethical rules. So I was on my guard, big time.

There’s one thing I really take issue with about Jae Won’s therapist, and it’s somewhat of a small thing: her office is way, way too dark! I just don’t think that kind of low lighting, with a lot of the illumination coming from her aquarium and other tinted light sources, is professional or conducive to therapy work. Of course, it’s obvious that her office is lit in this way because it looks cool and sets a certain mood for the show. And that’s fine. It’s a very stylized show in a lot of ways. But it makes me a little tweaky to watch it.

Some of the things she does in the therapy space with Jae Won are a bit open to interpretation, and could be debated. But I view her in a fairly charitable light, and I found that a favorable interpretation wasn’t difficult to justify at all. I ended up viewing her (so far, at least) as a very skillful and effective therapist.

I loved it when she joked, in the first scene after the credits for episode 1, “For God’s sake! Just tell me what your worries are!” Jae Won isn’t great at sharing. He’s been trained from early childhood not to show his messy, vulnerable emotions around authority figures. Jae Won is not an easy client by any stretch, so she may have been showing a mild version of some real frustration with him when she began that comment with mock-hostility. But he seems really sensitive to criticism, real or perceived. Coming at him directly about this could be risky. Using humor is a good way to get around this sensitivity pretty effectively. It’s worth noting, though, that I wouldn’t endorse this kind of move by a therapist unless they knew a client very well and had built a solid rapport with them.

The comment I quoted above (”Don’t you think it might be all because of your younger brother?”) connects so many of Jae Won’s interpersonal difficulties to the loss of his brother in a skillful way. It was very astute and well-put. But there are some things I would quibble with about it.

First, I’m kind of surprised that she is only saying this explicitly this far into therapy with Jae Won. It seems rather late to make such an observation considering this constellation of issues has, without a doubt, been in place the entire time they’ve been working together. This could definitely have been done sooner.

At the same time, paradoxically, it’s delivered abruptly, as if she blurted it out too soon. Actually, the abruptness comes from the fact that there’s not sufficient lead-up to the comment in their discussion beforehand.

Though the show’s treatment of mental health is strong overall, I think this part of this scene suffered from flawed writing. If I had written this scene, I would have made a change that I think would have resolved both of these issues. Instead of introducing this insight as if the therapist has just voiced it for the first time, I would have presented it as something she and Jae Won have touched on together more than once during their work together. Anyone who’s been to therapy knows that the same ideas, which appear as shocking revelations at first, often have to be returned to many times and worked through before we can benefit from them. She could have said something like, “This is that issue we’ve talked about before, right? It seems like another case of your beliefs about your brother’s death causing trouble in other areas of your life.”

Even better, she could have been shown quoting some kind of metaphor or shorthand Jae Won came up with himself when they’d spoken about this previously. For example, I had a client once who used to talk about metaphorically carrying around a giant, heavy book where he wrote down all of his failures. He described it in a similar way to “the catalog of mistakes” (I’m not going to share his actual wording, of course). Whenever I would use his wording, saying “the catalog of mistakes” or even “the catalog,” all of our prior discussion of that issue came into both our minds immediately. It also served as a reminder of our rapport and the importance I placed on his perspective.

Jae Won’s therapist - medication management

There’s one other area of Jae Won’s interactions with his therapist that is a bit hard to interpret. The exchange he has with his therapist about the amount of medication she’ll prescribe to him certainly seems important, but it’s hard to tell what exactly it means.

One thing that complicates this is the fact that he is receiving therapy and medication management services from the same provider. In other words, she seems to be a psychiatrist who provides therapy services. In most parts of the United States, this is rare (though that wasn’t always the case). I haven’t been able to tell whether this is more commonplace in South Korea.

Because she’s a prescriber and a therapist, asking for three weeks’ worth of medication instead of two also means waiting longer before having another therapy session. Maybe Jae Won really is just busy and trying to cut down on demands on his time, but this doesn’t seem too likely. It’s also possible that he’s seeking a greater quantity of his medication for some purpose, such as abusing it or using it for self-harm or to end his life. But he also could just be trying to put off his next therapy session to a later date because of his difficulty talking about vulnerable topics, something he demonstrates at multiple points in his therapy session. Similarly, when his therapist says she can extend his prescription to three weeks but not a month, because, as she puts it, “I need to do my job,” this could be in reference to the medication or her therapy work. Part of her job is keeping him from having access to too large an amount of medication at once, while another part is having therapy sessions with him (that are frequent enough to be useful). It’s hard to tell which of the two she was referring to, or whether it could be something else entirely. So I don’t think there’s one clearly correct interpretation here. But I do think we should be attentive to the possibility that he might be medication-seeking, possibly with the aim of using the medication for self-harm.

Human beings’ amazing capacity for self-blame

Even if you have experienced trauma or have been close to someone who has, unless you’ve spent time with a sizable sample of trauma survivors, it’s hard to understand just how readily people blame themselves for traumatic experiences. I had had personal experience with this as a survivor of intimate partner violence before I ever did any training in trauma therapy, but I was still totally floored when I observed firsthand just how often this happens and how unjustifiable every single instance of self-blame I encountered in clients turned out to be.

This is actually a big area for me as a researcher so I’m going to try not to go off on a massive tangent, but I think this is important. When we experience trauma, one of the most frequent responses people have is to blame themselves. I used to describe this to clients as a “deal with the devil.” Blaming ourselves allows us to feel like we have control over whether such things will happen to us (and/or those we care about) in the future. If we tell ourselves, “the trauma only happened to me because I did something bad, or something wrong,” then we can also tell ourselves, “but I’ll never do the bad or wrong thing again so from now on I’ll be safe.”

It’s very tempting to make this bargain, but it is an extremely bad deal. Self-blame is one of the biggest reasons some people get stuck in their acute trauma response instead of completing the healing process, resulting in PTSD. That feeling of control isn’t worth that. But human beings are so tempted to make this trade. When I was doing trauma therapy as a trainee, I saw example after example of folks who did seriously remarkable amounts of mental gymnastics in order to justify blaming themselves for their trauma. I’m going to talk briefly now about a client I had many years ago, without giving any details that could be remotely identifying. This person had witnessed the death of a close friend when they were in combat together. I did prolonged exposure therapy with this person, meaning he had to tell me the story of his friend’s death again and again and again. When we do this type of work, it usually seems at first like the client is telling the exact same story again and again without any real change. But little changes crop up gradually and accumulate and after a while, you find the story has made big shifts. And occasionally, a big change happens.

This client started out telling his story in a way that looked for every possible reason his friend’s death could have been his fault. And wow, was he ever grasping at straws. It was almost as if he had said something as nonsensical as “I had oatmeal for breakfast that day and maybe that’s why my friend died.” Every miniscule decision he had made that day could, in his eyes, potentially have caused his friend’s death in some mysterious and imperceptible way. It would have been absurd had it not been so sad. But thankfully, as we continued the exposure work, his story gradually changed and these justifications for self-blame started to fall away a little at a time.

Then, one day, a crucial detail was added to the story that blew me away. After weeks of telling the story in the usual way, my client mentioned for the first time that just before his friend was hit, he had called out a warning to him, which the friend had ignored. He’d mentioned countless ways he might be to blame--none of them remotely justified--but had never told me about the one very clear way in which he had tried to prevent his friend’s death. When I pointed this out, my client was shocked that he had never mentioned that detail before. We spent a lot of time unpacking what all of this meant. It was the single biggest turning point in his therapy. So, yeah. People have an amazing capacity for figuring out even the slimmest of pretexts for self-blame, and it’s abundantly clear that Jae Won is exercising that capacity big time. I’m pretty certain we’ll find out that he has been blaming himself a lot for what happened while having no real justification for doing so.

(Side note: I have tons more thoughts about trauma, self-blame, victim-blaming more generally, and other related psychological constructs--these are all longstanding research interests of mine--but I’m going to stop here because this thing is already ridiculously long. But if anyone reading this ever wants to discuss any of this further, please feel free to hit me up! I love talking about these things.)

Interpreting show production choices psychologically

Let’s review where we find Jae Won toward the beginning of the show. I’ve talked about how Jae Won had a lot of psychological difficulties before the story started. His family of origin situation was damaging even before he lost his brother, and then he had to contend with trauma and complicated grief. After that, he went through a breakup (possibly due to his partner cheating on him), completed his military service, and then had to make the transition back to civilian life, which isn’t easy under the best of circumstances.

And then he meets Ji Hyun, and his feelings for him unsettle the precarious set of strategies that he’s been using to get by. Ji Hyun makes Jae Won feel tempted to let his guard down and be himself. He places a degree of trust in Jae Won that challenges his cynicism and makes him feel tempted to trust Ji Hyun in return--to trust him to an extent that would normally be out of the question for him. Ji Hyun shakes things up, and while this is mostly a very positive thing--there are a lot of things in Jae Won’s life that urgently need to change--it’s also rather destabilizing in the short term.

Then the shit starts to hit the fan when Jae Won wakes up after staying out late drinking to hear his father pounding on his door. And the makers of the show start to play around with cinematography, editing, sound design, and other aspects of the show’s production to evoke Jae Won’s inner experience. After his dad pounds on his door, the way the show is shot and edited changes.

This disjointed editing and other distortions of typical filmmaking at this point in episode 5 have reminded some folks on here of a dissociative state, and I can see why. I would agree that it has a dissociative flavor. There are two prominent types of dissociation (which can happen simultaneously):

derealization, a feeling that the world around us isn’t real--it may feel empty, strange, or just plain wrong; and

depersonalization, in which we feel like we’re seeing ourselves from the outside, as if the person we’re observing isn’t us.

It’s tricky to talk about either of these in the context of tv/film because as viewers watching a fictional story unfold in a TV show, we are by definition:

perceiving that the world the characters inhabit doesn’t seem real, because it isn’t

looking at the characters from the outside, because they aren’t us (and they aren’t real)

But there are conventions of film and tv production that give us a sense of realism and of seeing things from characters’ points of view, and when Jae Won is dissociating we see those conventions get suspended or distorted. For example:

Conventional editing creates a flow of time that feels realistic (partly because we learn the “language” of film from a young age and interpret it that way). At important moments in The Eighth Sense, the editing breaks the rules of conventional editing, often messing with the viewers’ sense of time. Contexts change abruptly, as when Jae Won suddenly goes from being at home to being in his car. At other points, dialogue also goes out of sync.

Shot-reverse shot techniques help to approximate seeing things from the characters’ perspectives, situating us in the story so that we don’t feel like we’re observing from a distance. The most notable moment when this rule is broken happens when Jae Won is upset about his camera being damaged. We see him telling someone between sobs that the camera was a gift from his younger brother, but that person (assumably his dad) isn’t shown at all--not even a shoulder or the back of a head.

There’s also a lot of use of shallow depth of field (something the show uses in other ways as well), putting Jae Won in focus while his surroundings become a blur, making the world around him look hazy and unreal.

The sequence where Ji Hyun and Jae Won kiss in the ocean puts their dialogue way out of sync. On my first viewing, this just seemed like an interesting choice, one that gave the scene a sort of dreamlike quality. I’ve seen this strategy used before, as well, without any reference to mental illness, usually in art films. The first example that came to mind for me was from a Godard movie. It would be a valid option regardless of mental health-related content in a show. But after what immediately follows, I think that scene is portraying a trauma memory. Sometimes benign events that happened just before something traumatic become encoded with trauma memories rather than our usual type. (To put it briefly, trauma memories are encoded and stored in a different part of the brain from our everyday memories, and this is why they “behave” differently and have a different sensory quality from typical memories. Trauma recovery often involves some degree of re-encoding these memories in a more normal manner.)

Basically, the show sometimes puts the viewer into an approximation of a derealized and depersonalized state, particularly relative to what we’re used to as TV watchers. At other points, it shows characters’ experiences as if they were traumatic memories.

Are the creators of The Eighth Sense going to pull a “who shot JR?” move?

All this being said, I think that Jae Won’s dissociative moments, while very concerning and doubtless extremely distressing for him, do not point toward any sort of severe dissociative disorder like Dissociative Identity Disorder, nor do they make me concerned that his reality-testing (his ability to effectively distinguish what is and isn’t real) is impaired. I also don’t see any signs of cognitive impairment that would create a similar degree of confusion about reality. As a result, I don’t think the show’s use of signs of dissociation suggests that entire sections of the story will later be shown not to have happened.

Here’s the thing about dissociation. On paper, it sounds like an extreme symptom that approaches the kind of severe mental illness that includes symptoms like hallucinations and delusions. But the vast majority of the time, it’s very different from psychosis. And it’s also, in my opinion, more of a spectrum than we care to acknowledge most of the time. When we look at it that way, we can see that in a sense, Jae Won is at least a tiny bit dissociated a whole lot of the time. But frankly, so am I. It’s not uncommon for trauma survivors. It’s very different from something that would result in impaired reality-testing.

It’s possible that the show will end up revealing that Jae Won’s mental illness has resulted in him imagining entire segments of the show. These types of symptoms are often portrayed in media, for a couple of reasons: 1) people just find psychosis fascinating, and 2) these types of symptoms are very handy for creating plot twists and other interesting narrative devices. It’s not hard to think of examples of this. Fight Club, Black Swan, Shutter Island...the list goes on and on. But these portrayals are almost always inaccurate and exploitative. So far, the folks who make The Eighth Sense have shown a great deal of nuanced awareness of and sensitivity toward mental health matters, so I don’t think they would use this kind of cheap plot device. But they might. If so, I’ll find that pretty disappointing.

There is one thing the showrunners are doing that is somewhat sneaky in a way that’s could look analogous to that. Others have pointed out that Jae Won and his therapist are wearing the same clothes in every therapy scene, suggesting that we’re seeing the same therapy session interspersed with the other events of the series. In other words, the therapy session operates on a very different timeline from the rest of the story. We don’t know where to situate it relative to the rest of the plot. But I don’t see that as tied to the show’s portrayal of Jae Won’s mental health, nor does it seem exploitative or out of left field.

To sum up:

So far, The Eighth Sense has been remarkably accurate regarding psychological matters and has portrayed therapy and the use of psychotropic medication in a mostly positive and realistic light. I get the feeling the writers/directors/etc. have had some experience receiving mental health treatment. I really hope they maintain this level of quality throughout the remainder of the series.

I don’t think Jae Won’s PTSD (or his depression/anxiety) are sufficient for him to experience psychosis. I don’t expect entire segments of the show will be revealed to be an elaborate lie or hallucination, and if they are, I would consider that to be an example of poor writing and an unrealistic and potentially harmful representation of mental illness.

#The Eighth Sense #psychology of BL #trauma #self-blame #dissociation #media portrayals of mental illness #media portrayals of psychotherapy #media portrayals of trauma #jae won x ji hyun

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bengiyo · 5 months

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BENGIYO'S Send Me a Ship and I'll Share My Thoughts

Just saw your reply to the Ask about Akk and Ayan from The Eclipse and it was such a good read! (I've only been on Tumblr sporadically these past few weeks because of work, and it pains me I've missed so much good stuff.) 😔

Anyway, this got me thinking about Only Friends. I liked some bits but on the overall it disappointed me. I could ask about any ship in there, but let's focus on one: what do you think about TopMew?

Apologies if this has already been Asked; do point me to it if it has! 🤩

Hello, good sir! I'm always honored when you take the time to reach out. I'll try to be thorough for your sake.

Just like with the last ask, I am putting a disclaimer here for the FB girlies, I am talking about Mew and Top as characters.

I think Top is a poorly-written character because the show never decided what they exactly wanted him to be, and this is best shown when Boeing returns. Boeing wants Mew to team up with him to fuck with Top, but we never get what Boeing wanted and what Top wants between either of them.

The show intentionally keeps Top enigmatic the entire time. We don't know if he's serious about the sleeping thing until the fire scene in the end. We all thought he was getting high at one point. So much of what's wrong with Top is wrapped up in what's going on with what Mew wants, and because Mew is also a difficult character to read we are never certain what the deal is with them.

All we really seem to understand about Mew is that he is a status chaser. His primary reason for being with Top seems to be the prestige that comes with having Top want to be with him, or how Top stepping out on him embarrasses him. In fact, the strongest actions Mew takes in the entire show are about punishing Boston or punishing Top. He can't even fully-commit to that. He gets bored and tired of it it, and then just decides to be with Top.

I just really don't get Mew by the end. What is the source of his beef with Boston? This child was raised by lesbians, so why does he have such hangups around purity? Why does he care so much about his perceived status when we know he wants to get fucked by pretty boys so bad that we end on a tag of him looking at Mix?

A good comparison for my issues with Top and Mew can be found in La Pluie with Saengtai and Phat. We understand the core of Saengtai's issues. He is a selfish reader of romantic fiction and virgin, who's punishing his rain-mate because his parents got a divorce. The fact that we know so little about Phat works in this story because we know what we need: he's a kind man who is doing everything he can to show Saengtai that he is willing to make a relationship work because he thinks Saengtai is worth it.

On the other hand, OF constantly asks us to question the motives of Top, and so by being so nonspecific about Mew and properly interrogating him as a character, we're asked to just make it up. When they go for the most dramatic stuff, such as kicking Boston and fighting in the pool, seducing Drake and his ears and eyebrows to lord over Boston, punching Ray out in a bar to later embarrass Top right before sex, smirking over Boston's issues with Atom, and then finally telling Boston to go fuck himself....What is the core of this? Why is he the leader of this group?

I don't get Mew, honestly. I think he is a wobbly character. Book is very pretty. He plays the virgin well. Force has a great face, and he plays a douche-who-might-not-want-to-be really well. I don't think these guys' characters are written on a solid base and so their characters never landed for me.

So yeah, I really don't like Mew, and I don't think Top feels real enough to have firm feelings about him. I can construct a version of them in my mind as that pair that's always fighting but won't break up. I can imagine that Top was serious about wanting to settle down and seeing real potential in the idea of Mew, but that's just me fanwanking. I don't think the show gave me enough solid emotional beats for me to connect anything real to them.

Send Me a Ship And I'll Share My Thoughts

#answered #only friends the series #only friends meta

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tyrannosaurus-trainwreck · 1 year

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Touching back on the “writing good parent-child relationships” thing, I think it’s important to remember that kids are going to have a lot of interests and hobbies and fixations and stuff like that that parents are either going to suffer through or just be extremely confused by, and that’s fine, to be expected, etc. The thing that you’re looking for is that the adult is actively looking for common ground, taking the kid’s interest in the thing seriously, and supporting the kid’s healthy engagement with the thing.

Back in the Before Times, I was going to a lot of live entertainment, and every performance had a certain amount of second or third wheels who were very ??? about the whole thing that they’d just sat through.

The big difference was between the people who acted put out by the whole thing and said shit like “I hope you’re happy, you got to see ______, can we go home now?” and the people who were patently bewildered but keeping a lid on it and asking things like “Did you have fun? What was your favorite part? Do you want to see if they’re doing autographs or selfies at the merch table?”

Like, “I have no idea what the shit I just sat through, but clearly this is speaking to you in a profound and meaningful way and I want to participate as deeply as I can because I love you and this is bringing you joy.”

And of course, if you do this shit to your partner, eventually they’re just going to dump your ass because you’re such a pill about stuff that excites them and life’s too short for that nonsense. If you do this shit to a child in your care, they... can’t really do that until they’re 18. So the lesson they take from interactions like that is not to get too excited about stuff they care about within earshot of you/an adult or not to admit to any interests that you aren’t also very interested in, because they’ll be ridiculed or treated as if they’re annoying for having those interests. It creates this whole raft of communication issues, because the parent becomes a person the child can’t entirely trust to have their back and starts selectively editing themselves around.

It’s a great way to wind up with a parent-child relationship where the kid knows they can come to you for a loan or because they need a ride halfway across the continent or help hiding a body, but they’d never in a million years talk to you about how serious they are about a romantic partner or how bad their seasonal depression disorder actually is or why they quit that “dream job” they had for a few years. If you don’t immediately understand or approve of what the kid’s telling you, you’re going to be a jackass about it and shut them down, and it’s not worth the risk of being vulnerable.

Conversely, the “I have no idea what the hell just happened, but I love you and you seem pretty stoked about it” parents are a great way to wind up with “he’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit” relationships where children feel confident that even if their parents are going to need a few months and some research to understand them, they’re willing and able to put in that effort and can be largely trusted not to dismiss the child’s experiences and desires out of hand. Will their parents be perfect? No, of course not. But their parents are willing to put in the work to meet the child where they’re at, which lowers the risk for the child deciding to trust them with big revelations.

It’s of a piece with parenting relationship advice that I’ve seen before, which is going out of your way to create opportunities for you and your kid to learn together on the same level and to resist the urge to step into the role of an “authority” during those activities. For example, if you’ve never worked with clay before and you and your kid are doing one of those “mommy and me” classes where you make a bowl or a plate or something, you focus on making a bowl with your kid instead of getting sucked into being an unpaid teacher’s assistant because you’re a parent and therefor vaguely In Charge even though you don’t know shit about ceramics and your ersatz authority is solely by dint of being twice as tall as everyone else at the table.

In terms of fiction, it can be useful to delineate between parents that a character can reliably turn to as an Authority (but not necessarily a whole lot else) and parents that a character could conceivably go to for actual life advice.

#writing

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jessaerys · 11 months

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five hyperspecific near headcanons?

(THIS IS SO LONG SORRY. YOU KNOW WHAT I AM!!!!)

gonna take headcanons here to mean “stuff that is entirely not canon” so these are (varying levels of unfounded) personal canonverse facts i’ve come up with as i write him:

has special interest in space / cosmology / astrophysics / astrobiology / space exploration etc etc etc. (extremely self indulgent of me but i love to have fun) it used to be very all-consuming when he was little and not afraid to want things.

it was eventually demoted to the backseat as his focus shifted towards his studies so by the time we meet him in canon it has been fully repressed into something he considers childish (though i’d like to think he found an excuse [perhaps through a case] to keep correspondence going with the brightest minds at the SETI institute and they have ocassional videocalls where he pokes holes in their theories on the origins of life he insists it is simply mantaining connections that may one day prove relevant. it is a productive use of my time agent gevanni do not question my methodology)

when i think of near i think of saint-exupéry’s the little prince and his watercolor illustrations of a little boy on a little round planet -- actually, a lil exerpt:

near is very little-prince coded in his curiosity and love for humanity and golden heartedness and deep mysterious melancholy – he is sad and he doesn’t know he is sad!! to be a cosmonaut is to be an observer, unmoored from the world, not quite of this earth. which actually leads me to,

ii.

he is from nowhere/belongs to no-one/ has no past and no land to return to.

he was in a couple different orphanages since he was a newborn and any paperwork he could’ve had got lost in the shuffle: it was roger who named him nate river just to have something on the records; his oldest memories are from wammy’s, the first person he ever loved was L, there’s never been anything else for him.

i know “has no racial identity” seems like a cop-out but i actually find it interesting to set him up so that he is unlinked from such a basic experience of community in modern society. because of his albinism there isn’t even a melanin scale to point him in the right direction; his looks are very racially ambiguous (ie. 3a/3b curls, very slight/partial double eyelids, etc), his parents untraceable. if he ever took a dna test it would confirm a thoroughly mixed background of many different ethnicities due to european immigration – but he has never taken a dna test because it would mean he cares which means he would have to think about what other people have and he doesn’t which would mean mourning a loss. and there is no use having feelings about that which he cannot change; no use looking back. mello looks back, and look where that's landed him--

(tangent: in contrast mello’s troubled background in the wartorn balkans until he was relatively older (5-6) and his reconnection with his birthplace in croatia after he left wammy’s is a crucial and defining pillar of his identity (personal canonverse courtesy of local mello phd haver @firebuggg) so this is yet another contrast between them. but we do not have time to get into that)

(tangent number 2:

L to mello in private: why does it matter? the war is behind you. looking back slows you down

L to near also in private: how can a detective know anything if he doesn’t first know himself?

near and mello ages 5 and 7, in their minds: i am the only one who understands L)

actually near's john silver slay is thee most important characterization touchstone for me tbh whenever people give him a backstory it just weirds me the fuck out

what do you mean he remembers his mother that would mean being An Individual and Not A Child Soldier !!!! he is wammy's perfect little grooming blank slate thank you very much

iii.

as a baby he was SO cute SO round SO feral. beautiful glowing cherubic marmalade-eyed biting screaming wildchild. wary as a cat with a talent for finding hiding spots inside the walls and so very autistic. an enfant terrible!! this is possibly why he moved through so many foster homes before wammys.

for a couple of years until age, like, 5, the only people he felt comfortable enough around to speak to in coherent words were L and later mello*

his method of communication with the rest of the teachers / caregivers / other children was opening his mouth and unleashing the most terrible banshee shriek a 3-4-5 year old could unleash upon god's green earth

through the rest of their childhood known annoyingest older brother on earth mihael "mello" kheel was ocassionally able to figure out how to unlock a Near Nuclear Meltdown, though it was a very rare occurrence as soon enough near graduated to going stiff and heavy on the floor wherever they tried to make him do something he did not want to do. and good luck getting him to move without lifting him corpse deadweight style. garden. hallway. classroom floor. middle of the stairs. he is and has always been a willful little thing !!!!!!!!!

i'm protected under the awning of this readmore so this is My City Now here are some exerpts courtesy of @firebuggg and yours truly

(sequential)

(not sequential)

*(unfortunately, this meant he was accidentally straight up accidentally twilightzoning mello for at least two years after being introduced to each other because what mello kept hearing was [functionally mute kid who usurped your number one spot, exclusively when nobody is around to hear it]: No One Will Ever Believe You)

iv.

this one’s kind of stupid but i think it’d be funny if wammy’s DOES adopt kids out occasionally possibly from the bottom half of the L successor ranking in order to keep the facade of being an orphanage and not an unethical human child experiment (perhaps to wealthy people who want to skip the bureaucracy of going through the proper channels. you know how it is) (it also makes such a good boogeyman: if you don't get in the bath roger will give you out for adoption !!!!!!)

anyway once feral baby near escaped containment when there were prospective parents over browsing the (available) children and a couple was completely charmed with him and they, as is the fashion of wealthy people to do whatever the fuck they want, took him out for a lovely walk/car ride/park visit/ice-cream sundae, all sunny and warm and sitting on the young woman’s lap, getting loved on, hearing, “would you like to come live with us little one?”

when they bring near back they are informed that unfortunately near is very much NOT up for adoption (someone definitely gets fired over that one) (dfsddfsdjfdfj)

this gets LEGENDARILY joked about by mello and matt and their popular kids entourage until they leave wammys. this definitely did not give near any complexes whatsoever

anyway once when the three of them are adults it comes up when they’re in the middle of joking around and it triggers yet another round of relentless Unadoptable Near teasing until matt and mello drive the joke right into the ground where it wheezes a last breath into an increasingly awkward silence as they Realize,

ok lighting round:

had L survived as near grew into his teens they WOULD have had an EXTREMELY contentious mother-daughter relationship

much like mello he too has a deep well of unaddressed (repressed) rage within him (like sam winchester. sorry for bringing supernatural into this)

people often write that near only eats bland/white(?) foods but i think being vegan suits him also it's funny as hell. not out of any ideological motivation he was just an extremely picky eater and also do you think that frail body could handle meat. if he could get away with it all he would it is raw fruits and vegetables (chopped into small cubes)(note: this is not bland, just insane)(it’s the scampering rabbit in him)

extremely at risk of developing a smoking habit. that boy can fit so much tension in his little body do you think his developing teenage brain would not immediately latch onto the treacherous instant clarity and peace of nicotine

5. did i mention repression. did i mention the absolute terror that seizes him at the thought of experiencing desire/hunger/longing/want. if you made it this far have a reward:

#i cant even put humorous tags on this sorry i imprinted on a secondary character from famous 2003-2006 manga death note #you cannot possibly comprehend how embarrassing this is to me and yet with my clown shoes i tread onwards #nate river #near dn #death note #meronia #mihael keehl #mello death note #brothercrush.txt

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