#and acts more childish and its framed as a positive thing

[vaugarde]

finished kotaro lives alone

[pastelvelvett-2nd]

Yandere!Harper x Female!Reader

[♡] Last chapter

Chapter 2: Only human

Summary: A week has past, and your second tutoring session with Harper is today. It's rather inconvenient that the entirety of the night, her mind is far too preocuppied with thoughts of you to sleep, even the slightest bit. The perfect mask she built slipping in front of you would be her worst nightmare, and in all likelyhood, it probably would happen today, given her current state.

Word count: 5,230 words

Note: Hello again! This will first of the two promised version with male and female reader. The fact that I took a while to post this is made even more hilarious by the fact that I literally had to edit exactly one word in this whole thing, considering this story is in second person. I was about to decide to not post these at all, but then I realized that there will be more mentions of the reader's gender as the story goes on so it's worth posting this one too so we can have the full set. ...Okay I ramble a lot even for Author's notes, cool, good to know. Anyway hope you enjoy re-reading or reading for the first time! Here's to hoping I won't take another year to post the next chapter (haha dw I totally won't guys)

What did Harper truly care about in the world? It wasn’t directly related to what she was doing, like it tends to be for a lot of people. She couldn’t think of many things she did at all that came from mere enjoyment. The girl did everything she did not for the act of it in itself, but what she would gain from going through with it. Often, it felt like even small decisions and actions on her day to day life were strategies, as insignificant as they may have looked to those around her. Small actions and decisions that build up to make a portrait of herself others could enjoy. That’s why, her newly found, constant thoughts didn’t make sense to her. For nights in a row, she’d tumble and shift in bed incessantly, thoughts burdened and confusing. They didn’t start off as something she was bothered by, though. First, she had a fuzzy feeling inside of her as she thought back to your first tutoring session. Your entrancing frame and beautiful face burrowed itself in her mind, laid their eggs that would lead to more, to the point it was the only thing she could see whenever she closed her eyes. Your words, your tone, soft and comforting like a lullaby, replayed themselves in her head. Except, of course, unlike a regular lullaby, it just had to have had the exact opposite effect on her, about as damaging as three cups of coffee back to back would be at this hour. That’s where her pleasant thoughts started seeming to be more concerning, than anything. Why was she considering something so intently, when she didn’t have any real conclusion to these thoughts? Harper had gotten obsessed with things before, it was pretty much an integral trait to her already, but it was always for the sake of gaining something. The fact she didn’t understand what was happening to her was concerning in its own right. The girl let out a shaky, unnerved sigh as she, in a brisk movement, got up to a sitting position on her bed. Harper peered downwards at her soft blanket. It had a childish print; A repeated pattern of a cute, chibi cat sleeping, the whole thing being colored in varying shades of pink. Thinking back at everyone she talked to on a regular basis, it was clear as day they’d think she’s immature for secretly liking this sort of thing. How would you react, though? Would you be disappointed that she’s not truly a mature person, or would you be okay with that? Something told her you weren’t like them, preoccupied with what looks socially acceptable. 

“Oh, crap…” Harper gritted her teeth, leaning forward as she covered her scrunched up face the second she realized. She couldn’t believe it. Her mind wandered to something other than you for one second, and that thought was so quick to turn right back to you. This clearly wasn’t something she could push out of herself by just laying down in bed, maybe if she did something, she could take her mind off of it. The girl looked up, her lavender eyes rapidly darting from her left to right to identify where on Earth she left her phone before she started sleeping. Or… Trying to, anyway. Ah… On the end table next to her, of course. Did she ever leave it anywhere else? Why did she even ask herself where it was to begin with? Harper stretched her body to the right to grab onto her phone and pull it from her charger. It was still warm to the touch from having charged for- she didn’t know for how long. Her eyes, used to the darkness of her room, tried adjusting to the bright, unnatural light the phone gave off as soon as she turned it on. Admittedly, the overly cutesy brightly colored wallpaper didn’t help much with this achieving this.  

Oh… 

Crap again.

Harper cringed at the sight of the time, 5:49 AM. It took her a full hour drive to get to college, so really, she only had an hour at her disposal. She couldn’t remember the last time that she stayed up the whole night without realizing it, if it ever happened to begin with. Normally, she goes to bed at 10PM sharp, and falls asleep only a few minutes later. Just what had you done to her?

Surely it wouldn’t be surprising to say that Harper couldn’t sleep in the one hour she had left. Instead, she worried incessantly about how that day was the second tutoring session she had with you, and the only thing she was running on was anxiety that kept her more or less alert. Still, the lack of sleep made her nowhere near as sharp as she’d hope to be for it. If anything, in her current state, you’d be the one able to teach her. Still, she had to put her best foot forward. She managed to get through the school day, yes, with a few weird looks from people that knew she was behaving strangely, but she was still able to jot down notes with… Some readability to them. 

As Harper waited for you to join her in the back of the library, she lowered her face to get a better look at what she now recognized as being hieroglyphs that were intended to represent the English language in her notebook, coming to the morbid realization that she was deluding herself into thinking she’d been doing better than she actually was. She supposed she didn’t do very well with lack of sleep… Maybe because she was always strict with herself on getting a full night of rest, like her parents were with her while she was growing up.

—

Second week, second tutoring session with Harper. You had to admit that you were incredibly nervous, but thankfully less so now, since you noticed how approachable she was to you the last time. A part of you was fully expecting her to be the type of popular person to act incredibly sweet to some people, and horribly nasty towards those that have a less than stellar reputation, like you did. If anything, she seemed even more genuine and brighter when you talked to her one on one than in a classroom setting.

You inhaled then exhaled, paused in front of the library door, trying to remind yourself of these things. You’re fine. Just focus on learning, she wouldn’t judge you for being incredibly stupid (even though compared to her, you clearly are).

The library was very quiet, which was certainly a good thing for you. You could only see one person reading in a chair relatively close to the door. Not someone you recognized, from what you could tell. The guy gave you a weird, slightly judgemental look for just a second, which was enough to make you shrink and wonder if you did something strange. You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time you imagined someone judging you. God, just focus… Find Harper. She’s chill. You’ll be fine with her. You hurriedly went deeper into the library, the stacks of books you needed for today held tightly against your chest. You were quick to spot her, sitting at the furthest table and staring down a notebook. Her face was pale enough that she looked like she saw a ghost, and unlike you, it didn’t seem like she spotted you nearly as fast.

She narrowed her eyes, nearing her face to the paper to get a better look while also lifting it. You had to wonder what made reading what’s there so difficult. It kind of looked like someone else’s handwriting, from what you could see, so maybe she borrowed someone’s notebook for some reason and was having some trouble reading it because she wasn’t familiar with the way they wrote. Another thing that was interesting to you- Harper tended to be… How should you say this without sounding rude (because though you’re obviously the only person listening in on your thoughts, you still would feel guilty if you thought something mean about someone that only treated you with kindness so far). She was always more attentive to the world around her than this, let’s call it. While you were 100% the type of person to look around disoriented when you go to meet a friend at any location, you always thought people like Harper were exempt from having those kinds of moments. Well, Harper is human, afterall… Like anyone else, she can get distracted.

You guessed that calling out to her would be a better idea, since you were starting to feel a bit creepy just looming over her. You didn’t doubt it would look suspicious if anyone saw you, they’d most likely think you were stalking her (and doing a pretty bad job at it, honestly).

“H-Harper, hel-”

The second you spoke out with a shaky voice and an awkward smile, she jumped up from her seat with a dramatic gasp and looked up at you wide eyed like you’re about to attack her. She dropped the notebook on the table in time with the gasp, making it fall and slide further to the other side of the surface, where you were. You looked down at the notebook that was just in Harper’s grasp briefly, which was enough to make her panic further and take it, sliding it in her backpack hastily. That was… Strange of Harper. You never once saw her like this, or heard of anyone seeing her like this. It looked like she was hiding a murder plot that she wrote about or something, though that was obviously not possible. Plus, you doubted the notebook was even hers to begin with. Maybe she wanted to copy someone’s notes or homework and she was ashamed she’d get caught…? But then again, why was only this mystery person’s out, and not Harper’s, too?

“OH! Y/N!” Harper exclaimed, a bit too loud for something she’d say in the library. “Hi! You’re…” She looked up to the clock with squinted eyes. …Maybe she needed to get new glasses, and that’s why she was squinting at that notebook, too? “Oh. Exactly on time.” Ouch.

“Haha… Surprised? I wouldn’t want to waste your time making you wait for me, Harper.” You laughed nervously, pulling out a chair to sit down next to her, careful to not place it too close to hers. She was already pretty jumpy, by default, the last thing you’d want to do is worsen her emotional state. Something… Clearly must’ve happened to cause her change of behavior. You didn’t think you had it in you to pry. The two of you weren’t terribly close or anything, afterall. That would probably make her uncomfortable. Harper was much quicker to reply to this than she was in noticing you.

“Oh, wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… I meant I thought it was earlier than it actually was, so when I checked the time, I got surprised!” The pink haired girl tried her best to explain, as fast as humanly possible, so you wouldn’t have a misconception about what she meant for much longer. You eyed her in concern, studying her face. Upon closer inspection, beneath her eyes were dark bags that certainly weren’t there the day before. It didn’t look like she slept one bit last night, or if she did, she had very little. Maybe something was bothering her, and she couldn’t sleep? You didn’t know her personally at all, so you had no clue what could’ve happened. Interrogating her about it couldn’t be a good idea, so maybe giving her an easy out from having another tiring thing to do after uni would be the kindest course of action.

“You look… Pretty tired, Harper. Do you want to change the tutoring to tomorrow, or maybe some other day of the week? They should allow that, it’s still a tutoring session a week-” You couldn’t properly brace yourself over how immediate her response would be, even if you somehow knew about it ahead of time.

“No. No, we can do it today.” Harper’s voice was strangely firm, almost as if it was an order, rather than a confirmation. A few seconds of eerie silence passed before her different, frankly unusual demeanor melted away. “S-Sorry, I meant… I’m not really one to put things off. It’s a vicious cycle.” Oh, how nice it would’ve been to be her, and not your procrastinating self. It seemed like Harper was putting a genuine effort in pulling herself together, as evidenced by her straightening her back and clearing her throat. Her nervous, taken aback expression was turned into a calm and composed smile. Just how can she flip so quickly from one way of acting to another? It seemed like she’d be fairly good at something like improv acting or playing DnD, but you weren’t sure she was interested in either, or would be if she gave it a try. “Okay, sorry for the delay! We can start!” Realizing you still hadn’t sat down, you awkwardly shifted and moved towards the seat next to her, fighting off your immediate instinct to sit across from her instead. You supposed sitting right next to her was a lot more nerve wrecking of a concept, it was closer to her after all, so it made sense. 

With Harper even closer, the marks under her eyes seemed far more pronounced, making your guilt over putting her through this deepen. Still, she was obviously doing this for the extra credit, so it was her own decision if she wanted to sacrifice her own comfort to get that week’s session out of the way. Harper was the type to take everything she did seriously, which was incredibly respectable to you.

As she introduced the subject of today’s focus (still under math, because God knows you needed it), you could see the energy and brightness she put forth just a few minutes earlier dissipate gradually. Harper’s speaking was slower, her pauses more frequent, and eventually, she even struggled to have her eyes be any wider than half lidded. Even more distracting was that her writing seemed a lot sloppier than I saw it be last week, enough for it to be very possible that the notebook she had in front of her earlier was actually hers. This wasn’t something you could commentate on openly, at least not if you pointed out the specific telltale signs she had of being sleep deprived. But maybe if you insisted you end the tutoring session early after a bit of time had past, she’d be more likely to accept it.

“Okay, so now that you know the formula to that, let me just write down an example before you try one on your own.” The pink haired girl slid her math notebook closer to her side of the table and began writing down a math problem, tired eyes deeply focused. Then she started solving it, her mouth twitching slightly at some point, followed by her eyebrow doing the same. It really seemed like Harper was unsure of what she was writing down. You knew she probably meant for you to look at it after she was done, and peeping would be a bit mean, but your curiosity simply couldn’t wait. You scooted closer, making Harper’s body freeze like a deer caught in headlights the second that she finished writing the final result. Your eyes narrowed and studied each line of calculations. It… Didn’t really sound right. At all.

”Oh… I kinda thought it would be something like this.” Harper allowed you to take the notebook from under her and watched you attentively with no readily apparent emotion. You quickly wrote down the solution that you thought would be correct right below hers, looking to her when you were done for some sort of feedback. Harper seemed the slightest bit horrified, her mouth opening wordlessly and her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Is it… That wrong?” Harper blinked a few times, looking bewildered as she took the notebook back and read through my solution several times over rapidly.

“No… It’s correct. I…” Harper gulped nervously, seeming not so eager to continue her sentence. She looked up towards her own solution, silent for a bit longer. “I was completely wrong. This… Is completely idiotic, what’s wrong with me? It’s like if an elementary schooler tried to solve this!” Harper’s tone raised, and her breathing quickened. Her concern from earlier was a bit more than you expected, but this state of panic was way beyond that.

”Harper, it’s okay, really! Everyone makes mistakes-“

”Not me!” Harper’s head was lowered in shame, hands shaking to the point she was barely able to hold the notebook properly. Tears quickly welled up in her violet eyes, and it took no time at all for them to drip down her face and for her to close her lids, probably from the stinging effect her tears left in their wake. She sobbed and sobbed, leaving you speechless. “I… Can’t. I’m not allowed to.” Her voice was weak and quieter this time, the slightest bit rapsy from having raised her voice earlier. You had no clue how to comfort her properly, not knowing her well enough to know what worked and what didn’t. Everything you could try would be a shot in the dark.

You were so caught up in Harper’s emotions that you didn’t notice that the librarian had walked up to her. The middle aged brown haired woman placed a hand on Harper’s shoulder in a motherly way, and you could only hope that would be enough to make her feel at least a little bit better, because then you would know what you could do. “Honey, are you okay…?” Then, to your surprise, the woman moved her gaze from her to you, now far less compassionate and more pointed, more accusatory. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Did it… Look like you were an awful person? You had no clue why so many people here expected the worst of you. Even the staff, apparently. Still, you felt an insane amount of guilt for not doing something to comfort her up until now. You wouldn’t be surprised if Harper would come to resent you for seemingly not caring, despite her trying to tutor you every week, even when she was so exhausted.

”No, t-they didn’t.” Her current state made the fact that she actually responded for you even more shocking. It was noble of her to think about how you were perceived, even when she seemed to be going through a panic attack. “I-I’m sorry for making a scene. This is a library, I s-shouldn’t disturb-“ 

“No, no honey. Please. Don’t think about that right now. Just focus on feeling better.” The librarian let go of Harper’s shoulder and looked towards me. “Y/N, was it?” You felt pretty bad that you didn’t remember her name, despite her remembering yours. “Please take Harper here to the counselor.”

”It’s a-alright, Mrs. Moore, I can go on my own.” Oh well, at least you knew her name now, that’s something. Harper stifled her sobs, making occasional sniffing the only obvious sign of her crying, besides of course, the tears streaming down her face. The girl took her notebook and stuffed it in her backpack quickly, slipping it onto her back. It seemed like Harper was trying to rush away before either of you could have the chance to protest.

“Wait.” You got up too, and grabbed onto her hand after she took just a few steps away. Immediately, as you looked down at her hand that was stiff from shock, a result of your sudden and probably socially unacceptable action (given how little time the two of you spent together), you came to regret that decision. Then you looked up, which was perhaps even worse, because you saw her staring at you with a confused, teary face. “Sorry for that, I just…” You tried taking your hand away from hers. This time, it was your turn to be shocked when Harper refused to let you go, holding your hand tight. You’d feel rather awkward bringing that up now, especially with Mrs. Moore being right there still, so instead, you decided to continue what you were meaning to say. “I really want to do something to help. Taking you to the counselor is the least I could do.” Harper just stared at you in shock for a few good seconds that might as well have been an eternity, given how bad your perception of time was after her sudden show of emotion earlier. Then, she chuckled, smiling. Her eyes brightened, and her breathing seemed to be steadier than it was before. It was pretty interesting, because she didn’t give Mrs. Moore this look of gratitude and happiness after she tried to comfort her. First, you assumed maybe Harper just didn’t feel that okay with physical touch, so her putting her hand on her shoulder didn’t help. Still, she talked to her, too, and she had a more gentle tone that should’ve had more of an effect, yet it didn’t. Maybe Harper didn’t much like Mrs. Moore? That was your best guess.

”Thank you. I-If… You’re okay with that, I’m okay with that too.”

You didn’t really expect Harper to immediately say yes, but needless to say, it made you relieved. You weren’t really one to insist with anything, it was too nerve wracking to demand something of anyone. Still though, you were pretty sure that demanding to go with her, a grown adult that barely knew you, was an objectively morally wrong thing to do that you wouldn’t have done even if you had a backbone.

—

You started leading Harper to the counselor’s office, the both of you incredibly quiet. It honestly felt a tad bit awkward for you to be leading her somewhere on campus, when you barely started going here a few months ago and still get lost sometimes, even now. You weren’t sure for how long, but Harper probably had been going here for a significantly longer time than you. It seemed like she knew the layout pretty well, even now, in her sleep deprived state. If anything, you were there for emotional support. You felt rather useless for not being able to give that emotional support, and instead be completely quiet.

“I’m sorry for-“

”I’m sorry for-“

Much to your shock, you both apologized at the same exact time, causing you and her to stop dead in your tracks. After a few seconds of bewilderment, the two of you laughed a bit at the coincidence. Not in a boisterous way, it was rather impossible to be too cheerful with the things weighing on both of your minds. But it was a soft, content laughter. You didn’t know about her, but it made you a bit more comfortable at that moment. This and her show of emotion earlier made you realize that as different as she may look to be from you, you may have more in common than you first assumed.

“That was interesting. …What are you sorry about?” You asked her, smiling and beginning to walk again. Harper began stepping forwards immediately, herself. You looked to your left and saw her looking downwards at the white, well cleaned tiles of the hall. You supposed what she wanted to say made her uncomfortable enough to want to avoid eye contact.

“For ruining today. For all I know you could’ve had a normal, happy day, and I just ruined it for you. Or, possibly even worse, maybe you had an awful day and I made it even more horrible.” Harper breathed out, seeming to be even more tired out by her own emotions. “I stood in the way of things being normal.”

”Harper…” You eyed her with sympathy, initially unsure of what to say. “It’s not your fault. You must’ve gotten no sleep at all, and there has to be something in the back of your mind upsetting you that was worsened by how tired you are.”

“It is my fault. Who else’s fault is it that I didn’t sleep last night like a normal person?” It looked to you that Harper was trying so very hard to maintain “normal”… Her idea of what a normal person was seemed to be pretty warped. 

“Normal people have bad days, sometimes you can’t get sleep. Some things just… Aren’t anyone’s fault at all.” Harper’s brows knit together, and she searched your face for an answer to a question you weren’t aware of. A few seconds later, she smiled, humming softly and looking forward again. 

“I appreciate that… Um… What were you going to apologize for?”

For a moment, you forgot you even apologized at all earlier. You got far too caught up with her apology to continue thinking about it. Her apology was about something pretty complex actually, as simple as her opening for this topic was. It made you realize that your reason for apologizing was so much smaller, to the point it would be fairly accurate to say that it was pretty much for filling dead air. You chuckled a bit. “For being quiet.”

”Oh no, there’s no reason for you to apologize for that. I understand why you’d be quiet… You probably don’t know how to react properly after my outburst.” Harper looked downwards with a subtle sadness. Earlier, she seemed to have liked when you held her hand… Would she feel better if you did it again? Before you could argue yourself out of doing it because of your anxiety over making her uncomfortable, you just did it, reaching out and gently holding her hand. That time, Harper didn’t seem quite as shocked. Instead, she welcomed the touch immediately, even holding onto your hand tighter as if she was afraid of you letting go. The very same way as she did previously. She smiled, though she still refused to make eye contact.

”It’s okay. Really. I’m not judging you for being human.” Harper’s smile dropped, and you immediately began to worry you did something to upset her. Even worse, that was the moment that she chose to look at you. In her eyes was a strong, burning emotion that you couldn’t pin down with any real certainty.

”Y/N…” Harper still faced towards you, but her eyes darted elsewhere. “I have to tell you something.” She paused, and built the courage to look back to me after a bit. “I wasn’t going to go to the counselor’s.”

”Huh…?” You raised an eyebrow at this and stopped walking again, Harper deciding to do the same. Why on Earth didn’t she say so? She could’ve told you the second the two of you left the library, if she was just worried about the librarian pressuring her about it.

“I was going to walk with you until the beginning of the hall the counselor’s office is in and tell you I can walk to it from there. Then I’d wait for you to leave. I was going to go out to get some fresh air on my own, get everything out of my system and continue with our session.” Would that… Really work? What if you decided to stand there and wait for her to get in before you left? Your face was marked with confusion as you tried to make sense of why it would be a big deal at all for her to refuse to go somewhere.

“I… Understand that you probably didn’t feel like you needed to go to the counselor anymore, but I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me. Did you think I’d get disappointed with you if you didn’t go?” Harper paused, biting her lip uncomfortably. You weren’t her mother, and even if you were, you would’ve understood that she didn’t need it.

”I don’t know if I really need it or not. I just don’t want it, and that’s all I was thinking about. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… My parents put me through therapy at some point growing up, and I can’t say it helped much, to say the least. Anything that reminds me of that could only make me feel worse.” It seemed like she didn’t want to respond to your question, but from what you could tell based on her reaction, you most likely hit the nail on the head. “You must think I’m a pretty awful person for wanting to lie to you like that… But I realized how little you deserved to be lied to, and how uncomfortable I felt about doing it to begin with, so I just had to tell you.” Harper sighed out, body language seeming a bit more agitated now than before. When she noticed you weren’t responding immediately, she looked towards your eyes with unmistakable panic. “I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, really. I’m not mad.” After you gave her an encouraging squeeze of the hand, her eyes lost some of the anxiety it held in them. You were incredibly relieved to see her calm down a bit. “Let’s go together.”

”Outside…? Oh.” Harper blinked in surprise. It seemed like she didn’t think you offering that would be a possibility. “Yeah, we can go... I’ll be honest, I’m a bit surprised you still want to spend time with me after the way I acted.”

”Acted like what, a normal human with emotions? I get it, I’m human too, regardless of what some people may say.” You tried to joke around to brighten her mood, hoping it would work, as admittedly awkward as your attempt felt. Thankfully, she giggled, marking this mission as a success.

Oh, how did Harper wish that other people could be like you were. You were understanding of her faults and mistakes, her humanity, something she never felt from someone else. At the very least, not in a sincere form. Memories of the fake kindness she received back when she went through therapy flooded her mind, and it made her want to vomit. Actually… Maybe she preferred this. Maybe she preferred it because it made you so much more special. It felt like in her eyes, you started growing more and more, and she realized what a unique, beautiful person you were. She was deeply terrified that unlike her, you began seeing her as pathetic, as the small, scared child she saw herself as every single day. Maybe if you knew about the way she thought about you last night, you wouldn’t be so kind any longer. 

But surely, you weren’t fake. Your empathy was a sincere one, and finally, she found someone she could trust. Still, Harper was afraid. As much as she already trusted you, she knew she shouldn’t be hasty, especially when she didn’t even fully understand her own feelings quite yet. Not only that, but it wasn’t exactly normal to get attached to someone so quickly, she was certain. Letting the relationship develop naturally would be for the best, before she could voice this part of her. It was a shame that keeping these obsessive thoughts to herself was already becoming irritating to her.

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

ABOUT 4/4 EP.12

We can all have our own opinions about Day getting a successful eye transplant. We're all allowed to like, dislike, have mixed feelings, whatever about it. But I think some things need to be addressed about the ways we express ourselves and how we interact with other people.

First of all, let it be known: I would 100% prefer Day didn't get his sight back. I think it would be more meaningful to the narrative of growth and learning and would send out a positive message that disabled people aren't missing something, they're just as whole as everyone else. And that happiness is possible in its entirety for us too, regardless.

This being said, what I'm about to say has nothing to do with my personal opinion of the ending but about the way people are handling things here.

1st of all, no one's opinion rules over anyone else's, even when/if that is the opinion of the majority. Fandom doesn't have a hierarchy and it's not a political system either so it doesn't matter if "a lot" or even "most" people think a certain way. They're still not more or less right than anyone else. Period.

Furthermore, an artistic creation belongs to its creator(s) in the sense that they can do whatever they want with it. Can you think it sucks? Yeah, sure. But you can't tell them what they can or can't do.

So, this thing of people acting like Aof should've done X instead because "it's what everyone wanted" is pure bs. Let that be clear.

Then, okay, you just don't like the ending. Should you not say it? No. By all means, do. This is fandom, after all. It thrives on opinions. And points of view. But you have to do so respectfully. "So I can't say it's shit??" Not a all. You can say it's shit. What you can't do is say "and everyone who disagrees is ableist" or say you consider the ending ableist (which, btw, fair, you can definitely see it that way) and then imply that any positive opinion of the ending is likewise ableist. Why? Because this is art and, thus, subjective. And opinions, big shocker I know, tend not to be black or white. Even more so when, as far as I've seen at least, there's a considerable amount of disabled people in the fandom and some of us liked the ending. So what? Are you gonna just assume all of those people are ableists?? Like, sure, just like women can be misogynistic so can disabled people be ableist but that definitely should not be the assumption you make about the group right away. And I don't think it would be a fair thing to say even if the person you're attacking isn't disabled, so... It's just stupid. To not be able to take an opposite opinion to yours or frame your opinion in a way that it makes it seem like everyone with a different one is evil is just fucking stupid. And childish.

So please, if you're mad at the ending, understandable, but take a step back. Breathe. Bite a pillow, punch a bag, call your friends to complain, go on Discord with the besties, idk... But take that step back. And then come back and comment on all the reasons why you don't like it, by all means, we love analysis. But don't be an asshole. Pls don't be an asshole.

Thank you <3

[hopeswriting]

part 1, part 2

CW: Swearing

Xanxus would wonder if he went insane, but one thing his years in the slums didn’t fuck up is his perfect eyesight.

The shrimp and his mom have apparently finally realized they’ve been mafia all along all these years, and how the hell he’s the only one to realize it’s all bullshit?

“Timoteo-san, Darling,” Nana started pleasantly out of the blue at dinner. “Would it be okay of me to accompany Iemitsu at work when possible? I’ve been a little ashamed lately to not know much about it even after all these years, and frankly, I’d love it too if it could be a way for us to spend more time together. You see, I miss my husband on the daily quite a lot.” She laughed bashfully, looking at Iemitsu with loving eyes.

It came out so out of left field, Xanxus almost snapped at her right there and then.

The fuck did she say?

It shouldn’t have felt like it came out of left field. How could he have possibly missed that kind of development? It’s not as if he ever stopped watching, nor did his brothers, yet the surprise was genuine from all of them.

Iemitsu, lovesick fool as he’s ever been, predictably beamed, tears welling up in his eyes, and started singing praises at his beloved wife. The old man warmly welcomed the new too, brightening and giving his accord right away. His brothers considered the new a moment before dismissing it in the next instant.

Xanxus felt a chill run down his spine looking at the shrimp smiling and laughing at his parents’ antics, not sparing the rest of them a glance, the very image of someone who learned the new at the same time as them. As if—as if there could be any other explanation to Nana’s behavior but him.

So the shrimp can act now, can he?

News fucking flash.

But there was no fool at the table that day like every other.

The first actual reaction to Nana’s words was the old man glancing at the shrimp, with that look he gives him sometimes. Iemitsu managed not to, but Xanxus caught the aborted movement anyway. Rico and himself looked at the shrimp too before catching each other’s eye.

CEDEF and Vongola at large welcomed the new change warmly too, making it the new gossip going through the rumor mill.

Is Nana Sawada finally shedding her old civilian life to give herself fully to the family? Could they expect Iemitsu to eventually choose an official right-hand man or add his wife to his team of his most trusted subordinates? Does that mean…

They trail off at this part, giving each other eloquent looks, letting the unsaid speak for them.

The fools. Just as there’s a rule against a Vongola Boss being of the CEDEF’s boss’ lineage, the CEDEF’s boss can’t pass down his position to any of his relatives, let alone his fucking son. Or do they really think they’d rather break the latter rule instead of the former?

That Iemitsu’s allowed to bring his wife at work is already cutting it close, and adding to it they were allowed to live in the Vongola mansion, the old man better have a plan for when someone will inevitably confront him on the matter.

There were the ones who weren’t so happy at the news too, because there’s always those trashes finding reasons to bitch about this and that, though in this case Xanxus leans more on their side, but generally speaking, Nana Sawada involving herself more in the family has been considered a joyful turn of event.

Ha! “Joyful” his ass. If it was only Nana Sawada, he could pretend to not be as smart as he is and believe it, but the shrimp?

Three years old, and he was already giving them that annoying look of his whenever anyone tried to make him swallow the pill of being mafia through the childish framing of good guys versus bad guys. But now six years old, and he suddenly agrees Vongola are the good guys and he wants to become one of them too?

Give Xanxus a fucking break.

Soon, the sight of Nana anywhere else than at functions and events the wife of the CEDEF’s boss couldn’t be absent from lost its novelty, people moving on and minding their own businesses again, but the fuck if Xanxus will.

He’s been watching them more carefully than before, the shrimp more so than his mom, and turns out he should have seen it coming. The shrimp’s changed, and look at him fucking go, walking the fine line of making it just noticeable enough for the people he wants them to notice to pick up on it, while keeping it subtle enough for the people who know him to not be tipped off by it.

Truthfully, they’ve yet to do anything really noteworthy, let alone anything truly suspicious. They willingly show up at more functions than before, when before they went only to the ones they couldn’t be absent from. They greet the people that ought to be greeted, Nana at Iemitsu’s arm and the shrimp’s hand securely in hers, but instead of waiting in a corner after until the soonest it was polite of them to leave, they keep mingling with the guests. Talking to them, making conversations. Laughing together. Being looked down upon and trying their luck elsewhere. Not finding them good enough and trying their luck elsewhere. Nana along with Iemitsu, but sometimes alone too, often alone, and the shrimp at the kiddies’ corner.

The kiddies’ corner, but by no means the least important corner of these functions, nowhere even close. Not when they’re the future of the mafia, and any older and more experienced mafioso worth his salt, let alone a mafia boss, makes it a point to watch over them, to raise and teach them, to gain their favors and loyalty.

Not when they’re the ones who’ll grow up to inherit the many positions that keep the mafia and Vongola turning, prospering and powerful.

After Nana made it known to the old man she planned to become more involved in the family business, she changed the shrimp’s bodyguards. Not all of them, but she handpicked the new ones who are to be the closest to him and stay with him at all times.

Their backgrounds were thoroughly checked, and all information about them shared among them as it’s customary after the old man gave his approval, but she handpicked them. Or more like gave her approval after the shrimp did.

Xanxus would be overstepping if he looked into what Nana does at CEDEF, so who the fuck knows what does she do there, but Iemitsu is no fool, no matter how much he likes to play the part of it. He must only allow her around the lower ranks and their works, but then again, what the fuck does it matter when she’s the CEDEF’s boss’s wife?

Iemitsu’s no fool, but who else is he supposed to unwind to at night and trust the most in this world?

It doesn’t sit right with him either that Nana looks perfectly fine with that. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be, but she looks like this is where she wanted to be all along.

It’s the same with they way they’re acting with the staff at the mansion. It’s the same way they’ve always been acting with them, saying “Please”, “Thank you”, “Sorry”, “Good morning”, “Would you…?” and “How are you?” like they’re trying to win some fucking most annoyingly polite and considerate people in the world contest, as if they still don’t realize why not anyone else does the same.

Some because they’re assholes, and Xanxus would count himself among them and doesn’t give a shit about it, but mostly they can’t afford their staff to ever forget their place even when off work. Not when they’re the ones who literally watch over their sleep. Now when they’re the ones patching them up at their weakest. Now when they’re the ones entrusted with their kids.

Not when they could be their downfall, should they have the balls, skills and luck for it, working at the heart of the Vongola as they are.

Of course they’re perfectly aware of it too, have to be if they want to keep their jobs, and so far none of them has ever shown the shrimp and his mom anything but strict professionalism in return, but it doesn’t mean they might not be thinking any less. That they don’t care about hierarchy because they’re seemingly unaware of the basic fact the mafia will collapse in and of itself without it no doubt made some of them lose all respect for them, but it leaves everyone else, and they’re all only humans at the end of the day. Especially now there’s intent behind the kindness the shrimp and his mom indiscriminately show them.

Xanxus would know. The first person to become one of his people is Alberta, his former nanny. The second’s one’s Sarah, his former home tutor who caught him up on his education so he wouldn’t be humiliated and looked down upon when they sent him to private school along with the other mafia kids his age.

Xanxus would be overstepping too if he looked into what the shrimp’s been up to at school lately, but he heard his teachers find him more hard-working than before. By which they mean and fail to realize it’s that he’s actually less reluctant than before to learn, because the shrimp’s always been trying his best all along even if it’s never been enough for anyone.

None of these facts have to necessarily be concerning.

Except there’s only a few reasons he can think of as to why they’d be acting like that, only the one reason, and it’s driving him crazy that still, not anyone’s doing anything about it.

Whether Iemitsu is in on it too or not, of course he wouldn’t, but it still sure as hell could be considered insubordination at best, rebellion at worse, and Xanxus won’t care to confront him with that if it comes to that.

The old man’s silence on the matter is obvious too. He’d need much more than that to take action that’d be seen as reasonable considering the extent of the repercussions of even the littlest and most insignificant of his actions.

Richie can’t bother taking care of something that isn’t undeniably his and only his to take care of to save his life. Max’s too self-assured to deem a six years old’s actions concerning, no matter what his actions are. Rico…

The fuck if Xanxus knows, but he has yet to deem it worth acknowledging the matter. That works for Xanxus, as the longer this new status quo lasts, the more he can prepare himself for when it breaks, but he isn’t happy about it.

The shrimp and his mom are obviously trying to build themselves a network, to build connections, to gather allies, if not support too. They seem to have decided to go about it starting from the bottom of the ladder.

And trying to make the shrimp the face of the people with that face and that personality he has?

Fucking hell.

*

“Master Xanxus,” Anil says after knocking at his door. “Nana Sawada is here.”

“Let her in.”

She walks in, in his sitting room instead of his office, and she better fucking be grateful for it.

“Hello, Xanxus-kun. You asked to see me?”

“I wasn’t asking.”

The smile on her lips doesn’t falter. “I’m sad to hear it. Here I was hoping we could enjoy some time together having a friendly conversation. I don’t suppose you’ll agree to let us speak Japanese then? You know how homesick I can be at times.”

“Then you should have had Iemitsu move to Japan instead,” he says in Italian.

Nana sits on the couch, her smile still not faltering. “Then at least allow me to speak Japanese,” she says, switching to Japanese without waiting for his permission.

“I didn’t allow you to sit.”

She huffs a laugh before finally dropping the meaningless pleasantries, turning her cheerful smile into the slightest turn of her lips upwards. “You get to demand to see me whenever you want, but I don’t need your permission for something as small as when I can sit. Not when it’s only the two of us.”

Xanxus sits on the armchair next to the couch, forcing her to turn her neck to look him in the eye, the low table in front of them bare of any food or drinks. It’s petty power and mind play unbefitting of both their ranks, but anything more would give more weight to this meeting than they’d both want to deal with.

“This is a friendly conversation,” he decides to say first.

“Oh?”

“You heard me. So do friendly tell me just what you think the shrimp and you have been doing lately?”

“What are you under the impression we’ve been doing? For you to summon me like this.”

Xanxus scoffs. “Fucking spare me any of us playing dumb, will you?”

Nana looks at him for a beat of silence, unblinking. “Tsuna wants friends, that’s all. He’s just trying to break out of his shell more to make it happen, and I’m helping him with it.” Xanxus just barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He bores his eyes into her instead, and she gives in, though it might have been her plan all along. “He wants a family.”

“Ha!” Xanxus leans forwards, digging his fingers in the armrest. A grin pulls at his lips he can’t be sure isn’t a snarl, and so he smooths his face in a composed mask again. “Then let me ask you again just what do you think you’ve been doing?”

“Would you or any of your brothers keep Iemitsu at his job when you become Vongola Decimo?”

Xanxus misses a beat, the question unexpected. “Of course not.”

It’d even be one of the first positions they’d replace. Iemitsu isn’t lacking at being the CEDEF’s boss, but he’s entirely too much an embodiment of the ninth’s generation, and it’s no secret for anyone he’s the man the old man trusts the most after his Guardians.

“That’s right. And the CEDEF isn’t the CEDEF’s boss’ in a way they can pass it down to anyone but their successor. But you’d have me wait and do nothing?”

“You’re only drawing attention to himself that will bite him in the ass when it doesn’t have to happen at all.”

“Come now, Xanxus-kun,” she says, tilting her head. “Now you’re just calling me stupid to my face. Of course this is attention that is bound to be turned to him sooner than later. We’re just taking control of it.” Xanxus huffs, leaning back against the armchair. It was worth a shot. “Actually, it’s even one of the first things that’ll happen once one of you becomes Vongola Decimo, isn’t it? You’ll decide what to do about the remaining heirs.”

“So fucking what? If you have something to say about our characters, then just spit it out.”

“I’m willing to trust you.” Xanxus raises his eyebrow. ‘Willing to’, is she? “But I won’t trust anyone else on the matter. Can’t.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Your best shot is to keep waiting quietly until one of us becomes Vongola Decimo. What exactly do you think we’re going to do to him then? We’ll be all but too happy to give him the peaceful life in the furthest corner of the mafia he wants.”

“But Tsuna doesn’t just want a peaceful life. He wants to be happy too.”

That makes Xanxus a little speechless despite himself, a little disbelieving. “And that can’t happen as long as we’re part of the picture, is that what you’re fucking saying to me right now?” Nana says nothing, and he barks out a harsh laugh. “Some fucking gall you have. Not finding us good enough, but still wanting to build that happiness using us.”

“He’d just be taking what he’s due.”

Xanxus sobers up in a second, going still and unblinking, and she can’t stop herself from flinching, wincing. Good. “And what the fuck is that? He’s due something from us? I thought you were supposed to give something for that to happen first, instead of going against what you want to make use of.”

“I’d agree if you were only talking about me, but Tsuna’s as much Vongola as the rest of you. He’s as much an heir as the rest of you too, however much I wish he wasn’t.”

“Mafiosi children making it to six years old is a fucking lifetime worth being grateful for in most places in the mafia.”

Nana’s face crumbles at the mere thought of it. She intertwines her hands tight, tight enough to mark her skin with her nails, but she still can’t stop them from shaking.

She only half puts herself back together, her voice strangled. “And how far in adulthood I can expect him to make it?” Xanxus doesn’t trust his anger to speak again just yet, though he wishes she’d hear the scathing mockery in his voice. The old man made it all the way to his sixties fine enough, didn’t he? “I am grateful. But I’m also terrified. That’s exactly why—”

Xanxus kicks the low table, making her startle and tense. He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth hard, but then forcefully makes himself relax.

He won’t get through her, that much is clear.

“And what is it that’s so much better than this he wants so fucking badly?”

It seems the answer’s obvious to her, yet she holds back her words after opening her mouth. When she opens it again, Xanxus knows it’s not the words she first planned to say that come out of her mouth. “You should come visit us at Namimori sometimes, Xanxus-kun. You could play with Tsuna, go out with him. You could help me cook all your favorites. We’d show you the neighborhood, the town and its people. I think you’d like it.”

Her smile is genuine and warm, and Xanxus dismisses her offer before even truly considering it first.

What a fucking joke. Don’t all roofs above your head and three meals a day look the same everywhere? And Vongola is the least likely roof to ever collapse on him.

“What else would you have him do?” she asks softly. “What else would you have me do? I’m his mother. Timoteo-san should officially name his successor any day now, right? So we’re already running out of time, and he only has Iemitsu’s reputation to his name. But you’d still have me wait?”

Xanxus snorts. “Now you’re the one calling me fucking stupid to my face.”

The shrimp is no such harmless and powerless figure within Vongola, has never been so, and not just because of the inherent influence, status and authority given to him through his lineage. His flames alone would be more than enough for people to rally behind him.

They still could find him incompetent at everything else, but there’s always ways around an incompetent boss.

A weak boss, on the other hand, is a lot harder to deal with without taking extreme measures.

“Fine,” she says, smiling. “Tsuna can stand on his own just fine, of course, and I know that better than anyone else. But that’d just make them find him worth using, and I won’t stand for that.”

Xanxus frowns. So this is it, is it? They’re having the same conversation, but only Xanxus understands all the nuances of it.

Better they find him worth using than them actually becoming interested and invested in him.

“Should I give you a friendly bit of advice seeing as we’re having a friendly conversation?” Something chiding and fond flickers across Nana’s face, so motherly, it makes him uneasy. “You have this under control only until they take it away from you. Only until you’ll have to give it away to them.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“That’s nice and all, but do you get what it’d mean if you were to succeed?”

Nana keeps holding his gaze, unwavering, because of fucking course she does.

Xanxus stands, uncaring of the sneer that slips past him. What a waste of time this was, but at least now he knows exactly where he needs to stand.

“Xanxus-kun.” She holds her hand out to him, and Xanxus can’t help but let his eyes linger on the gesture.

She’s the only mother he’s ever known in the mansion, and though she’s never tried to become their mom too, Xanxus’ never let her be motherly towards him either.

He doesn’t take her hand.

Nana takes it gracefully like she always does, smiling as she takes her hand back. “I know you’re scared.” Xanxus glares at her. “Worried, then. Angry. But I promise he has no intention to take anything that belongs to you and your brothers away from you. He won’t ever do that, you know him. So let us please not be enemies of each other.”

Ha. “Let us not be enemies of each other”, and not ��Let us stand together”, huh?

Xanxus feels incredibly stupid to have ever thought her clueless in and unaware of matters of politics.

*

Xanxus silently sneaks up behind the shrimp, but doesn’t try to conceal his presence from him. His bodyguard lets him, not alerting the shrimp, and so he startles when Xanxus picks him off his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“Let go of me, let go of me!” he screams in fear and panic, kicking his feet and flailing his arms wildly. “Billy-san!” He flares his flames, wrapping his hands around his wrist, and Xanxus feels the heat increasing against his skin.

It’s much too slow a reaction, but at least it’s the correct one.

“How many times must we tell you to always remain aware of your surroundings even at home?”

The shrimp lets go of his wrist, whipping his head to look at him, all tension leaving his body near instantly. “Xan-nii! You scared me!”

He pouts, and Xanxus puts him back down on his feet, rolling his eyes.

“I apologize, master Tsunayoshi,” his bodyguard says.

“Ah, no, it’s okay.” Xanxus glances at him at the same time the shrimp gives him an eloquent look, smiling, and he steps back to give them privacy. “I was paying attention,” he says, looking back at him.

“Shrimp,” Xanxus cuts him off before he can tell him it’s just that he doesn’t see him as a threat to him. He doesn’t want to hear it today. “Whatever you’re planning to do, stop it while you still can.”

Xanxus failed to knock some sense in the mother, but maybe the son will fucking listen.

Or maybe not, a serious and determined look taking over the shrimp’s face.

“I just—”

“Want friends, yes, yes,” he parrots mockingly. “But you want a family too, don’t you?”

The shrimp frowns, before some sort of realization dawns on him. He shakes his head. “No, not like that.” Xanxus’ brow twitches. What does that mean? Maybe he also was missing some nuance when talking to Nana. “Xan-nii—” He steps forwards, but stops himself from reaching out to him. “Home doesn’t have to only be Vongola, does it?” he says softly, carefully, watching out for his reaction. “And family either.”

Right. Xanxus wasn’t missing anything, but he sure as fuck still doesn’t get it.

Vongola is the first home he’s ever had. Maybe not family too, but sure as hell family in the way everyone else means it.

Rico’s the one who constantly stayed by his side for days on end after his first kill, even sleeping with him, and refusing to leave no matter how many times or how violently Xanxus snapped at him until he could finally eat with his hands without throwing up the food right after.

Max’s the one who taught him he didn’t have to get rid of his temper, only had to learn to control it to help him get the things he wants faster and easier, and he never let it make him cower from him all the while.

Richie’s the one who taught him about pride, who looked at a pathetic boy from the slums with only a delusional mother for family and told him he was allowed pride too, especially considering how hard he was working for it.

The old man is the one who took him in and out of the slums.

Vongola is the only home Xanxus wants and gives a shit about.

“You think you’re so much fucking better than us.”

The shrimp steps back, frowning, confused. “That’s not true. I like you, Xan-nii. You always look at me even if I don’t make you. You always look at people, and I like that.” Xanxus would feel guilty if he was a better person. That’s just survival, something he picked up from the slums and proved useful in the Vongola mansion too, so of course he kept it and sharpened it. “I like Rico-nii, Max-nii and Richi-nii too. Grandpa too. I just…”

Xanxus bristles at the worried look he gives him, tensing. He never could get used to the perceptiveness that apparently runs through their blood. Some dumb fuck called it hyper intuition, as if there’s something mystical or supernatural to it when it’s just a matter of knowing people and paying attention to them, but it does always put him the most on edge when coming from the shrimp.

Nana said the old man should officially announce his successor any day now.

He should, but he has yet to do it even if Xanxus is the only and obvious choice to make.

He’s been the most favorite Vongola Decimo candidate for a year now, give or take, which is no fucking easy feat when his brothers have been fighting him tooth and nails all along to replace him in that position. But he’s been holding on strong, yet the old man is still clearly hesitating.

Xanxus still has to find any of his Guardians compared to his brothers. Though as far as Vongola and the mafia at large know, he already has the six of them and it’s just a matter of him making it official, if for no other reason than because he got sick of all those trashes throwing themselves at him in the hope of becoming his Guardian. Obviously the old man wouldn’t be fooled by it, but it still doesn’t explain it. It’s not like they’d do the passing of the rings right after announcing the official successor, and it’s not as if Xanxus hasn’t been searching for his Guardians.

The fuck else can Xanxus do to finally be enough in the old man’s eyes too? To receive the same look he sometimes gives the shrimp, and the same look of approval and pride he gives to his brothers?

He wishes he knew.

He already tried everything and succeed at them.

He wishes the old man would just tell him what it is, but the longer he doesn’t, even now, the more resolved Xanxus becomes to find out himself.

The shrimp grabs his hand, obviously growing uneasy at his silence. “Xan-nii. I don’t care about Vongola, I swear. You can have it.”

He doesn’t fucking say.

Xanxus wishes he’d care.

You’re careful about the things you do to something you care about, careful not to end up breaking them.

“So you’re saying you could take it from us if you wanted to?”

The shrimp falters, loosening his hold on his hand. “No, that’s not…”

Xanxus frees his hand fully, crouching in front of him. “Listen, Shrimp. Why do you think we try so hard to have people on our side and keep them on our side? The people’s will is power in and of itself. Keep acting like that, and they’ll make you want Vongola too.”

“But I have my will too,” he says, frowning. “I won’t let them.”

“Yeah, great fucking idea. And what do you think will happen to Vongola when you’ll fight about who gets to do what they want?”

The shrimp stops frowning, clearly not confused by his words, clearly getting the meaning of them perfectly.

He still only gives him a shrug, keeping holding his gaze, unwavering.

Because of fucking course he does.

This is now or never to nip this in the bud, Xanxus feels it deep in his guts. To nip him in the bud.

Federico be damned, because there’ll be no turning back if they let this grow any further. If they let him grow any further.

But Xanxus’ the one the shrimp first came to, bruised from the beating he got at school, and the one in front of whom he burst out crying. Xanxus had gone to his school the very same day, and it didn’t help him make friends, but no one ever put a hand on him ever again, that’s for fucking sure.

Xanxus’ the one he first called by his nickname even if he never made any effort to scare him less, what with his temper, cursing and rough appearance.

Xanxus’ the one he confesses to about how much he doesn’t like all his mafia training, education and upbringing, and how he often wonders what it’d be like if he was just normal. Xanxus mocks him and makes fun of him for it too, but apparently not in a way that hurts him when other people do the same.

There’s only ever been family to Xanxus ever since the old man took him in, but there’s always been family and family to the shrimp, and he’s the one who should know they were never meant to be made to choose between the two.

Xanxus laughs.

What a fucking mess.

[lavenderjewels]

Rewatched the latest jjk ep 18 so going to throw my random thoughts about this season here with manga spoilers

I didn’t want to rewatch this episode, but my family hadn’t watched it yet, so I went along with it. Didn’t have anything to worry about, since I didn’t get emotional this time and mostly just had fun with Mahito

Something I loved about JJK when I started it is how it set up some of its death scenes—With Junpei, Nanami, even Jogo, it’s obvious at a certain point they’re not going to survive. Junpei when he realizes Mahito isn’t a good person, Nanami the second the scene shows Mahito in the photobooth, Sukuna being Sukuna, etc. This isn’t going to work for everyone watching, especially if you don’t care for the character(s), but that anticipation for their deaths always made the scenes more tragic for me.

Mahito being a great villain also helps for those scenes. His personality and ability makes him some of the most fun to read and watch, and he’s incredibly smart, or, at least, perceptive in a way that’s sometimes hidden by how chaotic and childish he can be. I can’t wait to see the rest of his fight with Yuuji and his final words towards Kenjaku. I never noticed this in the manga, but in the anime, the look that Mahito gives Kenjaku the last time they met makes it clearer that Mahito had some understanding of Kenjaku.

Mahito and Nobara’s confrontation was gorgeous with the colors and lighting. It’s devastating knowing this is just. it for her. It’s too short and I’m still hoping for her return, but it’s been a long time with nothing

This season has been an interesting watch, since it’s changed a lot of my feelings on the shibuya arc and some characters. Had an opposite situation than with csm (spoilers for s1) where I was surprised after watching season 1 because I thought power was way more prominent than she actually was in the manga, except this jjk season was me being surprised at how much Megumi was here. It wasn’t an overwhelming amount, but he was involved in the background and at the focus more than I remembered. That and how his expressions/body language was animated with the voice acting made me like his character more

Somehow I ended up liking the shibuya arc a little less—also like with the csm anime, although these aren’t animation faults, only seeing the series in a new light and in a different medium. I was never huge on the grasshopper, seance curse users, miracle curse user (haruta??) fights, which take up a good portion. The toji fights were great, although I’ve always been neutral-ish about his character. The Mei Mei fight was surprisingly better, mostly since the comedy gag aspects with her brother were toned down (its still evident she’s grooming him to die for her but it’s not framed as comedic as the manga) and the atmosphere was unnerving and dark. Nanami is also a character I’ve always been neutral-ish on, so overall not the most interesting parts of the series for me. Love the kenjaku and curses team though.

But on the positive side, it made me appreciate what’s to come more. I didn’t care as much for some of the fights and most of my personal favorite characters (yuuji, choso, maki, kenjaku) get explored more after this arc, minus yuuji who gets time near the very end. I’m very curious to see if I’ll end up enjoying the Culling Games colonies more and less when they’re animated. A part of that will likely depend on how the future chapters handle things set up or continuing in this arc.

As of now, Hidden Inventory/Premature Death and the stretch of chapters from the end of shibuya to the Higuruma scenes are my favorite parts of jjk. For the latter, I honestly love when the characters have long talks, whether it’s about themselves, lore, or anything. The power system is fun, but when the chapters focus too much on that technical side, that’s really the only time I’m bored by dialogue or narration heavy chapters. Thinking mainly of the Gojo and Sukuna fight with that, but there’s a few minor instances in the series.

Choso and Yuuji episode is still my favorite! I am incredibly biased

Part of me wishes I watched this show first without ever reading it, but the manga is still more impactful for me, probably because I got to read at my own pace/digest what was happening and read it without expectations coming in

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Man from the Sky

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: You were a Greek sea goddess, just enjoying a typical day of nothing when a strange new god dropped into your land.

Warnings: None yet. There is smut in future chapters already written. Will post more soon.

Notes: I’m aware that what we’d think of as ancient Greece well predates who we’d call the vikings and their like cruising around the seas. This doesn’t take place at the height of the Greek pantheon worship, but old enough in human history that some men still believed in both sets of deities.

Chapters: Next Chapter Here

My Masterlist

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You dipped your feet a little deeper into the warm water as it lapped the edges of the rock you sat upon. The sea was calm today, and the wind gentle as the nymphs chatted around you about the usual things. A bit of gossip one had heard from a local river nymph, a new shipwreck one had found, status of a fish migration from another.

You wouldn’t exactly call it boring though, you specifically chose these more remote areas when you came ashore for this very reason. It was so much more unlikely for you to run afoul of mortals here, or even others of your own kind that you may not feel like putting on airs with at this very moment.

It was so quiet in fact, that you were considering getting up to go lay in the sand on the beach in a few minutes and enjoy a nice nap in the sunlight.

That was before the boom which echoed through the air all around you. Somewhat like thunder, but not quite as all the nymphs fell silent.

When nothing came after, you felt all their eyes then turning to you. Their voices piped back up soon enough, though the tones in them changed to all nerves now.

“Do you wish to leave, milady?”

“Could it be Zeus?”

“But it didn’t sound like him.”

“Is there a volcano nearby?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don’t know what it was, I’ve never heard that sound.” You finally said, though now looking inward to the land. You were at least sure that the sound was not of the sea. But you refused to give in to the nymphs’ skittishness too quickly. And without real reason to leave, eventually you all did start to relax again.

Yet then came the cries. “Goddess, mistress please!” That cry absolutely was from the land as you looked in time to see the river nymph you’d met earlier in the day now running from the tree line and down onto the sands. She stumbled slightly, just before reaching you where the sea met the rocks.

She was panting, clearly having run some distance as she continued. “I’m so glad to still find you here,” She bowed slightly, only because she didn’t know you well enough to realize you didn’t require this.

“What is it?” You asked simply, honestly more curious now than anything else. What could she have seen that would strike her so alarming? Any nymph worth their ilk would know every creature, every natural occurrence, all that existed within their lands.

“There is a man in the forest, he came from the sky!” Yet she continued quickly, sure you would only think of Olympus. “But I do not recognize him as one of your own family. And his clothing, he is not of our territory. This I am sure, my goddess. I watched him only long enough to see that he was very angry. I am afraid of his intentions here.”

A man? But not truly a man. Mortals did not come from the sky.

“An angry god?” You said, now standing as you then stepped down from the rocks. The forest belonged to Artemis truthfully. But being this close to the sea, you thought that the older goddess would forgive you this if it came down to it. She would rather the nymphs be protected you were sure from any childish acts of a god’s wrath that may now come into play here.

You had brought no armor, the possibility of battle so far from your mind when you’d come ashore today. But that didn’t mean you travelled completely defenseless. “Bring me my spear please.” You requested of the sea nymphs.

Though they were still anxious, they responded dutifully, one sinking beneath the waves before reappearing with the glinting weapon in hand. It shone a brilliant silver, sea foam still running off its blue spear tip as she handed it to you out of the water.

“Show me the way, and I will investigate this stranger.” You spoke plainly, hopping down onto the sands as you strode barefoot towards the forest, spear in hand. “We will keep our distance as best we can, we don’t seek conflict, understood?”

“Yes, milady.” You heard, the sea nymphs staying behind you as the river nymph moved in front to lead you upward, the sand transitioning to rocky soil and the sparse vegetation and trees beginning to increase as you climbed the hillside.

For the sea nymphs, you could hear them losing their footing here and there in the loose soil, themselves of course far more adapted to swimming the ocean’s depths at your side rather than hiking up into the forests.

You did hope you were not putting any of them in danger. But if you felt they truly were in harm’s way, you would have no qualms in telling them to retreat back to the water at once.

“Up ahead,” The river nymph whispered to you, pointing towards a clearing you could now see leveling off in the distance. But the opening looked so strange with the density of the other trees now around you.

“Was that always there?” You asked her, knowing something unnatural when you saw it, even when this far from the water.

“No,” She confirmed. “When the sky opened up, it carved out the land as well. He appeared when that force receded.”

“Understood.” You replied, though in truth not really understanding at all as you motioned for all the others to proceed no further. You’d never seen something like this. “I will go alone. If he should attack me, please return to the sea to seek help.”

They fidgeted, looking unhappy but not arguing your choice. “Please be careful, goddess.”

You nodded, but kept on slowly. You tried to remember what you’d been taught as a little girl about stalking and hunting on land. So many moons ago, running through the forests with Artemis and at times Pan, being mentored before returning to the sea to your father, mother, and so many siblings.

But the closer you came, the more you realized that the stranger would likely not notice any sound of light footsteps approaching or ground shifting. As you neared, you saw his form pacing back and forth in the clearing, seemingly cursing to himself in a language that was not your own.

Yet it still sounded familiar. Abruptly you knew where you had heard a dialect like this before. It sounded so much like those voyagers from the northern seas. The ones with their longboats and course beards, sometimes with hair as red as fire as they fished and sang and fought.

And he did look as pale as them as well. But with hair like black of night, and a frame far more slender than the burly mortals you’d seen rowing those northern boats along. And just as the river nymph had warned, his clothing confused you as well. Rich green robe, but with black and gold as well. It was wholly foreign and exotic to you in its styling, as was he.

When she’d said a strange man had arrived, honestly you had also expected someone older in appearance. He looked quite youthful to be honest, even as his brow remained furrowed and his fists clenched at his sides.

And just when you thought his feet may actually cut a path in the earth from his agitated pacing, he finally slowed, then stopped all together.

This is when you froze as well, knowing you now had a decision to make. Should you keep to your hiding, just to hope he should eventually leave in whatever fashion he came? Or should you reveal yourself to question his identity and purpose here?

“Done spying yet, or do you intend to actually do something with that spear?” A cutting voice spoke abruptly to your side, so suddenly that you almost lost your footing, shocked as the same man emerged from behind other trees only feet from you.

But you still saw him in the clearing as well, at least you did momentarily before the image of him there dissolved, leaving only the form now nearest you.

“You speak my language?” Was all you questioned instead of answer him though, as he had said those last words only in your tongue. You also kept focusing on backing away as you chose to keep a safer distance. He was some sort of illusionist at least then, which could escalate the danger here very quickly if he made you lose your bearings.

And he was starting to circle you a bit you realized as he began to walk again. But you willed yourself to keep your spear at a neutral position, rather than aim at him, still not intending to provoke attack if it could be prevented. You had no idea what other strengths he might have, and your primary goal was still to keep the nymphs from getting caught in any crossfire.

“Not all of us are so uneducated,” He snapped back at you, still in your language, though you could detect that foreign accent underneath.

You were not wholly unused to rudeness though, yet it had been a very long time since you could recall being spoken to directly in such a manner. It was more the bickering between others in the palace that you were sometimes forced to be party to. Which was only another reason you often favored the relative isolation of the mortal world.

“You need not be so offended, stranger. I only came to see who had entered our land, and to protect my friends if need be.” You answered as reserved in tone as you could.

“Then you have done your duty, girl, and can now be gone. I came here to be alone. If I was actually intending to plunder this wasteland of nothingness, your little cohort never would have made it back to you to begin with.”

You stared, a little coldness entering your eyes then. So that was what had given you away. He’d already been aware of the river nymph to begin with, and had been waiting for someone to return the entire time while leaving that illusion of himself still in the clearing as distraction.

And he’d actually referred to you as ‘girl’. Did he really think you just one of the nymphs then? It was hard to say if he was intentionally trying to goad you, or if he really was so unfamiliar to not realize you for what you actually were.

You straightened a bit, replying, “Insults to our homeland aside, I will leave you to this quiet then, if you should at least tell me your name. You are clearly not of Olympus, and we still have right to know who it is who traverses into this particular land of mortals which we hold sovereignty over.”

He scoffed, clearly wishing to not speak to you even a moment longer. But in the way his chest puffed slightly, you thought it was only pride then that made him physically incapable of denying his identity.

He actually moved closer to you as well, that agitation still rising further in his voice. “Little fool, you stand before Loki! Son of Odin the Allfather. I am god of mischief, prince of Asgard. Your witless mortals should count their blessings that an Asgardian should ever see fit to even set foot here!”

You didn’t know if you’d been quick enough to mask the true surprise from your face. You had already assumed him a god. But never...never had you actually laid eyes on an Asgardian. They never came to this part of the world as far as you knew. And was he telling the truth? Was he really a son of Odin?

This stranger’s arrogance aside, if he were a child of Odin, you knew your own father would be furious with you if you were intentionally insulting now. Asgard and Olympus had never had the closest ties, but you were not enemies either. Asgard was honored by the mortals of the north, and Olympus still honored by those of the south, though perhaps not quite as much as the true olden days.

It took real will, but you bowed graciously to him in return. “It is an honor to meet you then, Loki, son of Odin.” As you straightened up, in his eyes you could see he was trying to judge you as sincere or not. But you just continued smoothly. “As promised, I shall leave you to your thoughts then. But I would be unmannered to not offer my assistance should you need a hostess in your time here as a guest in our land. My name is (Y/N), daughter of-”

You hesitated only the briefest moment, “of the sea,” is what you decided on though. Unlike Loki, you preferred a little anonymity with strangers. You didn’t wish to be targeted just for your lineage.

And with that, you turned, beginning to walk back towards the beach, even as you finished talking. “If you should need me, you need only find the sea’s edge and call for me. One of our creatures will hear you soon enough and seek me out.”

But some odd part of you regretted not being able to see his expression as you left. You wondered if you only would have seen more disdain and condescension at your offer.

Regardless, he said nothing else and soon enough you were back on the sand, the nymphs chittering in a mix of horror and awe around you.

“Who does he think he is, speaking to you that way!?”

“Do you really think he’s of Asgard? Shouldn’t we alert your father?”

“Why would he even come here? He seemed so bitter. Do you think they cast him out?”

“I’d cast him out, with a dirty attitude like that!”

You looked to the horizon, just taking a breath. “I don’t think we need to rush and tell my father just yet. But I do know where I want to go now.” You looked to the river nymph briefly though, “Please have those in the forest keep a distant eye on him. Should he leave or do anything else of note, please let us know.”

You glanced back to the sea nymphs then. “The rest of you return to the oceans. I’m going to Olympus, to the libraries there. I want to find out more about Asgard, to see if he is who he says he is. I’ll return to the water soon.”

They all nodded, “Yes, milady. Please let us know what you find!”

“I will,” you agreed, just watching them dissolve back into the waves.

Were you excited perhaps? Or just very curious? Nothing interesting in this way had happened in ages. You were determined to learn all you could on this new arrival.

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The Olympians had been a little surprised to see you gracing the halls there. So many of your cousins had dropped in time and again to say hello, curious themselves of why you were out of the water this long and seemingly such a bookworm all of the sudden.

And you did read for days. All you could find on Asgard, on Odin, the Norse mortals, and their language. You found record that Odin had born two sons, honestly an oddly low number you thought in comparison to the many children of your own kings.

But there in these tomes, were those two names, Thor and Loki. Thor, god of thunder, amusing of course in comparison to Zeus, king of all, including lightning. But also Loki, god of mischief, just as he’d said.

You were surprised, but enthralled as you actually found a drawing of Loki within the book. Though not completely accurate you thought, you still recognized that type of clothing. The green and gold, and the pale skin and black hair with his icy blue eyes. You tilted your head a little, looking at the gold helmet he wore in the artist’s depiction, with long horns curving from it like those of a great beast.

Was he really a beast? Or just a too arrogant manchild? And why did you increasingly wish to find out?

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(Continued in next chapter here)

[sokkastyles]

Hi, I am the person who asked you about the Gaang and therapy. I had a different question to ask. This one is regarding Aang. The way he behaved with Katara in the EIP episode and the "Love is a Battlefield" comic I think, does not sit with well me. It seemed a little bit like a child having a tantrum over not getting something he wanted. I would like your thoughts on this.

There have been other good posts analyzing Aang's behavior in these two instances and why it's uncomfortable, and although I would say characterizing it as "a child's tantrum" is harsh, the reason it seems that way is because Aang's insecurity over his relationship with Katara DOES have to do with him being younger than her and feeling like she sees him as "just a kid." Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten so upset about the play portraying it that way.

And the thing is, that is how the relationship is framed. The two year age gap isn't so much the issue, it's not even the fact that Katara looks much older, because it's pretty natural for a fourteen year old girl to look older than a twelve year old boy. Girls mature physically faster than boys, and the two year age difference would make that gap look even larger.

The show also exacerbates this by leaning heavily into the portrayal of Katara as the mature, responsible, nurturing one and Aang as a kid who wants to have fun and chafes at responsibility. And Katara is the one frequently tasked with reminding Aang of his responsibilities.

The way the show focuses on Aang's crush also encourages us to see Katara as an object of desire, which encourages us to think of her as older than she is. I get weird babysitter vibes from shots like this:

That last one is particularly uncomfortable because why does Katara look like that? I went looking for this particular screenshot because I remember how uncomfortable it made me and I found memes people had made sexualizing this scene. Katara of course is oblivious to Aang's romantic feelings here and is just acting as his teacher but the scene emphasizes their physical closeness as well as makes Katara seem older and sexually mature compared to Aang, who is crushing on her. It's like a twelve year old getting a boner when his babysitter hugs him.

The scenes where Aang and Katara are shown as having a mutual attraction around each other are much more palatable, but those scenes are just not enough, and too often Katara is portrayed as not the fourteen year old girl she is but an idealized figure for Aang. Even the scenes where the kiss on the lips are marred by this dynamic.

Which leads me to EIP, because the source of Aang's insecurity there was that he kissed Katara at the invasion and she didn't automatically become his girlfriend. Not only is this a childish way of viewing relationships, but when the kiss itself happened, Katara gave a speech about watching Aang grow up. Which again emphasizes that Katara is so much older than Aang, even though she really isn't. But this is part of the reason why the EIP portrayal of him gets to him so much, because regardless of whether Katara does like him back, there is some truth to the idea, even perhaps just on Aang's end, that Katara is too old for Aang. You can't blame only the Ember Island Players for sexualizing Katara and making her seem older in comparison to him when the show itself does this to her. Her portrayal in the play just took it to its logical extreme.

Compare to how Katara acts when she really has a crush, like with Jet. She was shy and naive and innocently tried to make him a hat. Or in "The Fortuneteller" when she tries to learn all she can about her future husband. She acts much more like the fourteen year old girl she is, she isn't sexualized or portrayed as inappropriately old or motherly.

Put this girl in a position where she is responsible for Aang's insecurities, when he demands to know when they will be together, and no wonder she is confused. But this itself shows that Aang is still very young in terms of maturity and has a lot of growing up to do.

I said recently that Sokka learning not to be sexist was part of his arc of growing up, of learning what it means to be a man. Zuko, too, has an arc of growing up that is connected to masculinity and learning not to be so insecure. And both Zuko and Sokka have moments of immaturity reacting to their portrayals in the play, but both of them come to accept that it isn't reality, Sokka with Suki's help and Zuko with the reminder of how much he's grown and how proud Iroh would be of him. Aang lacks this moment of growth and ironically ends up validating the play's portrayal of him as childish.

There should have been some resolution between Aang and Katara, and I also like to imagine there being a conversation between Aang and Zuko, perhaps one where Aang is still a bit insecure about the possibility of something between Zuko and Katara, and Zuko has a talk with him about how much he himself has learned about not being influenced by what other people think of you. The show could have even brought Mai into this, have Zuko talk to Aang about his feelings about how Mai probably hates him now but how he has to follow his own heart and can't put unfair expectations onto her, and have Aang apply this lesson to his relationship with Katara. Which actually would have given more depth to both canon ships.

[vecnawrites]

Velvet, are you actually shy and reserved or are you kinky as hell?

Have Fun With This One. It Got Out Of Hand. Quickly.

“Oh, please! Everyone knows that Velvet is the shyest person in Beacon!” Weiss snorted, making the rabbit faunus blush and look down, rubbing the back of her head and scraping her shoe along the floor. “See!? Now, enough of this nonsense; I have to go and make sure Ruby studies, and Velvet has to make sure that dense dunce Arc doesn’t fail...even with Pyrrha’s help I don’t think that’s possible...” Weiss stomped off angrily, leaving Velvet alone in the hallway.

Glancing left and right, Velvet headed back into her own dorm, humming a happy tune as she entered the bathroom, carefully removing her school uniform, revealing that she was wearing a strapless leather bustier and leather framing her hips, but leaving her core and rear completely bare.

The tune she was humming getting more cheerful, Velvet pulled on thigh high stockings, loving the feel of the fabric against her legs. Looking at herself in the mirror, Velvet winked, before opening the door and marching back out into the bedroom. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sweeties! Ruby’s partner wouldn’t stop talking!” she smiled at her boyfriend and girlfriend, waiting patiently for her.

“MMMPH!” Jaune and Pyrrha both moaned through gags, tugging on their silken restraints, toys happily buzzing away at them. Jaune’s cock was hard and weeping, worsened by the bullet vibrator that was attached to the underside of his tip, while Pyrrha was squirming and shaking from the bullet vibrators attached to her clit and both of her nipples. They were on the lowest settings, meaning that it was the worst tease.

Velvet smiled, taking a deep breath of the air, saturated by the smell of their arousal, the musky, sweet tang making her loins soak. She sauntered over, swinging her hips as walked forwards, smiling at the desperate looks on their faces.

Climbing onto the bed, she smiled at her lovers, gently reaching out and cupping Jaune’s balls, humming in delight as she cradled the heavy, swollen spheres in her palm.

“Mmm...so full for me…” she hummed, eyes going to the band around the base of Jaune’s cock, preventing any of his thick, potent, tasty cum from escaping those swollen cum tanks. “You’ve both been so good lately...how would you like a nice reward? To empty those swollen balls of yours into Mistress Velvet’s belly? Or her womb? And you Pyrrha, would you like to be allowed to eat your mistress out?” Velvet smiled as both nodded rapidly, muffled sounds escaping their lips as both bucked upwards to her.

Velvet licked her lips, leaning forward and kissing both on the lips firmly, one hand cupping one of Pyrrha’s breasts and the other stroking Jaune’s cock tenderly and lovingly as she switched between them.

Grabbing the bits of fabric in Jaune’s and Pyrrha’s mouths between her teeth as she kissed them, Velvet jerked her head to the side, revealing that the gags were pairs of her own panties; innocent, childish pairs, pristine white with orange carrots all over them. Spitting them to the side, Velvet grinned down at her flushed, breathless lovers. “Did you enjoy my taste, sweeties?” there were no demeaning nicknames that Velvet used, this was an act of love and trust between the three of them.

“Y-Yes, M-Mistress Velvet…” Jaune gasped, arching as Velvet cupped his straining erection and pumped it, mindful of the bullet vibrator attached to him. “S-So sweet~” Pyrrha mewled, arching up and showing her moist lips to her lapin lover.

Velvet giggled, the sound a beautiful chime in the air. “You saw the sweetest thing, my lovelies...your mistress will let you do something special today~”

Jaune and Pyrrha, despite their pleasure, blinked, Jaune hissing as Velvet carefully removed the bullet vibrator attached to his cock, before carefully undoing the ring that had kept him from cumming for so long. The blonde moaned loudly, the sensations becoming that much more without the block.

“I know you love looking at your mistress’s bottom, Jaune…” Velvet began, smiling at the look of mortification on Juane’s face. Obviously, he hadn’t expected to be noticed admiring her backside. She kissed him again, this time on the tip of his nose while palming one of Pyrrha’s breasts. “There’s nothing wrong with loving your mistress’s body, Jaune.” she comforted, reaching up and fluffing his hair lovingly, kissing him and then Pyrrha sweetly on the lips.

Nuzzling against Juane’s nose, she hummed. “Better, sweetie?” she asked, getting a nod from her blonde lover. “Good~ Now, as I was saying, I know you like looking at your mistress’s bottom…” Velvet climbed onto the bed and seized the leash attached to Pyrrha’s collar as she straddled Jaune’s waist. “After all, I could smell your cock leaking precum, and don’t think I didn’t immediately realize why you always let me and Pyrrha go first!” the bunny wiggled her backside, giggling as Jaune’s cock lurched between her cheeks, slapping against the skin. “Hmm...I guess the Bunny Booty is irresistible, huh?” she bounced up and down a bit, feeling her cheeks pop and smack against his cock and one another, enjoying Jaune’s helpless moans as she shamelessly twerked her bubbly bunny booty.

~

Velvet had always know that she had a big butt; her sisters, the kids in her hometown, even her own partner, made sure she knew that. It embarrassed her so badly! Even as she grew older, her butt just grew and grew more, until her cheeks were the nigh monstrous, jiggly swells of fat that they were now, shaming her even more.

She had hid so long that she was frightened of telling anyone or letting anyone see her body...until she had met Jaune and Pyrrha, and had, quite literally, stumbled into the blonde’s lap, showcasing her hidden treasure hidden under her skirt as it smashed into his waist and hip, her skirt flipping up and revealing it in its entirety.

She had been mortified, but she heard the shocked little whimpers and felt the rising poke against her belly, making her look back in shock to see Jaune and Pyrrha looking as mortified as she felt, both looking down as though expecting to be screamed at, to be hit.

Something had come over her that day, and she had told both Jaune and Pyrrha that if they wanted to ‘make it up to her’ that they would do what she said...which led to taking the pair back to her dorm. All three of them had lost their virginities that day...as well as Velvet finding out that she thrived on control. And just her luck, both Pyrrha and Jaune thrived on being controlled and loved! The three of them were a match made in heaven!

~

She adored being loved and worshiped, and Jaune and Pyrrha needed love and positive reinforcement! Leaning down, she rocked her ass cheeks up and down Jaune’s cock, already feeling him leaking against her, her skin getting slick and sticky from his precum.

Part of her was torn; she truly loved the taste of Jaune’s cum (as did Pyrrha, the little scamp often tried sneaking it), since her sweetheart ate a very healthy diet, along with a healthy serving of pineapple with every meal, so it was one of her favorite treats! She often got an ‘all natural smoothie’ between classes.

But on the other hand, she loved bouncing on Jaune’s cock, riding him and draining those fat, heavy balls of his into her womb, carrying around his warmth within her belly of hours on end after the deed was done.

But which? Both of her sweethearts had been so good for her, not touching themselves beyond cleaning purposes for the entire past week (which must have been truly hard for Pyrrha, who she noticed trying to lean her head and look behind her), leaving Jaune’s balls swollen and overfilled for today. They both deserved the best.

She nodded to herself, making her decision as she leaned down and pressed another kiss to Jaune’s lips, giving her rear end another wiggle for Jaune’s enjoyment. After a moment, she sat back up and smiled down at him and Pyrrha.

“You’ve both been so good for me, sweethearts,” she hummed, “Mistress is going to let you do something you haven’t before…” leaning over, she unlatched Pyrrha’s cuffs, before hopping up and spinning around so her rear was facing the pair, squatting over Jaune’s cock as she tugged on Pyrrha’s leash, leading the redhead towards her front.

Looking back with a smirk, Velvet grabbed her fat cheeks and pulled them apart, watching Jaune’s eyes go wide and his cock throb, spitting out a bit of precum as his eyes locked on her twitching winking little hole.

“You’re going to be allowed to fuck your mistress’s bottom~” Velvet purred, smiling at Jaune as she lowered herself a bit, feeling the fat head of his cock wedge itself between her cheeks. She could feel large fat drops of his precum shuttling out and spreading against her little hole, slickening up the crevasse between her cheeks.

Rabbit ears twitching, Velvet smiled. “What do you say, sweetie?” she would forgive him for being for being speechless; he had been the same when she had sucked his balls dry the first time.

She heard an audible swallow from both of her lovers, before Jaune spoke. “T-Thank you for this gift, Mistress! It means so much!” her heart swelled as she heard the brutal honestly in his voice; he truly was grateful.

Licking her lips, Velvet pressed herself down, forcing herself to relax as she felt herself being spread open by her male lover’s thick cock. A tiny grunt escaped her lips as the wide head slipped inside her with a ‘pop’, the slight burn at the stretch making her flinch, but immediately being soothed away by her aura.

Locking eyes with her male lover, Velvet bore down more, her eyes hooding as she felt the intense stretch as she impaled herself upon Jaune’s cock. A muffled moan escaped both of their mouths as she eased further and further down his cock, both gasping and moaning, the bunny twisting her hips side to side as she slipped down closer and closer to the base, her pussy dripping her arousal as she came close to the bottom, feeling her rear touch his hips before flattening out, squishing against his skin as her twitching anus flexed around the base of Jaune’s cock, trying desperately to force the invader out.

“Mmm...you’re so deep inside of me…” she purred, squeezing around Jaune, getting a needy, keening whimper from him. She moaned as she felt a spurt of heat enter her backside. “Did you cum, sweetie?” she knew that Jaune hadn’t, after keeping himself backed up for a week for her, there would be far more than that little bit of warmth.

“N-No, Mistress! I...oh, Gods, so tight, so hot, feels so good…” she smiled as Jaune bucked his hips upwards a bit, his thighs tensing and straining underneath her, swollen sack twitching.

A whimper grabbed her attention and she saw Pyrrha looking at her leaking pussy desperately, licking her lips and staring hungrily. Velvet ignored that for the moment, reaching down and trailing her fingers along the stretched skin, her own flesh breaking out in goosebumps as she could swear she felt a sloshing noise in them. “Hmm...you really are backed up for me, aren’t you baby?” she purred, shifting her hips left and right, feeling Jaune’s cock throb within her as she stared into Pyrrha’s emerald eyes.

“Yuh...Yessss…” Jaune hissed out, his breath coming in rapid, harsh pants, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep from cumming before his mistress did. He didn’t want to disappoint her, or Pyrrha, not after all they did for him…

Velvet hummed again. “I’m going to start moving sweetie...feel free to cum, whenever you want~” she purred, before lifting her lower half and bringing it down with a clap.

Both cried out loudly, Jaune from the tight squeeze and heavenly sensations wrapping around his cock, and Velvet, due to the new sensations of her ass being filled so well by her lover. “Fuck~♥” she moaned out, wiggling her hips left and right, squeezing down hard on her precious lovers cock.

Looking down at Pyrrha, Velvet spread her legs a bit wider. “Go ahead, precious~” she cooed, before moaning as Pyrrha dove forwards, eating her out with a vengeance as she slowly rocked up and down on Jaune’s thick cock.

The trio writhed and the air was filled with moans, whimpers, and the scent of sex. Pyrrha in particular, was leaking heavily down her inner thighs, having no stimulation other than eating Velvet out. But, that mattered little, as the bunny could see that Pyrrha was twitchy, close to orgasm already.

Velvet was the first to cum, unsurprisingly, being pleased from both ends. The bunny’s ears went slack and her eyes rolled up in her head, her ass ruthlessly clenching down on the invader in her ass as she squirted, spraying Pyrrha’s face with her slick.

Pyrrha followed with a squeal, her hips going wild and humping the air, her pussy quivering and flexing around nothing.

Jaune came with almost a howl, his balls finally getting release after over a week of not having any relief after they were used to daily emptying, the fat orbs pulsing and pumping and shooting out every drop of fluid that they held within them, massive shots of his thick cum shooting upwards like a geyser into Velvet’s belly. His eyes rolled up in his head as he slumped back onto the bed, trying desperately not to black out.

Velvet moaned as her orgasm finally tapered off, despite the fact that Pyrrha was still licking her pussy with a fervor almost unmatched. She rubbed her belly, which had a large bulge on it from all the cum that had been pumped into her. “So...full…” she moaned softly, reaching out and stroking Pyrrha’s hair. “Hang on a moment, sweetie...and we can all start round two when Jaune gets his breath back...I know you’d like to be filled up too…”

The excited sound from both her lovers made her smile. It truly was wonderful having two submissive lovers to care for and love whenever she wanted...now the only question was…

What position would the three of them do next?

[attemptsonherlifepdf]

attempts on her life: an exploration of victimhood, theatre and self-empowerment as modern feminine survival tactics

trigger warning for discussions of suicide, self harm, sexual assault, fetishism, eating disorders, implications of paedophilia and violence

‘is she not saying, your help oppresses me? is she not saying, the only way to avoid being a victim of the patriarchal structures of late 20th century capitalism is to become her own victim?’ martin crimp’s 1997 play, attempts on her life, was first performed at the royal court theatre upstairs the year of its release. written ‘for a company of actors whose composition should reflect the world beyond theatre’, the play explores the seedier, harsher aspects of reality, including pornography, ethnic violence and suicide. crimp’s central character, anne, is characterised as unique and empowered, but most importantly she is characterised by narrators and other characters describing her. the irony of a woman described as so empowered having so little voice of her own throughout the play is crucial to the question the play poses: is liberation from patriarchal constraints even possible, or do acts of reclamation serve to eventually end up catering to the male gaze regardless?

the scene ‘untitled (100 words)’ details anne’s self-destruction, manifesting in ‘various attempts to kill herself.’ it is an effort to replace being a victim of ‘patriarchal structures’ with being a victim of her own actions and emotions. arguably though, this effort may not be entirely fruitful as anne’s behaviour produces the same result she would achieve through allowing herself to cater to traditional expectations: a helpless victim of the male gaze. anne’s actions are presented as exhibitionist; while motivated by her own suicidal ideation, her attempts to take her life work as ‘a kind of theatre for a world in which theatre itself has died.’ she leaves a ‘gallery’ of memorabilia surrounding her attempts, including ‘medicine bottles, records of hospital admissions polaroids of the several hiv positive with whom she has intentionally had unprotected intercourse, pieces of broken glass...suicide notes…’ a narrator describes this exhibition as ‘the spectacle of her own existence, the radical pronography...the religious object.’ the semantic field of language in this scene associated with anne’s suicide attempts is littered with sexualisation and ideas of performance: ‘its sexy...voeyuers...pornography...object of herself...to be consumed...self-indulgent...entertaining.’ this opens up a dialogue between the narrators that evaluates her suicidal behaviour as a piece of artwork. one asks ‘who would possibly accept this kind of undigested exhibitionism as a work of art?’ while the other offers the idea that ‘gestures of radicalism take on new meaning in a society where the radical gesture is simply one more form of entertainment - in this case artwork - to be consumed.’ as uncomfortable as it is to suggest, anne’s suicidality is both fetishised and commodified, something that is partially her own doing. the concepts of ‘pure narcissism’ and ‘self-indulgence’ are attributed to her performance, along with one of the narrators pushing for her to receive psychiatric treatment. an obvious but viable interpretation of anne’s ‘gallery’ is that it is an exaggerated cry for help, where she lays out the evidence of her mental state in the hopes of receiving validation or assistance. this idea is disputed by this narrator’s counterpart, who suggests that ‘help is the last thing she wants.’ the sexualised language used and the repeated hints at exhibitionism could indicate that her performance is for the purpose of her own sexual pleasure: ‘surely our presence [the audience] here makes us mere voyeurs in bedlam.’ in forcing those around her to witness her mental decline, anne may be participating in fetishism. she certainly is acting with the intention of performing, and of being watched.

this is where the idea of empowerment and reclamation comes in. anne forces her peers into watching, something that she gets pleasure from, and this arguably serves as a reversal of typical sexual dynamics which place men in dominant, pleasure-receiving roles roles. in self-destructive behaviours, she reclaims her body and chooses to destroy it herself rather than allowing others to do it to her. however, in the process of doing so she achieves the same result that she would if she were allowing her environment to shape her into an object of the male gaze; that is to say, a helpless object. men’s stereotypical attraction to what ibsen referred to as ‘feminine helplessness’ tends to be the driving force of the objectification of women. it can be argued that this objectification is inevitable and thus anne’s efforts to control the means by which it occurs is the closest she can get to liberating herself from it. finding a way to enjoy or bear something painful and inevitable serves as a survival mechanism; ‘not the object of others, but the object of herself.’

the aesthetic framing of anne’s violence against herself is incredibly significant to its relevance as a piece of artwork. in ‘aesthetic violence and women in film: kill bill with flying daggers’, kupfer argues that film, and by extension plays and scripts, aesthetically frame violence in three ways: symbolically, structurally, and as a narrative essential. anne’s violence can be characterised as self harm and fulfills these three framings. symbolically it is an act of free will and a reclamation of her own body, an opportunity to enjoy her ‘inevitable’ objectification. structurally, the scene ‘untitled (100 words)’ occurs five scenes after the last discussion of anne’s suicidality within the play, a scene titled ‘mum and dad.’ this sets up certain aspects of anne’s performative nature in advance. after a suicide attempt she describes ‘[feeling] like a screen’ to her parents: ‘where everything from the front looks real and alive, but round the back there’s just dust and a few wires...an absence of character.’ here she details an experience of feeling disconnected from herself beyond her performance. the act of using performance as a means of openly criticising performance is certainly subversive, and is a device seen in more modern media, such as bojack horseman (‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a xerox...not my character’) and in bo burnham’s ‘inside.’ crimp uses his play to propose ideas about the nature of acting, particularly its role in the lives of women. the sentiment of acting being a survival tactic for women is echoed in much earlier texts, such as ibsen’s ‘a doll’s house.’ throughout the play nora caters to her husband’s infantalised fantasies of her whenever he is present, and doing so results in him giving her an allowance and certain limited but significant moments of freedom. torvald admits, ‘i would not be a man if your feminine helplessness did not make you doubly attractive in my eyes’ and repeatedly states that he wishes some ‘terrible fate’ would befall his wife so that he could have the pleasure of rescuing her. anne’s performance of suicidality, of feeling ‘beyond help’, would likely be received by men similarly to how nora’s childish facade is received by her husband, as a fantasy that involves saving her for their own sense of pleasure and accomplishment. however, what makes anne’s behaviour ‘radical’ is her refusal to accept help. she recognises that her feelings of hopelessness are fetishised and argues that ‘your help oppresses me.’ this sentiment is also reflected in ‘a doll’s house’; nora must refuse torvald’s money and help in order to pursue her own freedom in the final act. catering to his idealised image of a wife only served to help her survive her household, not to prosper or be her individual self. she had to leave the environment which forced her to perform behind entirely in order to discover who she is beyond the act. not accepting help is anne’s version of this, but the narrators consider the idea that even in isolating her act to only include herself, anne still cannot escape objectification. her ‘radical gesture’ of destroying herself and laying out the evidence of her behaviour is ‘simply one more form of entertainment, one more product… to be consumed.’ an earlier scene, titled ‘the camera loves you’ includes the line ‘we need to go for the sexiest scenario’, a statement which accurately summarises the likely reception to anne’s ‘dialogue of objects.’ arguably another aspect of what makes anne’s predicament ‘the sexiest scenario’ is that even within the text itself she is the subject of the conversation, but rarely a participant. anne is described by narrators, art critics, her parents, her family, etc, but only ever speaks for herself when her defiant statements are being quoted by one of these narrators. descriptions of her self-inflicted violence fit kupfer’s final framing: a narrative essential.

interestingly, the play consists of a somewhat non-linear narrative, where each of its 17 scenes has its own plot unconnected to that of the last. as a result, a narrative essential in ‘attempts on her life’ would be a device, or in this case an instance of violence, which builds our understanding of both anne and the play’s messages, rather than a traditional narrative essential which would drive the plot forwards. the play delivers multiple instances of various forms of violence, ranging from ethnic violence to self harm to forced pornography. anne’s self-injury in particular is framed just prior to and just after the midpoint of the play. before the midpoint, the audience learns of her ‘terrible detachment’ from the character she plays, how she ‘feels like a screen.’ the midpoint, a scene titled ‘the international threat of terrorism™’ opens with a brief analysis of a statement made by anne: ‘i do not recognise your authority.’ the speaker asks, ‘does she really imagine that anything can justify her acts of random senseless violence?’ ‘random’ and ‘senseless’ seem ill-fitting qualities to attribute to anne’s violence, particularly given that her parents state ‘she’s planned all this.’ however, this midpoint scene states ‘no one can find anne’s motive’, seemingly the reason that the speaker cannot see a possible justification for her behaviour. choosing not to recognise the authority of those around her is yet another aspect of our protagonist’s performance that is ‘radical.’ in neglecting to acknowledge the power of those objectifying her, anne is achieving two things; either she is allowing herself to experience her own body and emotions without it being for the sake of others, or she is allowing herself to be fetishised and is simply in denial of it. her defiance is complex and the results of it, and indeed the motivations behind it, are difficult to ascertain.

martin crimp’s use of 17 separate individual scenes rather than a traditional singular plot narrative allows the audience to gain a multifaceted understanding of many multifaceted issues. anne is placed and acts within varying contexts such as her own personal self destruction, destruction of land that comes with ethnic cleansing, the commodification of female bodies and two different familial structures. the scene ‘the camera loves you’ emphasises how anne is an ‘everywoman’ but rather than this term being used to describe an average woman in daily life, it instead refers to a woman who is, simply put, everything. anne is described in the scene ‘girl next door’ as ‘the girl next door...royalty…a pornographic movie star...a killer and a brand of car...a terrorist threat...a mother of three...femme fatale...a presidential candidate...a predator…’ by not allocating a specific speaker to each line, crimp allows the director to decide who describes anne and in what way. lines such as ‘what we see here is the work of a girl who clearly should have been admitted, not to an art school but to a psychiatric unit’ can be spoken by a parent, an art critic, a teacher, anyone, and the relation of the speaker to anne is what characterises the comment and thus characterises her. someone described as ‘self indulgent’ by a parent is very different to someone described the same way by a lover. this means that anne is not just every woman, but every woman to everyone. by placing this ‘everywoman’ in such a range of contexts, she arguably becomes a plot device used to convey meaning, and it can be argued that this negates the more empowered features of her character. it is entirely common for female characters to be reduced to plot devices, however most often when this occurs, the character is two-dimensional. anne, on the other hand, is consistently given additional layers to her character in every scene; she exists to be characterised. excessive use of character description in conjunction with limited speaking time is either evidence that crimp’s writing is atypical in style but not theme, or that it is poignant.

arguably, by giving anne countless traits and emphasising ideas of performance and media, crimp is using his 17 scenes as an extreme example of the commodification of female bodies. anne is sold to the audience as this larger-than-life persona, someone who fulfils a million roles in subversive ways that are interesting to watch, but she still ‘feels like a screen.’ again, this sentiment of the effects of performance on an actor is echoed in many modern texts and pieces of media, but ‘attempts on her life’ makes this point in specific reference to women. real life examples of anne’s treatment exist, and her ‘everywoman’ role allows audiences to relate anne to any number of women existing in media. the way that others only talk about anne when describing or evaluating her mimics the way that agencies and record labels create a solid branding for their actors, musicians, and so on. this brand becomes an intrinsic part of their genuine personality as they cannot be caught behaving in a way that is not consistent with it. acting becomes a constant, and these women are constantly selling a brand or persona, and have very little space to behave in ways that feel true to themselves instead. acting ‘out of character’ results in the loss of public support, funding from agencies, job offers, etc, and thus the character created for celebrities is vital to their survival in their respective industries. as previously discussed, traditional texts argue the importance of theatre for women’s survival just as much, namely ibsen’s ‘a doll’s house.’ the same way nora must leave the environment that forces her to act in order to be happy or individual, anne must do the same; but her attempts at suicide suggest that the environment forcing her performance is not a household or an industry, but ‘the patriarchal structures of late twentieth century capitalism.’ either she dies or ‘becomes her own victim’ in an attempt to escape constant performance, but even her death becomes somewhat performative. even dead, many female celebrities continue their branding through martyrdom. there is very little room for one to make art detailing suicide, sex, and the like without seemingly crossing the line between expression and glorification. women who suffer are not necessarily acting, but as their suffering is a part of their life experience, it becomes interwoven in their branding or public image: amy winehouse’s experiences with alcoholism and bulimia come to mind. winehouse never glorified alcoholism herself, but songs such as ‘rehab’ and documentaries covering her illness released after her death have certainly been accused of doing so. agencies and other creatives took advantage of winehouse’s struggles in order to perform their own ‘activism’ or ‘spreading of awareness.’

in light of ‘attempts on her life’ and the concepts surrounding performance that it poses, we must consider: is liberation from patriarchal constraints even possible, or do acts of reclamation serve to eventually end up catering to the male gaze regardless? it would not be accurate to the play’s style and purpose to try to make one singular conclusion to this question. crimp uses varying styles and contexts in order to showcase the various aspects there are to this issue; the necessity of performance, the constraints it leads to, the sexualisation of suffering, brand maintenance, and so on. anne’s lack of voice in this play can be read either as an example of the very thing the play criticises, or simply just poor usage of character, and the former feels most appropriate for crimp’s writing style. the play implies that victimhood can be intrinsic to womanhood, but presents anne’s defiance as ideallised, encouraging it. theatre can be used as both a survival mechanism and a method of empowerment, but the play posits that it is only empowering to a certain extent; it allows one to control the means by which they are objectified but not to actually avoid objectification. one can behave in undesirable manners, such as anne’s displays of suicidality and exhibitionism, but then we must examine their motivations. is anne behaving in this way solely based upon her low mental health? or is the fact that she is also engaging in a form of exhibitionism and forcing an audience evidence of her sexualising her own experience? if so, her sexualisation of suicidal behaviour likely stems from the ‘patriarchal structures’ she is working to avoid being a victim of, suggesting that it is not possible to liberate oneself from them. anne is evidence that women are not separate from the patriarchy, but active participants in it as it is a collection of ideals engraved into western society. it would be unfair and somewhat dejected to conclude that these ideals cannot be unlearned, but ‘attempts on her life’ certainly illustrates that unlearning them is a more active and difficult task than simply holding a feminist ideology.

i.k.b

[pastelvelvett-2nd]

Yandere!Harper x GN!Reader

[♡] Last chapter

Chapter 2: Only human

Summary: A week has past, and your second tutoring session with Harper is today. It's rather inconvenient that the entirety of the night, her mind is far too preocuppied with thoughts of you to sleep, even the slightest bit. The perfect mask she built slipping in front of you would be her worst nightmare, and in all likelyhood, it probably would happen today, given her current state.

Word count: 5,230 words

Note: this version of the chapter is with gender neutral pronouns and terms. I'll be posting versions with male and female pronouns soon, so please keep an open eye for that! Also, I'll be adding all my Harper works to the 'Yandere!Harper chapters' tag, so search for that on my blog to read the previous chapter for the clinically depressed people pleasing cinnamonroll (aka Harper). Juuust one more thing, if you wanna give it a listen, here's a playlist I made for her. Anyway, enjoy!

What did Harper truly care about in the world? It wasn’t directly related to what she was doing, like it tends to be for a lot of people. She couldn’t think of many things she did at all that came from mere enjoyment. The girl did everything she did not for the act of it in itself, but what she would gain from going through with it. Often, it felt like even small decisions and actions on her day to day life were strategies, as insignificant as they may have looked to those around her. Small actions and decisions that build up to make a portrait of herself others could enjoy. That’s why, her newly found, constant thoughts didn’t make sense to her. For nights in a row, she’d tumble and shift in bed incessantly, thoughts burdened and confusing. They didn’t start off as something she was bothered by, though. First, she had a fuzzy feeling inside of her as she thought back to your first tutoring session.Your entrancing frame and beautiful face burrowed itself in her mind, laid their eggs that would lead to more, to the point it was the only thing she could see whenever she closed her eyes. Your words, your tone, soft and comforting like a lullaby, replayed themselves in her head. Except, of course, unlike a regular lullaby, it just had to have had the exact opposite effect on her, about as damaging as three cups of coffee back to back would be at this hour. That’s where her pleasant thoughts started seeming to be more concerning, than anything. Why was she considering something so intently, when she didn’t have any real conclusion to these thoughts? Harper had gotten obsessed with things before, it was pretty much an integral trait to her already, but it was always for the sake of gaining something. The fact she didn’t understand what was happening to her was concerning in its own right. The girl let out a shaky, unnerved sigh as she, in a brisk movement, got up to a sitting position on her bed. Harper peered downwards at her soft blanket. It had a childish print; A repeated pattern of a cute, chibi cat sleeping, the whole thing being colored in varying shades of pink. Thinking back at everyone she talked to on a regular basis, it was clear as day they’d think she’s immature for secretly liking this sort of thing. How would you react, though? Would you be disappointed that she’s not truly a mature person, or would you be okay with that? Something told her you weren’t like them, preoccupied with what looks socially acceptable. 

“Oh, crap…” Harper gritted her teeth, leaning forward as she covered her scrunched up face the second she realized. She couldn’t believe it. Her mind wandered to something other than you for one second, and that thought was so quick to turn right back to you. This clearly wasn’t something she could push out of herself by just laying down in bed, maybe if she did something, she could take her mind off of it. The girl looked up, her lavender eyes rapidly darting from her left to right to identify where on Earth she left her phone before she started sleeping. Or… Trying to, anyway. Ah… On the end table next to her, of course. Did she ever leave it anywhere else? Why did she even ask herself where it was to begin with? Harper stretched her body to the right to grab onto her phone and pull it from her charger. It was still warm to the touch from having charged for- she didn’t know for how long. Her eyes, used to the darkness of her room, tried adjusting to the bright, unnatural light the phone gave off as soon as she turned it on. Admittedly, the overly cutesy brightly colored wallpaper didn’t help much with this achieving this.  

Oh… 

Crap again.

Harper cringed at the sight of the time, 5:49 AM. It took her a full hour drive to get to college, so really, she only had an hour at her disposal. She couldn’t remember the last time that she stayed up the whole night without realizing it, if it ever happened to begin with. Normally, she goes to bed at 10PM sharp, and falls asleep only a few minutes later. Just what had you done to her?

Surely it wouldn’t be surprising to say that Harper couldn’t sleep in the one hour she had left. Instead, she worried incessantly about how that day was the second tutoring session she had with you, and the only thing she was running on was anxiety that kept her more or less alert. Still, the lack of sleep made her nowhere near as sharp as she’d hope to be for it. If anything, in her current state, you’d be the one able to teach her. Still, she had to put her best foot forward. She managed to get through the school day, yes, with a few weird looks from people that knew she was behaving strangely, but she was still able to jot down notes with… Some readability to them. 

As Harper waited for you to join her in the back of the library, she lowered her face to get a better look at what she now recognized as being hieroglyphs that were intended to represent the English language in her notebook, coming to the morbid realization that she was deluding herself into thinking she’d been doing better than she actually was. She supposed she didn’t do very well with lack of sleep… Maybe because she was always strict with herself on getting a full night of rest, like her parents were with her while she was growing up.

—

Second week, second tutoring session with Harper. You had to admit that you were incredibly nervous, but thankfully less so now, since you noticed how approachable she was to you the last time. A part of you was fully expecting her to be the type of popular person to act incredibly sweet to some people, and horribly nasty towards those that have a less than stellar reputation, like you did. If anything, she seemed even more genuine and brighter when you talked to her one on one than in a classroom setting.

You inhaled then exhaled, paused in front of the library door, trying to remind yourself of these things. You’re fine. Just focus on learning, she wouldn’t judge you for being incredibly stupid (even though compared to her, you clearly are).

The library was very quiet, which was certainly a good thing for you. You could only see one person reading in a chair relatively close to the door. Not someone you recognized, from what you could tell. The guy gave you a weird, slightly judgemental look for just a second, which was enough to make you shrink and wonder if you did something strange. You weren’t sure if you were just being paranoid, it wouldn’t be the first time you imagined someone judging you. God, just focus… Find Harper. She’s chill. You’ll be fine with her. You hurriedly went deeper into the library, the stacks of books you needed for today held tightly against your chest. You were quick to spot her, sitting at the furthest table and staring down a notebook. Her face was pale enough that she looked like she saw a ghost, and unlike you, it didn’t seem like she spotted you nearly as fast.

She narrowed her eyes, nearing her face to the paper to get a better look while also lifting it. You had to wonder what made reading what’s there so difficult. It kind of looked like someone else’s handwriting, from what you could see, so maybe she borrowed someone’s notebook for some reason and was having some trouble reading it because she wasn’t familiar with the way they wrote. Another thing that was interesting to you- Harper tended to be… How should you say this without sounding rude (because though you’re obviously the only person listening in on your thoughts, you still would feel guilty if you thought something mean about someone that only treated you with kindness so far). She was always more attentive to the world around her than this, let’s call it. While you were 100% the type of person to look around disoriented when you go to meet a friend at any location, you always thought people like Harper were exempt from having those kinds of moments. Well, Harper is human, afterall… Like anyone else, she can get distracted.

You guessed that calling out to her would be a better idea, since you were starting to feel a bit creepy just looming over her. You didn’t doubt it would look suspicious if anyone saw you, they’d most likely think you were stalking her (and doing a pretty bad job at it, honestly).

“H-Harper, hel-”

The second you spoke out with a shaky voice and an awkward smile, she jumped up from her seat with a dramatic gasp and looked up at you wide eyed like you’re about to attack her. She dropped the notebook on the table in time with the gasp, making it fall and slide further to the other side of the surface, where you were. You looked down at the notebook that was just in Harper’s grasp briefly, which was enough to make her panic further and take it, sliding it in her backpack hastily. That was… Strange of Harper. You never once saw her like this, or heard of anyone seeing her like this. It looked like she was hiding a murder plot that she wrote about or something, though that was obviously not possible. Plus, you doubted the notebook was even hers to begin with. Maybe she wanted to copy someone’s notes or homework and she was ashamed she’d get caught…? But then again, why was only this mystery person’s out, and not Harper’s, too?

“OH! Y/N!” Harper exclaimed, a bit too loud for something she’d say in the library. “Hi! You’re…” She looked up to the clock with squinted eyes. …Maybe she needed to get new glasses, and that’s why she was squinting at that notebook, too? “Oh. Exactly on time.” Ouch.

“Haha… Surprised? I wouldn’t want to waste your time making you wait for me, Harper.” You laughed nervously, pulling out a chair to sit down next to her, careful to not place it too close to hers. She was already pretty jumpy, by default, the last thing you’d want to do is worsen her emotional state. Something… Clearly must’ve happened to cause her change of behavior. You didn’t think you had it in you to pry. The two of you weren’t terribly close or anything, afterall. That would probably make her uncomfortable. Harper was much quicker to reply to this than she was in noticing you.

“Oh, wait, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that… I meant I thought it was earlier than it actually was, so when I checked the time, I got surprised!” The pink haired girl tried her best to explain, as fast as humanly possible, so you wouldn’t have a misconception about what she meant for much longer. You eyed her in concern, studying her face. Upon closer inspection, beneath her eyes were dark bags that certainly weren’t there the day before. It didn’t look like she slept one bit last night, or if she did, she had very little. Maybe something was bothering her, and she couldn’t sleep? You didn’t know her personally at all, so you had no clue what could’ve happened. Interrogating her about it couldn’t be a good idea, so maybe giving her an easy out from having another tiring thing to do after uni would be the kindest course of action.

“You look… Pretty tired, Harper. Do you want to change the tutoring to tomorrow, or maybe some other day of the week? They should allow that, it’s still a tutoring session a week-” You couldn’t properly brace yourself over how immediate her response would be, even if you somehow knew about it ahead of time.

“No. No, we can do it today.” Harper’s voice was strangely firm, almost as if it was an order, rather than a confirmation. A few seconds of eerie silence passed before her different, frankly unusual demeanor melted away. “S-Sorry, I meant… I’m not really one to put things off. It’s a vicious cycle.” Oh, how nice it would’ve been to be her, and not your procrastinating self. It seemed like Harper was putting a genuine effort in pulling herself together, as evidenced by her straightening her back and clearing her throat. Her nervous, taken aback expression was turned into a calm and composed smile. Just how can she flip so quickly from one way of acting to another? It seemed like she’d be fairly good at something like improv acting or playing DnD, but you weren’t sure she was interested in either, or would be if she gave it a try. “Okay, sorry for the delay! We can start!” Realizing you still hadn’t sat down, you awkwardly shifted and moved towards the seat next to her, fighting off your immediate instinct to sit across from her instead. You supposed sitting right next to her was a lot more nerve wrecking of a concept, it was closer to her after all, so it made sense. 

With Harper even closer, the marks under her eyes seemed far more pronounced, making your guilt over putting her through this deepen. Still, she was obviously doing this for the extra credit, so it was her own decision if she wanted to sacrifice her own comfort to get that week’s session out of the way. Harper was the type to take everything she did seriously, which was incredibly respectable to you.

As she introduced the subject of today’s focus (still under math, because God knows you needed it), you could see the energy and brightness she put forth just a few minutes earlier dissipate gradually. Harper’s speaking was slower, her pauses more frequent, and eventually, she even struggled to have her eyes be any wider than half lidded. Even more distracting was that her writing seemed a lot sloppier than I saw it be last week, enough for it to be very possible that the notebook she had in front of her earlier was actually hers. This wasn’t something you could commentate on openly, at least not if you pointed out the specific telltale signs she had of being sleep deprived. But maybe if you insisted you end the tutoring session early after a bit of time had past, she’d be more likely to accept it.

“Okay, so now that you know the formula to that, let me just write down an example before you try one on your own.” The pink haired girl slid her math notebook closer to her side of the table and began writing down a math problem, tired eyes deeply focused. Then she started solving it, her mouth twitching slightly at some point, followed by her eyebrow doing the same. It really seemed like Harper was unsure of what she was writing down. You knew she probably meant for you to look at it after she was done, and peeping would be a bit mean, but your curiosity simply couldn’t wait. You scooted closer, making Harper’s body freeze like a deer caught in headlights the second that she finished writing the final result. Your eyes narrowed and studied each line of calculations. It… Didn’t really sound right. At all.

”Oh… I kinda thought it would be something like this.” Harper allowed you to take the notebook from under her and watched you attentively with no readily apparent emotion. You quickly wrote down the solution that you thought would be correct right below hers, looking to her when you were done for some sort of feedback. Harper seemed the slightest bit horrified, her mouth opening wordlessly and her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Is it… That wrong?” Harper blinked a few times, looking bewildered as she took the notebook back and read through my solution several times over rapidly.

“No… It’s correct. I…” Harper gulped nervously, seeming not so eager to continue her sentence. She looked up towards her own solution, silent for a bit longer. “I was completely wrong. This… Is completely idiotic, what’s wrong with me? It’s like if an elementary schooler tried to solve this!” Harper’s tone raised, and her breathing quickened. Her concern from earlier was a bit more than you expected, but this state of panic was way beyond that.

”Harper, it’s okay, really! Everyone makes mistakes-“

”Not me!” Harper’s head was lowered in shame, hands shaking to the point she was barely able to hold the notebook properly. Tears quickly welled up in her violet eyes, and it took no time at all for them to drip down her face and for her to close her lids, probably from the stinging effect her tears left in their wake. She sobbed and sobbed, leaving you speechless. “I… Can’t. I’m not allowed to.” Her voice was weak and quieter this time, the slightest bit rapsy from having raised her voice earlier. You had no clue how to comfort her properly, not knowing her well enough to know what worked and what didn’t. Everything you could try would be a shot in the dark.

You were so caught up in Harper’s emotions that you didn’t notice that the librarian had walked up to her. The middle aged brown haired woman placed a hand on Harper’s shoulder in a motherly way, and you could only hope that would be enough to make her feel at least a little bit better, because then you would know what you could do. “Honey, are you okay…?” Then, to your surprise, the woman moved her gaze from her to you, now far less compassionate and more pointed, more accusatory. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Did it… Look like you were an awful person? You had no clue why so many people here expected the worst of you. Even the staff, apparently. Still, you felt an insane amount of guilt for not doing something to comfort her up until now. You wouldn’t be surprised if Harper would come to resent you for seemingly not caring, despite her trying to tutor you every week, even when she was so exhausted.

”No, t-they didn’t.” Her current state made the fact that she actually responded for you even more shocking. It was noble of her to think about how you were perceived, even when she seemed to be going through a panic attack. “I-I’m sorry for making a scene. This is a library, I s-shouldn’t disturb-“ 

“No, no honey. Please. Don’t think about that right now. Just focus on feeling better.” The librarian let go of Harper’s shoulder and looked towards me. “Y/N, was it?” You felt pretty bad that you didn’t remember her name, despite her remembering yours. “Please take Harper here to the counselor.”

”It’s a-alright, Mrs. Moore, I can go on my own.” Oh well, at least you knew her name now, that’s something. Harper stifled her sobs, making occasional sniffing the only obvious sign of her crying, besides of course, the tears streaming down her face. The girl took her notebook and stuffed it in her backpack quickly, slipping it onto her back. It seemed like Harper was trying to rush away before either of you could have the chance to protest.

“Wait.” You got up too, and grabbed onto her hand after she took just a few steps away. Immediately, as you looked down at her hand that was stiff from shock, a result of your sudden and probably socially unacceptable action (given how little time the two of you spent together), you came to regret that decision. Then you looked up, which was perhaps even worse, because you saw her staring at you with a confused, teary face. “Sorry for that, I just…” You tried taking your hand away from hers. This time, it was your turn to be shocked when Harper refused to let you go, holding your hand tight. You’d feel rather awkward bringing that up now, especially with Mrs. Moore being right there still, so instead, you decided to continue what you were meaning to say. “I really want to do something to help. Taking you to the counselor is the least I could do.” Harper just stared at you in shock for a few good seconds that might as well have been an eternity, given how bad your perception of time was after her sudden show of emotion earlier. Then, she chuckled, smiling. Her eyes brightened, and her breathing seemed to be steadier than it was before. It was pretty interesting, because she didn’t give Mrs. Moore this look of gratitude and happiness after she tried to comfort her. First, you assumed maybe Harper just didn’t feel that okay with physical touch, so her putting her hand on her shoulder didn’t help. Still, she talked to her, too, and she had a more gentle tone that should’ve had more of an effect, yet it didn’t. Maybe Harper didn’t much like Mrs. Moore? That was your best guess.

”Thank you. I-If… You’re okay with that, I’m okay with that too.”

You didn’t really expect Harper to immediately say yes, but needless to say, it made you relieved. You weren’t really one to insist with anything, it was too nerve wracking to demand something of anyone. Still though, you were pretty sure that demanding to go with her, a grown adult that barely knew you, was an objectively morally wrong thing to do that you wouldn’t have done even if you had a backbone.

—

You started leading Harper to the counselor’s office, the both of you incredibly quiet. It honestly felt a tad bit awkward for you to be leading her somewhere on campus, when you barely started going here a few months ago and still get lost sometimes, even now. You weren’t sure for how long, but Harper probably had been going here for a significantly longer time than you. It seemed like she knew the layout pretty well, even now, in her sleep deprived state. If anything, you were there for emotional support. You felt rather useless for not being able to give that emotional support, and instead be completely quiet.

“I’m sorry for-“

”I’m sorry for-“

Much to your shock, you both apologized at the same exact time, causing you and her to stop dead in your tracks. After a few seconds of bewilderment, the two of you laughed a bit at the coincidence. Not in a boisterous way, it was rather impossible to be too cheerful with the things weighing on both of your minds. But it was a soft, content laughter. You didn’t know about her, but it made you a bit more comfortable at that moment. This and her show of emotion earlier made you realize that as different as she may look to be from you, you may have more in common than you first assumed.

“That was interesting. …What are you sorry about?” You asked her, smiling and beginning to walk again. Harper began stepping forwards immediately, herself. You looked to your left and saw her looking downwards at the white, well cleaned tiles of the hall. You supposed what she wanted to say made her uncomfortable enough to want to avoid eye contact.

“For ruining today. For all I know you could’ve had a normal, happy day, and I just ruined it for you. Or, possibly even worse, maybe you had an awful day and I made it even more horrible.” Harper breathed out, seeming to be even more tired out by her own emotions. “I stood in the way of things being normal.”

”Harper…” You eyed her with sympathy, initially unsure of what to say. “It’s not your fault. You must’ve gotten no sleep at all, and there has to be something in the back of your mind upsetting you that was worsened by how tired you are.”

“It is my fault. Who else’s fault is it that I didn’t sleep last night like a normal person?” It looked to you that Harper was trying so very hard to maintain “normal”… Her idea of what a normal person was seemed to be pretty warped. 

“Normal people have bad days, sometimes you can’t get sleep. Some things just… Aren’t anyone’s fault at all.” Harper’s brows knit together, and she searched your face for an answer to a question you weren’t aware of. A few seconds later, she smiled, humming softly and looking forward again. 

“I appreciate that… Um… What were you going to apologize for?”

For a moment, you forgot you even apologized at all earlier. You got far too caught up with her apology to continue thinking about it. Her apology was about something pretty complex actually, as simple as her opening for this topic was. It made you realize that your reason for apologizing was so much smaller, to the point it would be fairly accurate to say that it was pretty much for filling dead air. You chuckled a bit. “For being quiet.”

”Oh no, there’s no reason for you to apologize for that. I understand why you’d be quiet… You probably don’t know how to react properly after my outburst.” Harper looked downwards with a subtle sadness. Earlier, she seemed to have liked when you held her hand… Would she feel better if you did it again? Before you could argue yourself out of doing it because of your anxiety over making her uncomfortable, you just did it, reaching out and gently holding her hand. That time, Harper didn’t seem quite as shocked. Instead, she welcomed the touch immediately, even holding onto your hand tighter as if she was afraid of you letting go. The very same way as she did previously. She smiled, though she still refused to make eye contact.

”It’s okay. Really. I’m not judging you for being human.” Harper’s smile dropped, and you immediately began to worry you did something to upset her. Even worse, that was the moment that she chose to look at you. In her eyes was a strong, burning emotion that you couldn’t pin down with any real certainty.

”Y/N…” Harper still faced towards you, but her eyes darted elsewhere. “I have to tell you something.” She paused, and built the courage to look back to me after a bit. “I wasn’t going to go to the counselor’s.”

”Huh…?” You raised an eyebrow at this and stopped walking again, Harper deciding to do the same. Why on Earth didn’t she say so? She could’ve told you the second the two of you left the library, if she was just worried about the librarian pressuring her about it.

“I was going to walk with you until the beginning of the hall the counselor’s office is in and tell you I can walk to it from there. Then I’d wait for you to leave. I was going to go out to get some fresh air on my own, get everything out of my system and continue with our session.” Would that… Really work? What if you decided to stand there and wait for her to get in before you left? Your face was marked with confusion as you tried to make sense of why it would be a big deal at all for her to refuse to go somewhere.

“I… Understand that you probably didn’t feel like you needed to go to the counselor anymore, but I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me. Did you think I’d get disappointed with you if you didn’t go?” Harper paused, biting her lip uncomfortably. You weren’t her parent, and even if you were, you would’ve understood that she didn’t need it.

”I don’t know if I really need it or not. I just don’t want it, and that’s all I was thinking about. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… My parents put me through therapy at some point growing up, and I can’t say it helped much, to say the least. Anything that reminds me of that could only make me feel worse.” It seemed like she didn’t want to respond to your question, but from what you could tell based on her reaction, you most likely hit the nail on the head. “You must think I’m a pretty awful person for wanting to lie to you like that… But I realized how little you deserved to be lied to, and how uncomfortable I felt about doing it to begin with, so I just had to tell you.” Harper sighed out, body language seeming a bit more agitated now than before. When she noticed you weren’t responding immediately, she looked towards your eyes with unmistakable panic. “I’m really sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, really. I’m not mad.” After you gave her an encouraging squeeze of the hand, her eyes lost some of the anxiety it held in them. You were incredibly relieved to see her calm down a bit. “Let’s go together.”

”Outside…? Oh.” Harper blinked in surprise. It seemed like she didn’t think you offering that would be a possibility. “Yeah, we can go... I’ll be honest, I’m a bit surprised you still want to spend time with me after the way I acted.”

”Acted like what, a normal human with emotions? I get it, I’m human too, regardless of what some people may say.” You tried to joke around to brighten her mood, hoping it would work, as admittedly awkward as your attempt felt. Thankfully, she giggled, marking this mission as a success.

Oh, how did Harper wish that other people could be like you were. You were understanding of her faults and mistakes, her humanity, something she never felt from someone else. At the very least, not in a sincere form. Memories of the fake kindness she received back when she went through therapy flooded her mind, and it made her want to vomit. Actually… Maybe she preferred this. Maybe she preferred it because it made you so much more special. It felt like in her eyes, you started growing more and more, and she realized what a unique, beautiful person you were. She was deeply terrified that unlike her, you began seeing her as pathetic, as the small, scared child she saw herself as every single day. Maybe if you knew about the way she thought about you last night, you wouldn’t be so kind any longer. 

But surely, you weren’t fake. Your empathy was a sincere one, and finally, she found someone she could trust. Still, Harper was afraid. As much as she already trusted you, she knew it wasn't a good idea to be hasty, when she reconized it wasn’t exactly normal to get attached to someone so quickly. Letting the relationship develop naturally would be for the best before she could voice this part of her. It was a shame that keeping these obsessive thoughts to herself was already becoming irritating to her.

[digitalworldbound]

unexpected

pairing: takeru x hikari (college age)

summary: She had been ignoring the symptoms for weeks. Even now, as Hikari dry heaved into the toilet bowl, there was a logical explanation.

author's note: slight cursing and adult themes

She had been ignoring the symptoms for weeks. When her blouse fit snugly around her chest, she chastised herself for putting it in the dryer. Miso soup had always been one of her favorites, so she disregarded her brother’s raised eyebrows as she went back for seconds, and later, thirds.

Even now, as Hikari dry heaved into the toilet bowl, there was a logical explanation. The few Smirnoff’s she had been able to stomach swirled away. A pitiful groan escaped her lips; she hated to waste food. Heavy bass thumped from outside the door, Mimi’s “little get together” in full swing. Initially, Hikari had been happy to escape into the bathroom. Twelve fully-grown bodies practically filled the small apartment to capacity. The taste of sweat and alcohol lingered in the air, the heat sweltering.

“Hey, you good in there?” Takeru’s voice called out. Her headache thumped in time with the music. Oh god, it’s Takeru. The bile in her stomach swirled with dread; he of all people would see right through her. Hikari didn’t trust herself to speak, opting to flush the toilet again. Quickly, she washed her hands and splashed her face with cool water, washing all the evidence of her escapade down the drain. The thought of facing him made her stomach clench harder.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Just had to use the bathroom.” With the door open, the air was more stifling than before; she was smothering. Hikari put on her best smile and willed herself to act more drunk than she was. Perhaps even under Takeru’s trained eyes she would appear more like the reckless college students she was supposed to be.

He just laughed and guided her back to the epicenter of the party. Takeru’s arm was tight against her waist, pulling her body closer to his. Hikari didn’t miss the way his eyebrows knit together in worry. He knew something was up, but would wait until they were alone. She did her best to detangle herself and get lost in the music, to giggle with Miyako and dance with Sora. Every time her eyes would catch Takeru’s, she would feel nausea burn in her throat.

-

Three days after her expected period, Hikari fingers turned white around her cellphone.

“Miyako.” It was not a greeting so much as a demand. Her face was wet with shame, the tears scorching her cheeks on their descent. “Please.”

Takeru’s schedule blessed Hikari with a day to herself in their miniscule apartment. They had long ago given up any pretense of sleeping in separate rooms, their clothes, sheets, bodies mingling together. Traces of him lingered everywhere. Hikari’s amber eyes were unfocused around his toothbrush when Miyako found her.

Her face had a healthy flush, bangs sticking to the perspiration on her forehead. “You know, I ran all the way here. The least you could have done was open the front door.” Crinkly plastic was ensnared in her hands, the bag hanging limp.

Despite the gusto Miyako brought to every social interaction, the only thing to draw Hikari from her stupor was the shiny red logo that dangled from Miyako’s fingers.

“Does your family know?” Her voice was hoarse in the aftermath of her suspicion. The thought of her friend buying something so grotesque from her family’s store nearly sent Hikari back over the rim of the toilet.

Miyako had to bite back her laugher. “Of all the things to be worried about, this is what you choose?” Hikari narrowed her eyes, their puffiness and red rims diminishing their intended effect. “If you must know,” Miyako continued, sinking onto her knees beside the brunette, “My sister and I have a no-questions policy. I don’t ask where she sneaks off to at night, and she doesn’t ask why I buy pregnancy tests at noon on a Tuesday.”

If the logo didn’t set Hikari off, the sheer magnitude of the situation did. Her lunch had already been flushed down the drain, bile burning her throat. “Damn, you really are sick. How long has this been going on?”

The older girl ran her hand down Hikari’s rumpled shirt. Once her trembling hands flushed the remnants of her stomach, she listlessly held up two fingers. Loose strands of her bangs shielded her eyes from Miyako, shame deepening the blush on her cheeks.

“I remember being twelve and our only concern being the flavor of lip gloss we wore. When did everything get so messy?” Hikari’s voice broke, forehead leaning against the toilet rim. She could feel herself shrinking against Miyako’s scrutinizing gaze. She let the silence settle, leaning against the bathroom cabinets. “Hikari, growing up is the messiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Hikari's tears were hot and raw, dripping off her chin. Her laughs were shallow, shoulders trembling in the effort to hold herself together. Slowly, as if Hikari was a dove, Miyako wrapped her arms across her middle. She gently tucked her frail frame into her chest, murmuring hollow encouragements into her ear. Miyako let Hikari soak her shoulder in tears, allowing herself to be baptized in her best friend’s pain. There was nothing she could say to make this better, no evil monster she could destroy to make this all go away.

Miyako’s knees grew numb against the linoleum, the plastic bag discarded beside her. A glance at her watch told her that Takeru would be home soon.

Her heart ached at the sight of Hikari. She laid limp in Miyako’s arms, lips swollen and eyes puffy. There was nothing she could do. “Hikari, it’s time.” Her words seemed to stir the girl into action. As Miyako pried the box open and read the instructions out loud, Hikari splashed her face with cool water. Silently, she prayed to whichever deity would hear her case. Please, let it be negative.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Miyako gripped her shoulders lightly, bending her neck down to meet her eyes. Hikari gripped the plastic handle with a ferocity the rivaled Daisuke’s. Wordlessly, she shut the door to the bathroom.

Once she was finished, the test laid discarded on the lid of the waste bin.

Three minutes.

Hikari’s earliest memory was of her brother. Their parents had been away at work, entrusting Taichi to take care of the both of them. He was practically a baby, barely able to reach the countertops in the kitchen. They decorated the walls in their bedroom with markers, childish dragons and princesses stretching across the baseboards.

Hikari was only nineteen, more of a baby now than she ever had been.

Two minutes.

She was fourteen the first time Takeru made her blush. It was innocent, mere child’s play compared to the predicament she was in now. They had been walking home together, chatting mindlessly about anything and nothing and all things in between. She remembered the way that the late afternoon sunlight reflected in his golden locks, an ethereal halo highlighting his rosy cheeks. Hikari had never seen him like that, beautiful and raw with a smile just for her.

How had things gotten so out of control?

One minute.

No, that was wrong. Hikari’s love for Takeru could not be construed into anything negative. Their love was pure and all consuming, stretching into every aspect of their lives. It was in the way she leaned into him whenever he was near, unconsciously seeking his comfort. Their love gathered itself in the clothes Takeru meticulously folded the way Hikari taught him when they had just moved in, all those months ago. This love – gentle, warm, and pure - could never be out of control.

But it could have consequences.

Thirty seconds.

Her stomach clenched. This couldn’t be happening. Hikari had given up her childhood to save the world; she didn’t deserve this. The universe was constantly bending her to its will, no matter how cruel the circumstances. She had tried to take control of her own destiny, enrolling into college with dreams of becoming a teacher. How could she expect herself to teach children when she had so much left to learn? And Takeru? Would he have to give up his dreams for her? For them?

.

.

.

Positive

If Hikari were a dove, her wings had been clipped.

[emiewritesthings]

locked down with you (1)- jay halstead

jay halstead x fem!reader

summary: a series of scenarios between y/n and jay whilst they quarantine together

requested?: nope but requests are open :)

warnings: language but basically just fluff

a/n: still being in lockdown has made me think about what it would be like to be living with jay during these times. the following is just a strange combinations of scenarios i have thought about. not sure i how i feel about them :/

masterlist

day 1 of lockdown

“is that the last box?” jay called out as he reappeared from his room with a sweaty brow and a large smile on his face. he wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to seeing your clothes hung up beside his own in his wardrobe, or your shows lined up beside his by the door. it was strange, but it felt... natural.

“i think so, wow is it sad that my whole life can be packed up into 5 boxes?” y/n asked, collapsing onto the sofa breathing out heavily. jay let out a small chuckle, before he joined her, melting into the cushions that supported their bodies. 

“well that’s not true, that was just your clothes, you still have an entire apartment of things waiting for you back home.” he corrected, with a smug smile pointed. the pad of it flicking her nose, making a childish giggle escape her parted lips. “but who knows by the end of this thing you might need to bring those over too.” jay hummed, leaning closer to her with lustful eyes. in a matter of seconds, his lips pressed lazy kisses against her neck, the sensation taking y/n’s body to a new level of euphoria

“just give it a week, halstead. you will be so sick of me you will have to kick me out.” she challenged, watching as he pulled his lips away from her skin for a moment. allowing their foreheads to rest against one another, eyes both equalling challenging the other to make the next mood. in a moment of weakness, it had been y/n to lean forward, igniting the warmth in their chest. 

“if anything, i don’t think i will be able to let you go.” his breaths were rugged, only parting to say the last few words before he reconnected their lips. his hands respectfully running over her body, admiring the way it curved and held its unique shape. 

he sure could get used to this.

--

day 3 of lockdown

“jay!” y/n whined impatiently as she threw her head back to demonstrate just how tired she was becoming. a strange ache running up her spine from the position she was currently sat in. her back arched as she rested against the arm of the sofa. her fingers pinching a pencil as she looked between her sketchpad and the angelic man sat a few centimetres away. “i thought i told you not to move.” 

jay’s eyes narrowed in confusion, as he looked up from the pile of paperwork he had to complete by the end of the day. seeing his girlfriend sat in a large hoodie that she had stolen from their wardrobe and a pair of shorts, a look of boredom and frustration etched on her features, he had to question what the hell was going on.

“what are you talking about?” jay asked, in all honesty, he had been so focused on his work that he had tuned the woman out. from the look of art supplies spread over the floor, he could only assume she was occupying her day off with fulfilling her craving to be artistic. 

“you know what, it doesn’t even matter anymore,” she sighed, closing up the book in her hands. “it was stupid anyway.” she muffled into the sleeve of her sweater, attempting to walk out of the living room towards the kitchen, a place she had labelled her ‘happy place’ from the moment she stepped into the apartment. slight guilt seeped into jay’s mind as he pushed himself away from the sofa cushions and wrapped her up in his bulky, warm arms.

“i’m sorry.” he apologised, arms trapping her in what only could be described as a bear hug. from her small frame, jay managed to rest his chin on the top of her head, until he brought his face down to kiss her cheek softly. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” he repeated between each.

y/n felt her mood slightly, reminding herself of the effect the man had on her. she felt like mush in his hands that he was able to sculpt in whatever way he wanted and she had no objections. 

“now what do we have here?” he spoke more to himself as he took the sketchpad from her hands, his fingers playing with the edge of the pages until he stopped on a page with a rather large sketch. the pencil lines were faint, but it didn’t take jay a moment to recognise the large image illustrated on the page. “holy shit, y/n.”

feeling her cheeks heat up, she tried to hide her face with her sleeves. she didn’t like to share her work with anyone, with fear that she would be laughed out of the room. but listening to jay’s taken aback tone made the butterflies in her stomach jump without any consideration for y/n’s wellbeing.

“i know it’s not the best, but-.” she attempted to denounce her clear display of talent by breaking out the embrace, but jay only held onto her tighter. using what control he had to turn her around to face him. he had placed the sketch on the coffee table, so he could focus fully on the beautiful woman standing in front of him.

“it’s amazing,” jay assured, his gaze diving deep into the soul present behind the beautiful colours of y/n’s eyes. “you are amazing, i’m sorry i’m so busy.” y/n didn’t need an apology. she knew that jay’s job was much more demanding than her own. it just seemed being forced to do nothing didn’t feel as good as when she chose to do nothing before any of this quarantine business was mentioned. 

“do you want some help?” she offered, not wanting to intrude. her teeth brought in her bottom lip to bite in anticipation worried she had crossed the line. jay’s hand reached up to rest on the side of her face, his thumb resting on her chin as he brought it down to rescue her lip.

“you are the best, you know that?” 

“ugh, come on, romeo.” 

day 9 of lockdown

“okay-.” y/n began as she entered the bedroom, her body wrapped in a towel and her hair leaving water droplets behind her. it was sometime in the late afternoon and jay was laying on their bed. his attention had been caught by a book y/n had brought, but it had been stolen when she had entered the room.

“i don’t know what you’re about to say but i know it’s going to be a bad idea.” jay discouraged, he knew her. he knew her more than anyone else in this world. the way her voice had raised slightly at the end and she was currently avoiding eye contact with the detective, telling him that she was about to make to offer a foolish plan.

“no fair, you have to at least hear me out!” she whined like a child, searching around for her bras that were normally flung in different directions, thanks to a little too happy detective. jay watched her with a loving grin, she made him feel so alive. 

“okay, proceed.” he gestured as though he was king of the castle ordering his servants around. flicking her middle finger up at the man, disappearing into the bathroom once again, but her voice could still be made out.

“i want to dye my hair!” jay couldn’t see her face, but he could imagine the little hop she had done in excitement at telling him about her idea. “or maybe shave my head, you know, since lockdown could go on for the rest of the year, it’s not like anyone will see it.” 

letting out a deep chuckle, he waited until she reappeared to respond. her body, cladded in sweats (for once ones that belonged to her), collapsed down beside him. curling into the side of his body. she stared up at him dazedly, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes.

“it’s your body, your choice,” he shrugged, his right hand coming to his side so he could grab ahold of her own. when interlocking their fingers, he made sure to run his thumb over her knuckles comforting. “i don’t care if you shaved off all your hair and your eyebrows whilst wearing a potato sack, you will always be beautiful to me.” 

“i love you.” she hummed, leaning up to kiss his lips.

“i love you too.” 

--

day 16 of lockdown

“y/n hurry up it’s on!” y/n heard as she grabbed a few beers from the fridge. as she reached the living room, she grinned at the sight of kevin, kim, adam, will, natalie on the computer screen. 

“hey guys!” she squealed, giving jay a beer before putting the rest on the coffee table that the computer currently rested on. 

“oh shit, now i owe kevin 10 bucks.” adam whined, his image slightly pixelated from his poor connection. frowning, y/n looked towards jay that was equally as confused. they then turned their gaze towards kevin, who wore a large smug smirk.

“ruzek here betted me 10 bucks that you two would have killed one another by day 14.” y/n let out a snort of laughter, throwing her head back in amusement. of course, kevin had bet in their corner, had it not been for him, jay and y/n wouldn’t have been together in the first place. 

“honestly i wouldn’t have blamed you, y/n,” will spoke up, “it takes a saint to deal with jay’s slobbiness. i think i have only ever seen jay clean his room twice, mom always took pity on him.” will chuckled, making jay cower in embarrassment. y/n had seen first-hand jay’s ability to create a mess in a matter of minutes. a stray sock here, an empty pizza box there. before she knew it, they were eligible for Hoarders USA. 

“shut up, will, are we starting this quiz or what?” jay changed the subject, trying to get over the embarrassment of being laughed at by their closest friends. in an attempt to cool him down, y/n hooked her pinky around his. offering him a soft smile when he looked up in her direction.

“hope you guys are ready to lose.” she teased, turning back to face the screen. jay watched the way she acted so freely, a kind smile never slipping from her face, her touch soothing his soul. at that moment he couldn’t help but think ‘this will be the woman i marry’

--

day 34 of lockdown

“-alright, alright i think he’s on his way. i’ll see you later.” y/n rushed out as she jumped off her position sat on the edge of the bed. her heartbeat was thumping against her chest as she shoved her phone back into her pocket, aware the sound of water had fallen silent. 

it was jay’s birthday and y/n had been planning it for the past two weeks. unfortunately, it was well known that y/n y/l/n was awful keeping secrets. it was as though when she knew something, good or bad, she felt an immense amount of pressure, which ended in her exploding and spilling all to the one person she normally wasn’t meant to. but she was determined that this would be like the other times. she had gone the extra mile in avoiding conversation with jay, knowing one slip and her whole plan was ruined. 

“hey, baby!” jay yelled, y/n’s body jumped in shock. his footsteps growing nearer until he appeared in front of him. his muscled torso on show as his bottom half was hidden away by a large grey towel. jay noticed y/n’s jumpy behaviour immediately, his eyes drawing nearer as he examined her face. “what’s wrong?”

“wrong? with me? pfft, nothing’s wrong with me. absolutely nothing. w-what’s wrong with you?” she rushed out, leaning her weight against the dressing table until her hand slipped and she quickly caught herself before hitting her head on the wood. jay shook his head in amusement, he had been worried for the past few days that he had upset the woman. she was unusually quiet, which normally indicated that something was wrong, considering she hated silence. 

“doesn’t matter.” 

seeing jay withdraw from her made her want to reach out, but her mind already ticked over to something else. running into the guest room, she reappeared with a shoe-like box. not knowing what to say, she shoved the box in his direction innocently. jay pecked her lips lightly, taking the box and taking a seat as he ripped the sparkly paper she had found in a random drawer.

removing the box lid, he peered into the box with curiosity. in a matter of seconds the teasing look fell from his face, replaced with a loss of words. in the box resided memories that up until that moment had been in the back of jay’s mind. letters that the pair had sent back and forth all those years ago when he had been enlisted in afghanistan. photos from jay’s police academy graduation, dates, christmases anything that held a sentimental feeling y/n wished to recreate. 

“y-you kept all this stuff?” he asked, his fingers grabbing a small blue teddy bear that’s fur was slightly matted from the dust that had tainted its texture and colour. the very bear y/n had brought jay the time he had broke his arm back when they were kids, she had forced her mother to buy the bear from the giftshop knowing that it would cheer the boy up. she was right, of course she was right.

“of course i did,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder, watching him study each individual object. “throwing away any of this stuff made me feel like i was throwing a bit of us, you know?” y/n felt stupid, but only the slight blush on her cheeks gave it away to anyone that looked close enough.

“thank you, thank you for everything.” snaking his arms around her, he brought his chest close to his chest. sometimes he felt like they were still the kids that would climb through each other’s windows just so they could hold one another and remind the other they weren’t alone. “i love you so much, i’m so happy i have you in my life.” 

the tears brimming in y/n’s eyes were not missed by the detective, he didn’t miss anything she did. she was like art to him, something beautiful, at times a little misunderstood, but beautiful nevertheless. lifting his head to connect their lips, the two took their time, slowly allowing the lust to push its way through. before it could progress any further a loud blare made them jump apart.

“what the-.” jay began, watching as y/n pushed her way off the seat and running out the door. hesitantly he followed, leading his way out of the house until he found y/n grinning childishly. 

“happy birthday, man!” pulling his eyes away from his girl, he found the familiar cars driving slowly down the road. the lights on the large black cars blaring as kevin leaned out the front car, whilst adam and kim leaned out the second. with the confusion seeping into the feeling of surprise, he felt y/n leave his side before reappearing. this time, her arms held out a large cake that had clearly been homemade considering the way the lettering that spelt out ‘happy birthday, jay’ slowly got smaller towards the end.

“you did all this for me?” he asked astounded, despite y/n being the most affectionate and loving person he knew.

“of course i did,” she responded as if it was the most ridiculous questions she had ever heard. “i meant what i said jay, i love you. this is the least i could do considering all you do for me.” the heart to heart was rudely interrupted by the blaring of a car horn.

“you guys can do your thing later, just blow out the candles!” adam complained, earning a thwack over the arm by kim. “i mean, totally up to you, buddy. happy birthday!” 

jay chuckled, as he took in a deep breath and blew out the many candles that sprinkled over the sweet treat. before he ignored the cheers of his friends and kissed y/n passionately. 

“this might just be the best birthday ever.” he grinned. 

“happy birthday, baby.”

[cto10121]

The bad Shakespeare takes keep coming, I see. This one had the cleverness to couch itself as a personal narrative (makes it much more interesting, tbh). But as bad Shakespeare takes are my bread and butter, my boon and bane, mamma mia here we go again, with Merchant of Venice.

“But those who thought the play was irredeemably antisemitic were, the consensus went, vulgar and whiny—​and, completely coincidentally, they were also Jewish, which somehow magically invalidated their opinions on this subject.”

I’m glad (is that even the right word?) this author found scholars that don’t think this play is anti-Semitic, but my experience with scholarship has been way more mixed than that. Suffice to say, this is literally all the play is known for these days, and views of the play as anti-Semitic are everywhere (Rosenbaum even had a hot take that since the Nazis liked it, it must be anti-Semitic). Didn’t know Harold Bloom thinks this play is anti-Semitic, though. That in itself is a bit of a red flag, as Bloom is a notoriously poor reader of Shakespeare.

“[I]n Merchant, Portia unhappily fulfills her father’s requirements of her suitors, while in Il Pecorone, the lady enjoys drugging her suitors and robbing them blind. By removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the suggestion that malicious schemers come from all walks of life.”

Or, by removing this detail, Shakespeare removed the clear and abhorrent sexism of his original source that turned a woman robbed of her autonomy by her father’s will into a criminal. It’s almost as if you’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“Dr. Lopez, one of the most respected physicians of the 16th century, had indiscreetly revealed that he once treated the Earl of Essex for venereal disease. The earl took revenge by framing Dr. Lopez for treason and arranging for his torture; while on the rack, Dr. Lopez “confessed”—​though “like a Jew,” as the court record states, he denied all charges at trial, while the attorney for the Crown referred to him matter-​of-​factly as “a perjuring murdering traitor and Jewish doctor.”

This is a very twisted account of the Lopez affair and Essex’s motives in going against him, at least to my understanding. For context, Lopez was accused of receiving loads of money from the King of Spain to poison Queen Elizabeth.

According to Stephen Greenblatt, in Will of the World: “Essex had tried some years before to recruit Lopez as a secret agent. Lopez’s refusal—he chose instead directly to inform the queen—may have been prudent, but it created in the powerful earl a very dangerous enemy. After his arrest, he was initially imprisoned at Essex House and interrogated by the earl himself. But Lopez had powerful allies in the rival faction of the queen’s senior adviser William Cecil, Lord Burghley, and his son, Robert Cecil, who also participated in the interrogation and reported to the queen that the charges against her physician were baseless.” Lopez apparently had been taken bribes from various sources, and confessed (freely? under torture?) “that he had indeed entered into a treasonous-sounding negotiation with the king of Spain, but he insisted that he had done so only in order to cozen the king out of his money.” Weird.

Greenblatt isn’t a historian, though, and Essex was indeed an asshole to Lopez, (and for what is worth, I feel Lopez was innocent; I just get those vibes) but so far I can find no other source that Essex actively framed Lopez. Most likely he did some sleuthing, dug up some questionable, compromising stuff, and tried to blow a hearth flame into a firestorm.

“After all, the historical record gives Queen Elizabeth a cookie for dawdling on signing Dr. Lopez’s death warrant; her doubts about his guilt even led her to mercifully allow his family to keep his property, not unlike the equally merciful Duke of Venice in Shakespeare’s play.”

Again, Lopez had powerful allies (doesn’t get much higher than Burghley), and again, re: Greenblatt: “According to court observers, Elizabeth gave Essex a tongue-lashing, ‘calling him rash and temerarious youth, to enter into a matter against the poor man, which he could not prove, and whose innocence she knew well enough.’” A cupcake, then?

“And it is of course entirely unclear whether this trial and public humiliation of an allegedly greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian, rapturously reported in the press with myriad antisemitic embellishments, had anything at all to do with Shakespeare’s play about the trial and public humiliation of a greed-​driven Jew attempting to murder an upstanding Christian—​which Shakespeare composed shortly after Dr. Lopez decomposed. Most likely these things were completely unrelated.”

Nearly all the major Shakespeare biographies and articles I’ve read literally and explicitly talks about the possible influence of Lopez’s execution on Merchant of Venice and names it as an inspiration: Greenblatt, (he even headcanons that Shakespeare watched the execution!) Bate, Ackroyd. That’s how Horn managed to ping my BS radar something awful—because I had read about it, many times, even if it was mentioned in passing. It’s solid, legit Shakespearean academic fanon. The sarcasm is really unwarranted, and childish besides.

“It was damned hard to hear the nuance while parsing lines like “Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal,” or “My master’s a very Jew; give him a present, give him a halter,” or explaining what Shylock meant when he planned to “go in hate, to feed upon / The prodigal Christian.”

The first two are the fool’s, Lancelot’s, lines, I think. As for Shylock’s hatred toward Christians, while ugly, it’s entirely understandable given the Christian characters’ treatment of him pre-play and during it (Antonio spitting on Shylock’s gaberdine and then asking him to borrow money from him is called out by Shylock himself for its sheer hypocrisy). It also fits Shylock’s character as an unassimilated Jew, resenting Christian hypocrisy and racism.

“The actor began the brief soliloquy that every English-​speaking Jew is apparently meant to take as a compliment: ‘I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? . . . ​If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?’

“Wait, that’s the part where he’s more human?”

[…]“Sure,” I told my son, game-​facing him back in the rearview. “He’s reminding us how he’s like everyone else. He’s a normal person with normal feelings.”

My son laughed. “You seriously fell for that?”

[…] “What do you mean?”

“Shylock’s just saying he wants revenge! Like, ‘Oh, yeah? If I’m a regular human, then I get to be eee-​vil like a regular human!’ This is the evil monologue thing that every supervillain does! ‘I’ve had a rough life, and if you were me you would do the same thing, so that’s why I’m going to KILL BATMAN, mu-​hahaha!’ He’s just manipulating the other guy even more!”

And then the crowd applauded, Harold Bloom cried, and the mayor gave the author’s six-year-old son a gold medal for his Brave Hot Take. Honestly, this was the most unbelievable part of the essay I’ve read. Unless this kid has been reading academic essays on MoV that posit this exact same interpretation (“Shylock was just using humanistic rhetoric to justify his ~bloodthirsty revenge!”), this one’s for a fake Internet stories anthology. Shylock may be a dour, miserable pain in the ass, but he is no Barabas, an actual anti-Semitic caricature—he has a character, and a recognizably human one, and the play bears it out that he is right in his anger.

“I reviewed the other moments scholars cite to prove Shylock’s “humanity.” There were two lines of Shylock treasuring his dead wife’s ring, unlike the play’s Christian men who give their wives’ rings away. But unlike the other men, Shylock never gets his ring back—​because his daughter steals it, and becomes a Christian, and inherits what remains of his estate at the play’s triumphant end.”

Er, this is a non sequitur—that last has nothing to do with the first. The point is, Shylock doesn’t give away his ring; the fact that his daughter stole it means nothing to his treasuring it. It may be proof of the play’s marginalization of Shylock (which accurately if sadly reflects real-life systematic marginalization), but not his humanity. Shakespeare just doesn’t do backstories, even for major characters, so it is significant that he gave Shylock a wife/beloved in the first place.

“Finally, scholars point to the many times Shylock explains why he is so revolting: Christians treat him poorly, so he returns the favor. But for this to satisfy, one must accept that Jews are revolting to begin with, and that their repulsiveness simply needs to be explained.”

This makes absolutely no sense at all. If one accepts Jews are inherently revolting, then no explanation need be given for when a Jewish character acts revolting! The racist accepts the revolting Jewish characterization without qualm. The fact that the play insists on his grievance is significant.

“We listened together as Shylock went to court to extract his pound of flesh; as the heroine, chirping about the quality of mercy, forbade him to spill the Christian’s blood as he so desperately desired; as the court confiscated his property, along with his soul through forced conversion; as the play’s most cherished characters used his own words to taunt and demean him, relishing their vanquishing of the bloodthirsty Jew.”

YMMV, but to me there are no cherished characters in this play. That’s the whole point! Everyone is so mired in this dreary capitalist materialism that denigrates genuine human connection into mere transaction. Everything to these characters is money, money, money (and class), or at least tainted by it. Shylock is simply the most overt (and honest) of the lot. Love relationships, religion are impoverished; Portia and Bassanio are scarcely more suited than Portia and her other suitors. Shylock and Antonio are Jews and Christians in-name-only: They are capitalists first and foremost. Portia is a smarter, more likable Karen. Lancelot isn’t funny. Jessica is okay, but her leaving her father is framed as a asshole moment at least in one instance. Portia is probably the most lovable, but she has her asshole moments too. There are no truly awful characters, but you don’t need to demonize and dehumanize your whole cast into two-dimensional racists just to make a point.

Merchant of Venice is not the best of plays. It is one of Shakespeare’s experiments, a proto-problem play before his Jacobean era, using dark comedy and a slight bent of farce to explore and elucidate social issues, racism and discrimination, chiefly. At least it tries, anyway. Taming of the Shrew is the first proto-problem play done completely farcical, which at least makes it compelling in a slapstick-satire way; Merchant is much more sociologically astute, but also more dull and coolly distant even from its own concerns. I don’t blame anyone, much less Jewish people, for not liking the play or thinking it a masterpiece. I myself don’t, though for reasons that have nothing to do with the usual ones. I like what Shakespeare was trying to do and I think he did some things very well. It has ambition and thought. But I feel like for most of it Shakespeare was on writing autopilot while mentally looking around for something a bit meatier to adapt and develop. It’s a jogging-in-one-place play; he has a couple of those.

In sum: Author argues for complicated play’s anti-Semitism, ends up just saying the racist slurs by the flawed/asshole Christian characters made her and her son uncomfortable (feat. A distorted and even misleading account of the Lopez affair). Plus some internalized anti-Semitism to sort through, methinks.

[aspoonofsugar]

Nen and Characters: Morel and Knov

Morel and Knov, just like Knuckle and Shoot, are an older version of Gon and Killua. In other words, they are partners who efficiently complement each other and they have similar traits to respectively Gon (Morel) and Killua (Knov).

It is interesting to compare these three generations of partners. As a matter of fact both Knuckle and Shoot overcome their flaws/make progress, while, in Gon and Killua’s case, Killua grows, but Gon almost dies because of his unsolved issues. Finally, Knov is not able to face his flaw and leaves Morel to struggle alone:

It is as if the three couples of hunters offer different outcomes to the same kind of dynamic. In the meta about Knuckle and Shoot, I have written about the younger generations:

Shoot is meant to stay level-headed and to stop Knuckle from doing stupid things. This is how their partnership works, but here he completely gives up the role he is supposed to have and is simply honest with his friend. He feels humiliated by the fact that his opponent has not shown any respect for him and he wants Knuckle to avenge him because of this. It is not logical and it is surely not what Knuckle should do, but it is still what Shoot feels and this is why it is important for him to convey it and to make it known.

Shoot’s choice is the opposite of Killua. As a matter of fact Killua too has a moment where he has to choose if to be honest with a friend or to repress his feelings for the sake of the mission and he chooses to keep silent and not to convey how he feels to Gon. This ends up taking a toll on Killua and on his dynamic with Gon. He acts the best he can and avoids the mission to be compromised, but he also loses a chance to communicate with his friend and this leads to the both of them suffering later on.

Shoot’s choice to share his emotions with Knuckle might have been irrational and might have led Knuckle to put himself in danger, but is also something which strengthens the bonds between the two.

In this meta, the focus will be on the older one, so Knov, Morel and their bond will be analyzed.

KNOV: THE WORLD FROM A WINDOW

Knov’s ability is called Hide and Seek (Fourth-Dimensional Mansion)  and it says several things about the character.

First of all, its name perfectly describes what Knov does during the Palace Invasion. He basically spends the whole mission hiding from the ants and bringing his comrades to the safety zone once they are too wounded to keep going.

Secondly, it conveys Knov’s contradictions. As a matter of fact Fourth-Dimensional Mansion is a teleportation ability which conjures a home.

On one hand Knov can move both himself and others. It would appear that this power is built around the idea of bringing a little bit of every place one has been home. This seems confirmed by the fact that Knov’s portals can be open only in places he has visited himself.

On the other hand it was shown that Knov would use his power to drag people inside the mansion aka a place he is comfortable with, so that they can be imprisoned and killed:

In short, Knov’s ability seems to superficially represent freedom of movement, but it actually hides within itself Knov’s need of a comfort zone. Knov can go everywhere he has already visited, but he always takes a break home while doing so:

 This need is at the root of Knov’s breakdown:

As a matter of fact Knov is a victim of his own words:

He tells Killua that people tend to overestimate what they can’t comprehend. This is essentially what he does when he experiences the Royal Guards’ aura. As a matter of fact Knov is the character who has the worst reaction to the ants in general. Let’s highlight that the story makes clear that the ants are both monstruous and human. Whoever sees only one side of them is wrong. This is made clear by characters like Gon and Knuckle. On one hand Gon only sees Pitou as a monster and is distressed when he sees evidence of the contrary. On the other hand Knuckle’ s ideal of solving the conflict peacefully is naive and he must give up on it.

In short, the ants have a mix of negative and positive traits, just like the humans. Knov is a character who only sees one part of them and he is not able to face them and to better comprehend them:

It is not by chance that he is the one countering Knuckle’ s line of thought. It does not matter if Knuckle forged a bond with Youpi. This bond is destined to be broken because Youpi has a monstruous side which is unescapable. Knov does not care that what he has just described (a person hating someone who has hurt a loved one) is the same personality trait multiple human characters have.

Knov is too scared to see the ants as people and is stuck with the image he has of them as monsters. This is why he is not able to progress. All in all, Knov is a character who is not good at facing “otherness”:

This is mentioned even recently. Knov is the paradox of a hunter with a perfect ability to explore the unknown, but who is too scared to do it.

At the same time, him calling Killua out only to end up worse than him is important because Knov shares Killua’s flaw. In a sense, Knov is who Killua is scared of becoming:

Knov is a person who runs away because of fear and leaves his loved ones behind. He does not go to save Palm and lets Morel fight a monster alone. This is exactly what multiple mentor figures have told Killua he should not be like. However, the way Knov’s story plays out in the CAA suggests something interesting:

First of all, even if Knov is not able to fight, he still comes back to the palace to save his comrades. His breakdown does not stop him from saving Shoot and Morel. Later on, he also does his best to save Gon. So, him having limits as a person does not make him a bad friend, but only a human being. Different people have different breaking points. This does not make them unworthy of friendship and love.

This is also supported by others’ reaction to Knov. Nobody resents him and everyone appreciates his help in the mission. In the end, Knov’s bonds with others are not broken by his flaws:

MOREL: THE ACT OF LIVING

Deep Purple lets Morel change his aura in smoke with the help of his giant pipe. Once he does so, he can obtain different shapes and effects by manipulating the smoke itself.

It is a rather simple power, but it is also extremely flexible. In a sense, Morel, with the act of breathing (so with the act of living), changes a part of himself into multiple different things. This ability fits well in an arc about human potential because it conveys the persistence and creativity of humans. It might not be the strongest power ever, but it is still practical and adaptive. Moreover, if there is something Morel has shown he can do is to adapt to different situations. Knov always needs a familiar place nearby to feel safe, but Morel does not.

This difference is highlighted also by their fighting styles. On one hand Knov is not above using his house as a trap for his enemies. On the other hand Morel often ends up trapped in enclosed spaces by his enemies:

This is what happens both when Morel fights Cheetu and when he is up against Leol. Both times Morel is able to turn the tables and to win. These two battles can actually be read as representations of larger conflicts in a nutshell. In short, they can be seen as simplified explorations of the themes and the more complex dynamics of the arc.

Firstly, Morel’s battle with Cheetu is paralleled with Meruem and Komugi’s gungi game:

Both competitions have the chimera ant apparently take the lead. On one hand Meruem comes up with Kokoriko. On the other hand Cheetu successfully traps Morel in a game of tag. What is more, he is also able to use a new power to escape a dire situation. However, both Komugi and Morel are able to easily win because they have more experience than their opponents. Komugi explains she herself had invented Meruem’s move and a way to counter it. Morel shows Cheety how naive he is and how is using his own talents in the wrong way.

When it comes to Morel and Cheetu, it is interesting how they part in somehow friendly terms:

In a sense, Morel acts as some kind of mentor to Cheetu despite the two of them being enemies. This is strengthened by Cheetu being portrayed as childish and naive. The story makes clear he has talents he could use, but he is too immature to properly express them. Despite Morel’s advice, Cheetu is not able to overcome his flaws and ths is why he dies before being able to show his new ability. Both times he fights, Cheetu is not able to finalize his ability.

In summary, Morel’s fight with Cheetu shows two things.

a) The hunter’s strength lies in his intelligence and experience. This ability to evolve and to face unforeseen circumstances is among the qualities, which will lead to the victory of humanity.

b) Morel is a mentor figure to the point that he ends up mentoring even an opponent.

What about his fight against Leol?

Leol, differently from Cheetu, is framed as an equal to Morel:

Morel looks forward to the fight precisely because he recognizes Leol’s power and respects him as an opponent. This is highlighted also by Morel and Leol sharing similar musical tastes:

In other words, Morel more or less consciously sees humanity in Leol and this is why he is able to enjoy his fight with him. However, things change when he discovers Leol is using his friend’s power:

In this moment, Morel decides Leol has to die. What is ironic is that we, as readers, know Leol’s power is not even about stealing abilities, but it is about borrowing them. All in all, it is not even an ability too damaging to its victim. Despite this, Morel becomes more determined to kill Leol once he discovers he has targeted one of Morel’s loved ones.

This is basically what will happen with Youpi later on, even if the parts will be inverted. The Royal Guard will grow to respect his opponents, but he will later on refuse these feelings when his King is almost killed.

In short, Morel and Leol’s fight foreshadows how the conflict between humans and ants will end. After all, Leol himself is on of the “fake kings” who are trying to take Meruem’s place, so his defeat can be read as an anticipation of Meruem’s one. In particular, the two opponents’ conflict shows how complicated the relationships between ants and humans are. Even when the individuals show respect for each other, these emotions can be easily overridden by hate when loved ones are in danger. Finally, the difficult reconciliation between the two species is shown also by the way the fight ends:

Morel wins and kills Leol just by breathing. This means that the two species are destined to fight each other to the death just to be able to survive. There is simply not enough “air” for both.

Of course this happens because of how the world works:

Morel himself is frustrated by some of these laws, which go against his feelings and chain him to duty. He wants to act to save the people killed by the ants, but he must wait for the Palace Invasion, in order to maximize the chances of success. This necessity to chain one-self to duty is something which reaches its climax in Morel’s fight against Pouf:

Interestingly, this is the only one of Morel’s fghts where he is the one trapping his opponent and not the other way around. However, Morel is trapping himself as well:

But, in the end, he chooses his feelings for his mentees and lets go of Pouf. He might have done the wrong thing strategically and loses his weapon. Still, he is able to save Knuckle just in time and to fight freely.

In conclusion, Morel represents the best of humanity. He has all the positive qualities celebrated in the CAA. He is resourceful and able to learn. What is more, he greatly values his comrades.

This last trait is also ironically what goes in the way of him bonding with his opponents. This is interesting and contradictive. Bonds with others can both help in overcoming differences, but can also make these differences deeper. Like Knov has stated, people may become monsters for the people they love.

SUCCESSES AND FAILURES OF THE OLD GENERATION

Knov and Morel are two adults and as such they are in a different point of their lives from our protagonists. This has both advantages and disadvantages.

On one hand they have a more solid sense of identity, like Morel. On the other hand, they struggle more to face their flaws, like Knov.

However, they are also stable enough that they can accept each other’s shortcomings without entering in a conflict. While both Knuckle/Shoot and Gon/Killua change their dynamic during the mission, Knov and Morel’s one is solid enough not to be modified by the experiences they live. It is a bond strong enough to support them both.

At the same time, as adults, Knov and Morel are less free than Gon and Killua. Gon and Killua act to change things they disagree with, like the association’s decision to sacrifice thousands of people. Knov and Morel are too conditioned to accept such sacrifices, even if they dislike them.

Finally, it is interesting that both Morel and Knov do a lot in the beginning, but leave the mission early. It is as if their role is to prepare the terrain for their students who will succeed in completing the mission.

Thank you for reading!

If you are interested in other analysis of HxH characters through their nen abilities here is a list of the ones I wrote up until now:

-Nanika

-Kurapika and Chrollo

-Killua and Illumi

-Gon and Hisoka

-Meruem and Komugi

-Palm Siberia

-Neon Nostrade

-Neferpitou and Shaiapouf

-Kachou and Fugetsu

-Menthuthuyoupi

-Ikalgo and Welfin

-Knuckle and Shoot

-Razor and Genthru

-Pakunoda, Senritsu and Biscuit

[bruh-haikyuu]

Hello! May I request a sfw scenario where Asahi has to unexpectedly share a bed with his crush for the first time? Thank you so much!

A/N: God I read like 5 shoujo manga and a doujin to fuel myself for this. I hope you enjoy, anon!

contretemps. | azumane asahi

word count: 1758

warnings: none

(n.) an unexpected and unfortunate occurrence

Asahi wanted to bash his head against the wall. Committing seppuku just won’t cut for it—he wanted to make sure he died from the inside out, writhing in all sorts of pain.

It was super embarrassing.

It was his fault that you two had to miss the shinkansen back to Miyagi. He just had to leave his ticket in the restaurant. And you just had to help him run back to the place to retrieve it.

“Don’t worry about it, Azumane-san. It’s my duty as the class rep to help you, after all,” you had told him repeatedly, a smile gracing your features.

It wasn’t very assuring. In fact, it didn’t help Asahi calm down at all. You could’ve been in the train with everyone else by now, asleep and with all your other friends. But here you were on the phone with your homeroom teacher, explaining the situation to her in a calm demeanor that made Asahi’s forehead bead with sweat.

How could you be so calm? You were two high school students stuck in Osaka, a long way away from home. And one of you looked like a criminal who was about to pull some kind of weapon out of his pocket and shoot everyone dead.

Asahi really just wanted to vanish.

It did help a bit to think that at least he was stuck with you. If it had been Hattori-san or Aoi instead, Asahi would have to live the rest of his life in eternal shame. He considered himself lucky, but you probably felt unfortunate with him around…

Asahi glanced at you a tenth time from where he was waiting, your ears still pressed to the receptionist’s phone, in deep conversation with your teachers.

You seemed much more reliable than he did. More mature. More responsible. Geez, were you two really the same age?

“Azumane-san?”

Asahi looked up to see you smiling at him at close proximity. “A-ah, L/N-san. You’re done?”

“Yeah. I called the teachers and my parents. All our overnight expenses will be covered by the school but the ticket for the train tomorrow will be on us. Did you inform your family yet?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You got scolded too, huh?”

Asahi’s bit the insides of his cheek, the voice of his mother’s nagging echoing in his head. “…Yeah.”

And you laughed. Laughed a bubbly laugh that made butterflies erupt from the furthest pit of Asahi’s stomach. He sighed, he was never going to survive a night with you.

“Sorry again for putting you through this. I really am the worst person you could’ve gotten stuck with…”

“That’s alright. I’m class rep, right? I gotta take care of my classmates!”

God, your smile was perfect. “What about the lodgings? Did we manage to get a room?”

He saw you flinch, a light pink dusting your cheeks. “Well… I did manage to get the last room they had, but…”

When your lips formed the last words of your sentence, Asahi felt the entire world fall apart, build itself back together, rinse and repeat. This was straight out of his younger cousins’ mangas. But he seemed so far off from a shoujo protagonist. So, so far.

“And so, we’ll be sharing a single bed room. Is that alright with you?”

His heart was beating out of his chest. Someone had to pick it up before it exploded like an anticipating time bomb, but Asahi was way too stunned to breathe. Exploding heart to hell, everything about the situation screamed Asahi, you pervert! He really wished he had held onto his ticket tighter.

“I-I was the one who caused this entire mishap, so… I should be the one asking that to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged.

“I see… then please, allow me to accommodate the sofa in our room tonight.”

You furrowed your brows indignantly.

“No, no, no! I’ll sleep on the sofa, you can have the bed, Azumane-san.”

“I insist. This entire thing was my fault.”

“Geez, I’m the class rep. For me, it’s my classmates first.”

“If you keep saying that about yourself, it’ll come back to bite you in the end… is what my grandmother told me.”

“Like I said, I’m taking the sofa!”

“No, I am!”

It was exhausting, but Asahi would rather eat cement than make you sleep on a rock-hard couch. Your endless exchange went on for a while until—

“E-excuse me?” you turned around to see the petite receptionist flash you an awkward smile.

“Please refrain from making a ruckus in the lobby.”

The both of you bowed with speed, effectively knocking your heads together, causing a few giggles to erupt amongst the hotel guests.

Man, Asahi thought, this is the worst.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

In the end, Asahi had won against you in the sofa argument, virtually prompting to have the single bed all to yourself. It was the first time that night that Asahi had felt victorious.

Daichi was already spamming his inbox with a three message-long lecture—Asahi supposed there wasn’t any way that he could join volleyball practice tomorrow with the current circumstances. A scolding from his parents, the teachers, the principal when he gets back and most likely your parents too. He kind of deserved it.

But the entire time, you didn’t looked annoyed at all. In fact, you completely indulged in the situation. His experience with his friends being that if this had occurred to them instead of you, he’d be left out on the balcony to be eaten by crows. Curiosity flooded him to the brim—you were certainly an interesting person.

Hanging the hotel towel on the railings in the bathroom, you returned to the central space where Asahi was already adjusting to a comfortable position on the leather sofa. With your hair down, droplets of water crowning your head, you looked like an entirely different person but yet you still had the same halo of an angel around you.

Asahi thanked Jesus and Buddha for this opportunity.

“Good night, Azumane-san.”

“Right. G’night, L/N-san.”

Just like that it was lights off.

He wished he could’ve gotten a better image of you looking so relaxed; it might’ve been his last time after all. The both of you were already in your third year and it was only a few months until you’d be in different places, doing God knows what… Asahi felt an oncoming headache from the thought.

Cutting through the images in his head, a flash of white suddenly illuminated the sheer curtains separating the room from the windows. Not even a few moments later, a boom rattled outside, followed by a high-pitched squeak coming from under the sheets of the single bed.

You were shaking.

Shaking so hard that the bed looked like it was trembling with you. Asahi couldn’t see you under the covers of the velvety duvet, but it didn’t take much effort for him to know that your eyes were screwed tightly in attempt to block out the spark.

Lightning struck again and this time, you whimpered loudly.

“L/N-san?! Are you alright?” against his own bodily will, Asahi jumped to the side of the bed, immediately crouching on the floor to observe you at eye’s level.

You answered with a brisk whine, slightly muffled by the harsh onslaught of rain knocking at the walls.

“L/N-san… you’re afraid of it, aren’t you?” his mouth was moving on its own, saying things he knew he shouldn’t be saying so casually. “You’re afraid of lightning.”

The stare you gave him was incredulous. Wide-eyed and astonished but all the same, it reflected the eyes of someone who understood your apprehension. Silence lingered in the air as the rain reached its crescendo. Breaking it, you spoke.

“My older sister would usually be there to hold me during a storm. It’s childish, I know. But it’s just so terrifying for me—the sounds and the lights… I don’t like it. I hate it so much.”

You looked so vulnerable in the frame of shadows. So small and afraid, someone Asahi would take a bullet for just to stop their tears.

“D-do you want me to hold you?”

Asahi did a double take. What was he, possessed?! You were going to see him as a pervert now. He wanted to vomit at the thought of you avoiding him for the rest of his life. Sure, he could live with being miles away from you, but the notion of being miles away from you because he had let some words slip out of his mouth was insanely out of proportion.

“Would you, Azumane-san?” Now, you were possessed?!

Fear still flitted in your eyes, but now, there was a glint of hope in them. A hope that Asahi would die to reach for.

“Huh? A-are you sure that—”

“Please.”

Air filled his lungs, making his chest rise. Asahi didn’t blink once as he nodded in silence; he didn’t want to miss out on a single second of this opportunity. Not a chance.

You scooted over on the bed, making space for him to slide next to you under the sheets. Having his large body occupy most of the mattress as compared to your smaller figure, Asahi blushed in the loom of the dark. All the blood rushing to his face even made the next flash of light outside the window go unnoticed.

“Azumane-san!” you hid your face in his arm, your own arms flying to grab ahold of him.

Was this illicit activity? You were both underaged and most definitely not in the right relationship for things like this to occur. It seemed so wrong. If anyone caught you in this compromising situation, Asahi would shoot himself dead, no doubt about it. But for now, he just wanted to make up for all the trouble he gave you that night, even if it cost him his dignity.

Fingers gently combing through your locks, the pads of his fingers just slightly kissed your scalp. It was a mere act, but it had so much effect on you. Your jagged breathing slowed and you were able to slacken your iron grip on him. It was just like your sister but in a way, Asahi was worlds different.

Rain pelting down endlessly, you pressed your face harder into the cotton shirt that divided you from his skin. “Sorry, Azumane-san… and thank you.”

“Y-yeah… s’alright…”

A stray yawn escaping your throat, you sighed into his embrace. “Sleepy… gonna go to sleep… night… Azumane…-san…”

Just like that, Asahi had to fight back a squeal when you finally surrendered to slumber.

[2-cute-4-school]

Weaknesses

Group : NCT

Pairing : Johnny Suh x gender neutral!Reader

Genre : fluffy crack with a grain of angst ( a mess of everything basically)

TW : cursing

Word count : 1.6K  |   M.list

“How could you?”

You looked up, your widened orbs meeting Johnny’s narrowed eyes, raging emotions dancing wildly. Disappointment, frustration and even a hint of anger struck you harshly as soon as Johnny’s fixed glare settled on your frame. You shrunk back into yourself, recoiling from the menacing aura he strongly emanated.

“Johnny, I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, Y/N, sorry doesn’t fix it.”

Johnny gripped the thin stack of money residing in his hand tighter, he couldn’t acknowledge that his own lover would bring him down to this, tear him apart and cruelly seal his fate.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, I though it would always be you and I against the world.”

“I have to, I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”

“What’s there to understand, Y/N? You betrayed me, played me on your fingers and now you’re asking for my understanding?”

The fire in you only seemed to rise in size, overcoming your senses and clouding your words.

“It’s your fault as much as it is mine, but at least I take responsibility for it, you coward.”

Jaehyun, who was sitting quietly beside Johnny, only observing the situation in case he was needed to break up what could evolve in more than it should have, laid a warm hand atop of Johnny’s shoulder. It was a way to comfort the older man, keep him in check wordlessly. Haechan, leaning over to you side, only let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly.

You forced yourself to ignore the disbelief tracing Johnny’s crestfallen features as you stretched out your hand towards him. You had to stay strong, you couldn’t relent and let him win, not this time.

“So, you’re really going through with this, huh? You’re really that heartless.”

His voice was barely above a mumble, breaking the thick tension overwhelming the room. His gaze switched from your face and down at your open palm facing the ceiling, forcing his facial muscles to relax and show a lack of feelings painting his formerly scrunched up face.

“Hand it over, Johnny, accept it already.”

“Fine! Fine, I should have expected this from you, I should have never laid out my trust before you just to have it trampled over right before my eyes. My mistake, am I right?”

His voice had a sharp edge, cutting through the strain caused by the silence that fell over them. Your hand stayed in its initial position, not straying from the original purpose you set firmly in your mind. Johnny, seeing that you wouldn’t back out, let out a loud grunt, slamming the money in your palm and let out another huff as he finally moved his stare away. He threw his hands up, his words rising in volume.

“I guess it’s over right? You really fucked me up, didn’t you? Congrats Y/N, hope you’re enjoying this for as long as you can.”

You had to suppress an eye roll as Haechan whistled lowly, almost unaudible to the rest of the room.

“This is sicker than any drama I’ve ever watched.”

Johnny turned swiftly to the younger boy, fixing him with a pointed glare that could make entire oceans freeze over in a single second. You eye-sided Haechan as he froze in his stance, widening his eyes with fake innocence, trying to soften the words escaping Johnny’s lips.

“Shut up, Satan’s spawn, you think I can’t tell that you’ve been pushing Y/n from the back the entire time just to get to this point?”

Haechan only blinked in faux confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Johnny let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand over his face as if washing himself of the utter bullshit that came from Haechan shamelessly.

“I should have known you’ve been too quiet for too long.”

“Johnny, are you really making such a fuss over this?”

You interrupted their conversation, opting to try and work thing out peacefully. It didn’t seem to work out that well since your words only seemed to spur Johnyy’s frustration further on.

“I have every right in the world to make a fuss over this.”

“It’s not my fault you suck at financing yourself, don’t blame me for your lack of conscience when spending money”

“Don’t bring in my weakness in this, you’re the one who drove to this. You purposely drove me to bankruptcy!”

“In Monopoly, Johnny! In Monopoly!”

“You still plotted against me with the devil, Y/N, game or not!”

“I played the game fair and square. Fight me, loser.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. Haechan threw an arm around your shoulders as you slid a bill to him and cockily smirked in Johnny’s direction. It was at that moment that Johnny felt his eye twitch.

Even if he was fast enough, Jaehyun wouldn’t have stood a chance once Johnny lounged over, reaching out to you. Shrieks left your lips as Haechan moved away smoothly, leaving you in plain sight for the clear coming attack.

“Let’s see who’s a loser now, Y/N.”

His arms wrapped around your body, acting as cushions for your back that met the ground as soon as he leaned his weight on you, trapping your squirming frame underneath himself. His fingers came in contact with your sides, moving diligently over the soft expanse of your skin. Suppressed giggles escaped your lips against your will as you tried to fight against his hold, pushing weakly against his chest and flailing your legs aimlessly.

“Haechan! Help me, you asshole!”

Your words came out through wheezes of air forcing their way inside your lungs, against the unrelenting attacks coming from Johnny as his mouth split into an ever growing grin.

“No can do, dear, you already paid me for my services, you’re on your own now.”

You could hear the smugness in his voice, laced by the satisfaction he got by being a little shit. You could suddenly understand the deep desire some of the members often expressed to just strangle the kid into his next life. At his words, Johnny’s fingers seemed to glide around even faster, your giggles turning into loud laughs that covered any other sounds in the dorm.

“Heard that, dear? Now your only choice is to convince me to forgive you. Hmm, what would be a proper punishment for your thoughtless actions?”

He pretended to think about it as if laughing until you had no air with tears building in your eyes wasn’t fitted enough for his standards.

“Ah, I got it! Say ‘Johnny is the bestest boyfriend, superior to any other living being, a treasure to be adored only’“

To be honest, you would have rather swallowed your tongue than said that.

“Alright! Alright, stop it!”

Johnny ceased his attacks, looking at you expectantly. The way your glistening eyes gazed up at him, round and sparkly made his heart do a double take. His arms continued to cage you against the floor, but the look in his eyes changed as he gazed over your slightly parted lips, puffing out breaths of air, then over your flushed cheeks and softening completely once meeting your orbs. He felt his soul warm up at the sight of you, your cute state settling an overwhelming feeling of euphoria deep in his chest.

You smiled softly at him and at that moment he felt his soul leave his body, more than ready to leave aside your childish banter in order to just hold you against himself and cuddle you to another dimension. Johnny felt an intense urge to just love you in its purest form, returning to you the same amount of happiness you hand over to him by simply staying by his side through everything.

But Johnny was too caught up in his lovesick daydream to notice the innocent smile on your face turn into a rather cocky smirk.

“Johnny.”

“Hm?”

He acknowledged you, still halfway lost between his thoughts.

“Suck it, loser.”

With that, you pushed against him, desperately moving away from him as he regained his senses and jumped into action after hearing your words. He chased after your retreating form as you dashed past the other two boys, not ignoring the satisfactory chance to whack the back of Haechan’s head.

“Why you little minx, come back! I’m not done with you!”

The evening was filled with giggles and rushing footsteps as some of the other occupants of the dorm also decided to take parts and join the war, creating a huge mess that had to be dealt with sooner or later eventually.

Johnny did get his wish of cuddling you, although much later than he had initially wished for it. But nothing else seemed to matter now that he had you in his embrace after you had worn yourself out, his hands softly caressing you, cradling your frame as if holding his whole world under his fingertips. He cherished every rise of your chest as you breathed peacefully, every beat of your heart that he had been trusted with. He had made a silent promise to himself the day you trusted him with your happiness, to love you until the end of times and even now, years later, he found his heart latching desperately onto yours, yearning for you.

You were the ray of light missing from his rainbow after a stormy night, the light than shone through the clouds, breached his walls and warmed up his soul, leaving pleasant goosebumps on his skin. You faded away sometimes, but he never allowed himself to lose sight of you, no matter how dark and cold the world was to the two of you. He followed you and relished in the cozy moments you shared with every occasion you had. 

And at that moment, holding your curled up form gently with your back pressed to his chest, bodies molding together into one, Johnny thought that maybe his bad habit of spending money thoughtlessly wasn’t his only weakness.