#and he deludes himself into thinking because he has good intentions no one can fault him for bad outcomes and if they do thats disrespectful

[frogathy]

not feeling safe your whole life to share your real honest feelings with your father because he explodes and takes it as a personal, utterly disrespectful offense when you have, but now youre trying to learn and heal from that so you decide to be honest about your feelings with your father instead of lying to please him and he explodes and takes it as a personal, utterly disrespectful offense <

[starconsumer444]

“When Things Fall In Place” (18+)

Creepy Roommate!Kenma

(A/N: This is...about 3.1k of pure degeneracy, which I actually had no intention on writing, finishing, or publishing and just thought out as I went... There was no planning, no actual ideas prior to this {actually its based off this guy I met recently because im always stuck with the creeps}...I just started it late at night [basically the early hours of the morning] and finished it this afternoon. I haveeee to stop writing for haikyuu... But I’m probably gonna fall off, comeback and write one or two request with a bunch of other random bs, and then disappear again after this, but thats just how it is. I get bored of writing every three days then come back to write my heart out. I really have to write my requests soon or they’ll hate me...) 

(Cw/Tw: Fem!Reader, Stalking, Somno, Rape/Noncon,  Virgin!Kenma, Theft, Crying, Poor Writing, Kenma is a sweaty, friendless, looser in this one guys, I’m bad at tagging these but you get the idea... this is bad and nasty. 3.1k!!!! THIS IS LONG AS HELL)

You don’t know much about him, Kenma— your roommate. You’ve been living together for almost a year at this point and that can’t be normal. He stays in his room playing video games, doesn’t seem to have friends, leaves for work in the morning, and keeps to himself for the most part. Honestly, if you didn’t greet each other in passing you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice by now. It’s low, unaffected, and monotone for the most part. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered?

But see, Kenma knows everything about you. You went to middle and high school together, but he was just as standoffish in those days too. He doesn’t expect you to remember him, you clearly don’t, but it still weighs on his heart. Was he that forgettable? It’s okay, because one day he’ll tell you. One day he’ll tell you everything.

He’s been obsessed with you since middle school, you were the pretty girl that sat in the front of the class and smelled so good. You would talk to give answers in class and he would be all ears, because to him your voice was his only source of happiness. To hear you speak and smell your perfume as you walked past him was a reason to live. Sure, it was weird, but so were a lot of things about him. He had no friends, could you blame him? Would you?  So maybe, then, in middle school it was an innocent harmless crush, not an obsession, but in high school he was definitely obsessed. 

He overheard you say it to your friends— where you were going to high school, and he told his parents thats where he wanted to enroll. The entire time he never spoke to you, much like middle school, he was off in a corner playing a game alone, inconspicuously keeping an eye on you. He used to trail you and your friends around the school and he always wondered how you were so perfect? How you were so good at making friends? How you stood out like that? Maybe that’s why you were so unapproachable... 

He remembers you were class president for three consecutive years up until graduation. You were so damn intimidating, but everyone loved you, especially Kenma and you were blind to it. You never ONCE noticed him or gave a damn about him and you were class president. He wanted to talk to you so bad, but he just couldn't. He would steal things from you with the intent to say he found them and maybe start a conversation, but he ended up hoarding them in his room at home. The biggest thing he’d stolen was a sweater because you hadn’t seemed to notice the erasers or pencils. 

He vividly remembers the sheer panic and urgency he stuffed that damned pink sweater into his backpack with, so scared he’d get caught and called a creep. He really did plan on returning it but he just— it smelled so good back then...he remembers. He took it home and hid it under his bed, only opting to take it out and hold it to his face and just smell it on special occasions when he felt up to it and guilt wasn't taking over his mind, body, and soul. He knew it was wrong but he felt the most alive in moments where he didn’t care. He’d tried to resist the urge, but at some point he started to pleasure himself with it too. It started happening so often that he’d get hard at the smell of you even when you walked by him in class. He still has that sweater.

At some point during that time, he’d picked up the strange hobby of following you home from school. You walked alone all the time so he’d lie to himself and say it was for your safety as he stalked around corners and made sure you never saw him. He’d always watch you enter your home from down the block, far enough so he wouldn't catch your attention. Those times he didn’t want you to notice him, he felt sick doing it, but it was something akin to an addiction and he just couldn't stop himself. This was a short lived addiction though...about a month or so. 

His mom started to pick up on his staying out later than usual and by then he’d actually started to go up in front of your house and just stare at it. He prayed to god that you didn’t see him being a creep like this, but sometimes he wished you did because at the very least you would recognize his existence. Still, you never saw him. He went back to being locked up in his room, playing video games until the early hours of the morning, rubbing himself raw against your sweater, and being consumed by you in private. All he wanted was for you to acknowledge him. Tell him that he exists to you, because he’s sure his existence is for you.

Those days were hell on earth, he struggled to shower and his only motivation for getting up and doing anything was to see you, who didn't know he existed. It was a depraved cycle. 

Now he’s here with you, and the first time he talked to you was to respond to a “roommate wanted” ad. Isn’t it wonderful how things come full circle? 

Still, he struggles to actually hold face to face conversations with you. How could he? He fantasizes about you so much...it feels wrong.

These days he finds himself rutting into your sheets when you're out praying that you don’t catch him, stealing your panties just to hold them to his nose and eventually soak them in his cum, and even worse having disgustingly sadistic fantasies about you belonging to him. He pushes those fantasies to the back of his mind, though. He doesn't want to be fucked up, but then again, it can't be that bad to want to own your source of happiness.

His infatuation reaches a peak one night when he finds himself groggily trudging his way to your room in the dead of night with his fleshlight in hand. He tried everything, he didn't want to jack off so he played his video games like usual, but even that didn’t take his mind off of you. Typically, he’d jack off with his fleshlight alone in his room to depraved and deluded fantasies of you, but tonight he needs to be near you; to see you, to smell you, and to know you’re there.

Upon entering your room he flips the light on, and it’s actually really dim— not that he hoped to wake you up or anything. He tip-toes over to the side of your bed and stands over your sleeping figure. You look so beautiful when you’re asleep, a shame he’s never thought about seeing you like this before or rather...a shame he’s violating you like this. He wants himself to stop because he knows it’s wrong, but he’s wanted something like this for so long and right now it’s in the palm of his hand. He’s sick and he knows it.

Still, he pulls his sweats and underwear down just enough to where they’re right under his balls. The cold air of your ceiling fan hits his painfully hard shaft and it feels so good it makes him sick. He slowly sheaths himself inside the faithfully used toy imagining it was you. That’s even easier to do now that you’re right here in front of him.

His heart is racing, and he feels sick to his stomach...

“Gotta make this quick,” That’s what he says under his breath, but he want’s you to wake up and see him, he want’s you to call him a pervert and make him leave you alone forever. He wants to see you horrified by the sight of him pleasuring himself to your sleeping body. Is that so wrong?

Yeah, he knows it is. He can’t bring himself to care, though. He pumps himself in and out with hurried movements. He feels so gross and so good like this. Even with the fan on above him he’s sweating bullets like a madman, but he just can’t stop himself, he swears this isn’t his fault. His rational mind would never permit this, but when has he ever gone with that side of himself?

He starts to lose himself in pleasure, moaning out your name in his typical low voice rather than a whisper. He doesn't catch himself, and his moans start to get louder and louder. You start to stir and he can’t bring himself to shut up. You can’t be that light a sleeper, right? 

Wrong.

Your eye’s flutter open and then meet his and he cums unreasonably hard and his moan is gross and loud. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and he doubles over from the pleasure. His hand grabbing on to your mattress is the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor.

His heart pounds in his chest and his breathing is erratic, but that’s not why the look in your eye’s is nothing but terror. He's sweating so much, he wants to apologize, but he doesn't.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says sliding the toy off of himself. He thinks you look even more beautiful when you’re awake and scared out of your mind. 

You lie there, staring up at him, still trying to process how your aloof roommate could—

He climbs on your bed, fleshlight in hand, and straddles your waist and all you can bring yourself to do is shake your head.

“Kenma-” He presses his index finger to your lips and you freeze again.

Suddenly, he’s bringing the fleshlights opening to your mouth and you still can’t bring yourself to fight him.

“Please go away,” You ask like this is just some nightmare. You know it’s not, you can feel his weight on top of you and it feels too real. He’s so warm and so heavy.

“Lick.” He commands. He swears to himself that he’ll go away forever after this, the final piece to his happiness puzzle.

Tears start to fall down your face but he’s still insistent on having you eat his cum out of his gross plaything. When you don’t move, he leans over and presses it to your face.

“Lick.” 

This time, out of fear, you do. His cum tastes rancid, like battery acid. Disgusting would be more than an understatement. That doesn’t stop you from cleaning the toy with your tongue like your like depends on it, because right now...it might.

His eyes are tired when he smiles, almost dead, he looks sick. His hairs greasy, skin is pale, and he’s fisting his half hard dick while he watches you take his seed into your pretty mouth. You’ve never been this close to him before.

He strokes himself back to hardness like a delinquent. He knows he wants to leave you alone, but now he just can’t. When he tosses the fleshlight aside you’re shaking and crying begging him to go away.

“Kenma, please-” As much as he likes when you say his name, he can’t help but stifle your desperate begging with a kiss. 

It’s gross, wet, and all over the place, but Kenma doesn’t notice that. He’s never kissed anyone before and he’s beyond ecstatic that it’s you. You don’t bother with kissing him back, you just lie there, eyes open and crying. 

He savors this kiss, his first kiss. His lips are softer than expected, but he’s not— violence plagues his movements. His heart races even faster now, and when you try to turn your lips away from his he just grabs your jaw and holds you still. He gets drool all over both of your faces, and you can barely breathe. You can still feel him jacking himself off between your bodies and you feel nauseous. This “kiss” is so unpracticed and unrefined, he’s basically licking the inside of your mouth and breathing in your face.

Why is he doing this?

You feel him finally moving from your lips and pulling your shirt up to let cold air hit your tits. For a second, he pauses to catch his breath, chest heaving and spit covered mouth hanging open. He stares down at your chest in awe. You turn away in embarrassment, he doesn’t mind it; you must be terrified.

With one hand holding your shirt up, he brings the other from his dick to squeeze at your chest. You wince and struggle against him because he’s so fucking rough and it hurts. Then he gives one of your breasts a hard slap, and you start to writhe up under him. 

It brings a smile to his face, but he doesn’t do it anymore. He wants to try something different.

He carefully slides down off of you and between your legs. He grossly presses his face against your clothed cunt and smells you even licking you through your pajama bottoms.

He sees the shock on your face when you sit up to look at him and he simply brushes it off, too far gone to be considerate at this point.

When his hands pull down your pajama bottoms-

“No no no no nononono Kenma please stop it.” You whine and kick at him uselessly. You sit up to try to push his hands away but its all useless, he’s so unreasonably strong for someone his size. When he finally slides your pajama bottoms and underwear off of you and on to the floor he buries his face between your folds.

It’s like when he was kissing you, gross, wet, and unpracticed. He’s just haphazardly lapping at your labia and vulva. You push at his shoulders trying to get him off of you while crying your eyes out. It doesn’t seem to effect him though, he just locks his arms around your thighs, sliding you down onto your back. 

At some point his tongue washes clean over your clit and he feels your body jolt from the pleasure. He finds it again and your body stiffens. He looks up at your crying face and squeezes the meat of your thighs between his fingers as he abuses your clit to no end.

You’re sobbing at this point because to you this all feels without reason. For the first time in your life you are scared of Kenma. From what you remember of him, he was always voiceless and sweet, even during school when he decided to show up. He was a kid who always greeted the teacher, even if it was wordless, he got his work done on time when he could, and he minded his business. You never talked to him, but you did hold his understated presence in the back of your mind— for the longest you pegged him as a boy who could be pleasant if you got to know him. So, why was he doing this? Why is he hurting you?

You made him your roommate because you thought that he of all people wouldn’t do this. You wanted to be friends. What did you do?

Now he’s violating you after a year of little to no interaction and him being barely there. He knows it’s wrong and you're not fighting him anymore, you’re just laying there, chest heaving and silent.

He lifts his head to plant a wet kiss on your inner thigh and drags his tongue against the soft skin momentarily. He looks at your scared face and gives a crooked smile. He’s sorry, he really is but this feels like a dream to him. You're too good not to take. 

He finds himself positioning his dick right between your folds and rutting against you. You really must’ve given up, your fight is long gone as he holds you down by your pelvic bones—uncut nails breach your soft skin.

Excitement fills his body as your wetness begins to coat his length as he rocks himself back and forth. He’s careful and his breathing is labored.

“I-” He tries and fails. “You never noticed me, but I’ve loved you forever.” He’s shy. Kenma looks down at your stomach, too embarrassed to meet your crying eyes. 

“We went to school together for years...” He trails off, still staring down. He doesn’t have the guts to look at the mess he’s made of you. “I wanted to talk to you, but you wouldn’t like- no. I was scared.” He shakes his head softly and finally meets your eyes. You're still crying. He feels his throat tighten and he doesn't want to talk anymore.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He stops his movements to reach over and pull the pillow from behind you. He puts it over your face and thinks to hold it there, maybe to suffocate you for a second, but he doesn't. He’s already done enough bad. He just lets it sit there, you’re the one to grab it and hold it there. 

You hold it against your face like your life depends on it. You can't breathe very well, but what does it matter? You want him to go away.You want this to end. So, you cling onto that pillow and pretend like you’re anywhere but here.

It’s an illusion that fails quickly. You feel him press his length into you. It’s rushed, it hurts, and he doesn't know what he’s doing. You squeeze the pillow, and his sweaty hands play with your tits. You can feel the tears well up in your eyes. You don’t want this, it’s a nightmare.

He’s not that big, rather small actually, but he has girth. He hopes you can feel it. He moves slowly dragging every inch of himself against your walls. He mouths at your nipples and it feels yucky. At some point you’re sure you feel him lay a wet kiss on your stomach.

You don’t know. It’s over quickly, but it feels like forever.

 His thrusts were sloppy and unseasoned just like everything else he’s done. He’d never had sex before, but he hoped he was good. When he came his body seized and his fingers dug into your sides. He was glad you weren't watching because the embarrassment from coming so fast a second time was much easier to handle. 

You two sit in silence for a while after that, the only audible sound is you sniveling. He watches silently as your body shakes and tucks himself back in, to at least feel decent. It’s like that for five whole minutes until he finally decides to go back to his room. 

In the silence of his own dark room the water works start in full force as he comes to terms with what he’s done. He’s a degenerate who will struggle to sleep tonight.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Chan Request!!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Chan

Warnings: Language and Mature Content (Not really smut since the request didn’t seem to ask for it)

Genre: Idol AU

Request:

A/N: lots of people seemed interested in this one so...

When you woke-up that morning, you immediately reached out to the left on instinct, expecting contact with another sleeping form. It was your first sign that something was wrong, fingers ghosting through empty air, and you peeled your eyes open to confirm that Chan was already gone.

You grimaced at the faint flicker of irritation in the pit of your stomach because this was the third morning in a row in which Chan had left with no prior warning. The pattern was getting old.

Did he think you wouldn’t notice?

Of course you were bound to notice. Chan was supposed to be your partner. That invited a level of trust and transparency that simply couldn’t excuse these continued absences when you needed him. 

It didn’t used to be this way, especially at the beginning of your relationship. For the longest time, you had both tried to hide it from the rest of the group, especially knowing that your manager’s would disapprove, but it was hard to lie when Seungmin accidentally walked in on you and Chan with the latter’s cock down your throat.

Still, the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasted for a long time, and even when you had problems along the way, you and Chan always managed to work things out. 

It was the best part of your deep connection, but recognizing how distant he had grown lately made you reconsider everything. There was a point when you could hardly leave your bed without Chan finding a way to initiate something like getting each other off or managing a quickie with Chan’s hand placed over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. 

Frowning, you forced yourself to leave the lingering warmth of your bed sheets, squeezing your legs into skin-tight jeans, abandoned on the floor from when you had quickly thrown off your clothes before going to sleep last night.

It was another unpleasant reminder of Chan because after waiting hours for Chan to come home, you figured he had decided to spend the night at the studio. But you were vastly mistaken when he slunk into your room at around 4:00 in the morning, whispering a greeting to you after sliding under the sheets. You had slept more soundly once his arm was around your waist, deluding yourself into believing that you could forgive him for staying out so late.

Especially since Chan worked so hard to produce the songs that decorated your group’s track listings, and with the album deadline approaching for the end of the month, he was practically working himself into the ground, 

There was also very little time in his overcrowded schedule left for you, and that certainly didn’t bode well for how much you longed for Chan between your legs....

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!”

“Coming,” you shouted back at the door, annoyed that someone had interrupted your daydream fantasies.

Especially since it was the closest you had been to Chan in weeks.

It was probably Jisung’s interruption since he insisted on being the annoying little brother you could rarely escape, but it wasn’t his fault that you were in such a bad mood. 

“Good morning,” he immediately chirped when you opened the door, gaze bright with mischief.

You grumbled a greeting in return to your bandmate. “Why are you on the girl’s side of the dorm?”

Jisung scoffed. “Oh, so Chan can have all the access he wants, but I’m the one scolded for just saying hello?”

You rolled your eyes at his tone. “Whatever. Who cooked this morning?”

“Felix did,” Jisung replied, and you perked up a bit knowing that one of your youngest group mates had taken the time to flex his impressive cooking skills - it had to be better than Changbin’s attempt at frying eggs.

“Let’s go,” you said, dragging a petulant Jisung behind you as you both sauntered down the staircase together, joining the others in the part of the house where everything opened up into the common area.

Your managers didn’t mind so much when you were all together in the shared space of the living room and kitchen, but that certainly didn’t stop unmitigated romps between your male and female colleagues.

Your group was a rarity in the music world: comprised of twelve members, including eight of the boys and three of your closest girl pals who had all agreed to audition with you on an unforgettable summer afternoon. 

The fact that you were all accepted into the same company, under the same group name, was even more of a blessing in disguise. You could always rely on them whenever you needed advice, and you had steadily grown closer to the rest of the guys over the years.

Next month marked your fifth-year anniversary (it concurred with your 1st-year anniversary with Chan), and your group was planning to release an album to celebrate, including some previously unreleased gems that Chan had kept hidden on his computer’s hard drive.

Everyone was excited, but the tension of trying to be the best and accomplish everything on time was always weighing heavily on all of your group mates’ shoulders.

Chan was, of course, taking it worst of all, and you were seething beneath the surface when you spotted him at the table sitting between Changbin and Hyunjin, eating breakfast with his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Why didn’t Chan ask you to come to breakfast with him?

“Y/N’s here,” Jisung announced, abandoning your side for his usual spot between Lisa and Sana.

Several of your group members mumbled greetings, but you were disappointed to discover that Chan hadn’t even looked up from his phone.

“Thanks, Felix,” you whispered when you sat down next to the blonde-haired singer, immediately peeling into the croissant that he served you.

“Is everyone coming to the studio later?” Minho asked, summoning your attention. “We need to go over the choreo one more time.”

Your muscles screamed in protest, but you reluctantly nodded your head. Meanwhile, Jisung let out an exaggerated groan at the thought of another six-hour practice.

“You need it the most,” Minho teased him, and you smiled at the good-natured jab between the two.

At the same time, you watched as Chan rose from his seat, depositing his plate into the sink. You rose to meet him halfway to the door where he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket.

“Chan, do you have plans tonight?” you sheepishly inquired, wincing when you realized how ridiculous it was for you to walk on eggshells around your boyfriend and group mate.

“Busy,” he grumbled, and he didn’t even bother to look in your direction on his way out the door.

Later on at practice, there was an obscene amount of sweat in places where it shouldn’t be, and you were just about tired of Chan’s constant criticism.

For the entirety of your dance practice, Chan had taken every opportunity to berate your group members for even the most minor of mistakes, including your own. 

“Y/N!” Chan barked, and you flinched at his harsh tone, sucking in deep breaths to satiate your demanding lungs. “We’ve been practicing this for weeks!”

It was the fifth time that he had stopped the song at the introduction of the chorus - the part where you were supposed to do a backflip into frame. 

Apparently, Chan thought that your form was sloppy, and you bit your tongue to snap back at him. Obviously, he couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were hurting, and he was forcing everyone to endure hour after hour of constant movement. 

“Get your head on straight!” Chan insisted, and for some peculiar reason, it wasn’t anger or frustration with Chan that had you pausing.

It was a far more heart-wrenching combination:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Shame.

They bombarded you all at once, and you barely managed to swallow back the onset of tears before you were storming out of the practice room, ignoring Chan’s calls of your name.

It was instinctual for you to find refuge in the empty studio rooms on the top floor of your company building - where most people tended to avoid.

You could always find solace in the quiet between four walls, pressing down against the keys of the electric keyboard attached to the big, fancy computer monitor.

The same tedious note played over and over again, but it seemed like the perfect metaphor for your life at that moment.

Especially your relationship with Chan.

But the silence was never permanent, and you used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away the fresh evidence of tears when you heard the door to the studio room opening.

You immediately turned around, heart-sinking in your chest when you realized that it was Changbin instead of Chan.

“Hey, Binnie,” you said, feeling his gaze on you as he entered the empty studio room.

“What happened earlier?” he asked, always blunt and straight to the point as he drug a chair closer to where you sat.

“Just frustration,” you said.

“With yourself?” Changbin asked, but his tone left much to be imagined, and you grinned at his astuteness.

“With Chan too.”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded - like it made perfect sense. “I can tell.”

“He’s been preoccupied with the album,” you said. “I get that it’s more important than me.”

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “You know that’s not true.”

His soft and sympathetic tone almost made you start crying afresh. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore.”

Changbin was quiet, studying you intently. “Chan gets wrapped up in what he’s doing too easily. It’s like this zone for him, and nothing else is allowed in that zone except for music and lyrics.”

“So, there’s no space for me?”

“I think there should be,” Changbin countered. “And you need to tell him that.”

You sighed at the thought of confronting Chan after everything that had happened earlier. “I don’t know...”

“Be honest with him, Y/N,” Changbin said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “Everyone knows that Chan loves you more than anything.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you scoffed.

“So tell him that,” Changbin said - like it could be so simple.

Or....maybe it was?

That night, you knocked on Chan’s bedroom door twice before entering at his gentle inquiry.

“Hey,” you said, hesitating in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Chan said, and you were surprised to see him close the laptop screen, patting the empty spot next to you on the mattress. “Come here.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet into gear as they brought you to his bedside. “I didn’t want to bother you-”

“You’re not,” Chan said, and his gaze was chastened as he sighed. “Changbin talked to me earlier...”

“Of course he did,” you grumbled, planting yourself next to him.

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off again. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

You frowned. “For what exactly? Seems like I’m the one who got in the way. Guess you haven’t really needed me these past few weeks.”

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Chan frowned, leaning up to kiss you suddenly and unexpectedly. “Of course I always need you.”

You could barely contain your smile, pulling apart to sigh happily at his reassurance. “It’s just...I know we have the album, but I thought we could still do the little things like we used to.”

Chan nodded, gaze contemplative. “I’ve been ignoring you without even realizing it.”

You allowed your eyes to fall. “And in practice today...”

“That was uncalled for,” Chan interrupted. “I should’ve never raised my voice. The stress I’m feeling shouldn’t punish everyone else...especially you.”

His tone was earnest, and you could feel your shoulders dropping with every word. “Changbin was the one who said I should talk to you.”

“He was right,” Chan said, leaning in closer again. “You can always come to me, yeah?”

“I really didn’t feel like I could,” you admitted.

“Then that’s my fault,” Chan said. “It’s something I need to work on cuz’ we’re in this together, Y/N.

He smiled then. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”

You giggled at his teasing. “I can’t help it that I like you so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Chan whispered, eyelids drooping when he watched you move your hand against his thigh, coming to rest at the interesting outline at the front of his sweatpants.

“I’ve also really needed you.”

“Are you gonna put me in my place, love?” Chan asked, and you hated the arrogant smirk taunting you just as much as your shameless act of groping his cock through the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I can do that for you.”

It took less than a second for Chan to roll over top of you, grinning in a self-satisfied way as he slowly pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. 

You watched him with a contented groan as he threw them into the floor, parting your thighs to make room for him. Closing your eyes at the first swipe of his tongue against your slit, searching for a familiar mess of curls through a narrowed line. “I’ll make it all better, love,” Chan promised, and your fingers shot out to find purchase against his strong shoulders, arching your back at the promise of a night you couldn’t possibly forget.

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Vader is Anakin, he’s one person

Vader is Anakin.

Vader is Anakin’s apathy in the wake of losing everything, and everyone he ever loved or cared about.

Vader is Anakin’s emptiness, when realizing he’s completely, and utterly alone.

Vader is the burden of the guilt Anakin carries on his shoulders; the bane of every life he has snuffed out, every man, every woman, every child whose blood stains his hands red.

Vader is Anakin’s explicit self loathing, his grand delusional self deprecation.

Vader is the suffocating feeling of having nothing left, nowhere to go, no one to turn to; nothing to live for.

Vader is what you get when you’re stripped of all love, all compassion, all happiness, and all hope - leaving behind an empty, aimlessly drifting shell.

Vader is the numbness of depression; so overpowering that you’d hurt yourself, hurt others, further your own downfall only to feel anything but pain and disarray.

Vader is the trauma, the torment, the anguish; the horror of existing in a waking nightmare of your own making.

Vader is Anakin without a safe haven, without reassurance, without boundaries, without restraint, without a hand to hold.

Vader is Anakin when left to his own vices, when unhinged, when enraged, when in despair; without a scrap of human compassion left.

Vader is Anakin; broken down into his most basic form, forced back into the mold of a slave, of a pet, of a prisoner - of an unthinking, unfeeling drone.

Vader is Anakin, unable to trap the people he loves in his own toxic, unapologetic, selfish and egocentric craving for praise and appreciation.

Vader is loneliness, is solitude, is desolation.

Vader is Anakin’s selfmade prison, a hell of his own making; a punishment for the sins he continues to commit.

Vader is Anakin’s inability to forgive himself for his own mistakes, for failing to keep his mother and his beloved Padmé alive.

Vader is Anakin’s indirect refusal to admit he’s at fault; his near rabid desire to point the finger at Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka, the Jedi Order - and blame them for his own crimes.

Vader is Anakin’s deepest, darkest desires - the lure of the Dark Side, the drug he can’t live without, the tempest that ate him alive and spit him back out more man than machine, crippled and warped.

Vader is delirium, is blood thirst, is vengeance.

Vader is retribution, is deceit, is a lie.

Vader is Anakin; conditioned both by Palpatine and his own hand into subservience, into willful blind loyalty.

Vader is losing the will to live, desperate to die but not brave enough to end it all by one’s own hand.

Vader is like walking in a haze, like a puppet played by his master, like a joke without a punchline.

Vader is Anakin’s reality, is Anakin’s present, is Anakin’s future; and Vader is the shroud that buries his past under heaps of misdeeds.

Vader is Anakin’s legacy, his cross to bear; the sole persona he knows to accept.

Vader is Anakin’s way to destroy every reminder of his own weakness, his own ambition, his own ignorance, his own faith in the wrong places.

Vader is rebirth, his death, is life; is an endless vicious cycle.

Vader is despicable, is deplorable; is the side of Anakin that can never seize to stoop to new moral low points, that has no regard for others, no regard for himself.

Vader is always on the go, always on a mission, restless; never allowing himself to dwell upon his own state of being.

Vader knows he cannot stay put, lest his demons rear their ugly heads, as they come to haunt him and remind him of memories he desperately wishes to purge and disperse.

Because he knows he’s not Vader.

There is no Vader, there has never been and never will be.

When he stops to think, when he falls headfirst into his own trap, into his own tangled web of lies - there is no Vader.

When he allows the memories to resurface; of Padmé, of Obi-Wan, of Ahsoka, of Shmi - there is no Vader.

He cannot deny what they meant to him, who they were and how they impacted his life; how they helped lead him down a path he cannot break from - there is no Vader.

There’s only him. His wife. His brother. His sister. His mother.

Only Anakin.

Anakin, who longs desperately for a past he himself lay in ruins.

Anakin, who tries so hard to draw a firm line between who he is, and who he was. What he was, and what he has become.

Anakin, who despite denying his own name, his own existence to absolve himself from his own guilt; will never forgive himself.

Anakin, who doesn’t even want to forgive himself.

Anakin, who opts to writhe in anguish for the rest of his life, who knows misery and pity is all he truly deserves.

Anakin, who sees the image of his own fear in the eyes of every victim, who knows none of them may ever fear him as he does himself.

Anakin; who is small, and broken, and lonely; ripped apart for all the world to see.

A goon, a monster; less than a man, less than human.

A failure, a disappointment, a liar, a murderer.

A brother, a son, a husband, a father.

Anakin, who hides behind a mask of indifference, of ruthlessness, of cruelty, of paper thin righteousness.

A lost, little boy.

A phantom, a ghost, a specter.

Vader is a man whose spirit died, whose spark diminished, whose good intentions were rendered useless.

Vader is what rose from the ashes of Anakin’s crushed hopes and dreams.

Vader is, when left to his own devices; unable to act, trapped in a body that’s more cybernetics than flesh.

Vader is nothing.

Vader is Anakin who’s lost his way, lost his soul.

Vader made a deal with the Devil, only for the Devil to spit in his face and drag him straight into purgatory.

There, he writhes; unable to eat, or breathe, or even speak for himself.

Anakin, who signed his own death penalty.

Anakin, who thinks of himself as a dead man walking.

Anakin, who knows that no matter how he tries to delude himself, he never can.

Anakin, who knows Vader is only an excuse; a scapegoat.

A joke, a pretense, a facade, an act.

Anakin, who couldn’t cry even if he wanted to - and he does.

Who wouldn’t die, even if he thought he deserved peace - and he doesn’t.

Who wants to be right where he is, at his master’s beck and call - and he endures.

Anakin, trapped under his own thumb.

Anakin, who can never repent or be redeemed.

Anakin; condemned, and convicted.

Vader is Anakin, and Anakin is Vader.

One and the same.

Indistinguishable, inseparable, intertwined.

Two names, one person.

Two aliases, one man.

Anakin, who would lose his last scrap of sanity were he to admit it aloud.

Anakin, who can never look himself in the eye for fear of what he may see.

He’s the monster, he’s the villain, he’s to blame.

Not Vader.

Only him.

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

Bringing back one of my most popular posts from the original account, figured it would be appreciated.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

You messed with my heart too long

A/N: I posted this anonymously on ao3, but I’m really proud of writing this so decided to post it on here as well. Please, please let me know what you think, it would mean the world to me. 

Summary: When Richie accidentally burns his food right at the same time as Eddie arrives home, he fears he's in for a verbal beat down. He's used to that thank to his ex-boyfriend, who mentally and emotionally abused him before Richie realized what he was doing to him. Once Eddie works out what is happening, he is quick to assure Richie he would never treat him in the same manner.

Warnings!: mental abuse, mentions of physical abuse and Bev’s abusive ex, Richie thinks Eddie going to react badly (he doesn’t but he still thinks about it) 

read on AO3

Richie, in all fairness, has never had any confidence in any way, shape or form. He’s not sure why that is. His mom and dad were good, loving parents that indulged into his secret little hobby’s, and when Richie at age 24, a fresh college drop-out, told his parents he was going to take a gamble and try to make it as a comedian, they supported him wholeheartedly. Of course, they were a little disappointed that he never got a degree in case things in the comedy field didn’t work out, but they were convinced of Richie’s talent. They were truly the best parents anyone could ever wish for, at least in Richie’s mind.

The losers were also nothing if not supportive towards him, though they had been long gone before Richie turned 24. They made fun of him sometimes, on the occasions where a joke ran too far or failed miserably, but they also made sure that Richie knew how much they adored him in reality.

Beside from getting scolded at every now and again by Eddie or Stan, about his hygiene or lack of self-awareness, they also never tried to change him to fit their wants. For some unknown, nonsensical reason, they liked Richie with his flaws and all.

Truly, Richie has no inkling as to where his insecurities came from, but he does know that he never let them stop him from doing anything when he was still friends with the losers. Quite the opposite even, if he got nervous about performing in front of his class, he would loudly ask to go first, laughing boisterously and slouching against the teachers desks, pretending like the activity wasn’t even a blip on his radar. When Henry’s taunt would hit a particular soft spot, and Richie felt the urge to sulk or mope, he’d double down on the thing Henry found annoying, and get a bloody nose for his troubles.

He fought hard to be ready to perform in front of people that weren’t the losers or his parents, and the losers departing from Derry just made that worse. With the losers, he felt confident enough to try and be himself, without them, he saw himself as useless in every sense. His very first live performance sucked, and in retrospect he’s really glad none of the losers were present because within five minutes of walking on the stage, he had forgotten his lines and threw up in full sight of the audience.

If his mother hadn’t persuaded him into trying again a few months later, and that one actually working out, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier would have been buried before it began.

But that was before all the progress Richie made in all the years he’s been doing comedy. Despite having the occasional setback, he mostly outgrew throwing up before an act, and he could objectively look at himself in the mirror and conclude that he wasn’t the most hideous person the world had ever had the displeasure of seeing.

In fact, according to people on his twitter page, he was being described as hot and possessing a form of appeal that drew people in. He didn’t find himself good looking by any means, but there was a huge difference between hating everything about himself, and accepting that he was not as hideous as the beast from the Disney fairy tales he was a big fan of as a kid.

And then, in the prime of his mental health, he had met David, and every ounce of self-worth faltered like snow under the burning scorch of the sun. It only took five weeks for David to absolutely destroy the very thing Richie had toiled at for over twenty years.

David was his first boyfriend, who he met just shortly before his thirtieth birthday, and he took more than advantage of that. The first night they first laid eyes on each other, after one of Richie’s shows, David had walked up to him at a bar and promptly declared his show was absolute shit.

Normally Richie would feel hurt by these comments and would pretend to brush them off as if they were never uttered, but something about the way he said it caused Richie to laugh so hard he snorted part of his beer through his nose. It wasn’t until he saw Eddie with Bill and Mike at Jade the Orient ten years later, that his quarter fell. In the beginning, David had reminded him of Eddie. It wasn’t until much later that it became clear David’s intentions were not as innocents as Eddie’s.

Richie assumed the guy was pulling his pants, because who would dedicate their time to flat out insult someone they had never met, and so he had greeted him and bought him another beer. David wasn’t particularly funny, and he never laughed at Richie’s jokes throughout the night either, but he was very eloquent and could keep up with Richie’s conversation topics, though he always seemed to be able to turn and twist the subject so that it gave away another one of his qualities.

By the end of the night Richie never expected to hear from him again, and he was okay with that. His conversation partner had been interesting, but not to the point where Richie wanted to know everything about him or see him again.

David felt otherwise, as thanks to a mutual friend of theirs, he’d found Richie’s number, and when he texted him to ask him on a date, Richie had been too thrilled that someone was interested in him to containplat if he even wanted to go.

That same day the date took place, David had granted himself the title of boyfriend, and Richie went right along with him. They never officially verbally agreed to date, but they held hands and David slept over most nights then not, and his mother got so happy that she saw him with someone that things progressed naturally.

At first, Richie didn’t notice that David was influencing him in a negative way. He only had one close friend, Steve, who was simultaneously also his manager, and he constantly praised David for making Richie a changed man. Because Steve saw it as something positive, so did Richie.

His voice got progressively stiller, as David would ream at him multiple times a day that he was annoying everyone around them with his booming voice, and that he was an attention-seeker who would do anything to get the limelight on him. Richie practiced his voices less and less when David started to critic every aspect of them every time he would overhear him. It got worse once they started living together full time.

‘Hey Rich, no voices? Come on I want to know if you’ve improved over the years, let us hear it.’

He cut off all fatty foods when David glanced at his plate and grimaced, asking if he was really going to eat everything on the plate. He didn’t say it in so many words, but Richie could connect the dots that led him to believe David found him too fat. Lying became a sort of second nature to Richie, as he dared to eat a small pack of chips when David was away, and deluded him the next day by stating he hadn’t eaten any. Sometimes, at times where David thought Richie was away, he would observe him going through their trash to catch Richie in the lie. He’d fight tooth and nail to deny the accusation, and never admitted to it.

David complained just about everything Richie did, including the way he held his towel whilst drying the dishes, ‘For god sake Richie don’t rumple up, hold it in your palm and open it up so you can get to the surface more.’ When Richie tried to joke that David’s way didn’t necessarily mean the best way, he’d yelled that Richie was an ungrateful bastard and that if he had to do it his way because the way he was doing it was useless.

Useless, that was a word Richie learned to associate with himself as whatever he did would get dragged down by David, until there was barely any Richie left. Once again Richie began getting stage fright, worse than when he was a child, and on one evening David witnessed his total bomb of a show, and told Richie he had pretended he didn’t know him to the people watching. That hit so hard, the fact that someone was disgusted to be linked to him, that he stopped writing his own comedy and hired someone to do it for him.

There was so much negativity surrounding him and David, but when Richie tried to address his problems, David would make him seem like he was the one that was crazy. Like he was seeing things that were not there. David rolled his eyes and waved off any of Richie’s attempts to defend himself, but then denied doing it after the fact.

‘You’re a loser Richie, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid to take my ribs seriously. Aren’t you supposed to be a ‘comedian’? You’d think you’d know what’s a joke and what isn’t.’

A can of coke being set down too hard on their dinner table was enough to get David off of the couch, where he’d been watching football and ordering him around, and into the kitchen, striking a tirade that Richie was ruining their furniture with his fumbling. Richie was constantly on edge that he was doing something wrong - and he was according to David -. He avoided David as much as he could, but the latter would find something to fault him on regardless. Life had transformed into a prison cell.

Later Richie would scold himself for not leaving, but how could he? David manipulated him to the point Richie truly believed he was doing all of those things wrong, to the point where he was the one crying and begging for David’s forgiveness. He was gaslighted, manipulated and blackmailed at the same time, with gifts that weren’t a one-off after Dacid crossed a line too far, and they often contained a very expensive item that Richie had eagerly awaited for a long time. Richie felt like he owed it to David to stay, if only for all the money he had spent on him.

There were days Richie would get so furious he was prepared to scream back at David, to let his anger be set free and unleashed upon the one person who deserved it, but then David would show up with a gift out of the blue, or would grant him a loving caress, and Richie was gone for him again.

Not to mention that Richie’s self-esteem had sunk so low, he wasn’t ready to face a world without having David there to guide him along with things.

Barely five months before Mike’s earth shattering phone call, Richie ran out of all mental capacity to deal with the torment a moment longer, and packed his things, disappearing on a cold blistering night. David called him, of course, but Richie was a coward, and never answered the phone.

He only sent David one text to tell him it was over, and then promptly blocked his number without waiting for a response. He heard from gossip that David spread lies about him, and told other people about how much of a terrible boyfriend he had been, but Richie never objected to the claims. He agreed with him anyway.

Mike’s call had been, for a large proportion anyway, a saving grace. Reconnecting with his best friends and destroying the thing that loomed over him for so long was liberating, and Richie viciously wished that Pennywise had come back sooner, so that his tortures road would have been that much shorter.

There was no lingering bitterness inside of Richie because of this though, not when his life was finally in the best possible place it could be. Eddie and him got their heads out of their asses, or more like Eddie got out of his and decided to yet again be the brave one out of the two of them, and they started dating almost immediately after defeating Pennywise. In only a week's time, Eddie made the move from New York to Los Angeles, and with him he had brought the happiness Richie had long forgotten he could ever possess.

His marriage with Myra had been just as much a scam as the relationship between Richie and David, and his divorce was swift - no surprise there with the way Eddie always prepared for every possible scenario-, but Eddie almost always avoided talking about it. In a way, Richie was disheartened by that.

It was no secret Eddie married a woman that was basically a mirror image of his mom, and at times Richie caught himself wondering if Eddie had realized how smothering she was or if he had been so hunkering for the normality of life as a straight, married man that he never paid her enough attention too. He wonders if he was the only one stupid enough to not realize the gravity of what was happening to him.

Richie has debated on flat out asking Eddie about it, but, and there’s always a but, that would mean he would have to tell Eddie about David, and he is overcome with a rare form of anxiety, something deeply ashamed nestling in the place where his trust is supposed to be at the mere idea.

Swearing on the holy turtle god that managed to save them from Pennywise’s claws, Richie was originally planning on confessing the whole thing to Eddie on day one of their relationship. He truly was, and he had even conjured up humorous escape alternatives to duck his way under a fire load of questions Eddie was surely about to ask him after.

He even prepared himself to tell Eddie in Derry, right after overhearing Eddie’s phone call to his wife, feeling empowered that Eddie would come to understand. Bev interrupted before he could, perhaps a blessing in disguise. Before Eddie fully put down his phone, Bev had sweeped in the room, requesting a meeting downstairs to talk. Richie had been helpless to follow and listen intently, and if he was being honest with himself – he wasn’t – he felt a tiny bit of relief that he wouldn’t be subjected to any negative attention. Until Bev started to confess how her life had been before Mike called them.

All at once, a sickening hatred from himself overwhelmed Richie. He was so angry that he had dared to feel sorry about himself, and here Bev was, with a situation that was incomparably worse. The more details Bev entrusted them with – Richie may have promised to never kill anyone again, but he an exception could be made - the more Richie’s food from a few hours before threatened to choke him, and not even Eddie’s cream smoothed hand holding his distracted him.

Near the end, after they’d progressed from such an melancholically topic and began drinking away the booze in their hotel, Richie had drawn Bev’s attention with a call of her name, to either make her smile or to assure her that she wasn’t alone, Stan send him a withering look, as if to warn him not to open his mouth. Stan’s assumption was fair, it was in Richie’s nature to find humor in places there shouldn’t be, and he had no idea about Richie’s past to think otherwise. Still, every time Richie considered telling Eddie, the look flashed in his mind and sewed his mouth shut.

Not telling Eddie hasn’t impacted things the way Richie had predicted it would. Really, Richie was doing fine. Eddie chastised Richie on certain things, but Richie didn’t freak out or experience any sort of flashback. He would be given a peck on his forehead, or a hand running through his hair, and he’d know that Eddie was never mad at him. It was the littlest details that had Richie out of his mind with love, that highlighted just how different Eddie and David were.

By now, Richie had decided he was fine with not telling Eddie anything about David, and the extra weight of keeping something a secret was his boyfriend was just another fee to carry around with him. But life always throws a curveball Richie Tozier’s way when he has finally made plans.

This curve ball comes in the form of soup. A horrendous chicken soup that Eddie cooked up two days in advance, an experiment of different herbs that clashed into a symphony of flavors all competing to be the primary flavor. There are two things to know about Eddie as a cook. Number one is that he is not an impressive cook – and it’s not for the lack of trying - but Richie doesn’t mind. Eating food that doesn’t please his taste buds but getting Eddie in return for it is a fair deal in Richie’s books.

The second thing to note is that Eddie is a lazy cook. He turns the kitchen into a battlefield of different sauces, with jars a million different pots and pans skewed across the stove and no more room to place anything else left. It’s gotten to the point that whenever Eddie is in charge of cooking, they will not even put their dinner on a plate anymore, but instead leave it in whatever it’s made in, because it eliminates dishes to wash. That’s what starts the mess that day in first place.

Richie isn’t an idiot. Yes, he can be dense at times, and when it comes to loving Eddie he’s more than a bit moronic, but he’s not stupid. He’s had to survive on his own – and with someone who didn’t lift a finger - for a long time, thus there was no other way. He’s aware of the danger of putting a metal bowl in the microwave, and how it can cause the metal to heat up and start a fire, and therefor has never been stupid enough to try it. But today, Richie is stressed.

Steve has been calling him all day to try and persuade him into doing an interview for a magazine, and no matter how many times, how loud or agitated Richie says no, Steve still insists. Richie paces annoyed towards his fridge phone locked between his shoulder and ear, so he can take out the metal bowl of soup with his hands, and place it in their microwave without a second thought.

‘Steve I don’t care how much publicity you think it will get me, I don’t want to do it,’ Richie mutters, turning around with his back towards the warming soup. The consistent arguing with Steve has his teeth grinding, his shoulders tense and his anxiety sparked.

Eddie is still out for work, but it’s closing at five pm, the time he ensures he’s at home, and Richie thinks he can hear his car driving up into the gravel parking lot. The absence of his boyfriend is about to be filled, and Steve is yapping away in his ear, not content to admit defeat just yet, it’s maddening.

‘Steve… Steve listen to me, don’t get your panties up in a twist, I have to go. Don’t book the interview. I won’t take any part in it.’ His denial doesn’t put a stop to Steve’s yapping, but at that point Richie is over his nagging. He pinches the bridge of his nose and utters; ’Okay nice chat’, and hangs up without waiting for a response back.

He lets the phone clatter on top of their kitchen surface and says that Steve got the message, if only for the rest of the day. His phone doesn’t vibrate again, leading Richie to assume he has won this round. He can’t help but lean forward so far his head rests against the cold tiles of the kitchen counter, just sighing for one long, extended breath. A night in on the couch with Eddie spooning him has never allured him so much. His back cracks with a satisfying pop as he readjusts his body, and he groans in gratifications.

Their alarm dings loudly in the open concept kitchen, a warning that someone has just entered their driveway. Richie doesn’t need to go look to know that it’s Eddie and his large, black suv, but he wants to anyway. He’s about to walk towards the front door to greet Eddie like he’s a pet that has been waiting anxiously for its owners return – and some would describe him in the same manner - when the air fills with smoke and a rancid smell. It’s barely detectable at first, nothing more but an insentient odor that is unpleasant but not resolute and easy to ignore. But then actual smoke begins to wash it’s way around Richie, and he has a split second of blissful unknowingness left, until the problem dawns on him.

Richie follows the smoke trail, and is shocked to find their microwave steaming and actually crackling, like it’s on the verge of exploding. It probably is. Still, it’s nothing compared to the cluster bomb of fumes that spread throughout the room when Richie actually opens the microwave door and gets slapped in the face with the enormity. It’s a surprise that their smoke detector has yet to erupt.

Instantly, his airways fill up smoke, prickling his cough reflection so tremendously he doubles over in extortion. The coughs rattle his body in a painful manner, his chest and back start to hurt from the brutal movements and the fact that he can’t grasp fresh air no matter how wide he opens his mouth. Objectively, Richie should understand it can get a lot worse - their smoke detector hasn’t gone off, and there are no flames to accompany the smoke and therefore turn their house into a major safety hazard - but a panic he hasn’t felt since David has shut down his logical thinking skills.

A key is slotted into their keyhole, and it turns a first time to leave. Eddie is about to open the door, in give or take in about a minute – it always drags out because despite living here for give or take two years, Eddie still can’t remember this lock unlatches via the left side and not the right – and walk in on an absolute shit show that Richie’s engendered.

So far there was indication, no sign that hinted to Richie he still had leftover, undealt trauma left from his time hanging around David, but now, his only thought revolving around how mad Eddie is going to be, how much trouble he’ll be in once Eddie sees everything, he starting to realize he might not be as over things as he originally believed.

He ignores the way his lung burn, and reaches forward to grab the pot – with fogged over glasses rendering him blind - protection less, not even grabbing the oven mitts to provide some shelter for the warmth. He can’t comprehend how dangerous that is, can only focus on the red lights blaring in his mind, telling him he needs to get rid of the evidence before Eddie gets here and unleashes hell upon him.

Unfortunately, he’s too late. A door unlocks and Eddie enters the house. His feet pad on their wooden floor, brazen and fast, like he’s been waiting for a shot at grilling Richie and he can sense his opportunity to do so has arrived – the motion is so un-Eddie Richie dismissed it as absurd then and there, but a seed of doubt remains -.

With time, Richie comes to learn how to listen to the different footsteps, and he can now recognize who’s walking towards him and in what kind of mood they find themselves in, without taking one look at the person's face.

Eddie’s footsteps, after every work day, drag across their floor, as if a thousand pound weight has been added to his back. The bottom of his shoes wear out a lot faster than Richie’s do, and it drives Eddie nuts because out of the two of them, he’s the one that treats his material objects neater than Richie.

Richie’s always delighted to notice how light his footsteps get after just a few minutes spent with him or the losers.

Now, he is too scared to pick up on such little details. His palms tingle unpleasantly, the boiling liquid burning them more with each second he hangs on. He stands in the middle of their kitchen like a fool, turning his body every which way and letting his eyes dart out an escape plan. The smoke is nowhere near gone, and there’s too much of it for Richie to open a window and it to be blown away. Eddie’s going to notice, there’s no way he can’t.

‘Richie, you won’t believe what this imbecile Josh did at work today. I swear, I don’t understand how some people can get fucking hired sometimes.’

Eddie trudges into the kitchen, his suit wrinkled from a long day of frantically working on a report that should have been finished by some other incompetent coworker. The groves in his face are more prominent today, acquired by the years of unhappiness he experienced with Myra, the ages of his life cut off by the shock of Pennywise's return and the occasional busy work day his job supplies him with.

A nausea craters in Richie's stomach, filled with guilt for turning Eddie’s night off into a stressful event that requires a ton of clean up. Eddie stops dead in his tracks when he notices the mess, his mouth slips shut, the word dying on his tongue.

He’s waiting for Eddie’s frown to deepen, for his lips to cresting into a fury. He’s waiting for the waterfall of insults that will be hurled at his head, each one meaner than the last, honing in on his deepest insecurities and having them exploited because Eddie’s so angry he’ll do anything to strike a verbal blow. And it’ll be worse now, because it’s Eddie. It’s the love of his life doing it now, the one’s approval he seeks most.

Eddie’s the person that knows him inside and out and knows exactly what boundaries to push and prod out to crack Richie open from head to toe. He waits for all that, with his hand still clamped around the bowl of burning hot soup, scorching his palms – by this point, Richie is sure there will be blisters by the time he finally unclasps his grip.

Eddie’s frown does deepen, but it’s not out of anger. ‘Rich, be careful you’ll hurt yourself.’ Richie doesn’t let go, but holds onto the sides of the bowl tighter. Part of him wants him to experience the pain, to let what he did sink in like David’s words always did.

‘Richie’, Eddie says startlingly firm. He’s not trying to approach Richie or the bowl, but he’s capturing Richie’s attention just by his firm voice. ‘Put it down.’

Richie drops the bowl of soup, watching helplessly as it splatters all over their freshly painted walls and the ground. Out of the corner of his eye a flat glob of liquid drips down the wall, dirtying a whole line down to the floor. Richie cringes, his heart beating so fast he could swear it’s about to jump out of his chest, and his mind a mantra of ‘look what you did, look what you did, look what you did.’

‘Fuck Richie, did you burn it?’

And Richie knows he’s caught. He was, up to two seconds ago, holding the evidence right in his hands, but he’s so petrified logic is not operating in his brain at the moment. The only thing he can focus on with great clarity, is that he’s willing to try anything to get him out of a verbal tear down.

‘No..’, he tapers off at the end, leaving his statement much more alike a question than he would have preferred. Eddie raises one eyebrow suspiciously, pointily averting his gaze towards the smoke floating around them.

‘No?’ He asks back equally confused, head tilted to the side. Richie can feel his throat closing up in panic, bracing himself for an onslaught. He doesn’t foresee Eddie’s nurturing and concerned approach. ‘Let me take a look at your hands’, Eddie murmurs tenderly.

It’s technically nothing new, the way Eddie treats him. After Neibolt and Richie’s big coming out, Eddie commenced all his vacation days and flew Richie all the way to Hawaii, for the pure intention of getting him away from any and all consequences. He’d allowed Richie to eat what he desired - within reason of course, there was no way Eddie was allowing Richie to eat pizza at 8 am-, waisted their days sitting by the pool and indulged in Richie unchancy pranks - one of which ended up with Eddie scrubbing out blue glitter out of his hair. Eddie had been kind then, so it shouldn’t be surprising he is in this situation.

It doesn’t take away the fear Richie is left with. David had good days too, days that he was the perfect boyfriend, but that would never last long, and Richie is left to speculate if it’ll be the same thing with Eddie.

Maybe it’ll be hidden in a secret message, maybe Eddie is busy hatching a plan that will utterly deploy Richie from the inside out. Eddie’s hands are gently skimming over Richie’s palms, inspecting the damage without irritating the skin even more. ‘It doesn’t seem like it’s bad. It hurts right?’

‘Yeah’, Richie croaks when he figures out the question isn’t rhetorical. He isn’t sure at the moment why that’s supposed to be good.

Eddie tips forward, stretching up higher so he can kiss Richie’s forehead tenderly. Against his skin he explains. ‘That means the burn isn’t too deep, but hold it under the water still.’

‘No but you know what does go deep?’

‘Nothing if you don’t treat your burns,’ Eddie teases with a smirk. He gently ushers Richie closer to their faucet, and holds his own palm under the stream of water, twiddling with the different temperature taps until he finds one that he deems just lukewarm enough to allow Richie’s hand under it.

The smoke in the air remains unspoken about. It’s almost as if Richie is more important than a potential house fire to Eddie, but that’s absurd. Not only because this is the house that both of them felt was the right one, and subsequently paid a lot of money for, but also because Richie isn’t that special. He’s not even trying to be condensing towards himself, because he truly believes that.

‘How did you manage to do this huh? Idiot.’ Eddie jokes while guiding his hand under the water at the correct angle, his salutation gets smoothed over by a hand ruffling his hair. Coincidentally, or perhaps the exact opposite, a part of the stress Richie accumulated falls away when Eddie calls him an idiot. It helps to underline why exactly Eddie will never be like David, why the two aren’t in the same league of each other even.

When Eddie says idiot, it’s a nickname, it’s a middle school jab when Richie runs too fast and trips over his own feet, it’s the symbolic soothing pat on the back he receives after he can get all of the losers to laugh at his humor. It’s their love langue no one understands, It’s Eddie’s way of hiding how deep his adoration goes with a job that’s unusual to others.

David’s condescending tone alone tipped Richie into the deep end, into a cave that echoed his deepest flaws and slammed it into the cavity in his chest every time something didn’t go according to plan. Idiot for David did not mean the same things. For David, idiot was shoving aside Richie’s concerns, it was disinterested in all his quirks and his passive attitude. He meant what he said without sarcasm.

A first tear tracks down Richie’s cheek. ‘Rich?’ Eddie inquires startled. His hand previously stroking Richie’s curls slides towards his elbow in a smooth motion.

Richie tries to tell him it’s okay, that he needs a minute to regroup but that he’s fine, but instead of that he sobs, more tears spilling over with no regards to him uneasy Richie is to cry in front of someone.

‘Richie shit I’m sorry. Does it hurt that bad? Do we need to go to a hospital? We’ll go right now.’

‘No, no hospital,’ Richie waves him off with his injured hands. Eddie leads his hand back without response, tracking his face to see if he gives away anything. Richie had forgotten his hand hurted in the first place, so he definitely didn’t require any treatment beyond what he was doing already. His tears are the result of being overwhelmed by his emotions, and his default response to that is to cry.

‘If you don’t want me to do that, that’s okay you know?’

Because his hand is incapacitated, he wipes his nose on the corner of his shirt, watching as Eddie’s wrinkles his nose at that. Still, even with the disgusting move on Richie’s part, Eddie leans in closer, molding Richie so he fits in the fold between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. There, he resumes his path of caressing Richie’s hair, and kissing his temple. Richie fists one of his hands in the back of Eddie’s shirt, pressing them as intimate as he can.

‘Hey sweetheart, it’s okay. What’s wrong?’

Richie sobs harder, not particularly keen on telling Eddie why he’s this upset. It’s a difficult topic to talk to anyone about, Eddie and the losers included. There were days that Richie twisted his mind to convince himself that it was all in his head. That David was the best boyfriend anyone could ever wish for, and that the tirades he had to endure was just the cost of that. He was afraid he added things in his mind that hadn’t actually taken place and he created his own narrative.

Apprehension held Richie back, dreading what Eddie’s response might be. He could exclaim Richie to be a complainer that should have praised himself lucky to get the abuse he got, or he could say that Richie was a sourpuss, turning a fly into an elephant.

‘Shouldn’t we get rid of the smoke first?’, Richie questions to stall.

‘Later’, Eddie soothes with another kiss to his temple. ‘Talk to me. Please Rich.’

‘There was this guy I used to date, David.’

Eddie’s head shoots up in bewilderment, his brow furrowed. ‘You never told me about him.’

‘Yeah well we never talk about your wife either and I thought that would mean we wouldn’t disclose our previous hang ups.’

‘Ex-wife. Remember Rich? She’s my ex-wife. There’s nobody in the world I would rather be with then with you.’

‘Stop it you bastard,’ Richie sniffles pathetically. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything when you sweet talk me.’

‘That’s the plan.’

Eddie thumbs underneath Richie’s eye socket, brushing in a hypnotic rhythm that ankers him to reality. If Richie nuzzles into Eddie’s palm, then no one else but then needs to know.

Talking about something that brings forth a lot of anxiety goes smoother with closed eyes, Richie’s come to find, so he does that before revealing what he should have revealed a long time ago.

‘He was.. not so kind’, he chuckles humorless. ‘He really thrived when he pointed out everything I did wrong, liked yelling too.’

‘Rich?’

‘Wait let me finish. If I don’t say it now I’ll never get the courage to again.’ He opens his eyes only to see Eddie nod in agreement, and his face starting to tang a bit red.

‘Sometimes I couldn’t even walk right without him being all up in my ass about it. At parties he would gladly tell everyone embarrassing things I did, or he would pretend like he did all the work at home while really he was the one that did nothing. And the way he spoke to me.. like I was a child and he was a teacher or something. And he had this way of saying things so I’d know I was a breath away from being yelled at, but so that he could still claim he never once raised his voice at me. I guess I was scared you were going to do the same thing after seeing what a major fuck up I am. . He kept insisting I didn’t do things good enough, but I was really trying my best. I fucking swear Eds. I can’t help that my best isn’t good enough.’

The repetitive motion that Eddie kept up during his long monologue abruptly ends, and Eddie instead balls his hands up into two fist, pulling away from Richie to lean on the counter. He bounces on his heels, unable to stand still any longer as he is now the one to squeeze his eyes shut.

‘Eddie?’ Richie implores, the panic from before quickly flooding through his bloodstream and entering every part of his body.

Eddie opens his eyes, and something on Richie’s face must give away what he’s experiencing, because he’s quick to assure Richie did nothing wrong. ‘No, shit Richie it’s not you sweetheart. I love you, you did nothing, nothing wrong.’

He pecks Richie on the lips twice, very softly and barely noticeable, almost a goad to get Richie to cram their lips together tighter. For a long moment, they don’t move. Their lips stay hovering just out of reach, and one of Eddie’s palms slide down Richie’s chest down to his belly and up again. It’s an effort for Eddie to try and generate as much love towards Richie as he possibly can, before his resolve breaks and he has to let his resentment for David out in some way.

‘I’m going to kill him.’ Eddie turns away from Richie, but his hand remains on Richie’s stomach, a connection so they don’t separate. His chest puffs up, almost like he’s gearing up to go fight David right now. He would if he got the chance.

‘Spagheddie you don’t have to do that for me. I don’t even own his number anymore.’

‘I don’t care Rich,’ Eddie’s voice trembles but is laced with a deadly amount of venom. ‘He should have never done those things to you. If I ever see him I’ll fucking strangle him with my bare hands.’

‘It’s fine Eds, it wasn’t that bad.’ The denial burns in his chest. He wondered for a long time if he could qualify what he went through as abuse, not because he was actively hoping to label himself as an abuse victim, but because he questioned if what happened to him was worth being this upset over. In conclusion, Richie decreed it wasn’t. Eddie's eyes snap up, burning behind a sheen layer of glass.

‘He never hit me like Bev’s husband did to her.’

‘That doesn’t fucking matter. What happened to Bev is terrible, but that doesn’t make what happened to you any less dire. Both of you were victims of abuse, save for a different kind.’

Are they comparable? If they were talking about another person Richie would say yes, that both leave lasting scars, but because he’s the subject of the question, he can’t say for sure. He’s not lenient enough with himself to allow such a statement to be made. Bev can suffer from the consequences of her abuse, but from Richie’s perspective, he should be over it by now.

‘Oh fuck,’ Eddie curses explicitly, ‘and I called you an idiot. Richie I’m so sorry.’

Eddie’s little crease that only appears when he’s discontent about something appears again, and he avoids eye contact with Richie. There’s no need for any of that. Richie hadn’t even taken that big of a notice about the word. He was reassured Eddie would never use it as a true insult, and even if he wasn’t convinced of that, the tender way Eddie reacts towards him otherwise would be enough to convince him.

‘No Eddie. I don’t mind, really. I don’t want things to change between us because I told you this. I like our banter.’

He finally takes his hand from under the lukewarm water stream, and dries it on his pants -the water, come Eddie’s prediction, has eased the aflame skin -. With both hands now free, Richie cuddles up closer to Eddie, using his arms to tug him closer. Eddie is still dressed in his suit from work - and it might deem handsome, but it is not very comfortable - but has not mentioned getting changed once, too enraptured with taking care of Richie.

‘They won’t if you don’t want to, but we’re making a deal. If I do something that hurts you, you need to tell me, so I can apologize and tell you I didn’t mean any of it. Are we clear?’

‘Aye aye captain. Shall we pinky promise on it?’

‘No, I’d rather kiss on it.’

They do, and this time the kiss progresses further than just a simple peck. Eddie cups Richie’s face in between his palms, a soft, sentimental smile ruining it a little. It doesn’t matter, Richie still greedily savors the moment as it comes.

‘All those times that you went on stage and rocked that whole performance I was already infinitely proud, but shit Richie, now that you’ve told me I’m even prouder. He tore you down but you spit in his face and said fuck no, I’m still going to be my own person. I’ll never let him treat you badly again. More importantly, you’ll never let him do it again. You’re so strong sweetheart.’

Richie sniffs, ‘why the hell are you still being so sappy? I told you everything already, there’s no need to spawn me further.’ He giggles, and Eddie can’t help but chuckle at the sight too, then he turns serious again.

‘Okay, now let me take care of you. I’m going to clean up, hush I am and you’re not going to lift a single finger, and then we’ll order in, watch tv from the bed and cuddle. That sounds good? We can talk about the heavy things in the morning.’ Richie has been through enough for one day.

‘That sounds perfect Eds.’

They let go of each other, but not before Eddie sneaks in a kiss on his forehead, cheek and jaw.

While dating David, Richie never used the word love. He knew, with manipulated affection and all, that he did not love David. Love isn’t supposed to change us, it’s supposed to accept us, makes us laugh and cry at appropriate times, and cocoon us in her warmth. Love doesn’t change us, but it adds something more to the previous person we were yesterday. Eddie adds something more to Richie every single day, be it by teaching him or standing by his side when he messes up. Richie loves Eddie, and he gets loved back equally as fierce.

[sepublic]

Belos the ‘Humble Messenger’?

           A thought just hit me, but if Lilith deflects some of the blame of her own actions onto Belos, by claiming she’s just enforcing his will, that he’s making her do this, in addition to considering what HE would do and how that influenced her initial choice to curse Eda…

           …What if Belos is the same way, but with the Titan? Especially with how he constantly insists that he’s just a Humble Messenger for the Titan… It’s not BELOS that’s choosing to hurt people, it’s the Titan! Blame the Titan, don’t shoot the messenger… I have to wonder if Belos is also being a coward like Lilith in this own way, absolving himself of what he’s done wrong, of his own mistakes in carrying out the Titan’s alleged will. Like Lilith, Belos could be operating on a “I was just carrying out orders” type of defense here.

           And given what his VA said about Belos being ‘misunderstood’ in his own way… Maybe that’s what he meant? Belos thinks there’s nothing he can do, he’s resigned himself to his own powerlessness because he really thinks he lacks the ability to make a change. That he really isn’t enjoying this… Though of course, like Lilith or Amity when she cut ties with Willow, he still bears some responsibility for the consequences of his actions, as cruel and unfair as it is. And with Belos, I imagine he bears WAY more fault and guilt for carrying out the Titan’s will, than any other character has for doing what others tell them to… Belos might think he’s choosing the path of least resistance, that he’s actually being helpful by implementing the Titan’s will in the least bloody was possible; Which, when you consider his implied genocides, says a LOT…

           But it also calls into question if Belos even IS communicating with the Titan, or some impostor, or if this really is the Titan’s will, and not the influence of Belos trying to make it be the leader and role model he WANTS it to be, the way Simon Laurent from Infinity Train felt with Grace, or how Jasper tried to mold Steven Universe into the Diamond she wanted him to be; It’s that desire to have someone who validates you, who takes responsibility for you, who comforts and knows exactly what to do… While always enabling any decisions you make and encouraging them, because you can do no wrong; You’re just doing what THEY’re saying, you have no blame in this!

           Maybe Belos is outright influencing the Titan, or at least interpreting its will in a very specific way, and has deluded himself into believing he’s carrying out exactly what the Titan is saying… Even if that isn’t exactly what it said, because Belos secretly knows what the Titan really meant and that’s why it was so vague, because of course Belos will understand the intent! So when the Titan tells him to spread the knowledge of magic, Belos interprets it very specifically as ‘Establish a Coven System’, because surely that’s what the Titan specifically meant…

          It’s like how some alleged ‘Christians’ interpret the Bible in a way that’s very tailored and convenient to their own pre-existing beliefs and bigotry, to justify their own terrible actions. And given the comparisons between Belos and Western Imperialism by fans… In addition to Dana Terrace mentioning how she was once put into a headlock by a nun, and the way some Chrstians appropriated and assimilated pagan cultures (again sounding a lot like what Belos does)… And maybe Belos has a deluded perception of reality, of projecting of what he thinks is best, and believing that everything his role model does is actually indicative of and in support of his own beliefs. Kind of like what I speculated with Boscha, thinking Amity’s actions as a bully were validating to her own cruelty, when really Amity was horrified at the kind of person she was becoming, and did NOT approve of Boscha whatsoever!

          Maybe Belos has a warped sense of identity, because he’s so convinced to himself that everything he does is the Titan’s will, he assumes the Titan’s feelings are the same as his (“The Titan will be pleased!” A triumphant Belos cries upon receiving the portal from Luz), etc. And Belos has trapped himself in his own fantasy, into thinking that he basically IS the Titan because everything he does is surely a reflection of what it believes, because it obviously agrees with him 100% and he completely understands it in a way that nobody, not even the Titan, does… Because Belos KNOWS better, he knows what’s good for the Titan, just as Odalia and Alador claim so for Amity, or what Lilith used to for Eda!

          Which, this just leads to a lack of identity, no sense of self on Belos’ behalf, just as he inflicts upon others with his cult-like indoctrination… Just as Lilith might question who she is without the Emperor’s Coven, perhaps Belos, deep-down, doesn’t know who he is without the Titan; A question any parasite would ask, because Belos can’t stand on his own. He has no will nor convictions of his own, he can’t rely on just his own reasoning to justify himself because he lacks that confidence… So Belos seeks someone who CAN justify what he does, and then warps them to fully fit that idealized image of his. And so just as Lilith realizes that she doesn’t really understand Eda, that she hasn’t figured out that Eda secretly wants to join the Emperor’s Coven but just needs time or a cursed curse to join… Belos will realize that he didn’t exactly understand the Titan at all, and probably was outright influencing and projecting onto it!

           This is going to lead to a lot of confusion, self-doubt… Plenty of denial, certainly. If Belos did accept this reality, this truth, and discern his delusions from what actually is… Then I could see him recovering in a way similar to Lilith, and maybe the two could find a very unusual solidarity in this, while awkwardly naviating how he used to be her feared boss and influenced Lilith herself, threatened her… And yet now she’s way past him in terms of growth and sense of self. Maybe Belos HAS considered that he’s been wrong about the Titan’s will in the past, but he doesn’t want to admit/explore this possibility, because he’s already done so much….

          Maybe he’s just doing what seems to be the least challenging for him, maybe Belos has legit fooled himself into thinking he too is at the Titan’s whim and mercy, he feels bad for his victims, but what else can he do? He’s already sacrificed too many people by this point, he doesn’t want to invalidate those deaths by not going through with what he (and the Titan) planned… He’s not brave enough to do the right thing and Belos is convinced that even if he tried, he wouldn’t accomplish much. To him, he’s most at his useful as a ‘humble messenger’, probably… Belos could be a lot like Krika from Bionicle, perhaps.

          Belos is certain that what the Titan has decreed WILL come to pass, it makes no difference if he or someone else carries out its will- So Belos can’t really be blamed for getting it over with, because someone else will… Or he CAN be blamed, but so what? Maybe Belos thinks he’s the best candidate to do what has to be done, the only one willing to do the dirty work, kind of like Thanos from Infinity War. Maybe he ironically thinks that only HE is the one who is acknowledging this cold, hard truth of the universe, and actually doing something about it; While everyone else is simply in denial…

          If only people could just understand what he’s doing, where he’s coming from, that Belos takes no pleasure in this, he’s trying to make this as smooth and painless as possible. It really, truly DOES hurt him to sacrifice others like this for his goals… And while he ultimately disagrees with such people, Belos can still admire witches like Luz, as he used to be like them, and he finds an almost admirable youth and naivete to their traits that reminds him of his young, foolish self, so wide-eyed and really believing it could all be that black-and-white and simple, that good will prevail… Belos can’t totally blame them for thinking that way, because he made the same mistakes, so he doesn’t have THAT much of a place to judge; But he still has a tiny place, because at least Belos had the ‘wisdom’ to realize the truth and move on.

           Of course, Belos doesn’t see what the Titan or the world is secretly getting at, because there’s nothing there. The Titan is indeed being fully transparent about what it has to say, it isn’t secretly ‘testing’ Belos’ faith… He is acting VERY contrary to a lot of people and things, but just as some deluded, alleged ‘christians’ believe that their god is secretly testing their faith, offering them temptation and false evidence to convince them to go off the right path, when really they just need to keep being stubborn and blocking out all other noise… Maybe Belos is just like THAT.

          It’s like Luz saying that she’s picking up what Amity is putting down, even though as far as Amity can tell, she’s not putting down anything (in addition to maybe being autistic and thus not understanding this kind of saying), she wasn’t suggesting that Luz challenge Boscha to a grudgby game; Except, Belos took it WAY worse, and WAY too far to an unimaginable extent… Again, as a dark parallel to her, despite being associated with a much blinding and radiant Light than Luz’s.

[destroyseverything]

((Okay okay okay so I know I’ve been joking about writing different flavours of the same asshole and I’m still gonna meme the heck out of Fire-Rufus-parallels, but this did actually make me think about their differences.

“Horrible person” isn’t exactly a concrete character trait.

This is gonna be interesting to at most two people but still. I’ve asked which one is worse as a joke, and it’s interesting because copper boy is by far the worse person, but rust man is more hurtful towards others.))

  It’s repeatedly shown that Rufus does care about people, and not just when he sacrifices himself at the end. He never would’ve had second thoughts at the end of the first game if he didn’t, though I imagine even he thought he didn’t care about Deponia before its destruction was on the table. He was bitter, and it’s easy to say you don’t care when you don’t think it would change anything anyway.

Rufus hurts people, because he acts impulsively, because he says whatever he’s thinking without even considering that it could be hurtful, and when people do get angry he doubles down because he’s the good guy. Why would people get angry when he insults them to their face? He’s just sayin’! Rufus doesn’t actively intend to make enemies, but his complete lack of empathy and unwillingness to admit it as a fault means he repeatedly does, and this extends to his actions as well.

Meanwhile Fire has the self control and patience of a saint (haha very funny), and when he says something hurtful you can be sure he picked his words with the intention of doing as much emotional damage as possible, and this as nothing more than a game. But most of the time, he gets along with people just fine, and they can’t tell he’d stab them in the neck for half a corn chip because they’re simply not worth him revealing his true nature to.

When Fire says he doesn’t care, he actually means it. He’d purposefully sacrifice and/or kill people without a second thought if there was a point to it, because he truly does not see worth in most people’s lives, and the main reason he doesn’t is because for the most part there is no point. And sure, there’s exceptions he considers friends even beyond Red, but apathy is his default and even when it comes to his friends there’s a thick layer of denial.

Funny thing too, is that Fire obviously wasn’t always this bad, and he unlearnt how to care about people and became bitter the closer he got to giving up on his dreams, when it became more and more clear that he’d never get the title he wanted, and recognition he needed. Let’s compare this to Elysium for a moment, and Rufus’ dream of a better life surrounded by people who treat him like a person instead of a catastrophe.

Fire doesn’t give two shits about anyone or anything because he gave up. Rufus absolutely refuses to. And that’s the key difference between the two.

For the heck of it let’s look at some more similarities though, aside from the fact that they’re both Schrödinger’s gingers, clowns, have a tendency to commit arson, and would absolutely jump at the chance to bang their own twin (in the broadest of senses)

No empathy is an obvious one, though Fire compensates by understanding how people tick on a rational level, and Rufus is at least capable of sympathy/compassion once he understands that someone is hurt. Both of them strongly lack awareness as well, but while Rufus’ extends externally and makes him seem completely deluded and detached from reality at times, Fire’s is entirely focussed internally and mostly shows itself in double standards and hypocrisy. As a result Rufus, while chaotic, comes off as much more cohesive, while Fire is two-faced even on occasions where he’s not consciously putting on an act.

[tiaragqueen]

Yandere Boku no Hero Academia Masterlist

A separate masterlist for all the BNHA fans out there!

Main masterlist is here

Last updated: 09-08-2020

Shouto Todoroki

Eating His Heart Out {R}

Never once in his life had Shouto doubted your love. However, aside from the age gap and powers, there was another difference between you. Interests.

Aegis

All you wished for was a break from your growing paperwork, someone to pamper you and ease the pressure like a lover would. And that was what Shōto thought, too. But his way of showing it was… startling, to say the least.

Tokoyami Fumikage

Cut A Deal

You’ve prayed for something to happen, but what came next was completely outside your expectation. But were you really in the position to protest despite your vague wish?

Forlorn Hope {R}

There was no better nor kinder scenario, but you supposed it was the consequence of suicide. At least, it was better than marrying that damned crow. Because anything was better than being his partner, honestly. But alas, you didn’t get to choose your fate. You never did, anyway.

Yaoyorozu Momo

Pay No Mind

Because she was a hero, and it was her duty to save you from those nasty bastards that wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of your naivety.

Fool’s Paradise {R}

It was kind of ironic, really, given her first name was Momo. But the flowers described your opinion of her better than words could ever do; fascinating personality. But you didn’t know that they had also given her tacit permission to kidnap you.

Adamantine {R}

Frankly, if you were to set aside her guile for a moment, she hadn’t done anything wrong to warrant such treatment from you. Despite the glum she expressed whenever you rejected her feelings, Yaoyorozu respected your boundaries. And you would’ve appreciated the sentiment too, had she didn’t lock you in her house.

Mirio Togata

Keep Safe

Mirio had a lot of fears, and one of them included your death.

In The Dark {R}

Out of all scathing words Mirio had ever heard in his entire life, this was what struck him the most. You – his long-time crush, his everlasting obsession, and his first and only love – didn’t even remember him, let alone his name. Just how focused you were with school until you had overlooked his existence?

A Long Way

But he wouldn’t be Mirio if he wasn’t optimistic. After a good, long cry, he always took a deep breath and prayed that everything would be better. And indeed, everything had gotten better ever since.

Toga Himiko

Accidentally On Purpose

Charming and attractive weren’t the words that you would use to describe yourself. You were as plain as your average self could be. But not for her.To her, you were the prettiest girl she had ever laid her eyes on. Sure, you’d made some mistakes here and there. But weren’t all humans have their faults?

Eyes on You

If there was one thing that you learned about Toga, was that she could be rather shameless sometimes. And today wasn’t an exception. She was staring at you. Again.But this time, she didn’t bother to look away.

Tamaki Amajiki

Under Thumb

Tamaki knew it was wrong. Dating you wouldn’t bring him any benefit than making him the next, perfect target for... whatever reasons you had. But against his better judgment, he did that anyway.

Kimi no Egao

But then, he realized that the reason why he grabbed the flowers was that he wanted to comfort you. He wanted to make you smile again. And yet, Tamaki wouldn’t lie that his intention was one hundred percent pure. Like most folks, there was a trace of selfishness hidden in there.

One Step Closer

Tamaki knew that it wasn’t good to delude himself into thinking that you were truly glad to meet him. But that was okay. At least, he was finally one step closer to you now, regardless of how far the destination seemed.

Aizawa Shouta

Yandere! Aizawa Headcanons {R}

Headcanons about how Aizawa reacts as a yandere.

Dashed Hopes

It was yearning for something. But what could it possibly want from her? Its small and lean body didn’t display any sign of abuse that would provoke suspicion. And yet, it stared into her eyes like it was begging her. Like she was its only hope or something.

Quagmire {R}

He wasn’t a villain. He was a hero. Someone who protected people, although his method of protection to you was stifling at best. But he only had the best interest in mind, right? You were still at his mercy, right?

Kouji Kouda

Give A Rest

His love story might not be as beautiful as those fairy tales nor it would end in similar happily ever after, and he might not be able to love his future wife the same way as he did to you, but Koda knew better than to take for granted your occasional presence. It wasn’t much, but at least he could color your otherwise dull life however little and transient the happiness he gave.

Nejire Hadou

Spitting Image

Tainted Fealty was your very first fiction. Ironically, this illogical story was what led you to meet your online friend and soon-to-be captor, Nejire Hadō. You totally could’ve prevented this from happening had you realized that your very first fan was, in fact, her. But how would you know that ‘Neji’ was the pro Hero whom you had long admired?

Hawks

Heart Of Stone {R}

Despite his reputation as the second Hero, you always thought Hawks was a bit shady. You knew he was kind and took his job seriously from time to time. However, there was something about him that induced you to keep your guard up. Now, you understood the reason why you felt wary of him.

Abscond {R}

Headcanons about Yandere! Garou and Yandere! Hawks react to their darling escaping.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Set Up

It wasn’t – and would never be – a good idea to solve the problem. But how could you care about him after he had practically used your cat against you? However, you would soon learn how much of a bad idea it was to resort to violence.

Repudiate {R}

Shinsō had always known that you didn’t really mean those things. A clear sign that you weren’t into him as much as he did to you. But he chose to turn a blind eye, instead. Because it was better to pretend than confronting reality, honestly.

Entrench {R}

He didn’t want to do this, but the root of the problem had always been your cat, anyway. Not his pettiness, not his egoism, and definitely not his insecurity, but it was him. Your beloved pet.

Atrabilious {R}

If the Gods were benign enough to grant your humble wish, if fate pity you enough to relieve some of your agonies, you could at least face his offspring and smile for the first time in years. But beggars can’t be choosers, can they? Especially when they were products of your so-called ‘love’.

Imperious {R}

He was the face of the school now, so there was nothing for you to be worried about. Then again, the world hadn’t been kind to you ever since your abrupt separation with Shinsō. It was as though you were doomed to be the bad end of the stick while he got the pleasant one.

Rejected {R}

Headcanons about how Yandere! Shinsou to a darling who keeps rejecting because she thinks it’s a joke.

What I Want To Hear

Funny how the police didn’t even think about suspecting him or even got suspicious with his sudden absence. Then again, it was proof of how sly he could be when he wasn’t trying to attract attention. And it was funny, in a somewhat ironic way, that he was doing this just to grab your attention.

Recrudescence

All Shinsou wanted to do tonight was to greet you, his dearest ex. However, the sudden existence of your boyfriend, showing the affectionate display that he used to do, reignited the feelings he’d tried to hide for so long. Luckily, a harmless revelation opened a door of opportunities for him.

Dabi

Take Over

Dabi never liked it when a human lived in his house. And now, these new inhabitants – these trespassers – had the guts to invite an exorcist. And yet, after seeing the exorcist, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. More like, he didn’t want to.

Kaminari Denki

Evince {R}

You always wondered how and why did he know you. It wasn’t as if you were a hero or police officer, really. So there was no reason for him to fall for you, right? But he chose you instead, for some unknown reason.

Midoriya Izuku

Cross His Heart {R}

As always, he just had to ruin the good things that happened to you for the sake of appeasing some petty emotion called ‘jealousy’. Of course, this wouldn’t happen if he wasn’t so paranoid. However, it was easier said than done.

Manna

How long has it been since he occupied this library? Izuku didn’t know, nor did he care much. All he cared about was the fact that he was able to simultaneously sit near you while pretending to study. Pretending, because why would he spend hours learning materials that he’d memorized when you literally sat right in front of him?

Chisaki Kai

Nostrum {R}

Kai never permitted you to binge eating, anyway, or doing things that he deemed as ‘detrimental’ to your health. And you understood his concern, you really did. Because you were his girlfriend, thus, you deserved his consideration. But you didn’t want it.

Rikidou Satou

Antinomy

Rikidō was a sweet guy, as sweet as his creations. On one hand, they satisfied your cravings, especially during certain months. And yet, on the other hand, you didn’t want him to think you’d given up and accepted his affection. But it was hard to resist him when he was just so… endearing.  And you hated it.

Kirishima Eijirou

Samaritan

Kirishima had been thinking about revealing his existence, but never once did he realize it. However, Kirishima knew that he needed to do it sooner or later. And he finally found the right opportunity to do it on one fateful night.

Au Revoir

Kirishima didn’t think he could love someone as much as he did to you. Was this what ‘moving on’ felt like? Though, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was just making excuses for his feelings. That he wasn’t actually moving on, more like, rebounding.

Bakugou Katsuki

Inexorable

It’d be great if you were a bit more open-minded, though. Relationships were unlikely to happen if both parties refused to compromise, and your rebellion made it harder for him to show you the true extent of his love.

Good Boyfriend

Everything he’d done and told to you was based on your best interest. At least, that was what you hoped. However, the reality was far more complicated and sinister. And unwittingly, you’d fallen to his so-called kindness.

Taishirou Toyomitsu

Palladium {R}

Toyomitsu had invited you to eat at his house. Sensing your hesitation, he reassured you that ‘no harm was done’. Just because you rejected him, didn’t mean you couldn’t be his friend, right?

Iida Tenya

I Swear on My Life

You were right; anyone would be angry if they saw someone hurting others. Which was why he needed to protect you, so nobody would be able to harm you anymore. Because as long he was still alive, he’d protect every inch of your being. After all, he’d sworn on his life.

[live-laugh-larceny]

i decided to write logan angst :D

I have not been able to stop thinking about @ameliessanderssidesblog‘s Zoom Angst post and I decided to write a smol fic based off it because I want pain. (someone else is writing one too but I figured more Logan angst is good?? I won’t check for their fic until I finish this because I want any similarities to be unintentional)

ok i have finished and reread it. this fic is a mess and horribly self-indulgent but i hope you like it anyway

characters: Logan-centric, some C!Thomas, Janus, Virgil, and Patton. The twins have one line apiece. Orange makes an appearance.

length: 1.6k

warnings: crying, Remus says something nsfw (it’s in the original post), the Orange boy being vaguely threatening, no happy ending

“Are you sure you don’t want to show the viewers those sparkling glasses you have, Logan?” Patton’s cheerful voice pipes from the speakers beside Logan’s desktop, tinny and hollow. Logan huffs out a derisive laugh, digging his fingers more forcefully into his hair in a fruitless (“good one!”) attempt to ease the pain of his pounding headache. Patton, of course, has no idea that Logan’s glasses are lying haphazardly on his desk where he flung them twenty minutes ago, looking for all intent like an insect scrabbling helplessly on its back. Logan observes that that comparison is not an inaccurate depiction of his current situation.

“You’re pathetic,” Logan mutters, furious for letting himself wallow in self-pity when there is a dilemma to be resolved. He shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to these... incidents. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes and Logan turns the brightness down on his laptop, as reducing eye strain is an effective method of countering the excessive moisture currently being produced by his tear glands. Ignoring the mounting pressure behind his eyes, Logan clicks the smudge in the corner of his display that he knows will make his voice heard. 

---

Thomas and Virgil exchange a fleeting glance as they both pick up on the strain behind Patton’s false laughter and the worry lurking in his eyes like a small child peeking bashfully between their parent’s legs. Thomas tilts his head slightly, hesitant to voice his question lest Logan was still listening. He and the other Sides had learned the hard way that asking about Logan’s well-being when he was upset rarely ended well. Thomas has barely started typing a message to Patton when he notices one from Janus. Curious, he opens the chatbox. It’s a private message, and Thomas has to shake a residual feeling of dread (he trusts Janus now, it’s fine) before opening it.

Totally Elle Woods: Patton’s last few encounters with Logan have gone wonderfully, and he’s absolutely not concerned.  

Thomas furrows his eyebrows he scrutinizes Janus’s screen. The snake-faced Side displays no outward signs of concern, languidly swirling his wine glass and looking remarkably bored behind his mint skincare mask. Despite his blunders and over-the-top theatrics, Janus was a fantastically good actor when he wanted to be. Thomas always seemed to forget that, somehow. 

Thomas Sanders: How did you know?

Totally Elle Woods: Please, be more obvious next time.

Thomas Sanders: Janus... 

Totally Elle Woods: ...sorry. Do you think I didn’t notice that little look between you and Virgil? You’re definitely as subtle as you think you are. 

Thomas sighs, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands. He feels a small headache coming on- hopefully Janus will remind him to take some Advil later. He looks up again as Patton gasps, a huge, genuine grin spreading across the moral Side’s face.

“Hi Logan!” Patton chirps. “What do you have to say about this mask-ive issue we’re having here?”

Thomas glances down at Logan’s blank screen and confirms that Logan really did unmute, feeling his stomach churn as he accidentally glimpses the last participant in their call. (Maybe Thomas had been purposefully not looking.) “07334 :)” is silent and invisible, but Thomas can’t help but feel anxious at the thought of an unknown Side possibly listening in on their conversation. It just doesn’t feel right.

---

Logan sighs at Patton’s ridiculousness. His continued insistence on wordplay over productivity did nothing but halt their discussions and delay finding a solution. Logan cleared his throat and spoke, enunciating as clearly as possible. 

“It would probably be beneficial for Thomas to arrive early so he can be sure to claim a six-foot radius appropriate for proper social distancing. Preferably -” 

“But what if some asshat just plops right in Thomas’s space? And we risk getting the virus? And then we can’t film videos because we need to get tested and then that takes forever and then we’re losing income and the fans get mad and we go broke and-”

Logan knows that Virgil didn’t have malicious intent when he cut him off. He knows that. Virgil is his friend, and he is prone strong bouts of anxiety that manifest in rapid speech which mimics his spiraling thoughts. Nevertheless, Logan experiences an irrational urge to crumple up another notecard and throw it as hard as he can at Virgil’s pixelated face. Couldn’t he have waited for another thirty seconds and allowed Logan to finish explaining himself? Logan had actually planned for this scenario and many others besides that, because he’s Logic and that’s his damn job. The urge grows stronger as Logan makes out that Patton and Thomas are nodding in agreement with Virgil like his outburst somehow invalidated Logan’s proposal. Dully, Logan notices that his lungs are having difficulty performing gas exchange at their usual efficiency. His head pounds. They must think he’s a joke. They must think he’s stupid. 

“GOOD GOD, VIRGIL!”

The ensuing silence stretches on for approximately 8.65 seconds before Thomas finally speaks. 

“Logan...”

Even through a speaker, the disappointment in Thomas’s voice is unmistakable. Logan is suddenly extremely grateful that his eyesight only allows him to vaguely identify the others without his glasses. He doesn’t want to see their faces. 

07334 :): :(

Virgil inhales slowly, holds, and exhales in the 4-7-8 pattern he taught them in his room. He’s doing that because of Logan. Virgil is anxious and distressed, and it’s his fault. Logan’s stomach figuratively flips over, and guilt “claws” its way up his throat. Such sensations were not literally experienced, of course, but Logan currently lacks the vocabulary to describe them more objectively. Clearly, participating in group discussions when he so easily lost his temper and upset the other Sides was unacceptable for theirs and Thomas’s mental health. 

“I... I apologize, Virgil. I did not mean to speak so harshly.” Logan struggles to speak. His tongue refuses to follow his command. “I- It seems that I was, uh, correct... a few months ago when I suggested to Patton that I leave the discussion after... after hurting Roman. I...” Logan trails off.

Virgil takes another deep breath, and something compels Logan to reach for his glasses. He cleans them on his shirt before sliding them on, blinking owlishly at his computer as it snaps back into focus. His breath stutters as he forces himself to look at Virgil, who is wearing the same indecipherable expression as when he said that Logan was “lost”. (Logan perceives every microexpression that makes its way across the others’ faces. He notices the minute differences in twitches of the lips and the positioning of the eyebrows. He doesn’t always know what those infinitesimal changes mean, but he’s trying to learn.) Logan still doesn’t understand what Virgil meant back then, but he knows that it was hardly positive. 

“I... we’re going to leave you alone until tomorrow, L.” Virgil’s eyes are boring into him. It’s not possible, Virgil can’t see him through a computer screen. Virgil’s eyes are boring into him, unearthing every regret and insecurity and laying them bare. “There’s something going on with you. We can all see it. Please don’t try to hide it.” Virgil’s words are stimulating a release of epinephrine, which is causing his heart rate to increase. Logan can no longer focus on anything but the fact that his headache and his heartbeat are throbbing in perfect unison. 

“We love you, Logan.” Patton’s voice trembles. Logan clicks mute, sprints to his bed, and screams into his pillow. 

07334 :): :’(

---

pattonsandersenter: I think we should go talk to Logan...

Totally Elle Woods: I understand your concern, but denial is a tricky thing. If we push Logan now, it could be disastrous.

xX21ChemicalPanic!Xx: so we’re just going to let logan delude himself forever?

Totally Elle Woods: Unless I was mistaken, it was you who suggested we leave him alone, dear Virgil.

xX21ChemicalPanic!Xx: fuck you. you know what i fucking meant, snake

Thomas Sanders: Guys don’t fight

pattonsandersenter: Virgil!!! Language!!!

Totally Elle Woods: We’ll talk to him tomorrow. For now, we finish this video as planned.

---

The rest of the call passes in a daze. Logan eventually makes his way back to his desk and listens with his head in his hands, trying to distract himself by identifying the others by the tone of their voices. Janus’s melodic lilt, Remus’s grating screech, Roman’s booming tenor, Virgil’s soft mutter, Patton’s friendly warmth, and Thomas, somewhere between it all. Eventually, they all sign out in perfect unison, having reached a solution almost identical to one Logan had already planned out. So much for efficiency, he thinks, but there’s no bitterness or bite, just exhaustion. 

“Take it easy, guys, gals, and non-binary pals!”

“byeishouldn’thavejoinedthis”

“Toodle-oo, plebs!”

“Don’t take care. See you...”

“Ok!! I’ll see you kiddos later!!”

“SUCK COCK MOTHERFUCKERS!!! BYEEEE!”

---

Logan opens his eyes blearily. The world dissolves into smudges again- his glasses are still perched on top of his head from when he moved them to sulk earlier. Pathetic. 

It’s just him and “07334 :)” now. Resigned, Logan unmutes and shows himself for the first time. He refuses to look at his face in the computer screen, puffy and red with a single tear carving a hot, salty river down his cheek. Pathetic.

When Orange speaks, Logan’s speaker hisses and pops with static as if it was trying to resist broadcasting Orange’s voice. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Blue.” Logan knows that it is impossible to discern Orange’s expression, but in that moment, he could have sworn he heard the grin slicing across Orange’s face. Lethal. Deadly. Logan shudders. Pathetic. 

Logan manages to gather himself and look up for real, staring down the smiley face on Orange’s blank screen.

“Yeah, I know.”

Orange and Logan click out at the same time, and the call goes silent.

---

If anyone made it through that, thanks for reading! This is maybe my second fic ever so sorry if it’s messy and hard to follow. It was very stream of consciousness if you couldn’t tell. I wanted to include some Roman angst too but I honestly couldn’t think of a good way to do it and this thing was already taking a long time. Sorry Roman stans :( Also sorry Remus stans :(

[wolfinlambsclothing]

Angels Fall [Simeon x reader]

Notes: It was written with a fem!reader, because I don’t know how to write neutral or male. When they call your name, it’s MC.

Some small spoilers about Lilith.

Warnings: a little angst; Simeon falls; this chapter is sfw, but next won’t.

Summary: Months after torturing yourself, you decided that you should tell Simeon that you're in love with him, thinking it woud come to nothing. Simeon knew it was a forbidden path, he always did. And now your actions will have consequences for you both.

Also posted on AO3.

CHAPTER 1: FALL

When angels fall with broken wings I can't give up, I can't give in When all is lost and daylight ends I'll carry you and we will live forever, for ever

If someone asked you, you would say with the greatest certain in the world that Simeon was flirting. After all, most of the Devildom demons and some guys you’ve met in the Human Realm used to be so helpful and kind when they wanted something in return. But he was an angel, and angels were helpful and kind by nature — or that’s what you kept repeating in your head, in a way to convince yourself that you couldn't get carried away.

And that went on for weeks.

From the start, Simeon was nice and amiable, not just with you. He was patient with everything and everyone, always helping those in need, without caring if they were a demon, a human or an angel. He was always there. However, despite knowing you were wrong, as the days went by you couldn’t stop your heart from beating faster every time he did something for you. Whether to help with a lesson, watch a movie, chat or go out to try a new treat at your favorite candy store, Simeon always invited you or accepted your invitations. You always thought it was his angel nature and tried your best to bury your feelings for him, but you didn't know the half of it.

Simeon knew it was a forbidden path, he always did. But how could he not feel attracted by you? He tried to convince himself so many times that everything he did was in the name of his angelic and benevolent nature, but it had reached a level that no one else could believe in such a lie. He tried to hide, keep it to himself and, maybe, get forgiveness for falling in love with a human, but it was more and more difficult to achieve this. Your smiles brightened his days, your smell soothed him, your voice captivated him and your touches were increasingly dear, whether it was a simple brush of your fingers on his arm or a hug to thank him for something.

And then, months after torturing yourself, you decided that you should say something. You knew it would come to nothing, but your feelings were suffocating you and you couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore — after all it was starting to be obvious that something was happening; even the brothers were suspicious of how many times you went to Purgatory Hall. Forcing the best smile you could, already expecting for the worst, you went to your destination, where you knew you would find the angel.

“MC, it’s nice to see you.” He smiled wide when he opened the door and saw you.

“Hi, Simeon. I… wanted to talk to you…”

The angel gave you room so you could enter the house, then closed the door. You were weird, he could sense it, but he couldn’t tell what was it. Your aura was heavy and… sad. For a moment, he was sad too, but pulled himself together so he could help you with whatever you needed. Guiding you to his room, he invited you to come in and make yourself comfortable, as always. You went straight to an armchair in the corner and sat, the angel following you and sitting on the bed, in front of you.

“What do you need?”, he asked with a kind smile.

“I have a problem. I’m liking… someone. But I know we can’t be together.”

“Oh!” The angel felt a tightness in his chest, but he needed to ignore it in order to help you. “And… is it one of the brothers?”

“No…” You looked away, blushing. Simeon noticed that you didn't want to say who was it, so he chose not to insist. “But I know it has no future, that it can’t happen. I’m a human and he… well, he isn’t.”

“I see…” He put his hand on his chin, thoughtfully. His mind has already crossed out Solomon from the list of possible suitors.

“I know that there are a lot of obstacles for that, that it doesn't have the slightest chance of happening, but even so I can't dislike him. And I know he probably doesn’t feel the same way and that I’m deluding myself, but… I don’t know what to do anymore. I tried to forget, to ignore and to get over it, but nothing works. It feels that I like him more every day.”

“And have you tried talking to him?”

“Not yet. At least not directly...”

“So that’s the start. You’re a lovely person, little lamb, your feelings will probably be reciprocated.”

“I… was thinking about talking to him, but now… My courage seems to be fading away.”

“Don’t worry and don’t think too much. Just say what you’re feeling in your heart, be honest with yourself and I know you’re gonna be okay, no matter what happens. You can always come to talk to me later. I’ll be here to support you.”

“But what if… it’s you?” The end of the sentence came out so low that the angel almost failed to hear, and yet he doubted that he had heard correctly.

“What if it’s…” His eyes went wide, while he was feeling his heart flutter inside him.

“You.” This time your voice coming out a little louder. Taking a deep breath, you looked him in the eye. “What if the someone I like is you? I know it’s forbidden, I know it’s impossible, I know it's unrequited, but I… I can’t help but like you.”

Your eyes started to water and you stared at the floor, trying to stop yourself from crying. You noticed the angel getting up and walking towards you, probably ready to ask you to forget all this and make you realize how impossible it was. You felt so pathetic, suffering for a love that has always been doomed to fail.

However, what came next was not rejection, nor a sermon on how you were deluded, much less a detachment. Simeon bent down in front of you, putting one hand on each arm of the chair and kissed you. Well, it was more like a light brush of lips, but enough to make you dizzy.

“S-Simeon…”

“Now you know too. It’s not unrequited.”

“But… I thought… You don’t… How…”

“I don’t know what can happen, honestly.” The angel stroked your cheek, looking at you tenderly. “It’s the first time that an angel falls in love for a human… Well, there was Lilith, but she did more than just fall in love.”

“You mean… Simeon, can you be condemned to non-existence?”

“I don’t think such a severe punishment will be applied.” He laughed softly, partly because of the line of thought you were following and partly because he was happy to know that you liked him, and that you cared so much about him.

“But then…” Your words were cut off by his thumb resting on your lips then caressing it, in a request for silence.

“I don’t care what will be my punishment. Knowing that what I feel for you is mutual makes me so happy that I don't even know if I can think of the consequences of it now.”

“You… like me!” Now it was your eyes that went wide with his statement.

“Yes, MC. I’m a little surprised you didn’t know, sometimes I thought I was being pretty obvious, with everything I was doing for you.”

“Ah, well… I thought it was a common thing for you to be so helpful to everyone, because… You know, you’re an angel.”

“No, it was only for you. Only for my little lamb.”

Simeon stood up and held out his hand in your direction, which you took eagerly. Now standing on your feet, you felt how your body was shaking with the whole situation, but in a very good way. The angel put one hand on your neck and the other on your waist, pulling you close. Approaching slowly and watching you intently, he again joined your lips, now for longer. This time, Simeon ran his tongue over your lips asking to deepen the kiss and you allowed. You heard a rustle and, moving away to look, you realized that he was in his angelic form, with his imposing wings around you in a protective way. With a wide smile from ear to ear, you kissed him with love again, and again, and again.

With each kiss, you felt like you needed more. With each touch of him, which slid from your waist to your back and then back to your waist, you wanted more. With each sigh of yours, he felt it was not enough. And with each step he took back, you were closer to the bed, until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he fell sitting, with you still glued to him. You settled on the angel's lap, with one leg on either side of his hips, still kissing him fervently. Your hands, which rested on his shoulders, slid to his nape, gently moving down his back to the base of his wings, where you caressed and started to move your hand through the feathers — making him sigh. His hands, seeming to have a life of their own, soon found their way from your waist to your thighs, leaving a hot trail where they passed.

“Simeon…”, you called him. He actually didn't know if it was a request or a call. And what kind of request it would be, if that was the case. He just hummed and kissed you passionately again. It took a lot of your willpower to move away and call him again, your worries starting to hammer in your head again. “Simeon, I… We need to talk first.”

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed loudly, closing his eyes. “I was excited and got carried away… Please, forgive me.”

“No! I mean, that’s not it. I’m still worried about what might happen, because it’ll be partly my fault and…”

“MC, it doesn’t matter what happens, it won’t be your fault. It’ll never be. Don’t worry about what may or may not happen.”

“Okay. But… maybe we should do something else? You know, before we…” Your face was red and you cleared your throat, trying to make the angel understand. “You know… Make it worse.”

“As you wish.” He smiled and gave you one last peck on the cheek, helping you to get off of him.

You two decided to do the usual: watch something, while eating some snacks. Neither of you noticed when a feather from the angel's wing came loose and fell to the floor, going under his bed.

<center>xxx</center>

Four days have passed. Nobody knew that you were in some kind of relationship yet, because it was too recent and neither the brothers or Luke would have a nice reaction. You both were still meeting each other as often as possible, like always, but now there was something more. Your meetings were full of kisses and cuddles in his bed.

It was a common afternoon in the Devildom and you two were coming back from RAD to Purgatory Hall along with Solomon and Luke. Everything was normal, until you step inside the house and the younger angel lets out a high-pitched, desperate cry. Turning around, you were ready to be in a fighting position — not that you knew much about it or that it could be useful — and help your friend. However, when your eyes met the little blond, you realized that he was looking at you with such horror. More specifically, for something close to your feet. Following his line of sight, you lowered your head, feeling your whole world spin when you saw what Luke had seen. There, on the floor, between you and Simeon, was a feather — or what appeared to be one, since it looked burnt.

Lifting your head quickly, your eyes found the angel staring down, biting his lip in nervousness.

“Did it fall off your wings?” Solomon broke the silence.

“Probably.”

“S-Simeon! But-”

“What have you done?” Luke interrupted you. His expression was a mix of horror and disappointment, which made you feel bad for the older angel.

“Nothing! I mean… not that much.” Simeon looked at you, like he was waiting for your consent to tell what you two have been up to lately. “We… We have been dating.”

“WHAT?”, the other two shouted.

“N-not in the way you’re thinking!” You hurried to shake your hands nervously.

“We are together, but we did nothing”, he stated. “It was some time ago that I noticed I felt something different about MC and then I realized I was in love with her. A few days ago I discovered that she felt the same way and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Simeon, it’s forbidden!”

“Does that mean you’re falling?”, Solomon asked. “Just because you fell in love with someone?”

“Yes. Well, it’s not just it. Relationships between angels and any other being is forbidden. Plus, I let myself be carried away by my feelings. I accepted and surrendered to it, without fear of the consequences, out of pure selfishness. Not only I didn’t regret this, I insisted on this relationship for the past few days.”

“Simeon, you can’t! This… It’s…” The little angel now looked more afraid than angry. His blue eyes shift the focus between you and the angel next to you, as if hoping that you could say something to help.

“Luke, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! Simeon, you have to regret it, ask for forgiveness. You…”

“You can’t fall!”, you completed when the angel seemed unable to formulate the rest of the sentence. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t… Now you’re like this…” Your tears could no longer be contained. You felt yourself being embraced by the angel and his hands caressing your hair, while his wings enveloped you in an attempt to calm you down.

“I told you not to blame yourself, MC.” Turning his head towards the other angel, Simeon continued: “Forgive me, Luke, but I can't do what you're asking. I’m aware of what's going on, but I won’t regret it. I will never regret falling in love with MC and having the best days I can remember.”

A few seconds of silence followed and you continued with your head buried in the angel's chest, until you heard footsteps leaving, probably from Luke going to his own room. Simeon took a long breath and looked back at you, holding your chin up so he could look you in the eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but before any sound came out, he was interrupted by Solomon:

“Your feathers are falling and turning black.”

In a snap, you looked to the side, seeing one of the wings in the exact state that the sorcerer had described. The feathers were turning as black as those on Lucifer's wings; some places appeared to be featherless, but a small tip indicated that they were being reborn in the new color. Startled, you looked down, seeing that the falling white feathers looked burnt, as if they had caught on fire between the fall of the wing and the landing.

“S-Simeon! Your wings...”

“I suggest you go to your room to talk.”

Nodding to the sorcerer, Simeon held your hand and guided you to his own bedroom, locking the door when both of you were inside. You two sat on the bed, facing each other.

Your eyes watched intently all the details that were changing in the now ex-angel. Maybe it was because he admitted so vehemently that he would never regret it, but he was falling a lot faster than you thought it would be. His wings were already completely black, horns protruded almost completely from his head and a mark became more and more evident on his shoulder, very similar to the ones that the brothers had on their bodies. 

Simeon was feeling every little change. The mark on his shoulder felt like it was being burned with a hot iron, but he didn't care.

You cupped his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. A part of you still blamed yourself, after all, if you hadn't said anything, none of this would be happening. However, another part — much bigger, by the way — was happy. You couldn't forget the expression of joy and love that had filled Simeon's face when he said that those were the best days he remembered. Plus, he seemed calm with what was happening, and his eyes still looked at you with such affection that you thought you could melt right there.

“I hope you’re not regretting us”, he said and you grimaced. You were ready to answer him, but he smiled and continued to speak before you could say a thing: “I’m kidding. I know you’re not.”

“Good.”

“You should know that I don’t either.” He took your hand and brought it to his mouth, placing a kiss. “I meant every word. I don’t regret being with you and I never will.”

“Me neither.” You smiled the best you could and got closer. Placing a light kiss on your lover's lips, you whispered: “I think I don’t just like you, but I love you.”

“I’m sure of it”, he whispered back, also smiling.

Placing one hand on your nape and the other on your waist, Simeon pulled you to another kiss, this time with much more intensity and passion.

After all, he had nothing more to lose. And he wanted to make the most of your company.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

FINAL NOTES:

The cover images were taken from inside the game.

The song is Angels Fall, by Breaking Benjamin. I love this song so much! I love this band, actually. Next chapter will probably have one of their songs too.

MC wasn’t even thinking about what could happen to her. After all, she has pacts with demons and now she’s with an angel. This MC will definitely go to the Devildom after she dies, HASIUEHASUIEHAS.

This chapter was sfw, but next won’t. Yes, MC and Simeon will “finish their business”. We have a saying here where I live that says: if you’re in hell, hug the devil (it was translated quite literally, but I think you could understand). In MC’s case, she’ll literally hug the devil ;) HIASHEIAUSEIASUHEAS.

See ya around!

[saras-almanac]

explanations (robert/aaron, vic)

Robert returns to Emmerdale after 6 years in prison with the intent to explain his decision for turning them all away. He knows he had to do it for himself, but it's hard to make that case when you're standing in front of two people you hurt the most.

I’ve had this idea in my brain every since the spoilers were released / I thought about Robert cutting contact and how that makes sense cause Robert just doesn’t think he’s worth it and just generally has no self worth. And since I don’t know if we’re going to get any sort of explanation in the episode, I wanted to write a version of it. I’ll be honest and say that this was really hard to write, even with the sad undertones, but because post prison Robert is just so different to current Rob and it kept making me sad. 

But enjoy? Also on ao3 cause it’s over 3k. 

Robert was shaking as he drove into Emmerdale, clutching his small bag on his lap. It had been six years since he’d been back here, but things still looked the same. He’d had the same feeling when he’d returned to the village with Chrissie all those years ago.

It was strange that for how much time had passed, it was almost like this little town had gotten stuck in time. He wasn’t deluded; he knew that things had changed, life had continued, people had moved on. But for a moment, in the back of the taxi, he could almost make himself forget that.

“You wanted the pub?” the driver asked him and Robert hesitated.

He honestly had no idea where he should go. He wanted to go and find Aaron—if he was still in the village—but he didn’t know if he should. He didn’t know if he could.

“Um. Just up the road. Keeper’s Cottage.” Robert’s voice was quiet and it shook as he spoke. He was terrified to be back, to see the people who knew him before. He’d changed quite a bit during his time away and had things to make up for.

His counselor said that he cut people off because he felt he had to, a mix of self-preservation and a way of coping with things. He said there wasn’t anything wrong with Robert needing to put himself and his needs first because he had to take care of himself before he could take care of others. Originally his counselor had been hopeful that maybe after Robert adjusted and they talked through his fears and worries, Robert might change his mind. He tried for years to get Robert to accept visitors or phone calls, but he wouldn’t. Robert couldn’t.

It had been too hard, knowing that he’d caused all this, that he’d caused even more pain for the people he loved. It was terrifying watching them be miserable and know that it was just a matter of time before they stopped coming to visit at all. Fourteen years was a long time and what if they started to hate him, to remember that it was his fault that things got so messed up? He thought it would be better for everyone if he severed the connection with all of them so they could focus on themselves and their own lives.

“This one?”

Robert looked out the window and saw that his sister’s home looked nearly the same as he remembered it. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Robert took a step out and hesitated before walking up. He knew he had to see her and tell he was out early. He should have called but after years or no contact, he didn’t want to call and be told to fuck off. Besides, they deserved to tell him that to his face.

“It’s just Vic,” Robert said to himself as took a careful step forward. His counselor and him prepared for people to be angry with him. He helped Robert figure out his argument and reasoning so he could defend his actions and hope that they might understand in time. His counselor kept reminding him that no one could judge his situation but Robert as he’s the one who lived it.

He just had to knock on the door and hope that he’d be able to explain.

Robert clenched his fist and raised it to knock on the door.

“Uh. Hang on!” Vic’s voice shouted from inside.

Robert’s chest contracted and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He’d been preparing for this moment for weeks, yet he was still panicking. It’s just Vic. It’s just Vic.

“Yeah?” The door opened and Vic was standing in front of him. She stared at him, frowning and moving closer. “Robert?”

“Erm,” Robert looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry I didn’t call but—”

“Oh my god!” Vic threw her arms around him and held him close. He placed his arms awkwardly around her and hoped she didn’t feel how badly he was trembling. He wasn’t used to contact and it was too much but also not quite enough and his body didn’t know how to process it.

Vic clutched him and he could hear her crying. “What are you doing here? How did ya get here?”

“Um. Taxi.”

“Very funny, Rob.” Vic pulled back but kept her hands on his arms.

“They appealed my sentence,” Robert said quietly. “And I worked to get out early.”

“How come you didn’t tell us?” Vic asked.

“It wasn’t a sure thing,” Robert said. “I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case it didn’t go through. But then it did and things happened quicker than I thought. I meant to call but I hadn’t in so long and then it was just too hard and—”

Robert felt his breathing speed up and he couldn’t get enough air in and backed away from Vic.

“It’s all right, Robert,” Vic said gently. “Just take a breath, all right?”

Robert tried to listen to her, forcing himself to count his breaths in and out like he was taught. He became aware that there were people wandering about and he didn’t want to be the subject of scrutiny when he was in the middle of a panic attack.

“Did you want to come in?” Vic asked, clearly reading his mind. “I could make you a cuppa?”

Robert nodded and followed her inside. He breathed a little easier once the door was shut.

Robert stood in the living room, clutching his bag in front of him, as Vic turned on the kettle.

“It’s really good to see you, Robert,” Vic said. “I missed ya.”

“I missed you too,” Robert said softly. “I’m sorry that I shut you out.”

Vic sighed. “I was hurt and angry at first. But I figured you had your reasons for doing it.”

Robert nodded. “I just thought it’d be easier for you lot. Not being tied down to someone like me.”

“Robert we love you and wanted to be there for ya,” Vic said. “We’d have kept visiting.”

“I know,” Robert said. But only at the start. It’d get boring and costly to keep up steady visits.

“Does anyone else know you’re home?” Vic asked.

Robert’s throat burned at the mention of “home” because this wasn’t home to him anymore, not really. He’s not sure if it really would be again. “No.”

“I bet Aaron would really love to see ya,” Vic said. “He misses you.”

Robert looked down at his hand where his ring was. He’d never taken it off, the one thing he’d refused to part with. He might have given Aaron up for both their sakes, but he couldn’t let go of him completely.

“Wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Robert asked. “Showing up. Demanding he speak to me after years of silence. He deserves better than that.” Better than me.

“I think you should let me ring him and then he can decide what he wants,” Vic suggested as she brought him a cup of tea.

Robert nodded once and took the tea, keeping hold of his bag with the other hand.

“You can sit down, ya know,” Vic said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Robert nodded and perched on the edge of the sofa. He could hear Vic on the phone but couldn’t make out the words. His hands started shaking so badly he had to set the cup down on the table.

What would Aaron do? He’s bound to be rightfully angry and hurt—Robert abandoned him after all. He’d have moved on by now and probably wouldn’t want anything to do with Robert. Not that Robert would blame him; Aaron always deserved someone better than him.

But what if he wants to see you?

Robert took a breath and looked up at the ceiling. That possibility was worse. How was he going to be able to stay strong and defend his choices if Aaron’s there right in front of him?

Vic came into the living room to join him, carrying her tea with her. “You all right?”

“Nervous,” Robert added after a hesitation.

“Hard being back?” Vic asked softly.

Robert nodded. “Hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“It’s probably going to take some time, Rob,” Vic said. “You’ll have to allow yourself that.”

Robert nodded and they trailed off into silence for a bit.

“How’s your little one?” Robert asked after a minute.

Vic grinned. “He’s just like you, full of mischief. He’s always trying to sneak extra sweets and when I catch him, he tries telling me that I’d not given him any yet.”

Robert smiled at her. “That’s great, Vic.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s gonna—”

“Vic!” Vic’s door slammed open and Aaron nearly ran into the room. He was wearing an orange hi-vis vest and completely out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Victoria asked as she stood up.

Robert stood as well, just looking at the man who used to be his husband.

Aaron had frozen in the doorway, staring at Robert, and Robert didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run to Aaron and cling to him, but he didn’t have that right. Not anymore.

“You’re back then?” Aaron said gruffly, gripping the door handle tightly.

Robert nodded. “Yeah.”

“His solicitor got his sentence reduced,” Vic said happily from the side.

It wasn’t a technically accurate description of what had happened, but it was close enough that Robert didn’t bother trying to correct her.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Aaron asked him.

“I don’t know,” Robert admitted. “I thought you might hate me. Wasn’t sure if you’d care.”

“Course I care,” Aaron said.

Robert nodded and looked down.

“Why’d you do it?” Aaron asked, his voice wavering. “You stopped calling and letting me visit. How could ya do that to me?”

Robert took a breath and tried to remember all that he and his counselor worked on. “Because I couldn’t make you live that kind of life for fourteen years. It wouldn’t be fair on you, living for monthly visits if even that. Maybe daily phone calls. That’s not a life. It’s not a marriage.”

“I think I can decide for myself what I want,” Aaron argued. “But you just had to play god, deciding what was best for me, for Vic.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Robert said.

“You just said that you didn’t want me to visit,” Aaron said.

“You’d have put your life on hold waiting for me,” Robert said. “I went to prison to give you back your life. I couldn’t let you throw it away on me.”

“Throw it away?” Aaron asked angrily. “So just because you pushed me away you think that I somehow miraculous got over you?”

Robert closed his eyes. This was not going how he’d been picturing it. Aaron wasn’t saying the lines he’d been prepared for.

“You…” Robert hesitated.

“Do you know how devastated I was to find out you weren’t going to see me anymore?” Aaron asked. He was crying now and Robert hated himself even more. “I was barely coping with things as it was, missing you every second of every day. And then you just cut me off without a word. Do you know how that felt?”

Robert shook his head.

“Like I didn’t matter,” Aaron said. “We were supposed to be in this together. But you made a decision on your own, that affected me, without thinking about me at all!”

“I’m sorry,” Robert said quietly. “But I had to.”

“For me?” Aaron asked, shaking his head. “I’m so sick of people deciding what I need and what’s best for me. You gave up on me, on us. You saying you had to shut me out for years—years Robert—was the best thing for me is… I can’t even think of a word bad enough!”

Aaron wiped at his face. “You said you loved me. And yet you just walked away from me?”

Robert exhaled slowly. He could do this. He could say the words. He’d practiced and prepared. “Fourteen years is a long time.”

“I can do maths, thanks,” Aaron said.

“What I mean is… When we talked about you visiting, it was five years,” Robert said quietly still looking down. “Then everything changed.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Aaron agreed. “But you were my husband. Did you think I was really going to leave in prison alone?”

“Maybe not right away.”

“What?” Aaron asked. He took one forward.

“I know you said that you’d visit and write and all that, but fourteen years was too long,” Robert said. “And when it became too much, what was I gonna do then?”

“Robert,” Vic said, startling Aaron who seemed to have forgotten she was there even though they were in her house. “Do ya really think we’d have just stopped visiting? You’re my brother. I wanted to be there for ya.”

“I know,” Robert said. “But visits can only go so far.”

“So you really think I love you so little that I’d do that to ya?” Aaron asked.

Robert didn’t say anything.

“You abandoned me,” Aaron said. “You promised you’d never leave me and then you just walked away.”

“I know,” Robert said. “But it wasn’t like that.”

“Then how was it?” Aaron asked. “If it wasn’t you playing god or deciding what was best for me, then what was the real reason?”

“Because it was killing me!” Robert shouted, finally looking up at Aaron’s shocked face. “Sitting across a table from you for years, never being able to touch you or hold you, nothing. And the thought of watching your lives continue on, time passing while I was locked up for fourteen years was too much. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t bear watching it happen and I knew that if I was left alone, I’d be able to get through. I wouldn’t have constant reminders of time passing and seeing all that I was missing.”

“We were gonna record things for you,” Aaron said. “So you wouldn’t have to miss it.”

Robert shook his head.

“You could have told us this,” Vic said. “We could have figured something else out.”

“That’s…” Robert shook his head.

“Talk to me,” Aaron said, in a voice that nearly haunted Robert’s prison stay. It was quiet and gentle, the way Aaron could be when it was just the two of them.

“I was left alone you know, for the first few day,” Robert said softly. “They called it suicide watch, but it was just me alone and all I could think about was how much I’d let you down, all of you. How much I wasn’t worth the time for you to put your lives on hold. And there was the little voice in my head telling me that you would resent me, grow to hate me for what I did and just abandon me, leave me alone.”

“Robert—”

“And you’d have been right to do that. I’m a disaster. I ruin everything that I touch. I deserved to be put away but you didn’t deserve to be condemned alongside me.”

“Rob—” Vic tried again, but Robert ignored her.

“That voice, it got louder when I was told I was being transferred. All that money, all that time. I wasn’t worth that. And the fear that you would start seeing that too was too much. I couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving me later down the line, after I’d gotten used to having you around. That would have killed me.”

No one spoke, but their ragged breathing was audible.

“So yeah,” Robert said, hearing the tears in his voice. “I cut you off. But I had to in order to get through it. But don’t for one second think it was easy for me. I worried about you constantly, all of you. There were so many times I queued for the phone before I walked away because I just couldn’t do it.”

“You could have talked to me about it,” Aaron said.

“You were barely keeping it together,” Robert said. “I couldn’t put that on you. I thought, in my head, that you’d be better off without me. And it would hurt less to do it early, for both of us.”

“You broke my heart, Rob,” Aaron said.

“You think I don’t know that? You think that thought hasn’t haunted me every day being locked up? Knowing that I hurt you again?” Robert asked. “You think I didn’t do the same thing to myself? I told you once that I’d rather never have you back than lose you again. Losing you the first time nearly killed me. This time…”

“But you didn’t have to lose me, Robert,” Aaron said. “I wanted to support ya. Be there for you. I loved ya.”

“I know,” Robert said quietly. “And I know that you always put other people before yourself. You’d have kept visiting and all that even if it was killing you. And watching that happen… I’d rather tear out my own heart than what you suffer like that.”

“So you just did it alone,” Aaron said.

“It was the only way I could get through it,” Robert said. “You have to believe me.”

“Course we believe you, Robert,” Vic said. “We’re hurt and we were devastated by it, but we understand you had to what was best for you.”

“You could have told me, you know.” Aaron wiped at his eyes again.

“This way you had the best chance of moving on with your life,” Robert said.

“You think I had any sort of life without ya?” Aaron asked. “You were my life, Robert.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert said quietly again. “I just had to do it this way.”

No one spoke and Robert looked back down again.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you can at least understand a little better,” Robert said quietly. He looked up and saw Aaron’s face and he hated that he made him look that devastated.

“Robert,” Aaron said quietly. He hesitated a second more before nearly launching himself at Robert. His arms wrapped around Robert’s waist and his chin hooked over Robert’s shoulder and it just felt like coming home. Robert placed his arms carefully around Aaron’s back and pressed his head to Aaron’s shoulder. He’d been shaking all afternoon but standing here in Aaron’s arms, it was like he was vibrating right out of his skin.

“I’m so sorry,” Robert said, feeling tears burn down his cheeks in his throat. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Don’t,” Aaron said, tightening his grip. “We shouldn’t have made it about us. You had to do what you needed and even though it killed me, I’d rather have ya back in one piece.”

“You still want me?” Robert asked quietly.

“Always,” Aaron said. He let out a huge sigh and clutched Robert closer to him.

Robert didn’t entirely know where they went from here, but at least this time, wherever they go, they’re going together.

[victorywar]

          META / BAD HABITS

both versions of star saber are physically healthy, despite all that they’ve gone through.  they eat well, they sleep well (generally), and they’re “functional”--  productive by the standards of most.  at a glance, it would be easy to presume that they’re both generally healthy, or at least that g1/victory!star saber is while his idw counterpart is completely deluded.

however, they are both emotionally unhealthy in the same way: severe repression.

g1/victory!star saber represses his emotional needs to the point of being incapable of considering anything for himself.  if he feels as though he needs something--  affection, validation, intimacy, etc.--  he will consider the impulse “selfish” and keep it to himself.  it stems from being hailed as a dutiful, righteous autobot from the time he was very young, to the point where he has internalized this as his primary virtue;  if he were to deviate from that, he would feel as though he were betraying others.

his emotional repression is somewhat mitigated by having a son to dote on, but he can only be so affectionate with jan.  he is, after all, significantly larger than his son, and ultimately he still has to be a responsible parent and leader.  he certainly can’t rely on jan to take on any of his emotional burden with regards to his duties as supreme commander or as an autobot.

basically he’s the gifted kid that’s doomed to crash at some point.  also see that j/ohn m/ulaney quote:  “i’ll keep all my emotions right here.  and then one day, i’ll die.”

idw!star saber, on the other hand, as twisted as he is--  he’s also devoid of emotional outlet, though it’d be easy to think otherwise given his constant murderous intent towards, uh, everyone.  the problem with having violence as an outlet for anger is that once murder becomes a norm, it no longer purges the rage inside.  he’s done so much harm to others that it doesn’t help anymore.

but more to the point, a lot of what he truly feels at this point isn’t even anger to begin with.  star saber has burdened himself with a lot of feelings:  grief, regret, guilt, despair, doubt, desperation, loneliness, frustration...  such that he doesn’t remember how to express these things like a normal person at this point.  mostly, thanks to the fact that he hasn’t had friends in over half a million years, because they’re dead and it’s his fault.  and he doesn’t exactly know how to make more--  and woe befall anyone who tries to befriend him, if they aren’t his exact standards for a good mech (spoilers: almost nobody is).  so, unless his loved ones magically come back to life, he’s effectively stuck.

ultimately this helps justify why he hasn’t actually killed anyone in RP yet despite intending to--  company, any company, is better than being alone.  and star saber has been alone for a very long time.

tl;dr:  both of these boys are in serious need of a hug.  but maybe punch bastard saber in the dusty bible first, he deserves it.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Thanos

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The Infinity Saga was all building up to one thing, hinted at in The Avengers: Thanos. For years fans watched and waited, waiting for the inevitable payoff. But time went on, and Thanos did so little, and the fans got impatient and frustrated. This guy, he was being built up as the ultimate threat in the MCU, and he can’t even get off his ass and do more than cameo in Guardians of the Galaxy? Fans were obviously a bit nervous going into Infinity War, and it’s hard to blame them all things considered; Thanos had done a grand total of nothing across the entire past three phases, he had none of the Infinity Stones, and he sure hadn’t fulfilled his promise to do it himself he made in the stinger of Age of Ultron. What good could this guy possibly be?

Oh boy, you have no idea how good.

Thanos made his grand entrance as a major character by killing Loki and beating the crap out of the Hulk, and then spent the entirety of Infinity War showing us all that maybe it’s better he was dragging his feet for so long, because everyone would have been long dead if he didn’t. What’s more intriguing is how Thanos was such a well-developed and complex villain; perhaps they were just waiting for the right moment, the perfect time when creative freedom and good villain writing could come together to deliver the Thanos that the audience and MCU deserved.

Actor: Josh Brolin, a man you may know from The Goonies or as Deadpool’s best buddy Cable,portrays Thanos, and… honestly? I think this is the first performance I’ve seen in a superhero film in a long time that I genuinely think deserved an Oscar. Brolin just commands the screen and your attention with his voice, and he really sells that the big purple MoCap creation onscreen is a real, physical guy.

Motivation/Goals: Thanos has a very simple motivation: he wishes to wipe out half of all life in the universe, to make things perfectly balanced. It’s a relatively simple evil plan, but one that is grand in scale, as well as one Thanos does not himself see as evil; rather, he sees it as an act of supreme mercy, saving the universe from itself and restoring a level of order to the chaos that is life. It really cements him as a well-intentioned extremist anti-villain: the plan is, from a certain point of view, noble, it has somewhat good intentions behind it…. But at the same time it is flawed, insane, disturbing, and will do far more harm than good in the long run.

Thankfully, the movies don’t pretend that Thanos’ plan is a good, brilliant thing, and instead use his wholeheartyed belief that it is the right thing to do, that this is his burden to carry, to highlight what a broken, depressing man Thanos truly is. So bitter by his failure to save his people, his desire to vndicate his failure in his own eyes drives him to do the nost unthinkable act of genocide in a desperate attempt to prove he was right to a race that is otherwise long dead. It’s tragic, it’s insane, and it’s just a great motivation.

I think it’s worth addressing the two biggest groups of critics of the MCU’s version of Thanos: Those who think his goal is stupid, and those who are mad that he is not more in line with his comic book counterpart. The first group is arguably the more annoying one, because they seem to be unaware of what exactly entails an anti-villain, or even a villain in general. The thing with a villain is that, no matter how cool or sympathetic or interesting they are, you are not supposed to agree with them. You are not supposed to think a villain’s plan is good or intelligent, you are not supposed to say “gee they have a point here,” you are supposed to enjoy them for what they are but you’re not supposed to be on their side. That aside, the fact hs plan is crazy and stupid is arguably the point; he is a man stricken by grief he has internalized for so long he is incapable of seeing the horrendous flaws in his plans. He is the MAD Titan after all. In all honesty, his complete and utter inability to see the faults in his plan only makes him all the more tragic.

The other group… well, to put it nicely, I really don’t feel like the comic version of Thanos’ motivations would translate well to film. To put it more bluntly, I kind of find comic Thanos to have an insanely stupid motivation. He wants to kill half of all life so he can impress a girl (that girl being Death). And people call MCU Thanos’ motivation stupid? In the comics he’s basically just a superpowered dudebro who kills everyone because he gets friendzoned. He’s basically a galactic version of a school shooter, and it’s fine if you think that’s cool, but I frankly find that something that can only work in the very specific circumstances comics can provide, and even then I think there are more intriguing villains with the same motivations… like, you know, Darkseid, the villain comic Thanos rips off.

I will concede the latter at least have more of a leg to stand on, because having a preference in how a character is portrayed is a lot different than not understanding what good writing for a villain is, but lucky for them, the filmmakers decided to have their cake and eat it too and give us a Thanos in Endgame lacking the character development and complexity displayed by Infinity War Thanos, a Thanos so utterly furious that the Avengers are close to thwarting his plan that he childishly lashes out, blames the universe for not appreciating all he did, and deciding he was just going to restart the universe from the ground up in his own image, perfectly balanced. It is kind of nice to see a Thanos a bt more in line with the genocidal tyrant of the comics, but while this one has the more accurate motivation, he does end up coming dangerously close to generic doomsday villain territory.

Personality: The interesting thing with Thanos is how there are technically two of them: the Infinity War Thanos, and the Endgame Thanos who comes from an alternate timeline. Despite the two Thanos having the same basic goal, it is their personalities that truly differ. 

Infinity War Thanos is a deep, rich, and complex character. He does so much that you don’t really see supervillains do: he cries, he feels shock, he displays a range of emotions that is frankly unprecedented in a supervillain. The Russos weren’t kidding when they said Thanos was the protagonist of Infinity War more than anything; he has an arc and gets more development than any single hero in the film does. There are so many great moments to point to – his adopting of Gamora in flashback, his backstory he gives to Strange, and of course crying after sacrificing Gamora – that showcase an amazing level of depth, but there are just as many moments that showcase that even despite that he is an insane, ruthless villain who is deluded into thinking his insane plan is what’s right. He is perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

Endgame Thanos is un fortunately due to his nature a little more flat as a character, and for the most part runs on the goodwill that his future self built up. As mentioned previously, he comes dangerously close to being a generic doomsday villain, but thankfully Josh Brolin manages to make him entertaining in his own right. I think one of the best moments is when he’s watching his future self’s death, and he clearly thinks the “I am inevitable” line is the coolest thing he has ever heard. Even if Endgame Thanos comes off as a bit less impressive as a character, he’s still a pretty good character. And when it comes time to throw down, this Thanos is infinitely more impressive, and there is his aforementioned petty reasoning to reset the universe.

Final Fate: Infinity War Thanos actually manages to make it out of his movie alive, sitting down and watching the sunrise on a “grateful” universe. At the start of Endgame, karma catches up with him, but shockingly, he died believing he won. They never undo the damage while this Thanos is still alive. He goes to his grave believing he has balanced the universe, and there is nothing the Avengers can do to fix it. For five years this holds true. Thanos won.

Endgame Thanos has a much more satisfying fate. After Tony makes the ultimate sacrifice and snaps his fingers, Thanos’ entire army suffers the fate he wanted to give half the universe. In a dark mirror of the final scene of Infinity War, Thanos sits down and bows his head in complete silence as he waits for the inevitable, his entire army crumbling to dust around him. If anything truly makes this Thanos as impressive as the one from the last film, it’s the death; there’s no screaming, no bitter last words, no cliché one-liners about how unfair it is… just silent, crushed defeat and acceptance.

Best Scene: The Infinity War Thanos has so many scenes that could be contenders, from fooling the Guardians on Knowhere, to killing Vision, to his battle on Titan… there’s just so much to pick from. But I think the scene where he sacrifices Gamora really encapsulates everything great about his character, the tragedy, the monstrosity, the fact he is so insane that he really believes what he’s doing is out of love. In that moment he truly is the most tragic, horrifying villain ever to grace the screen.

Endgame Thanos has a bit less interesting going on, but I think I would be remiss to not mention the incredible scene where, during the battle, he spins his blades like those of a helicopter. Yes, you read that right: they referenced Thanoscopter.

Best Quote: Infinity War Thanos is a veritable fountain of quotes. Every other word out of his mouth has become a meme. But frankly, for the sheer horror this line filled me when first viewng, I think I might just have to go with his immortal reply to Thor’s wounding him:

“You should have gone for the head.” *SNAP*

Endgame Thanos of course continues his predecessor’s memetic legacy, with tons of great, quotable lines, especially in his numerous evil speeches to the Avengers near the end of the film. The best might just be this quote, when Thanos decides to shed any veneer of being well-intentioned and dives headfirst into extremism:

"In all my years of conquest, violence, slaughter, it was never personal. But I'll tell you now, what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet... I'm gonna enjoy it. Very, very much."

Final Thoughts & Score: Thanos is truly impressive. Somehow, some way, this character was able to exceed years of buildup and expectations despite having so little presence beforehand there were fears that he was going to be the biggest letdown in the MCU. They took one of the cheesiest comic book characters, a ripoff of DC’s greatest villain with a boner for the physical embodiment of the concept of death, polished hi, gave him depth and emotion, and unleashed him onto the world. And what’s more, they gave him focus, they give him tons of quotes, they gave him so many great scenes… they really went above and beyond to make sure no one was let down by the portrayal of Thanos. Hell, even if you didn’t like him as much in Infinity War, they go out of their way to please the other side and show how stupid his plan was in Endgame. We end up getting the best of both worlds with Thanos.

Still, they’re basically two entirely different takes on the same character, and so I’m rating them accordingly. Infinity War’s take on Thanos is easily a 10/10. He’s the MCU’s best, most complex, most well-rounded villain, a truly brilliant culmination of excellent writing and fantastic acting. Josh Brolin brings Thanos to life and injects him with so much personality that it’s really hard to even come close to him in terms of quality; I think the only villains who are really on his level are Ego, Mysterio, and Killmonger. If I do have any gripes with this Thanos, it’s that his fighting style leans far too heavily on the Gauntlet in this film, and he unfortunately ditches his awesome armor right at the start. Those are nitpicks, though; this Thanos is amazing otherwise.

Endgame Thanos, while certainly more imposing and giving a very awesome final battle, kind of loses something considering this is not the Thanos we know and love (to hate), technically speaking; this is an alternate universe Thanos from earlier in the timeline, and even though we know what he’s like, he still comes off as bit underdeveloped. Still, he has enough quotable lines and cool moments that I feel confident in giving him an 8/10. I feel like I can’t rate him any higher because, again, he’s really walking that thin line between a good villain and a generic doomsday villain. At the same time, I can’t rate him any lower, because after all… they referenced Thanoscopter.

Thanos has really set the bar high for future MCU villains, but not only that, he has set the bar high for when the DCEU finally brings in Darkseid. How ironic that the character made to rip him off has now overshadowed him in cinema, and will be the biggest obstacle Darkseid must overcome to be taken seriously as a good character. Of course, DC can win this battle easily by shelving Darkseid for now and just making Mr. Mind the ultimate big bad for the time being; evil space caterpillars that speak with a little radio are always going to be the best villain in any argument.

As for the MCU itself, it should be in safe hands for now. Thanos really showed how polished and complex a villain can be made, and despite tripping up with the mediocre villains in the Phase One holdover Captain Marvel, the MCU was able to deliver a fantastic villain in Far From Home wirth Mysterio, who is easily one of the must fun and entertaining villains in the franchise. I think the MCU going forward has to just be careful not to try and overextend themselves to “top” Thanos, and for the most part it looks like they aren’t trying to do that, with Zemo and Mandarin being the biggest bad guys explicitly confirmed so far. Unless Doctor Doom or Dracula decides to pop in, I think they’re going to be sticking to working on and making entertaining more low-key villains, and frankly I think that’s smart; villains like Thanos need to be used sparingly.

Whatever the future holds for superhero movies, Thanos leaves behind quite a legacy, acting as the perfect capstone to the first decade of major superhero cinema. And what a capstone he is.

[janiedean]

Lady Stone breaks into the GoT program tomorrow and makes Jaime apologize to Brienne for being an idiot or she could have stopped him from going to KL in the first place and made him marry Brienne at sword point.

…… fuck that, have the ficlet.

choose. (j/b, lady stoneheart) [read on ao3]

This is not what Brienne had expected to find, coming into King’s Landing.

Not that she wasn’t angry, but she knew in her heart that there was no chance that Jaime had left with the intention to come back, and in the days spent on the road, she had tried to rationalize it to herself. At the end of it, she only wished they had had more time. Maybe if they did she could have gotten into his head that he was worth more than dying with his sister, that he did have honor, that whatever he thought he had done still didn’t trump his good deeds, maybe, maybe, but can a month count more than years of poison?

She never was one for deluding herself. She had thought it might have been. It obviously had not been the case.

So, she had come to see the aftermath, and to find some closure, and if anyone found him, well… she’d have been glad to bury him in Tarth, if Tyrion let her. She’s sure he wouldn’t say no.

That had been what she had expected.

Which is not what is in front of her right now.

She had gone to the bay Tyrion had told her Jaime had reached to get inside the Red Keep, figuring that if there was a chance to find him in the rubble that’d be the place.

And -

“My… my lady?” She blurts as she notices who is holding a very much battered and dirty with blood and wounded but alive Jaime Lannister at sword point.

“Brienne,” she croaks.

Gods.

Brienne is not hallucinating. She’s pretty sure she’s not. But - how - Lady Catelyn was dead, and now she’s apparently not so much. Her clothing is torn, that lovely red hair of hers is streaked in white, she had to keep a hand on her throat to say her name and when she moves its white, skeletal fingers from it, it shows a gash in it, same as - well. That’s how they killed her, wasn’t it? Her cheeks are torn with ten red thin scars, as if she had clawed at her face with her nails just before they killed her, and how could she survive the Red Wedding, Brienne doesn’t know, but what she knows is that her blue Tully eyes were fixed on her and then on Jaime, and then she kicks him in the knee and he immediately falls to the ground with a groan and his left hand held up. The golden hand is nowhere to be found.

“You idiot,” she croaks again, her sword dangerously close to Jaime’s throat, “apologize.”

He shudders, looking up at her with such a devastated face that she finds it really hard to stay angry at him - there’s dried blood all over him and on one side she’s still angry and a part of her is bleeding red thinking that he couldn’t just tell her that he had to go and she’d have understood instead of doing it the way he did, but his cheeks are also wet with tears and of course the first instinct she has is kneeling down and wipe them away, but she just stays still instead.

Never mind that she’d really like to know where has Lady Catelyn even come out from.

“Or,” she keeps on, “I did not die for this. I could have made you just marry her without sending you to King’s Landing in the first place.”

She’s barely audible, and Brienne sees a pang of pain on Jaime’s face as soon as she mentions marriage, and then she kicks him in the side again and he groans harder, and Brienne takes a step forward, but Lady Catelyn stops her holding up the other hand.

“Brienne,” Jaime croaks himself, his voice barely audible, his eyes still devastated, “I - I couldn’t presume that you would… accept my apologies, which I’d have given you anyway if -”

“Apologize,” Lady Catelyn interrupts, moving the sword closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says, dejectedly. “I thought - I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy if she wasn’t or if she died, I thought I could just forget it all and I didn’t, but you didn’t deserve any of that and you should leave me here to die, you have the right of it -”

Lady Catelyn kicks him again. “Idiot,” she says, and is she… rolling… her eyes? Brienne is sure she’s hallucinating this. “Well, he means it,” she croaks again, and then turns towards Brienne, seems to consider something, then she throws away the sword and moves down entirely too swiftly for being a living corpse and grabs his own neck with a hand that looks…. way stronger than it had seemed at the first moment. Actually, the way she’s doing it, it seems like she could crush it under her fingers in a moment if she wanted to.

Then she stares at her. “You held your vow to my girls,” she croaks, and now she’s… half-smiling? Gods, what? “You did your best. I am thankful for it. I want to repay you as a last gift for your service.”

Brienne nods, barely. “My lady…?” She’s aware she hasn’t said anything other than that until now, but what should she be doing?

“You must choose. You want him, for what he’s worth, or his head?”

Wait. Gods, is she telling Brienne that she’s willing to kill him for her or to just leave him to her if she wants him back?

She takes a ragged breath, but says nothing as she looks into Jaime’s eyes.

When he left - maybe a part of her was feeling so hurt and betrayed that she might have told Lady Catelyn that she washed her hands off it all, of Cersei Lannister, of his self-destructive notions -

But the thing is, he looks like someone who is not at all expecting for her to not choose his head, and he looks like he’s resigned to it, and like he thinks that’s exactly what he deserves.

“Him, or his head?” Lady Catelyn presses.

“I can’t… make a choice,” Brienne says. “There never was any. I’ll have him,” she blurts, and the moment Lady Catelyn releases his throat and he takes in a deep, fast breath, he looks up at her like he can’t believe she actually did choose him, of course he doesn’t, because when has anyone ever chosen him, she thinks traitorously?

“Then have him,” Lady Catelyn croaks, kicking him in the back again. “We don’t get to choose who we love, after all.”

“But - my lady, how -” Brienne starts, but then she smiles slightly, shaking her head.

“That’s not important now. And Lannister, if you dare wrong her again, I’m coming for your head without asking her first.”

Then she turns her back on them and disappears in between the rocks, and for a moment Brienne thinks she’s dreamed the whole fucking thing.

Then she drops to her knees after Jaime, who’s still taking in deep, ragged breaths, and she reaches out, taking his face in her hands again, feeling the rubble and blood on his skin and beard.

When his eyes meet hers, he still looks like he’s ashamed to even hold her stare. She shakes her head slightly.

“Gods,” she says, “stop looking like that and get here already.” She can’t stand this anymore, she can’t stand that he’s alive and there and he can’t look at her, and then he bursts out in tears as soon as she says it the way he had looked about to when he left Winterfell, and a moment later she drags him closer and holds his head against her shoulder as he blurts apologies against her armor, and she knows it’ll take a while for them to go back to that month in Winterfell that sounds out of a dream these days…

But he’s alive and he’s here and that has got to count for something, right?

“How,” he blurts, “how could you not choose my head, I’ve - I don’t deserve it -”

“Too bad,” she whispers against the side of his head, “that it’s not about what you’d deserve and that it seems like if given the choice, I’ll rather have you than not.”

His left hand grasps her arm tighter as he shakes harder against her.

She holds him closer. He’s not dying yet, after all, and they do have time, and if she smiles slightly as she sees a hint of red hair beyond the rocks, she thinks no one can fault her for it.

[thvnderstrck]

Um, hello ??? For once, I come prepared with an intro, the start statistics and a few wanted plots that I will finish . . . later . . . ; my excitement levels have been through the roof and I’m super excited to get this RP started !!! My name is Effy, also known as Admin Peach and I’ll be playing Han Beomgyu, member of The Kings and resident asshole who is 99.9% done with life & the people around him. INSPO , INSPO , INSPO , INSPO , INSPO ( tw: flashing lights ) ! And here you can find his BIOGRAPHY &  ( unfinished asdfghjkl ) STATISTICS &  ( unfinished asdfghjkl ) WANTED PLOTS & QUICK PLOTS I haven’t entirely fleshed out !! Smash that cute little heart (  ♡   ) and I’ll come slide into your ims or feel free to hit me up on d*scord , just ask for it because i have to hunt down the correct email address connected to it !!!

┅ ☆ ★ ✮ ∟ ‖ kim taehyung. 23. cismale. he/him. ‖ — dancing with the devil , a game of russian roulette , an inability to kick bad habits. 」did you hear that   HAN BEOMGYU   is a member of the   KINGS   ?!   i guess that’s how they’re able to afford the  PURPLE BUGATTI CHIRON   i always see them in.   who would’ve thought being a      STREET RACER & BARTENDER      paid so well   …   i know people say they’re really   ZEALOUS , MELLOW & ALLURING   , but don’t you think they come off way too   SARDONIC  ,  CAPRICIOUS  &  SYBARITIC ? i can’t help but thinking of them whenever   BADBYE   by   RM   comes on shuffle.   you know what they say ,   live fast , die young   ;   but i hope this one makes it. ┠ effy , cst , 24 & she/her ┨

BACKSTORY

    TW: substance abuse , alcohol abuse , suicidal references , child abuse , violence

Born in Daegu, South Korea on October 31st to parents addicted to alcohol and narcotics.

Growing up, they were very poor due to funds going to fuel his parents addictions.

He has a little sister and he tried his best to protect her from their parents when they were younger.

His father was prone to violent fits of rage, and often times it was channeled onto Beomgyu. His mother was prone to turning a blind eye.

Because his father was also physically abusive to his sister, often times he’d purposely make himself a target in order to spare her.

Life was super hard for him, he had to take car of his little sister so he really couldn’t just be a kid. Never harbored any ill feelings for her though, because at the same time she was the one thing who made life better for him.

Still, he wasn’t a happy person and felt like he had to hide that fact from his sister because he didn’t want to worry her. Became accustomed to wearing masks.

When he was seventeen, he came home and found his father beating his sister ( he’d find out it was because she came home “ late “ despite having come right home from school ).

Absolutely enraged, he ends up killing his father. His mother, however, cleans up the scene a bit, cleans him up and makes it look like she did it. She takes the fall and in sentenced to 16 years in prison with a manslaughter charge.

After their aunt is given custody of them both, he ends up running away with nothing but the clothes on his back. Their aunt is nice and he reasons his sister will be happy, so he doesn’t need to stick around any longer. Does not keep in contact with either.

Finds himself in Busan, South Korea doing absolutely nothing good with his life. After picking a fight with a man, he gets beat up but he doesn’t care. The man ends up giving him a helping hand, and is the person who gets him into the KINGS.

Once he starts raking in cash from being a street racer and winning, he starts sending his sister money, but he rarely ever calls her.

Despite only wanting to protect her, he’s recently discovered she’s come to Busan to find him, and has ended up with the HELLCATS. He’s super upset because he wanted her to do something good with her life. Also feels like she’s paying him back from leaving without at least saying bye.

PERSONALITY

To put it simply, Kang Beomgyu is an asshole and he knows it.

Uses sarcasm and nonchalance as a defense mechanism, and generally is not afraid to be mean.

The size of his ego is massive, he’s entirely full of himself.

Puts up a lot of fronts and likes others to believe he does not give a shit, really doesn’t give a shit, but at the same time he does care about certain things and people, he’s just not super open about it.

Certified heartbreaker, but he doesn’t try to hide it. He’s really upfront about his intentions solely being him wanting sex, and it’s not his fault if others delude themselves into believing it could turn into something else.

But he’s passionate and attentive and the kind of lover a person can get addicted to, so he’s not surprised when people start thinking maybe they’re special to him. No, he’s just not selfish in bed and perhaps wants them to be thinking of him the next time they’re with someone else.

Likes being in control, becomes frustrated when someone takes the reigns from him. Unless you’re a close friend, then he just goes with it because there is not a lot of people he can be honest with and rely on, so it’s nice to be able to.

Petty and bitter, he can hold a grudge for a lifetime. But he’s upfront and painfully honest, so he’ll insult people to their face.

He’s kind of spoiled? The man who took him under his wings has a pretty high position in the KINGS so he was given a lot of special treatment, and he is one of their best racers so he’ll complain if he’s told to do something he really doesn’t want to do.

ACTUALLY A REALLY GOOD FRIEND. He might complain and call his friends annoying, but catch him lowkey acting protective. If someone’s a really good friend to him, it usually means he thinks he can trust them 100% and, like, he’ll die for them.

On the flipside, if someone is a really good friend to him and then they stab him in the back, he’s absolutely crushed because he doesn’t invest in people easily and it just hurts, man. Catch him moping about it even when he’s sixty.

Relationships and him are not a good combo, honestly. Usually ends super messy because he has a habit of falling in love and then getting hurt, he doesn’t pick ‘em well and tends to be given a dose of his own medicine ( heartbreak that should’ve been obvious ).

Oof, he’s lazy as all fuck. Which sucks because if he applied himself, he’d do really well in life. But he’s only interested in being zealous when it comes to the things he likes. Everything else can fuck right on off. Also, sleeps way too much and, perhaps, he will turn into the biggest baby when someone attempts to wake him up.

TRIVIA

Massive sweet tooth. Uncontrollable craving for sweets, will dig through drawers and cabinets and get pissy if he can’t find anything sweet. The easiest way to his heart is to provide him with something sweet. Likes food in general, really. Good food. He’s an excellent cook himself because he cooked all his family’s meals, but he’d prefer it if someone else cooks for him because he’s lazy and doesn’t want people pestering him to cook more. Loves animals, especially cats. Has a cat he calls a “ stray ” but it’s named Crank and he buys it toys and treats and lets it in once it starts scratching as hit window or door. Definitely not his cat, though. Just a stray. Hates losing and hates the HELLCATS who have beaten him. Just. Cannot deal with it. He’s used to being one of the best, if not the best, and being beaten by a new gang that’s still wet behind the ears? Does his pride the fuck in. Maybe because he was poor the majority of his life, but right now he splurges on clothes. Fashion icon, honestly. Likes buying really nice things and likes when others give him really nice things. Currently his hair is dark brown, but he tends to dye it often. He cycles through black, platinum blonde, cotton candy pink and ash brown. He’s fucking bad at following the rules, thinks as long as he doesn’t get caught it’s fine. A bad fucking fighter, he tried once and got knocked the fuck out. Was super pissy for like a month because of it, and he’s never tried again because he’s damn good racer and he claims he’s too worried he’ll mess up the only thing God gave him -- good fucking looks. On the real, though, he’s just too prideful to lose again otherwise he’d have kept trying.

[okimargarvez]

TWIN FLAMES

Original title: Twin flames.

Prompt: post 14x15.

Warning: none.

Genre: sad, angst, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 49 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 🎵.

Song mentioned: Il confine, Tiziano Ferro.

I had to write this. I was so sad and upset, after the 14 Season Finale. Over all, I didn’t like the focus of the editing on Reid and JJ while Emily explained Penelope theory about twin flames. And no mention about garvez?

I’m writing a sequel.

GARVEZ STORIES

TWIN FLAMES

 In the end, Lisa couldn’t get rid of it in time. She called him a few minutes ago to tell him that her turn was over, but she was too tired and preferred to go home. He didn���t protest and tried to ignore as much as possible that sense of... relief that he shouldn’t have felt. When he hung up, he realized that most of the team had gone out onto the terrace to enjoy the coolness of the evening; but his dance partner was missing. He certainly doesn’t expect to find her there, intent on settling, humming something not too loudly.

You know it's there, there's you, for a while, here, no I don’t understand, now I confess you... it is absurd you know, I look for you while, two thousands of you... they turn around me, they talk to me, and I don’t hear them... or maybe I'm deaf, I look at them, and maybe I don’t see them... Penelope doesn't realize that she has an audience, even if made up of a single spectator. The man feels like a thief, because he is taking advantage of an opportunity that surely wouldn’t deserve. But he is incapable of speaking and breaking the spell. She is so good and her voice so sweet, though surrounded by a veil of melancholy. I'd be lucky to have you here, but I can’t cry for you... indefinitely, die here for you... It does not take long to understand that it is a song, or rather, a lament of love. Who is it that could cause her so much pain? The first name that goes through his head is that of the agent who he has replaced three/four years ago, but something inside him tells him that it has nothing to do with it. The boundary between my feelings is so subtle, that I can no longer reason and I don’t understand if I hate you or am in love, the boundary between my feelings is so subtle, that you can get out and enter and I don’t understand if I hate you or am in love with you... This further part, which he recognizes as the refrain, clears it beyond reasonable doubt: the person to whom she refers can’t be Derek. And if it was simply that she likes the melody and the words didn’t matter? But even this hypothesis sees it unlikely, because she is singing with too much intensity, too much heart, to be just an exhibition of skill. I know how you are, you hurt me, first you hurt and then run away, then you come back again... you may have fun, but I don’t, but I believe you... and if you could treat me how you treat the idea of me, I want respect... it's my right... Now he is really sure, it must be someone, presumably a man, but not necessarily, who must have deluded her about her feelings. This thought infuriates him so much that he forgets that she isn’t aware of his presence; he snorts so loud that she hears him. Penelope stops abruptly and turns in the direction of the noise.

They both pretend not to know that he hasn’t just entered and therefore he has heard her sing at least a part.

-Hey.- he says, both the tone and the look a bit embarrassed and nervous, avoiding to ask what she is doing here, while others are continuing to have fun. What could have happened during his short call with Lisa?

-Hey.- she simply answers, continuing her work of cleaning and quickly diverting her gaze. Yet, surely Rossi has called a team that will take care of this task; there is no valid reason why she should stay here, but he doesn’t feel entitled to point it out with her.

But he doesn’t even feel like leaving her here alone. -That thing of the twin flames was very nice.- he says then, the first stupid thing that comes to mind, even if, when Prentiss had made her speech and had appointed the author of that sentence, his heart had jumped and just as she exclaimed "twin flames", he had tried involuntarily to look her eyes on the table near his, but without finding them.

-Yes, a lot.- she comments, with a sadness that just doesn’t suit her. Moreover, after having danced together for practically the whole evening up to the fateful call, after sharing moments like this... intimate is perhaps not the correct term, but others don’t come to mind. In short, after having close her to him, without glasses, without shoes, so deeply natural, small and fragile... it seems to him really absurd that now she behaves with him in a detached way.

For a moment he feels the melancholy voice of her colleague singing and before he can stop himself, he has already asked the question. -And you?- Penelope jumps, risking to drop a glass. A flash passes in front of the man's eyes: the blonde's intriguing smile as she poured out his drink and told him, Cause you asked it so nicely...

Then he returns to the present and sees her keeps the glass in safe, before turning around and standing up, looking directly at him. Something in the tone of the man must have made her guess that behind the question there was something deep and it wasn’t just a simple chat to fill a void or embarrassment. -Me… what?- then she asks in turn, her eyes fixed in his. But there is something different about the dark ones of the blonde.

-Do you think you have one?- Luke answers her with another question. Then, he understands from her confused look that she hasn’t get what he is referring to. He takes a few seconds to clear up. -I refer to the twin flames...- he blushes, because it seems to him a subject so little suitable to get out of his lips, but pray that she didn’t realize it. -Have you ever met yours?- he asks her, then.

Unexpectedly, Garcia's face opens in a smile that reminds to the federal agent the rainbow following the storm. -Oh, Alvez. - the use of the surname snatches a grimace to him too. -I think we all have one, but not all twin flames can be together.- she then says, shrugging her shoulders, with an extremely different tone and certainly not cheerful or joking. In addition, she turns her eyes away from his, drops them to her shoes. -Emily rightly skipped this part.- she adds, raising again for a second the look in the male one, and then making another smile, melancholy. -Being a wedding I would say it was a great choice.- so she seems to decide that there is nothing more to talk about, that the subject has been sufficiently eviscerated and comes back to stoop to continue to clean the place.

-Yeah.- promptly replies Luke, wondering over what he should do, what would be the best move? Certainly, leave her alone, stop insisting, and perhaps, help her settle down, so that maybe she gets convinced to do another waltz... why deny that he enjoyed dancing with her? Both when the rhythms were unleashed and had to fight with Matt to have her, that after, for those moments when had existed only the woman in his arms, but that wasn’t the same woman that now was waiting for him at home.

Surely the male gaze must have been particularly insistent and heavy, because Penelope stops, without any other apparent reason and observes him with a strange and curious expression. -Why are you doing that face?- she asks him, some traces of her usual joking tone. -You're all set, you've been lucky, you've already found your half of the puzzle.- Luke takes too long to understand that she is referring to his story with Lisa, and this should already be enough, as a clue. But he graduated with laude in the art of denying problems as long as possible.

This time, however, he can’t completely pretend. -Yes, here...- he scratches his head, aware of the weight of her eyes on him. He suddenly remembers an incident that happened a long time ago, when she was still calling him Newbie: that time when she started invading him home with gifts for Roxy and accused him of being a liar. Her look hurt and disappointed. No, he can’t allow it to happen again. -I don’t know if we can talk about twin flames...- he therefore says, not lying, but not even choosing the pure truth.

-What you say, Luke?- the problem is that she seems to read him so easily, makes him feel naked, in the true sense of the word, although at the beginning she wanted to pretend to believe he was completely different. -You're not the only one who can see, you know?- she says. -Do you remember how you were when you arrived at BAU?- he just nods. -Solitary and closed; and now?- it can’t be pride, what he sees reflected in her eyes, but it seems, and that is what his profiling manual suggests to him. -You are perfectly integrated into the team and family, and have been living with a woman for months.- she's more enthusiastic about this, and this is not the first time. She seems to want to give him a push, a slap, as if to awaken him from the torpor, as to make him understand the fortune he has and what he has conquered and of which he should be proud. -Lisa must be your soul mate.- then she exclaims, as if she were talking about a fact, as if to say an obviousness, a physical state that can’t be changed, the water is wet and your soul mate must be her. Is it only for this reason that man feels a deep sense of rebellion it's growing within himself? It will only be the fault of a residue of hatred towards dogmatism? -I can’t believe you could be with someone you don’t love with all of yourself.- here's that feeling again. Penelope is undressing him, she is removing every layer of fabric, but she doesn’t stop there, she comes to touch his soul. -You don’t look that kind of man.- the biggest trouble is that she doesn’t even realize it. -Sorry, it's none of my business.- she says, blushing suddenly and turning so abruptly that for a few seconds she seems unable to keep her balance and clings to the counter not to fall. Luke would like to support her, but he can’t even say a word, not at least until she gets up and starts walking, with a step that looks like she's running away.

Then he is forced to recover. -No, Penelope, wait.- he reaches out his arm and his hand rests on the woman's shoulder, which hangs as if paralyzed, but doesn’t turn towards him. And maintaining contact, he notices how hard and tense her muscles are. Like a hunted animal that awaits the fulfillment of its destiny but doesn’t intend to surrender easily.

-Luke, it's better to end it now.- it might seem a supplication, but it is not at all. Because her tone is emotionless, cold, an iceberg that runs through his back entirely. Indeed, as cold as steel, like the blade of a knife that caresses the flesh before sinking.

Despite this, the man doesn’t remove his hand. Nor does he desist, on the contrary, he feels even more urged to scratch the surface. -Why?- he presses her. -Why did you say that not all twin flames can be together?- it is as if he were possessed by another person, he can’t stop himself, he needs to know. -Is yours busy with another person?- he understands that he has hit the point, when the shoulders of the woman lowering in a sad way, before she turns to face him. -Is it... Morgan?- even if he has just discarded it, now he doesn’t feel very sure.

-Morgan?- Penelope repeats, before bursting into a sincere and genuine laugh, as if he had told the best joke ever. -Oh, no!- she shakes her head. Her face has resumed the usual natural color, and perhaps already this should make him happy. It was worth the meddling. -He and Savannah are two halves of the same circle.- she tells him, without any trace of sadness, regret or similar feelings. -He 's my best friend and I love him with my whole soul, but no.- she shakes her head again, as if she couldn’t conceive the idea of them together. -It's not him.- she reaffirms, returning serious and melancholy. Luke can’t bear to see her like that and can’t do anything. And he also hates not knowing the name of the man that has reduced her like this.

-Then, who is?- he insists, with a tone a bit too revealing of his mood. -Your ex-boyfriend? That... Kevin, which JJ told me about once?- already, it had happened during those two weeks in which the BAU had counted three members, JJ, Matt and him, plus that poor man who he couldn’t even remember the name, who was completely listless and had made everyone to miss Garcia. JJ had exclaimed that she would even be able to endure Lynch, because at least he was good at his job, and Simmons, anticipating him, luckily, asked who she was referring to, and so she quickly explained that Penelope and this guy had been together for a while, four years, in fact.

-Kevin?- she repeats, bursting into another laugh, even more intense, so as to bring him back in the present and in the real world. -This makes me laugh even more.- it's hard to get serious, she has to take a breath. -Did JJ tell you that he also gave me a marriage proposal?- Luke almost makes his eyes come out of their sockets, confirming his suspicions. -I imagined it.- she gives him another little smile, this time not of joy, nor of melancholy, rather... ironic. -If he had been my soul mate, I should have said yes and by now I would be Mrs. Lynch, don’t you think?- she doesn’t give him time to replicate anything. Even if, in any case, Luke wouldn’t have been able to say a word, because he was too intent on imagining his colleague dressed in white, a no low-cut dress, a veil covering her face, and whose were the hands that were lifting it? Better not ask it. -No, it's not Kevin.- something in her look changes. She seems to be tired of being the prey, the suspect that is being harassed with too questions. -Why do you care so much about it? In fact, she asks him, showing herself for the first time very self-confident, mischievous and insinuating.

And she gets the desired effect, because the man falters, unable to find a good excuse, that can hold up. -I... I don’t know, I'm just... curious.- a euphemism, but Penelope decides, strangely, to be generous with him.

She sighs, grabs a chair and settles. Luke realizes that she is about to start one of her long, tangled speeches and hurries to do the same. -I can talk to you about him, but I won’t tell you who he is.- she makes it clear. The man nods, deciding to have to settle. -I met him recently, in recent years.- the second given that Luke records in his virtual block; the first concerns the gender of the individual, masculine, as he had imagined. -But do you know what they say in some movies? It's like I've known him for a lifetime.- Penelope's gaze is so in love and dreamy, he has never seen her so, so very authentic, maybe not even when he had seen her cry. There was always a screen, a glass, among them, often not a smooth surface like that of a mirror, but rather opaque, which didn’t allow him to see her for what she really was.   -When I look at him, when we speak... only we exist.- but right now, she is looking into his eyes, and in an extremely intense way. -I am perfectly aware that he has another girl and I would never want that he would leave her for me.- she adds, and Luke notices that she doesn’t seem too sad when she talks about her rival. -I don’t know if you can understand that. It's all very complicated, but in fact not even that much.- the hands, who she has moved so much while was opening her heart, now stand motionless on the counter and the man watches them, wondering why he feels the desire to take them in his. -Because when he looks me in the eye, when he looks for my look, when he does everything to get my attention, when he touches my shoulder with one hand, when he hugs me...- a pause, in which she interrupts eye contact with him. -I know it's not just in my head. Which is real even for him, even if, for him, only for those few moments.- Luke feels overwhelmed by the feeling he had felt the first time (and all the following) that his best friend had asked him if his blonde colleague, very pretty, was already dating someone.

-But...- he stutters, struggling to not seem completely stupid. -But this is enough for you? Can you be pleased? You are not jealous?- too questions again. Penelope doesn’t seem particularly angry or annoyed.

-No, I'm not jealous, but you've hit the spot.- she admits, indeed, with a resigned tone. -It can’t be enough for me, because it's like living in a fantasy and when I'm in it it's nice, I'm happy, but then, when I come home... every night hurts more.- she again looks him straight in the eye and pierces him. -So, no, you're right.- she gets up and starts picking up empty bottles, paper napkins. Luke stares at her, more and more confused; he would like to take her by the shoulders, shaking her and asking her how she can confess certain things and then can resume as if nothing had happened. After a silence that seems long hours but that probably lasts only a few minutes at most, she starts talking again, from where she has interrupted. -In fact, these days have made me understand that I have to talk to him and ask him to loosen a little grip, in short... giving me some time alone, a truce, to understand if there is no way to live with this feeling without feeling so bad.- the man looks in her eyes and must seem really very upset, because Penelope feels the need to ask him for forgiveness. -Sorry, I don’t think you expected such a confession.- she chuckles, but it's not a happy laugh. -You arrived at the wrong time.- she shrugs, expecting him to leave now. How long will it have been since he found her humming? Is not strange that none of the other guests even came in to see if they hadn’t hidden to make love in some corner?

In any case, Luke doesn’t seem willing to leave. -No... you don’t have to apologize.- he adds. -I would like... I wish I could do something to help you.- he admits, finally feeling freer, having for once said exactly what he felt in his heart.

He is certainly not prepared for the woman's candid response. -You can.- she says to him, looking directly at him, in that intense way that she makes him feel pure spirit.

-I can?- he repeats, trembling inside, but not giving anything to see outside, unable to take his eyes off those dark ones. -How?- he asks.

-Stop looking for my eyes while we're discussing cases.- Penelope begins to list. -Stop flirting with me.- she continues, her tone harder and harder. -Stop looking at me like I'm a precious thing.- every sentence looks like a fist, a backhand that comes directly to his stomach. -Stop behaving as if we're more than colleagues with a strange friendship.- and yet, gradually, her voice is rife with cracks. -I could bear it when you were single, it was also fun, in a sense, but now you have Lisa.- and he can also read in her mind what she doesn’t say aloud: it’s she who you must look in that way, it's her gaze that you must look for, she the one with which you have to flirt as if you two hadn’t been together for a year... -So... I just ask you to give me space.- from the tone, it might seem that she is crying. But not a single tear runs through her face -And please, don’t deny.- she warns him, with that expression hurt and disappointed, as if he had already done so. -Don’t say that I dreamed everything, because if you did, even just to protect your pride, to not admit your mistakes...- suddenly she changes the verbal time. -If you do it, Luke, you will have lost me forever, in every possible way.- that is no longer the sweet friend who gives him a picture to celebrate his cohabitation with another woman. -Do you think you met the ice queen?- she shakes her head in his place. -You don’t have the slightest idea.- then she turns around, grabs three glass bottles in one hand, a bag in the other and walks off towards the kitchens, where perhaps there are trash cans. She hears the steps of the man chasing her.

-Penelope... this... this means that you think your soul mate is me?- is the obvious conclusion, and yet, how long did he take to get there, to contemplate that option? And then, is not it in contradiction with what she said earlier, that his soul mate was Lisa? But maybe it's all much more complicated than what he imagines. He was never good at philosophy.

-Yes, Luke.- she replies, without looking at him. -I will not do jokes to lighten the atmosphere.- she clarifies, in a cold tone. -Remember that I'm not asking you to upset your life, to break up with Lisa.- but she points out with the sweet voice that hit him immediately, the first time he heard it. -Only, if there would be ever another marriage... well, it could happen, I've never seen Emily so fool for a man...- she says, managing to get lost even in a delicate moment like that. Why he thinks this thing is so sweet? -Well, I will not be able to dance with you all evening and then go home alone. I would like... I would like to believe that I deserve a man who looks at me the way you look at me but who is also at my side when, at night, I wake up because I had a nightmare.- fuck, this is even worse and he, not denying (not he may risk losing her, and it is certain that she would keep her promise) he practically admitted his part, he proved her right. -What I actually ask you is... just a little distance.- she adds, and her request seems perfectly reasonable. -I wished I could be the first to keep you away, and I tried, but you didn’t make it possible for me.- she accuses him one last time, the last jab.

And Luke feels, for the first time really, that he would be able to tell her what he really feels for her, that he wants to be the man who tries to comfort her the night after a nightmare, every night, after every nightmare. And all that follows. -Penelope, I...- but he understands that it would be an even more selfish act than what he did up to a few hours ago, keeping two women suspended at the same time, and not even to feel a cool, macho conqueror. So, he keeps silent.

-You don’t need to say anything, really.- she nods, perhaps still reading his soul as if it were an open book. -Just let me go.- she swallows. Penelope closes her eyes, doesn’t understand how the heart can continue to pump blood along her body. -If you don’t really want me, if you don’t want me fully in your life, and that's what you've shown, at least let me go- when she lifts her eyelids, Luke is gone. _______________________

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