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youatemylollipop · 1 year

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A/N: Unfortunately, I didn't receive a response from the requester. So I went ahead and prepared a one-shot based on my interpretation of their requirements. Hope this is okay!😊

Request: “I loved your Izana headcanons! Can I possibly ask for something with Yan! Izana snatching Mikey’s s/o away from him?”

Updated Version: Ensnared by the Orchid’s Gaze

Synopsis: Mikey knew that he hadn’t been the best boyfriend to you these past few months, but he believed that you loved him and would be patient enough to wait. However, he soon realized that he was wrong and that everyone will eventually reach their breaking point.

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Kurokawa Izana X Reader X Sano Manjirō

⚠️ WARNING: Heavy angst (Mikey’s pov), yandere Izana, obsession, jealousy, romanticized yandere behavior, self hatred, unhealthy coping mechanisms & possessiveness.

Word Count: 982

As Mikey gazed into the distance, memories flooded back of the past he shared with you. He recalled the smiles you used to exchange, the adoring gazes you would send each other from across the room, and the exclamations of love you would pronounce for one another.

How long has it been since he last got to feel your body against his? The last time he got to hold you in his protective embrace? The blond just couldn’t understand: Did all these gestures of love mean nothing to you? Did all the shared nights together, where you whispered your darkest, most intimate secrets to one another, have no significance to you?

A part of him couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Many of Mikey’s loved ones had left him behind, but he had never expected that you would do the same. You, who were his other half, who were supposed to stay with him till the end of time. Through thick and thin. And the worst part: that you did it on your own accord.

The loving gazes that had once been meant for him, were now shared between you and your lover. Mikey still remembers the day you had told him how you couldn’t go on like this anymore. That your whole relationship was beginning to feel one sided, that you didn’t feel appreciated. Like Mikey didn’t want you.

"I'm sorry, Manjirō, but it's time to face the truth. We've grown apart. It's nobody's fault, but we can't keep pretending everything's okay."

He honestly had never meant to make you feel that way. How could he? You were his light, the only one who kept him afloat. Without you he was nothing. An empty shell of his former self. Perhaps with the same appearance, but his inner world had grown cold and nonexistent.

You, on the other hand, were glowing. A stark contrast to the sad expression you would constantly carry during the last months of your relationship. Back then, the only emotions you ever portrayed were sadness and worry, sometimes even exhaustion. But now you were radiating with life.

Mikey should be happy. Should feel content. After all, he loved you. And if you love someone, shouldn’t their happiness be what matters the most?

He should thank Izana. Should thank his adoptive brother for being able to give you what he couldn’t. You deserved that much. After everything that you’ve gone through because of him. Yet, all he felt whenever he saw the two of you was sadness and regret.

Each time Izana would put his arms around your shoulder in that adoring, yet possessive hold, a surge of anger would run through Mikey’s veins. That should have been him. It should have been him who was standing there, right beside you, letting everyone know that you were his and he was yours. Instead, he was forced to watch on the sidelines, as his adoptive brother got to do that in his stead.

“Face it dear brother, [Name] chose me and you have no other choice but to accept it.”

It wasn't just that you were no longer together. Izana's possessiveness had escalated to the point where he wouldn't even allow the two of you to communicate without his presence. But what hurt Mikey the most was seeing the expression of contentment on your face whenever the orchid-eyed male acted out on his possessive feelings.

The blond could still remember the confusion he felt when you announced your relationship. He remembered how easily you had let the older male worm himself into your heart, completely pushing Mikey out of the picture and showcasing how strong Izana's grasp on you was.

He also recalled the unease you expressed when you first met the Filipino. At the time, Tenjiku had already taken down the majority of the Tokyo Manji Gang members, and you couldn't help but worry if you were next on his list, since the male had decided to approach you so suddenly. Yet, Izana had done nothing of the sort.

Although the platinum blond had most likely planned something harmful, Mikey figured he had changed his mind the second he saw you in person. He couldn't blame the older male, though, as he himself had a hard time imagining anyone being able to lay a finger on you. You were just that lovely.

Even now, Mikey wasn’t able to believe that the male had a hidden agenda. That was out of the question. No matter how much Izana seemed to hate him, he could see how genuine his feelings for you were.

Sure, they were obviously unhealthy, maybe even dangerous to a certain degree. Mikey had seen to what lengths Izana was willing to go in order to keep you by his side. How dangerous and violent he could become, did someone ever pose a threat to your love. However, Mikey couldn’t ignore the way your eyes would light up whenever his adoptive brother would shower you with affection. Albeit suffocating, you still seemed to bask in it.

At times, Mikey could sense a hint of unease emanating from you, and it was no wonder why—he knew you like the back of his hand. Despite this, there was little he could do to assist you. Your expression revealed that you were willing to overlook it, and even your posture betrayed a hint of excitement whenever the Tenjiku commander displayed such tendencies.

So all he could do was watch. Watch how the love of his life had been whisked away, living a content and fulfilled life with somebody that wasn’t him. And as painful as it was, he had grown to accept it. To accept the fact that his life had come to a still, as yours continued to evolve. But that was okay. Because he may stay in winter, but his two most important people have found their new spring.

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thatshadowgastwhore · 4 months

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The hours of sleep deprivation, and how your brain/body interprets them with helpful, objective language for other writers and/or Tim Drake enthusiasts

by me, Mags, aka thatshadowgastwhore, a person who regularly stays up for multiple days at a time and is very self aware, but has no relevant medical degrees.

Disclaimer that I don’t have chronic fatigue/or illness, and my experience isn’t universal. Also, the way caffeine affects me, I’ve found, is not the same most other people have described it to me.

Second disclaimer: you should sleep when you are tired. I just so happen to not really feel tied until I’m awake for around forty hours. You should not push yourself to sleep deprivation regularly for funsises. I know what it’s like to be awake 60+ hours because I used to do so as a coping mechanism that I realized later on was actually a form of self harm!

Hours 1-8

Mostly irrelevant for the discussion at hand. Alertness, awareness, focus, and attention are at their normal levels. Energy levels are consistent. Caffeine consumed at this point does not affect my awareness in any way, only ability to hold focus on a task for longer periods of time and attention to detail.

Hours 9-12

Alertness, awareness, focus, and attention are still at normal levels. Energy is likely the same, unless strenuous activity was done in the first third of the day. At this point, I have been awake for half a day, the majority of which was spent at work. I also do not normally consume food until this time of day, or I have not consumed very much food until this point, so the energy gained from a meal resets energy levels to about where they were hours 4-5. Caffeine consumed at this point has no effect on energy levels, again, just to focus and attention.

Hours 12-18

Very similar to hours 9-12 for me, as someone who regularly misses nights of sleep. For any character whom this is not the case for, this is when tiredness will absolutely set in, if it hasn’t already. Depending on how many hours of sleep you get on the regular, that is when lethargy will become unavoidable without proper stimuli. Pushing yourself past this point isn’t a good idea. If the reason for sleep deprivation is not voluntary or the reason isn’t a fun one, emotions are harder to avoid. Like any baby, your character will be cranky and prone to annoyance.

If you’re like me, this is not the case. Yet. At this point, you’ve hit your second wind; with proper stimuli, these are the most enjoyable hours of your entire extended period awake, productivity is at its height, energy levels are still fairly level. Fluctuations are likely occurring in attention; either details consume you, or they do not matter to you. Caffeine at this point will mostly affect ability to focus, but will start affecting alertness as well to some extent. This is also more accurate to the way this time would affect someone who doesn’t regularly stay awake very long, but is voluntarily staying awake for an exciting reason; New Year’s Eve, a party, a fight, etc. Stimuli are likely high and extremely relevant to the primary motivation for sleep deprivation in such a case.

Hours 18-24

For those who don’t stay awake regularly, (and do not have enough stimuli to keep you energetic/excited) you are so. So. Tired. Ability to focus at this point is nonexistent. Things you should not be doing are: making major life decisions or operating heavy machinery. While you likely feel physically fine, if you’re still trying to accomplish things, they take way longer than usual and the quality isn’t as good. Things that are normally easy take actual effort in a way this is beyond frustrating.

If your character is regularly awake this long, the biggest thing they’ll notice at this point is hunger. We’ve crossed an interval of time in which, during the day, you’d eat another meal. Unlike delaying/skipping meals during the day, they really do need to eat at this point, or the hunger will become painful quickly. Attention to details at this point is starting to slip, but is overall okay. Alertness is declining, but not at an alarming rate. The deck e is gradual at the point. It is at this point that caffeine has some impact to my level of alertness, but still mostly affects ability to focus.

Hours 24-40

Unfortunately at this point, I don’t have a great frame of reference for how other people experience these hours awake, so I’ll be continuing just with my perspective of this.

At this point, caffeine does become necessary for me to keep focus on things; without it, during these hours I become incredibly spacey and even more prone to distraction than normal. At this point, lack of sleep has little to no effect on my mood. I am still perfectly capable of driving and my judgement is still sound, although I will concede my bar for emotions is lower than usual. The only physical feeling I would cite at this point is how it affects my appetite. I am hungrier than I would consider usual (for me), UNLESS I consumed caffeine on an empty stomach, in which case my stomach probably hurts, and is making it harder to tell that I am hungry.

Hours 40-44

I can comfortably remain awake without feeling tired for 40 hours. This is the first point that I will start to feel tired. My mood is absolutely affected at this point, things that are mildly annoying become incredibly frustrating and things that are kinda funny are incredibly silly. I also begin to lose my filter, things that are normally inside thoughts/observations become things that I have to tell someone Right Now. My best friend had received enough unhinged rants about ridiculous things, that if it is at a certain time, she might ask, “how long have you been awake” as a relevant follow up question. I desribe this time as “loopy hours,” the point at which I have full awareness why I am doing what I am doing, that I am behaving slightly irrationally, and that the reason is because I haven’t slept. It doesn’t mean the silly thoughts aren’t still there, but I know the origin and scope of them. Because of this, I don’t consider this to be when my sense of judgement as being impacted yet, because I can still be logical about my illogical thoughts. What is affected is my sense of alertness and ability to focus, both of which have declined further.

Hours 44-48

At this point, my energy levels take a sharp decline. Caffeine at this point is assisting my energy and alertness more than my ability to focus. These are some of the worst hours if you are voluntarily staying awake (it’s not actually linear the order of badness, surprisingly) because it comes directly after the loopy hours, and you are facing a bit of a crash after that period. Emotions are high. I can start to feel trapped within my own body. I both detest and long for sleep. I know that if I let myself lay down, I will inevitably pass out, but I can’t because I know I’ll be so dead to the world that I won’t hear my alarm and I’ll miss work (which is why I only allow myself to not sleep for more than 40 hours starting on a Thursday morning, so I can tap out at this point if I need to) I’m hungry again in the middle of the night, and I am very, very tired. But. With enough stimulants (for me, caffeine) and enough stimuli, I can remain awake past this point. This is the hump that needs to be passed. If you can stay awake 48 hours, you can stay awake 60 hours.

The best stimuli for keeping mental awake was and focus are other people and movement. Staying still is a recipe for closing your eyes, and closing your eyes is a recipe for accidentally falling asleep. If you can stay around other people who are awake and aware, and if you are doing anything that requires movement (not slow and repetitive movement, obviously, remember you are a cranky baby, so not rock yourself to sleep) your chances of staying awake are better.

Anything that gives you a sense of adrenaline at any point hereafter is going to make you even more tired than expected as soon as it wears off, so if your character has been doing anything high stakes and is just now calming down, they are going to pass out the MOMENT they feel safe enough to. It’s kinda inevitable, which is why I consider loud, sudden noises to be some of the worst things to try to use to keep yourself awake.

Hours 48-56

The gradual decline from that started eight hours ago becomes steeper during this time. My sense of judgement is not good, I am liable to consider truly ridiculous ideas as entirely serious enterprises. I should not operate a motor vehicle, but with enough caffeine I am able to if absolute need be. I need to be consuming caffeine and be around people and not be staying sedentary for more than an hour at a time. I am lethargic as all get out. I want to sleep so badly. My attention span is shot.

Hour 56-60

At around hour 60, normal auditory hallucinations (for me. I am aware most people don’t have “normal auditory hallucinations”) are annoying loud, and I experience visual hallucinations, at which point I generally refuse to operate any heavy machinery/drive.

I cannot emphasize enough: my sense of judgement is not good when I am this sleep deprived, ESPECIALLY for my own limits and abilities. I have a notable propensity to misjudge how much work I can take on, and make plans doomed to failure from the start when awake this long. I gain the confidence of someone staring at a piece in a museum and saying, “pfft, I could paint that,” but then actually going out; spending to much on art supplies, trying and failing immediately, (obviously) and becoming so overwhelmed in disappointment that they vow to never paint again, and now they’ve wasted money on all these abandoned paint supplies.

This is a time similar to the loopy hours, but less fun. I call them the delusional hours. Physically, your eyes are so tired that you feel constantly dehydrated. You start to space out and lose visual focus quicker. You probably are hearing a ringing sound just from how badly your brain is blue screening.

Hour 60+

Everything experienced in the previous two intervals gets worse. Time slows down. I’m probably quite cold (I generally have poor circulation, so I don’t usually notice being cold at this point, so I find this significant.) My awareness outside of my own body is almost gone, and my ability to focus is nonexistent. I am probably shaking. I feel physically ill, probably nauseous. My chest is tight due to the amount of caffeine I’ve had to consume. I am so beyond exhausted that I could fall asleep standing up. My emotions are out of my control. I will cry over anything. I will laugh hysterically over anything. Time slows down. I’m in control of the time stream, no….Im outside of the time steam (delusions that start mild and become worse over time.)

At this point, your character’s motivation for staying awake this long better be pretty damn good. The longest a human has ever stayed awake for is about eleven days, but as listed above, symptoms of psychosis will set in by about 72 hours, so remaining focused on that goal will start to prove difficult.

And thats it! I haven’t stayed awake longer than 79 hours so that’s where my experience ends, but I’m hoping that my objectivity on what this feels like both mentally and physically helps someone with writing a character who definitely should go to bed soon.

#writing #writing reference #sleep deprivation #tim drake core #Tim Drake

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captain-astors · 2 years

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what do you like about takizawa? eyes emoji

Anon you cannot fathom how delighted I was to see this, rambling about my favorite characters brings me so much joy. In short, he’s entertaining! Be a terrible person, start conflict, act painfully annoyingly, but god forbid you bore me, it’s the worst offense a character can make and Takizawa has very rarely been guilty.

(Warning, there's a LOT of text under this cut and some god awful takes on his characterization because my reading comprehension skills are nigh nonexistent.)

More specifically I’m quite fond of two combining factors in a character, desperation and extravagance (Intentional or not). Give them something to prove, a person to live for, a point to make, a thing to achieve, and make their method of going about it absolutely impossible to ignore.

A subsection of that which I find consistently intriguing is when the thing to prove is themselves, their strength, their skills, their need to be the best. Takizawa does this very well! Running Haise against a building while screaming about always being second best, he changes a lot but he’s always in search of approval and attention. I like broken characters. I like a character that doesn’t even know what they really are or need beyond a singular goal, a thing living not because they want to but because if they gave up now everything terrible that’s happened to them, that they’ve done, wouldn’t be a step in the process, it would only be terrible. The goal can waver, blur, shift, and change, but the attitude remains. Crush that fucker with the cold reality of the world and have them keep going anyways because they have to.

Also, I like the silly ones! Particularly in tonally inappropriate moments, it takes a lot to make me exhibit any sort of external reaction indicating emotion involuntarily, but I cracked a smile gladly when Takizawa compared that investigator’s head to a pineapple and spun it around. Yes it’s a coping mechanism on his behalf, yes I find it amusing nevertheless.

If Kaneki is the half-ghoul with a foot in both worlds, I believe Takizawa to truly be the half-ghoul with a foot in neither. His humanity is all but gone, killing people without any kind of remorse for the most part, but he still looks down on ghouls, perceiving, or at least commenting on them as if they really are the heartless beasts the CCG taught him to see them as, despite very obvious evidence to the contrary. He improves with time but that kind of arrogance in spite of it all keeps him from making true connections to almost anyone post-experimentation.

Oh how I could go on for hours about the symbolism in every last Tokyo Ghoul character but I’ll keep this brief, the themes and images of self-destruction and jealousy are immaculate.

Appearance is actually a factor that grows on me after the character most of the time, but a cool one is definitely a bonus. While human Takizawa is kind of just a guy and I love him anyways, ghoul Takizawa is fantastic. The form-obscuring cloak? The striped turtleneck thing? The overshadowed eyes? The black lips? The too-large eyes with too-small pupils? He looks like a fucked up raccoon! That’s why I’m not quite fond of anime Takizawa, he looks too clean and shiny (Also the thickness of his neck stripes is always changing?). Wrinkled isn’t the right word but I like how his face looks kind of crumpled and wrong. The most bisexual transgender to ever. In conclusion, I want to put him in a jar and shake it gently because I don't want to scare him but I do need to study him. Once again thank you for the opportunity to rant about a thing I like, if anyone ever wants to give me the chance again with ships, characters, whatever… the askbox is always open and sometimes I'll do little character doodles like the one above along with it.

#seidou takizawa #miscellaneous not-art things #zeph answers questions about media/characters/ships

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marsgod · 2 years

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the fact that we actually became friend because of ur first matchup event and now u have another one is just >>>>>

so to honour (a previously nonexistent but shhh) tradition imma request again, but this time for genshin instead of twst.

i'd sure hope u know me by now but still (ill help jog ur memory if needed and try describe myself in a diferent way than i usually do too). my mbti is intp im a cat person and i hate getting up early in the morning w every bone of my body. my green flags are that im a good listener, loyal, selfless (when it come to ppl i care abt) and i value honesty. my biggest red flags would be the fact that my top kin is (unfortunately enough) dazai osamu from bsd (idk if u know who that is but hes not someone u wanna relate to even after reading real dazai's books) and the fact that i use humour as a coping mechanism (it does make me extremely funny but still)

im still look the same, except my hair is shorter cuz i had to cut it at the beggining of the school year since my school doesnt allow dyed hair. so no more blue tips :(

my hobbies are literally anything creative from painting to writing (ofc) and my dream date is still smth like stargazing on top of this very specific abandoned building near my house w a picnic if junkfood or visiting all the hole in the wall type places in a city of all dif types (from restaurants to smoll libraries to unknown thrift shops) and holding hand in the public transport to get there.

still u get the ideea.

(also u dont have to do this if u dint want to i wont take it personally or anything)

and again congrats on ur milestone ily dont forget to drink water and eat something! (its 1 am as im writing this i had a history essay to finish lol, but i know its like midday for u so enjoy the rest of ur day im going to sleep now byee)

╰┈➤ I’d match you with… Thoma!

Thoma is like.. The ultimate animals person in general, imma be honest, and he’s def gonna take you on cat island dates for lunch and stuff

Maybe camp there if you two get the chance!

He’s slightly concerned at the humor as a coping mechanism, but if it helps you then you’ll receive a slight nod with and small smile

He might snort due to being caught of guard

Thoma writes these little entries just to keep track of when was what, but writing overall isn’t his thing, but lean/lay on top of you while you write and mess with your hair<33

since Thoma generally makes it a point to get to know local residents of wherever he’s at, he learns about any “secret” and hole-in-the-wall places fairly quickly, specifically for food!

Abandoned buildings specifically make Thoma sorta jumpy, but he loves you so he’ll go for you

Thoma will just be incredibly nervous and sweating

Not super into PDA but still likes to hold your hand and. all that<333

Thoma, unfortunately, gets up with the sun, and manages to run into every possible thing while still drowsy

Don’t be surprised if you wake up scared shitless because Thoma just ran straight into a door frame.. Or your desk, or literally anything

“- And the tabby over there is Mei, she’s an old lady.. Be careful, she’ll scratch you!”

#love ya and make sure to drink sum water too🫶🫶#[⭐️]count our lucky stars![⭐️]#genshin matchups #good luck with history and your essay!!#tbh i feel like a car salesman trying to sell you thoma #{..the state of grace; mutuals..}

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amlovelies · 2 years

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so today’s a day where I am feeling frustrated with the fact that I really have no idea of what I can actually realistically get done. like I used to do so much. and that’s what caused some really extreme burnout and just like I can’t come up with reasonable expectations for myself anymore. i always feel like I should be doing so much more, that I should be exceptional should be perfect and then I can’t live up to that standard so I get frustrated and just do nothing at all. and I wish I could self moderate better but I just can’t and it’s the most frustrating thing. like why is it always one extreme or the other???

#I'm frusted #like I used to be so accomplished #and now I can't do shit #and I get overwhelmed so easy and just like shut down #and I know my coping mechanisms are just like nonexistent at this point #just why does it take so much of my energy to just get up each morning #like it takes everything I have just to go to work #and I'm left over with nothing for myself #and even on my days off I feel like I'm just recovering #and I'm also aware my job is not actually that hard #I just can't handle it anymore #it's not that the job changed so much as I've changed #I can't break myself the way I used to #there's things I want to do #I want to be a different type of person #and instead I'm just this pathetic lump of shit #ignore me #sky speaks

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ladydaemon · 3 years

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LETTERS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Is this really short? Yes. Is it really cringey? Yes. Did I cry when writing it anyway? Absolutely.

Summary: Kaz rereads an old letter from an old friend

Warnings: mentions of former childhood abuse (and a butt-ton of ✨ sadness ✨) ? wow I don't think I swore in this.

Kaz,

This is my last letter to you.

I do not know if you and Jordie are even alive anymore. Maybe you are alive, but no one can find you, and the postman has simply been dumping my letters in the harbor. It's plausible, I suppose. Somehow I doubt it, which means I am writing to a memory. I find I don't care all that much, because writing to someone that will never read what you are writing seems infinitely easier than writing to someone who can. Because ghosts can't really judge you, can they? Otherwise they wouldn't be ghosts.

I'm getting off topic. Forgive me.

This is my last letter to you, because I'm tired of trying. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

Oh, this sounded much better in my head - I hadn't meant it to sound so accusing. Perhaps there's good reason for your… absence.

Back to my point (my, I love rambling, don't I? I remember you and Jordie teasing me about it).

This is my last letter to you, so I suppose it should be filled with heartfelt farewell.

Though I really don't know what I'm supposed to say. You're probably much different than how I remember you - why, tomorrow is your birthday, isn't it? You'll be turning fifteen (and to think I'd almost forgotten!). Six years since I've last seen you.

You know I've always been sentimental, so I'm going to list all things I remember of nine-year-old Kaz. I wonder how much you've changed.

I remember hair that never stayed in place. Eyes that twinkled mischievously whenever you plotted some elaborate prank. I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie. I definitely remember you standing up to my father defiantly when he had hit me. After that, your family had taken me in. I remember being scared, and confused when no one yelled at me or hit me when I did something wrong - I was so used to my father's cruelty, that I hadn't realized it wasn't normal.

He's dead now, though, so it doesn't do me any good to think about him anymore, does it?

I remember trying to learn Zemeni, giggling when we misgendered the nouns, taking sips of hot cocoa to reward ourselves when we got a sentence right (why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot, and for some reason, the realization saddens me). I remember eating cherries while we climbed on the roof of the barn and watched the sunset in the summer. When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

I remember quite a bit, and yet so little, and I'm beginning to realize that I miss you dearly, and by saying goodbye to you in a letter I'll never get a response for seems like giving up on you and Jordie.

I've been writing these letters for so long now, yet I never tire of it, and I think I know why (though maybe not - my emotions are everywhere). At first, I think they were a coping mechanism, trying to deal with everyone around me dying, but I think now that they were a subconscious plea.

To come home.

I know that you've probably forgotten about me, and if you haven't, you're probably trying to, but there's no harm in asking, right? Kaz (Jordie, if you're reading this), I want you to come home - I don't care if you don't talk to me, or you hate me, or you destroy everything I own. I don't care if you come and then leave the next morning, because it's been so long that I've begun to think you were just a figment of my imagination. I don't care if you come back and you don't recognize me, or I don't recognize you.

I just want you to come home.

Oh, who am I kidding. You won't, if you haven't already. I suppose it's one last plea, a desperate last attempt.

Goodbye, Kaz Rietveld (and Jordie, if you're reading this!).

This is my last letter to you.

Oh, how dearly I miss you.

Your former friend,

Y/N L/N

Kaz ran his fingers over the worn edges of the letter, dated two years ago. It was beginning to fade, the cheap ink smudging where Y/N had crossed out lines that were barely legible. Coffee stains and frayed, torn edges showed how many times that letter was read, from the first time it had arrived to now.

He had that letter memorized - he could recite it forwards and backwards and in his sleep.

If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

He had every letter she had written him, ever since he had heard the postman complaining about delivering letters from a poor girl to a nonexistent boy. Such things weren't entirely uncommon, but Kaz had been bored and he had inquired as to the name of the nonexistent boy. Afterwards, he had received all her letters, read them, but never replied to Y/N, could never bring himself to.

You're probably much different than how I remember you.

Maybe that was part of the reason he never wrote a letter of his own - because he wanted her to remember him as human, as something with a soul and a heart and a family. Not a monster, with a body count and a limp and a façade of stone and steel.

I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie.

He had loved pumpkin pie, once. His mother had made it for them. But that was when he still had a mother.

He's dead now, though.

Kaz couldn't say he was sorry to hear it - even now, he hated the man with a fierce passion, rivaling that of his hate for Pekka Rollins. He remembered finding out what he had been doing to Y/N, and his tiny chest had filled with white-hot, pulsing rage.

Why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot.

Kaz's father had been trying to haggle with a Zemeni trader one night, but couldn't speak the language. He and Y/N had vowed to learn the language, a promise that had lasted exactly three days before they had realized just how hard it was to learn a new language.

When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

It was strange indeed, how similar yet different that same memory was for him - he remembered that night because of how happy she had looked. It had been her first Ghezen's Day without her father, and she had later described the day as magical.

I just want you to come home.

She didn't really, Kaz knew with certainty. She wanted Kaz Rietveld, not Kaz Brekker, and Kaz Rietveld was dead. Y/N wanted the boy who drowned in the harbor with his brother.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker angst #kaz brekker x you #kaz x y/n #kaz x you #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse

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pigletxpoohbear · 3 years

Note

I saw you asking for requests and wondered if you could do headcanons for how the obey me boys would react to a Mc who goes nonverbal sometimes (especially when they aren't feeling well mentally)? If you don't wanna do all, I'd just really love to see Beel, Barbatos, Diavolo and Luke!

I hope you have an amazing day🌼

I’m going to start off by just saying when I get really depressed and my thoughts and headspace are worse than usual this is my main mechanism to cope. So, I’m going to write this based on my experiences and go from there if you want me to rewrite it please say so. I’m also going to try and keep the headcannons for this as gender-neutral.

Lucifer

Lucifer is very observant and even more so when it comes to you

When he read your file he understood you had anxiety and depression, based on that he believed he had a clue what it was going to be like with you here in the devildom

Unfortunately, he was slightly off (he was completely incorrect, but he won’t admit that.)

He realized not too long after a week or two here with you in devildom that when you have really bad anxiety you tend to keep it to yourself and when your thoughts are too much you tend to do the same

He also saw that you’d try to keep answers as short as possible when feeling like this

Luci asked you to come by his office during school so that none of his brothers would interrupt, he ended up telling you that if there’s anything that he can do such as pulling you out of classes some days and just helping you privately or putting a proper lock on your door at the HoL you can just tell him and it doesn’t have to be in person, but a call, a text, an email, or a letter just let him know

He’s the most understanding of the brothers surprisingly

Mammon

Mammon isn’t exactly observant, but does notice

He noticed some days your answers to questions were so short or so quiet that they were almost nonexistent

Mammon was concerned about what was wrong with his human, but didn’t know what to do besides just talk to you about it

One night when you left to your room to be alone and just sit down away from anyone he actually knocked on your door instead of barging in

When he came in he sat across from you on the floor, he asked what was wrong or if there’s something that he needs to fix

You told him that when everything becomes too much you don’t really like to talk and want to be in a more quiet place

He ended up making a door hanger that told him if it was okay for him to barge in or if today you just needed time alone (he looked like a tomato when giving it to you, he felt so embarrassed)

Anything that makes his human comfortable

Leviathan

Anxiety? Depression? Nonverbal? Levi understands this all too well, but because this is the case he’s like the last one to notice

He doesn’t really notice mainly because he’s often in his room or in his head

He ended up finding out about it because you only gave him yes and no as an answer the whole weekend and thought it was because you didn’t want to be around a nasty otaku and confronted you outside your bedroom

You had to explain that you just go basically silent when your depression and anxiety became too much to handle and said you were sorry

Now Levi felt bad after you shut the door

He went out and got some mangas, animes, and candies and left them outside (after making sure Beel wouldn’t eat them and Mammon wouldn’t take them) and left a letter and a text message apologizing and telling you that he does the same thing and he’s really sorry that he jumped the gun and if you ever want to hang out with him in silence in his room you’re more than welcome to whenever you want

Satan

Satan notices almost as fast as Lucifer

He didn’t really say anything to you about it, but when he would see signs that today isn’t a good day he usually would keep his pranks on Lucifer to himself and see if maybe you want to play with the cats or go to a nice quiet cafe he found not too long ago

On good days he also tries to reach out and just be with you just to be sure you’re okay

Honestly does a ten out of ten job when it comes to being around you on good and bad days (he doesn’t even realize he’s benefiting from it and that he's much calmer recently)

Asmodeus

Asmo is very touchy-feely and some days you don’t like being touchy-feely

Asmo only asked about it because you wouldn’t cuddle with him the last few days

When he realized he apologized and said that if it’s not a good day today then whenever it is please come by he really loves to spend time with you, but won’t force you to do something that you’re not comfortable with

You guys cuddle every now and again because it does help sometimes and either he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you or he’ll just stay quiet and rub your head or back

When you don’t cuddle he’ll bring you tea and a nice pillow or two from his room so that you can rest or just sit more comfortably

Beelzebub

(I think that Beel is an empath and that’s why Beel gets upset by others being upset) When Beel gets the first signs that today isn’t a good day he usually gives you some of his food or asks if you need anything

He doesn’t quite understand it, but he wants to make you happy even if it takes a few days for that to happen

You ask Beel for cuddles or to just sit with you consider it done and sometimes Belphie will be there (usual he is, he just happens to always be where Beel is)

And you guys just form a cuddle pile and nap either in your room, the twins’ room, or in the observatory

Belphegor

He literally is too busy being asleep to notice and I don’t think would ever find out

One moment he’s in one room the next he’s in yours cuddling with you and Beel

Doesn’t mind too much (mainly because quiet means he can sleep)

Only realizes if someone says something to him about it, but no one asks him cause they go to you first

Clueless sleepy boi

Diavolo

He noticed because he could barely hear you one day and thought you were sick and was about to send you home with Lucifer (who had a bunch of papers he needed to sign off on and would grow immensely if not taken care of)

You explained that it wasn’t necessary and that today was just a bad day

He asked if you wanted to go home and just finish your schoolwork or some makeup work at the HoL or in his office so that you can be in more quiet and accommodating space

Every now and again you’ll do school work in Diavolo’s office and have little sandwiches and tea with him and Lucifer

Barbatos

Literally knows before you got here (he can see the future lmao)

He packs little gift baskets and things like that for you full of your favorite things and has them delivered that day or those days

He has to be with Diavolo all the time, but surprisingly is able to help with these little things that he sends you

You end up exchanging gifts and gift baskets every now and again and when he did get a day off you ended up spending it together and going to ristorante six

Simeon

Doesn’t spend much time with you outside school, but he does notice a few things that he considered odd

He wondered why you were so meek some days, but quite vocal others

He also saw how you’d keep to yourself and stay away from people especially large groups and then other days you’d be around all of the brothers laughing

He asked Lucifer about it and he explained the situation (Lucifer trusts Simeon to an extent, but knows that Simeon only asks for your well being and no other reason)

After learning the situation he becomes less curious as to what the problem is and more curious on how to help you

When needing to get in groups in classes the brothers aren’t closer or aren’t in he’ll partner with you and make sure that you’re comfortable

Luke

Sweet boy doesn’t understand other than your sad

Makes you cakes, cupcakes, cookies, and all sorts of sweet treats

He also loves to make sure that you’re heard and stays really quiet so he can hear what you have to say

He doesn’t get it, but he does have the spirit

Soloman

Oh boy where do I begin with this one

Soloman notices, he notices everything

Is he good at this type of stuff though? No, no he is not

Wants you to try out potions and tell him the effects, but can’t hear you

Is that an effect or is that just you?

When not experimenting he’s better and tries to find things that make you happy

Do you want cuddles? Done. Do you want food? I’ll get something from Hell’s Kitchen. Do you want to go for a stroll? I know a really good lookout point where we can be alone.

Literally, just don’t go in the potions room and you’ll have something helpful

#obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me mammon x reader

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

Text

Replying to the commenters of this post [heads up for angst]:

To @kine-iende, who said:

hot damn. if "our" justin was a mom-friend in their home-universe, here people would start questioning if justin was in secret a very motherly scrull or something (and be fine with it ^^). but yeah, love the trope too. was it "for the want of a nail" or "through a mirrorm darkly"? well, contrast and a what could have been would be lovely. feel enabled, whenever you want to write this :)

I am not very familiar with the concept of Skrulls [...iirc, that’s something introduced in Captain Marvel, which I have yet to get around to], but yeah, that tracks. Assuming it’s a thing they know to look for, though, because here Justin’s being themself is the biggest and most obvious way to establish that they are not canon!Justin.

Sure, they’re identical physically, but the moment either Justin opens his mouth, the jig’s up.

As is, not five minutes into this strange hellscape where their oldest rival looked at them with no small amount of disdain in his eyes at first, Justin had already managed to charm their way out of holding and into a very relaxed “we’ll keep an eye on him” Avengers custody.

Well, on paper at least— in reality, most of the team doesn’t really give a damn one way or another, whereas Tony starts out morbidly curious as to just how different NHDD!Justin is to the one he’s used to dealing with, and ends up getting a concentrated dose of All The Feels™ because the moment NHDD!Justin realized this Tony had a metric buttload of undiagnosed-and-constantly-belittled mental health issues and a support system that was equal parts duct tape and caffeine, he went “oh, so this universe is the Hell Timeline, okay, makes sense :) :) :) dammit Ivan you’d better fix this stat”.

In retrospect, Justin’s not sure when exactly the horror show started; if it was the absolute lack of concern or care the Avengers had for their Tony, or the minute they noticed the gauntness in his face. Maybe the tension between Iron Man and Captain America, or the obvious bravado this Tony used– and the fact that none of the others so much as noticed.

All Justin knows is, a version of someone they care about is hurting, hurting badly and has been for a long time now, and that’s more than enough for them to go “oh, okay, mine now”.

For his part, Tony has no idea what the hell’s going on. The non-annoying Justin Hammer who crash-landed an Avengers debrief is...something else, and he’s torn between shock, pleasant surprise, and no small amount of existential angst and jealousy because in the span of a few hours, Tony’s had a brief taste of what some other version of him had for a lifetime, and...

Tony’s not sure how he feels about it. He’s a genius, he can wrap his head around string theory and all that good stuff, but numbers are one thing, having to live with the fact that somewhere out there, a version of him grew up with someone so unfailingly kind and supportive and—Tony can’t think of a better word for it than nurturing— and, in the span of seconds, had been able to call him out on his bullshit and seemed to instinctively push him to be better but not in the demanding way his father or the rest of the world had—

If he thinks about it too long, it makes him want to cry, just a little. Somewhere out there was a Tony who’d been enough for someone, who had never been asked to change himself, who’d been pushed up instead of repeatedly torn down and he didn’t know how to deal.

He’d thought having a non-annoying Justin around would be funny.

This was not, it was goddamn distressing is what it was, because Tony hadn’t even known it was a possibility but now he is acutely aware of the fact that he got stuck with his Justin— the human embodiment of one of those yappy dogs who nipped at people’s heels thinking they were so tough, despite not being able to back it up.

This Justin was, uh, not that. Tony wasn’t sure if he was always like this, or if it was only with him because he shared a face with someone Justin cared about, but... was he always this much of a mom friend? And where’d that granola bar even come from, anyway? Not that he minded, it was a nice change of pace, but really?

...Tony was really going to miss him, once they figured out a way to send him back home.

To the commenter who said:

Stephanie isn’t a canon character, is she? Because if not, NHDD!Justin might be able to pull off a “the birth of my little sister awakened my previously deeply buried parental instincts” to explain his whole… [gestures uselessly].

Technically, she could be, in that Justin Hammer has a sister and nephew in canon [according to the wiki and a deleted scene, apparently]. I chose to make her a younger sibling in NHDD, to really emphasize the ‘reincarnated with shitty memory’ aspect of this AU. Specifically, while it’s never specified, Justin’s past life was...not great, and part of it was the fact that their younger sibling was sick.

With what, they don’t remember anymore, but sick enough that they know health isn’t something to take for granted; sick enough that towards the end, they remember their parents had to choose between paying hospital bills and electricity, remember going to bed hungry because meds were expensive and their next paycheck wasn’t until Friday.

...suffice it is to say, there’s a reason Justin’s so protective of those he cares about, even if his memories faded a bit on the specifics as time went by.

To be fair, canon!Justin also cares for his sister and nephew; it’s just that NHDD!Justin acted more like a third parent than a sibling, once Stephanie was born.

Bear in mind that canon!Justin’s situation is very different than NHDD!Justin’s, because canon!Justin was basically set up to fail from the start as a normal kid who was constantly compared to a child prodigy two years younger than him and terrible parents. While NHDD!Justin’s situation is similar on the surface, the difference is they’re literally a reincarnated OC, with all the baggage that entails.

Maybe, if their second life hadn’t been surrounded by adults with A+ Parenting Skills, 0/10 Do Not Recommend, their issues and traumas from last time wouldn’t have been exacerbated. If they’d been born to a regular family, Justin would’ve been a good kid but nothing special, and their memories of a past life would’ve faded away by the time they hit puberty.

But instead, they were born to the Hammer family, and proceeded to be put through the wringer.

Which is bad enough, and meant they immediately started leaning hard on everything from their past life because these people wouldn’t know good parenting if it bit them on the nose, but...then Justin’s little sister was born, which immediately kick-started every older sibling instinct they’d ever had because last time they’d been responsible for their younger sibling’s health and safety and you can probably see where this is going.

aka yes, some of Justin’s behaviors could arguably be called trauma responses and/or coping mechanisms and it’s something I only realized as I was writing this, and no, this AU was not supposed to be this messed up

Justin’s responsibility, their willingness to deal with shitty parents and do tremendous amounts of emotional labor if it helped anyone they took under their wing? That’s no accident, that’s what happens when a soul has to be the adult, has to step up because nobody else is going to. There’s a reason Justin has so much disdain for Hank Pym and Howard Stark’s immaturity, why they have so little patience for their parents as time goes on; their mental age means the older they get, the more they’re looking at the adults around them and judging them hard.

...ahem. Sorry for getting a bit off-topic, but hey, at least now you know a bit more about what’s going on inside Justin’s head!

And yeah, if he had to bs an explanation for why he’s such a mom friend, Justin’d be more than happy to point to his little sister as an excuse. So long as they know she exists, anyway; if not, he’ll just laugh it off and try to chalk it up to one of the differences between their universes.

edit to remove the stuff that got through my nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter because I was averaging a not-optimal amount of sleep as I got used to my new job

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#Naught replies #replies #thinking aloud

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line.

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note: Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.” Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Note

Qoob. Qoob. Qoob. Bitch who the fuck do you think you’re kidding?.You just spent 3 months throwing a tantrum against the CW because of a fucking ship. Now suddenly you’re pulling excuses out of your ass to justify not going after Jensen’s company. Bitch at this point, time to drop the fake sjw act. Everybody knows that when it’s your fav, those high and mighty principles go out the door. So please take my advice and STFU!

Yet again, you’re an idiot that understands nothing.

Jensen’s company doesn’t *have* issues yet. If it fucks up and talks about inspiring ICE agents, or cuts queer content, or fires black people simply for speaking up about black things, or starts heavily donating to the GOP, or sharing profits with major MAGAheads, then we’ll talk.

Chaos Machine is not WB. It is contracted by WB. It may or may not put content on the CW. If it does, we will not watch that content.

Stick to Your Guns is entirely a popup studio to service a CBS product hosted on the CW. It’s proprietary to the network and product. It will never create anything outside of that network (CBS or CW, with porting to WB platforms like HBO Max by partnership agreement) because of this. It is not autonomous. Its products--and its statements related to the products--are always going to be related to these owners.

Chaos Machine is autonomous, and signed a contract to exclusively create for WB. If and when that contract expires, it can either renew it or move elsewhere. It has its own employees and ethics. It is a separate company.

The issues with WB, CBS and CW do not funnel to Chaos Machine because it is a different company that has not yet expressed the same ethical problems. One can not protest nonexistent ethical problems. One can not make up ethical problems. That would be the fake SJW thing.

Similarly, WB is not the same as CW. While we have problems with the WB, the targeted protests can only influence WB at a CW level right now. And it works. And you’ve seen it work. And that’s why you’re throwing a tantrum showing how much you don’t understand any of it. WB has the entire damn comic book world in its grip among other things. If they put something on another platform, like HBO, through Chaos Machine--because again, WB and CW are not the same thing--there’s literally no point in protesting it.

You haven’t seen me trying to organize against every WB and CBS product ever, now have you? Because unlike you, I’m not an idiot, and I understand what level impact can be made at to demand accountability and change. If it ends up on the CW, you don’t watch it regardless of Chaos Machine’s lack of ethical issues. If it ends up on another platform, there’s not much that can be done about it, so don’t bother.

I don’t know why bronlies literally always miss all of the points, is it a conscious effort?

Anyway SPN franchiseability value--aka, the level it will be bought and sold at--has dropped from 77 to 33 and still falling. This is, roughly, about the same value as--say, 1990s original Walker gets streamed at now, to put that in scale for you. Which is an impressive descent from being in the top 10 to the top *checks notes and squints* 400.

But yeah sure everyone loved it right? Because you guys want to imagine you’re the Supermajority?

(Hell, let’s not even talk about how many people hated the ending and went to stream because they’re out of range of organized protests and are watching it over again from BEFORE it shit the bed as a coping mechanism. There’s an entire 2000 person rewatch server full of people who hated the ending that are still giving it digital calls, just wait till that’s over, see where it lands. Fun times. It’ll fall through the floor since that’s 650,000 views on the year. Or about 3% of its value when it was at peak -- or about 7% of it now.)

And no, no, it’s not because it’s over. GOT is still in the top 10.

So you know what? Blow me and stay mad.

This is your daily reminder to stop streaming all CW products.

There's a particular level of dipshittery in trying to assign this to actor favorites. My blog has never partaken in actor worship. Make up your mind on who you accuse my fave of being, but meanwhile, catch up that I'm very transparent about that being Bobo Berens and have for years. And if you want to talk consistency: despite adoring him, I will not be watching Kung Fu, which he showruns, because it's on the CW. Doom Patrol does not share this issue. See how that works? Magic.

Stop projecting your bullshit.

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spectraspecs-writes · 3 years

Text

When I was younger - and sometimes still today - I would wish there was an instruction book for just… being. Being autistic, I could usually tell that everybody else knew what to do in situations, just knew how to interact, but it wasn’t something I could parse. They all knew things I didn’t know. And I had no idea - and still don’t! - where and how they learned all that. If there was just something I could read, some text that I could absorb, a behavior I could reproduce, then it would all make sense. Or maybe not right away, but once I wasn’t expending so much energy just trying to be understood, then I could at least take some time to try to understand why the response to X was always Y.

To be honest it’s still something I struggle with, but it’s gotten to the point where people don’t notice unless I say something. I have such a wide variety of scripts that I can answer damn near any question I come across on a day to day basis and it sounds completely natural, even though you’re hearing a script. My coping mechanisms are innocuous but plentiful, so unless I’m having a bad day, I can get through even the most overwhelming moments and seem completely normal. And with face masks it’s only gotten easier. I don’t have to plaster a smile - which takes energy, I can release tensions by mouthing curses, and I can stim with my mouth and not get looks. Overall, I’m doing okay on that front.

But lately I’ve been wishing for an instruction manual of a different sort. My discovery that I’m trans masc is relatively recent - as in 2019 recent. I am comfortable in my own skin, and I know what I like to be called. My parents and family are accepting, my workplace is accepting, and my girlfriend loves me. As I understand, this is not something that a lot of trans people have. And honestly, my identity is fairly easy - my preferred name has not changed, and neither have my pronouns. That’s an autistic benefit, I think. While trying to assign the qualifications for “girl”, there was never a strict set of criteria. I have blonde hair, but my friend has brown hair. I don’t like skirts, but my friend does. I have a low voice, but my friend has a high voice. After going through all these criteria, which didn’t work for both me and my friend being girls, I concluded that girl was a set you just inherently belonged in. And since there were no criteria that applied across the whole, then if you said you were a girl, then you were. And so the definition of girl has always been “what I am.” (Given the option, I usually prefer to call myself a guy. But I’m not a man, and I’m not a boy, and I’m not a woman. Girl isn’t wrong. I guess. I’m having more thoughts about this now than I wanted to.)

But knowing what I want to be called is not the same as being called what I want to be called. This is something that should be easily solved through communication. I have come to learn that most communication is nonverbal. Okay! This is not where I shine, but I can figure something out. Choose a masculine name - done! It took a while but I finally found a masc name I like last week. Masculine body language? Was difficult to look up - I kept finding pick up artists instead of actual ftm people. But I picked up a bit in high school, and ftm Reddit helped a bit more. Masculine clothes? Yes please, pockets. Plus I’ve always hated skirts and dresses anyway. Boobs? Damn near nonexistent to begin with. Short hair? Was euphoric the first time I got it. Masculine voice? Easier than you’d expect! I’ve always had a pretty deep voice for a girl, and I love singing low notes. Add in a few tips from ftm Reddit and I should be good to go!

Well… not really.

I learned fairly quickly that I hate being called “ma’am” more than anything. I hate “sweetie” and “honey” because they’re demeaning, but I’ve never been able to pinpoint just why I hate “ma’am.” Some days it’s like being poked - annoying but tolerable, but the longer it goes the harder it is to not snap. Other days it’s like being insulted, and it wears me down fast.

This should also be an easy solution! On days when I expect it to be more like insults, I use my deep voice, my masc name tag, and try harder to use the masculine body language. And go on Etsy to buy a button that says “don’t call me ma’am.”

You learn very quickly that customers cannot read. In truth it was naive of me to assume they would. Even when they read my name tag they seldom see the button even though it’s right next to it.

I can only conclude that there must be something I’m doing that gives me away, so to speak. But I’m in that pesky venn diagram of autistic and trans - the people who should be able to help don’t know, or haven’t said anything, and the idea of entering a new community - Reddit - is anxiety inducing. (Fun fact - this is my second tumblr account. The first was probably not successfully deleted because tumblr kept taking me in circles. In the end I just deleted the email address I used to sign up for it, which was far less effort. As a side effect I can no longer log into my twitter, but I only used that to get coins on Nyan Cat: Lost in Space.)

It seems like everyone around me has read some sort of guide of manual, something that tells them definitively who is and isn’t a man, who should and shouldn’t be regarded as such. Like they have a list of criteria and something about me tips them off that, despite all evidence to the contrary, they are looking at a woman. And probably if I asked, they wouldn’t know.

But oh how I wish someone could tell me. Because we’re getting to the point where what’s tipping them off are things about myself that I’m not willing to change. I love singing, I like talking in a singsong voice. That’s been difficult to give up on days where being feminized is like blunt force trauma. I talk with my hands, my upper body is very active. I can’t stop that - otherwise I’d be too hyperactive somewhere else. I love wearing bright colors, I love rainbows. Damn near everything in the mens department is either white, black, gray, or very rarely brown. I don’t know why they put up with it. I’ve been forced to wonder lately if my *lanyard* is what’s giving me away. Not anything on my lanyard, but the fact that I have anything around my neck at all. My car keys are on a lanyard. I like wearing lanyards. I’m not going to change that about myself. Or carrying grocery bags! I have rarely if ever seen men tote anything over their shoulder. Bags are always gripped in a fist, the straps balled up. But that’s not efficient! You expect me to sacrifice efficiency for your tired and stupid gender norms? I have to laugh.

But it wears me down sometimes. It’s stressful and hurtful sometimes. I will talk in my low voice until my throat hurts. I will take great pains to keep the name on my lanyard from showing. I will dig and dig until I find the work name tag template so I can make my own. Spend the time to find the right name. I can put forth so much effort, and none of it is recognized. I can’t expect everyone to know without telling them. But in my position, it would be weird and time wasting to hand everyone I see a card that says “don’t call me ma’am.” It would take an immense amount of effort to come up with snappy comebacks every time I’m misgendered, not to mention it could cost me my job. As I mentioned my workplace supports me, but customers are horrid people who hardly see me as a person, let alone as anything but a woman. At this point it would take far less effort to just. Stop trying. Abandon all hope of ever being called anything but a woman. At least it’s not a costume I have to put on - I just have to walk outside. I wouldn’t have to change the way I speak, I could move and not think about it, I could wear whatever I wanted and not worry what someone would think. I could just be.

That’s not sustainable.

Before I realized I was genderfluid trans masc, I spent months depressed. I didn’t want to do anything. I even left an internship early - that I was initially excited for! - because everything was just dragging me down. I was desperate for a therapist, settling for one that wasn’t the right fit, just to do something. The real solution was far cheaper - a haircut. Once I cut off 90% of my hair, the depression stopped. I liked being myself again. Depression still comes and goes, but it’s never been as persistent again. I haven’t hated being myself again. I’ve been able to figure out what about my existence I didn’t like. I didn’t like women’s pants. I’ve never liked skirts and dresses. I like wearing suits and ties. I prefer men’s cut shirts. I don’t like women’s swimsuits. I prefer to be a girl PC in video games. Women’s underwear is fine. I don’t care about the gender of my socks, so long as I can get long socks in the cold months. I don’t like being in men’s bathrooms. I don’t like the price of men’s shoes or the color choices. “Boy” and “girl” are just a shorthand that helps people google things. After all, if you’re looking for pink things for a six year old, it’s far more likely you’ll get the results you want if you add “girl” to your query. It also helps you to find a group to be a part of. We are social animals, after all, and we thrive in social groups. Far easier to find the group you’re looking for if it has a name.

But it’s like everyone else has criteria that I couldn’t find. And it wasn’t for lack of looking! When I made my initial conclusions, I had a sizable data set to draw on! And that data set has only grown! I can Google “girl” and get a wide array of people who are all different! And it’s the same if I Google “boy”! It honestly makes more sense to divide the world into pants and skirts - at least then you would have sensible and specific criteria. (Of course… that would put a lot of eastern traditional dress into the same category as Jackie Kennedy. Which is not exactly accurate either.)

This has gone on far longer than I initially intended, and as per usual my point has gotten lost in the weeds. All for the best, though, as I did need to get all this out. I suppose at the end of the day, I so wish I knew everything I would need to do to be read as a man 100% of the time. At least then I could consider, and adopt or reject each of those things. Because at this point I seem to be doomed to be unseen.

#specs writes stuff #long post #actually autistic #genderfluid #trans #trans masc #ftm #someone remind me how to do a read more on mobile lol #okay I figured it out

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honeyedlashton · 4 years

Text

Thanks for Being a Friend

Words: 2170

Warning: some homophobic comments, and mentions of violence and bullying.

Ship: lashton fluff essentially

A/N: I haven’t written one of these in so long I forgot how to do it. Anyway. I’ve been sitting on this idea that Luke and Ashton met working at the same mall. A lot of it is based off of conversations I’ve had with hemmoangel so I can’t take all the credit. But anyway, this is how I think it went down. This is only for fluff and soft reasons. I’m trying to get back into the swing of little blurbs, so please be kind.

——————————————————————————

It wasn’t the first time Ashton had met him. He was sure they’d met before. Maybe when Ashton would only have a half shift at the KFC, and he’d catch a movie after work. He might’ve seen the boy at the consession stand. He’d probably bought popcorn from him. Better yet, he knew he remembered buying gum from him on one of his breaks every now and then. Who else was he supposed to go to when there was only a small sea of food court tables between him and a new pack of peppermint?

No, Ashton was very certain he’d seen him. Certain he’d kept his eyes out for this small, blonde boy—no matter how subconsciously he’d taken a notice. It was enough to remember his name.

“Luke”

That was what his little plastic name tag read. From the first day, to right now it stuck out in his memory. It was white plastic on a blue uniform shirt, Ashton always thought the color looked a little like Luke’s eyes—if a little darker.

Except today those eyes were covered by sunglasses. Little fluorescent green frames with black lenses. A bold fashion statement. The aviator frames took up half of the boy’s face, and his straightened blonde hair covered his forehead. This left only pink heart-shaped lips, a small pixie nose, and a delicate jaw as the only discernible features. But the glasses were the cause of torment from Ashton’s group of friends on this particular evening.

“Will you guys shut up, already?” Ashton huffed back at them as he handed Luke fifteen for their various drinks and snacks. “You’re all being really rude. And you owe me money on top of it.”

The three others in Ashton’s group silenced for a second, then whispered among themselves.

“What did I say? Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “And give me 12 bucks while you’re at it. I’m not made of money, you know...”

Ashton was avoiding looking at Luke as he worked. His cheeks hot with embarrassment. Mostly, he didn’t want Luke thinking that he thought like his asshole friends. “Hey, I like your glasses, man. Don’t worry about it.” He cooed softly when the blonde had came back with their drinks.

Luke let off a wan smile, but nothing like the normal cheery one he would normally wear. “Thanks.”

One of them handed Ashton all 12 bucks, while the rest took the drinks Luke had made them and walked off. Ashton heard “faggot” leave one of his friend’s mouths, and he looked up at Luke instantly. His mouth already poised to apologize.

But the pain he expected on Luke’s face—or the half that wasn’t behind the glasses—had been painted over into a sort of barely noticeable pout. “Have a good show,” he wasn’t sure if Luke’s voice was wobbling or if he’d misheard, but Ashton’s heart broke for him anyway.

“Luke, I’m so sorry about them. I’m not even friends with these assholes.”

“It’s okay,” Luke whispered, busying himself with toweling up a nonexistent puddle on the counter.

“No really, I’m so sorry...here,” Ashton bit his lip and looked between Luke’s pale hands and the other members of his party. “I’ll be right back.”

Luke didn’t seem to care about anything Ashton was saying, but he left anyway. He went to his group. “Which one is the Diet Coke?” He asked them cooly.

One of them handed Ashton one of the paper cups with the blue cinema logo on the outside. Ashton smiled without emotion and mimicked Luke. “Have a good show, assholes.”

He actually reveled their confused faces. And when faced with questions like: “What? Where are you going?” and “You’re not gonna hang with that kid, right?” Ashton only smirked.

“Well, it beats hanging with you losers.” He shrugged and sipped the drink through the straw. “Ugh, this is your Coke Zero, actually.” Ashton traded it and flicked them off as he left, feeling higher than life.

However that came to a halt when he got back to Luke, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere other than behind that counter. Thankfully there weren’t that many people around, and none of them were looking to buy popcorn. “Have you taken your break yet?” He asked softly.

Luke shook his head softly, and Ashton could see the little sliver of a blush under the rim of Luke’s glasses. And then he noticed a single tear clung to his jaw.

“What do you get? Fifteen minutes? It’s dead now, why don’t we go sit for a little bit.”

“I don’t know you,” Luke said softly.

“Mmm,” Ashton nodded. “Alright. I’m Ashton Irwin. I’m sixteen. I work at KFC across the food court, and sometimes I buy gum from you.”

“Oh...” Luke nodded.

“See? Now we’re not complete strangers,” Ashton cooed smoothly. But when Luke didn’t answer, he leaned against the counter. “Look, I don’t associate with them. Or I won’t anymore if that’s their stance on shit.”

After an agonizing second of silence, Luke finally looked up. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want. Any place that calms you down. It’s a big mall.”

“Can we go by the fountain?” Luke whimpered, letting through some of the sadness in his voice that he had so obviously been trying to hide.

“Of course,” Ashton whispered like he were talking to a wounded child.

Luke went through the process of clocking out for his fifteen minute break, and Ashton walked close to him, like he was scared someone else would say something cruel to this boy.

“I recognize you,” Luke said after a minute of silence. “Not only from you getting gum, but sometimes I see you get an ice cream.”

“You must have really good eyesight,” Ashton cooed. “My eyes are shit. I can barely see ten feet ahead of me. Unless I’m buying gum from you, or I’m this close, I can’t see you at all,” he teased to lighten the mood.

Luke smiled softly.

“Want an ice cream?” Ashton bumped shoulders with the smaller boy.

“Uh...” Luke hesitated, “no. No, I’m okay.”

“That’s not very convincing. What flavor do you want?”

“Uh...whatever flavor you’re getting is fine. You really don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that. I want to. It would make you feel better right?”

“Well yeah, but—.”

“Then it’s a necessity,” Ashton purred and ordered two cones of strawberry cheesecake. “This good?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ashton sat him down on the edge of the fountain. It had little black fish sculptures shooting water out of their mouths. It gave a nice ambient sound. A nice break from the monotone chatter and mall music.

The small boy ate the Ice cream more readily than he’d accepted it.

“Luke, can I ask you a question?” Luke nodded. “Why the choice to wear the glasses?”

“I...uh...I didn’t really have one,” Luke fidgeted with his ice cream cone, chewing at the edge of the cone making a little satisfying crunches.

“Why? You got a black eye or something?” Ashton was only half joking, but when he saw the corners of Luke’s lips turn down, he knew he’d accidentally stumbled upon the answer. “Oh no...”

Luke’s frown turned more into a grimace. “That word doesn’t really hurt me anymore, but today it kinda got to me,” Luke whispered, and lowered the glasses enough to see a purple line right under Luke’s tearful blue eyes. Or at least the only clear eye Ashton could see. Not the worst black eye he’d ever seen, but definitely couldn’t have been fun to get. Ashton didn’t dare ask what happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t honestly think you were hiding anything. I swear. I have a really shit coping mechanism where I try to make jokes.”

“It’s fine. You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to today,” Luke said gently. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ashton shook his head.

“You’re being so nice to me. Why?”

“Well I don’t like the idea of someone picking on the little guy. Especially when he deserves it the least in the world.”

Luke looked away and Ashton could see the pink in his cheeks. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to...” Ashton smiled softly. “You seem pretty cool. I think you’d make a great friend.”

“You’d probably be the first to think that, I’m not very interesting.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ashton shook his head. “I think there’s more to you than you give yourself credit for.”

“Yeah, I’m the fag who gets beaten up,” Luke scoffed.

“Every school’s got one...” Ashton added.

Ashton could tell Luke’s gaze was more pointed when he looked at him this time. “...are you...?”

Ashton shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think it really matters.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Well I am...your friends were right.”

“They’re not gonna be my friends anymore.” Ashton hummed. “But you are.”

“I am?”

“If you want.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded.

“You can have my number, too,” Ashton offered after a second. “Or like we could be friends on Facebook.”

“You would? I don’t have very good photos up...”

“Neither do I. Mine are all embarrassing,” Ashton smiled softly to ease Luke’s mind.

“Okay. Yeah,” Luke nodded softly, then smiled again. “Yeah, I’ll add you.”

Ashton smiled and took out his phone. “Is it just Luke or Lucas?”

“Just Luke. And Hemmings as the last name.”

Ashton hummed and giggled on his own inner monologue. “What?” Luke looked at him, he could almost hear some anxiousness in his voice.

“Oh nothing, it’s not you. I had an algebra teacher who’s last name was Hemmings.”

“Was her name Liz?” Luke perked up.

“Yeah, is she related to you?” Ashton definitely saw a resemblance.

“Uh-huh! That’s my mum!” Luke grinned.

“Oh,” Ashton cooed and added Luke as a friend. Remembering how kind and firm Mrs. Hemmings was. He imagined she was a good mother if Luke could be out and open. “It’s a small world,” was all he said though.

“Thank you for this, Ashton,” Luke cooed holding up his ice cream cone. “And for uh, I guess taking me out of there. It’s been a really rough day.”

“Hey,” Ashton bumped their shoulders again with a little smile. “I’m just upset it took something like this to make me talk to you in the first place. I think you’re really...sweet.”

Luke looked at his feet, his expression unreadable.

“We should probably get you back. You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke stammered, but he seemed confident as he nodded.

Ashton took his extra napkin that was wadded up in his fist and tossed it in the garbage as they walked back, making him look a lot more skilled than he was. “And don’t let anyone call you that. It’s your word. Not theirs.”

“I’m not really gonna stand up for myself. Everyone knows I’m weak.”

“No, you’re not weak. You’re strong enough to be out.”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds.”

“You’ve got me. And maybe a few other friends who are on your side?”

“I’ve got one, but his boyfriend is really mean to me.”

“Well you tell him that an upperclassman is gonna beat him up if he crosses you again,” Ashton cooed.

“Really?”

“If that’s what you need.”

“You’re the nicest person ever...” Luke looked up at him, his voice soft. Ashton blushed for some reason.

“I could say the same for you.”

Luke just smiled with a soft blush.

“Hey, I’ve got a band and a gig on Saturday, I don’t know if you’ve already made plans, but it’d be cool if you came.”

“Okay,” Luke nodded a little. “I’ll have to ask my mum to drive me, but okay.”

Ashton smiled, and sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll send you the details on Facebook...”

“Yeah I’d like that,” Luke nodded, and the moment seemed to linger. Both of them dreading the part where they’d have to leave. At least that’s what Ashton was thinking. “I should uh—.”

“Yeah, yeah you should get back,” Ashton nodded and his cheeks burned a little as he awkwardly stood in the entrance of the cinema. “It wouldn’t look good if I just hung around.”

“No probably not,” Luke giggled softly. Actually giggled. Ashton felt his heart skip, so proud of Luke. So proud of the 15 minutes they’d spent trying to help him feel better.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Ashton cooed. “I’m running low on gum.”

“Tomorrow,” Luke smiled gently.

Ashton nodded and let Luke go back to the concession stand, and Ashton sat outside on the curb trying to make his heart slow down. Was he really so shy? Was he really so nervous to be friends with Luke?

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and among the string of texts from his friends, there was a notification on Facebook.

“Luke Hemmings accepted your friend request” and Ashton breathed a sigh of relief. He’d text him later, for now it was enough that he’d accepted anything at all.

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mazojo · 3 years

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I think people also look at Mitsuba as this super uwu boy whose like super feminine and stuff and I don’t know why I like find that super creepy. Why is the feminine boy you guys keep acting like he can’t grow muscle or go to a gym or like anything similar? Why is he constantly seen as this shy, scared uwu femboy whenever he’s next to Kou? I find it plenty disturbing how this fandom acts like trauma is a linear thing and everyone experiences it the same way. Hell, Shijima Mei was smiling even though she had a deadly illness, Yashiro shoved her near death aside not to worry people, freaking KOU acts more like Tsukasa with his trauma than anyone else? Hello?? Constantly smiling, acting like nothing is wrong, coping by goofily acting out or acting out in general to avoid thinking about the trauma itself. People act like Tsukasa’s coping mechanisms (albeit bad) are somehow nonexistent and like, that’s not true.

I also hate how the fandom seems to interpret Tsukasa and Mitsuba’s relationship specifically. (As well as ignore just how similar Kou and Tsukasa really are) because it seems like people take one panel and run with it despite the fact that Aidairo has basically made Mitsuba to be Tsukasa’s Nene. The constant wish granting? The parallel art (valentine and Aladdin specifically), the fact that Mitsuba and Nene have similar eye colors, both went to a wish granting supernatural to have their wishes granted, and both of them had their wishes given to them in the most horrid manner they could think of. People expect this 13 year old to be mature and wise like Hanako without acknowledging the fact that

1: Hanako is a leader, he’s had plenty of time to become mature

2: Tsukasa only recently became a leader of his small group of three and even then, Sakura is usually the one governing HIM.

Like, if you dislike Tsukasa ships fine but don’t go harassing and hating the shippers. Like, honesty, go gatekeep people please, I’m still traumatized over the fact that someone made an entire Twitter thread about me and my Tsukasa ships, basically telling everyone to stay away from me. They started it with “we need to talk about [insert my username].” And god, that fucked me up so bad that I still have trouble trusting people in this fandom.

Ships aren’t meant to be fought over unless they’re utterly illegal and disgusting. Wanting Tsukasa and Kou together or Tsukasa and Mitsuba to be on romantic terms isn’t something you need to burn people at the stake for. Tsukasa himself is inherently affectionate, kind and selfless. He’s so selfless that he was willing to stay in a horrible cursed replica of his own house alone just to make sure his family was safe. And he STILL had this demonic hole entity inside of him?? So obviously, people who go “well he grew up and the entity corrupted him entirely.” Miss the point of the red arc which was to show Tsukasa, at his core, was just an innocent, selfless kid. As a ghost, he’s lived through a murder and god knows what else that happened to him so really, what’s the point of looking at him and only seeing “bad, bad, evil.” As if his brother isn’t a murderer (who killed him btw), and he doesn’t have a demonic wishing hole in his body?

It honestly feels more like people just like to bash and hate Tsukasa because of Hanako’s reaction to him, because of him hurting Mitsuba and Kou, and because he almost hurt Nene. They don’t care that he was abused in his life, they don’t care he was murdered, they don’t care he had to die for his brother to live, they don’t care that he was so terrified of losing his sibling that he made a deal with the literal devil and skipped to his death merrily because he thought Amane would grow up. They especially don’t care that Kou looked at this toddler straight in the eyes and abused him in the red house ALL BECAUSE HE WAS TSUKASA.

Trauma doesn’t excuse your actions, but people like to use it to excuse Kou’s actions because “Tsukasa killed Mitsuba so I’d beat him up too.” Like sorry what? Kou knows damn well this is a baby, why should his trauma excuse him physically hurting the kid (and then, again, screaming at him and grabbing him without warning, not even explaining his words and thinking that a literal child would even understand the phrase “your brother killed you.”)

It’s just so…. Confusing. And stupid and like, if I could, I’d gatekeep the fandom from people (or people from the fandom) but I’m practically seen as a horrible person because I ship Tsukasa. I’m glad I found people who don’t hate me entirely but it takes a toll when you check your notifications and people are bashing you on your ship tag or vaguely insulting you and asking if you’re “ok in the head” for “even thinking Tsukasa can have a healthy relationship.”

Yeah agreedd, Mitsuba being placed in this cutesy uwu ™ role because of what he looks like / acts /dresses its super weird champ to me. A lot of the art I see of Mitsuba is also very sex*alizing of his character and it makes me uncomfy because at the end of the day he is a minor like :///

I think people misinterpret Tsukasa and Mitsuba's relationship and overall too with the other broadcasting club members because unfortunately we havent gotten much exposure to them as we have to the main trio ;w; People run with the little information they have and miscontrust it a lot to fit certain narrative but things most of the time tend to be a lot deeper than what they see or interpret at plain sight. I have a similar interest on seeing for example Tsukasa and Sakura! I think their friendship hasn't been touched upon that much and I wish we got a broadcasting club segment (maybe at the end of this arc??? although I am not sure how Aidairo is going to go with the narrative after all this complicated turns me is hyped thoo)

Holy crap they did what to you?? I am so sorry someone would do that!! Cancel culture is the absolute worst and as I said before, no one should be bashed because of their ships/fav characters/dynamics unless its something illegal but if its not like ???? Let people enjoy the characters the way they want! Everyone deserves love and if people dont agree with you everyone is entitled to their opinions but never sent hate to someone that way! This just goes to show once again twitter being the worst and again, I am so sorry you had to go through that :(

The red house arc has been very misconstructed as a whole like you say and because of people's takes on Tsukasa's character it blinds them to see the newer information added to the story unfortunately. And I do agree that it comes mainly because Hanako is most people's favorites and immediately consider Tsukasa the opposing party so they go and throw hate at him.

Again, I am so sorry people have been rude to you because of this and goes to show how damaging cancel culture can be. You are always allowed here as a safe space tho!! We dont like the toxic negativity in this household <33

#This is awful canceling someone because they dont agree with your ship or whatever is never okay #(unless its disgusting or illegal but if its okay?? Hate is never excuse)#But yeah..... Tsukasa as a whole is a very misconstructed character by the fandom and tbh the takes of many people on it #is what deter me from speaking up about it more because people take things too personally or passionately when you are #trying to enjoy the franchise unfortunately and it happens a lot with the tbhk community #the instagram community can be very yikers at times too :(#ask #tbhk spoilers #tbhk #tsukasa

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