#but anyways this is one of the many reasons why I freely block in this fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaffeeraum-bei-zarah · 3 months

Text

SPRING 2024 in pics and my way to embrace Slow Living 💕

...Today I would like to show you some photos of blooming trees captured during our spring walks. But it's not the only reason why I decided to make this post (I would share the pics anyway:). In short, I will share a lesson I learned on my journey to a more balanced and fulfilling life. ✿I've often noticed that some of the most interesting thoughts and solutions to problems I try to resolve with little success for quite some time come to me so naturally and effortlessly when I am at nature(!), as it was this time too when I was reflecting on the present topic. Usually, it's like sudden insights coming up in flashes, and the pieces of a puzzle are all at once put together into a beautiful and clear picture.

Then, when I start following "my own advices", my daily life does get so much easier and harmonious, and I can deal with my daily tasks as if they were a game of colourful blocks - it becomes not a task anymore, but a fun activity.

It's an absolute truth that Nature, whether we are out in the wild or among our favorite houseplants, makes us feel relaxed and at peace. And only in this state, when we are not in resistance, under the weight of negative emotions and thoughts, the access to necessary inner wisdom is getting unblocked. Truly, the hardest thing is not trying hard. :D

...Sincerely speaking, being present in that magical (no kidding:) state of the here and now has always been in my nature. I really hate being in a hurry and any fussing around does take the cake. Yet, in our demanding, high-speed society, we inevitably end up getting lost in a whirlpool of unceasing activities -- some really important and some we've been trained to think they are. And, without us even noticing it, we're no more in connection with our true essence. The only way to leave the hamster wheel, at least marking the first steps, literally sucking the very life out of you, is to take necessary time to sit still and think through any possible ways of keeping balance between your own pace at which you can comfortably act and the imposed external requirements.

My first suggestion here would be - if there's still currently no way to get off the carousel, there must be reward options added to compensate for the hectic schedule in one's free time. Even if it's only tiny bits of these little me-moments, they will be your lifebuoy keeping you afloat until you can essentially change your lifestyle. Otherwise, accepting, though involuntary, a destructive lifestyle will inevitably bring you to the moment when the organism finally runs out its resources to handle the constant pressure. Running on empty won't last for long, only you'll end up with lost years on the side, years you could have lived freely, with joy of the flow.

ツ...I even stumbled upon a very nice song on youtube with a title just right on topic, "Get outta there."

youtube

My inner perfectionist didn't make it any easier -- I often tried to pack my days with as much accomplished stuff as possible and, of course, with best results possible. I didn't even realize that my daily schedule looked like another person's week- or monthly plan. Even when I was occupied with things I loved, there was an invisible worm-hole pushing me faster and harder to get through my endless missions grinning sarcastically from the darkness of my subconscious.

It was like a fly in the ointment of my originally harmonious self which I was gradually moving away from with every new attempt to embrace the unembraceable.

"...just a little bit more and everything will be just right," I would often say to myself. I couldn't have been more wrong! No matter how much I did, I was focusing only on things still waiting to be done. It was beyond my comprehension why so many tasks were still pending no matter how much I loaded myself... It's not that I've now learned to easily measure by eye an appropriate amount of my daily tasks. It's really quite impossible to predict how everything would go. So, just with a preliminary sketch in mind of what I'm going to do, I calmly do what is planned, one thing at a time. And then, at the end of the day, I can see what my actual norm was. Now I feel grateful and satisfied with what I could do, even if it's only a quarter of what I initially intended.

Well, a little while back, I got another reminder to realize it's high time I finally mastered the art of Slow Living. And the reason was very banal - I just got so exhausted that I didn't have any forces to proceed even with trivial home routines. I didn't give a damn of whether I did something or not during the day. I just wanted to be in my own world, together with my senses. Just being and breathing. I began to do things which I could slowly and joyfully drown in, at my own pace, without checking the clock. I've been deliberately focusing on living that state every moment since then. And it started gently bringing me back to my true self.

...I've come across a funny but so true thought the other day - an american professor emeritus of medicine and the creator of the Stress Reduction Clinic and the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School, Jon Kabat-Zinn suggests an idea that we are the civilazation of human doings and now need to learn how to be human beings!

...STATE over action. It's not only about slowing down physically . Very important is to pay attention to how you feel inside. You may look and act calm, but if you have this fussiness inside, it ruins the whole thing. That hectic inner state I happened to experience in my late childhood and early youth caused a disfunction in my thyroid (now thankfully almost healed:). A clear evidence how mind and emotions influence the physical body.

One more extra chance to finally learn the lesson was when I once cought a cold. Imagine, when you are in bed with fever, cough and other typical common cold pleasures, you do nothing from your normal routine and the only prevailing thought is how to get better the fastest possible. Usually it takes you a week to recover, and guess what? Everything is fine! The Earth is still spinning and everything goes its normal course around you in spite of the fact that you've temporarily fallen out of the clip.

...Another paradoxical thing I noticed since I started learning to live in a constant state of mindfulness was that in a slow mode I can accomplish much, much more that I used to when I was really hard on myself.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” -- Lao Tzu

......I wish my past self could read all I have written here back then, thus I would have been saved from that stupid anxiety poisoning my reality for quite some time. And I am not a workaholic, you know. It's just that I have many interests, I love knowledge and always enjoy filling myself with new information and ideas that will feed my soul and that, ideally, I can practically implement. I just wanted to soak in and process as much necessary stuff as possible... And I didn't even notice how it became a strict duty rather than a natural joy of learning and creating. Hmm... I can't get enough of knowledge. Does it sound like I might be a philomath though? Is it still good...? :)

Also, there's always a reason behind any self-destructive behaviour. I happened to come through many turbulences in my childhood, though there definitely were a lot of precious moments thanks to which I could always feel connected to my true self no matter what, and that's apparently how I came to living the way where I subconsciously tried to compensate for all the lack of positive experiences during my girlhood.

...Now, a few simple steps I've taken on the way to a more happy, balanced and efficient self:) It may take some time to build a new mental attitude, but if you maintain a constant practice, quite soon it will become absolutely natural. For me, somehow, it works like instant magic. Because once you start doing something differently, even a little bit, the whole course is getting changed. So, if you are in a similar situation and ready to break the vicious circle, here's how:

First of all, something to consider -- we are not slaves to our have-to-dos. It's us who set out priorities and distribute tasks throughout a necessary time period (day, week, etc). ✿I also like to keep in mind two or three next things to do, just for reference. Thus I am not lost in the present moment not knowing what's gonna come next (as that would be another reason for anxiety:), but I have a comprehensive panorama of my upcoming activities. Even if time doesn't allow to proceed with other pre-planned things, I still like to know what's next on my plate, and I feel calm just because I can easily follow the route clearly marked on my mind map. ✿There's time when it feels right not to do anything at all and just drift with the flow. A full day (or more if needed) drift experience:) ✿If you "fail" to do something, that's okay as well, let it be so. "You can do it!" ...later. Let's not forget, our way is a 'no-pressure' way. The excitement and joy of learning and creating flow freely and it's not a race anymore.

Do everything quietly. When I notice that I start fussing around about something again, I slow myself down deliberately. Remember yourself as a child? There definitely were moments when you were so immersed into your favorite activity that you completely lost track of time. Our beloved Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." - Matthew 18:2-5

Okay, its easy to be lost in things you love. But what about doing something that's kinda bothersome? The principle is the same - no fuss. You just have to do something, and there's no way you can avoid it, so start doing it calm, cool and collected. And then comes my favorite part - reward yourself after you have done that annoying thing :). It can be absolutely anything that uplifts you - a visit to your fav place like wandering around at a shopping mall, stopping by at a cafe you've been looking forward to visiting, a walk in the park to get your dose of eco-therapy. At home, treat yourself with something yummy, cozy up with a magazine or watch some cartoon series. There're countless ways actually to gladden yourself! ⌛Some things may be painlessly postponed, and I see it also as a nice way of dealing with a tight schedule without spoiling the inner balance.

When I'm super tired or just don't feel like doing a certain activity which has to be done anyway, I keep doing it, only more slowly. Even if it looks like a scene from a slow motion movie, that's fine. That's fine for this particular moment that we should overcome.

Split the things to do into parts and do them by portions. For example, if I watch a youtube video that lasts, say, 30 minutes or more, I can watch it only for 5, 10 or 15 mintues. (I don't close a tab then, and continue watching later right from where I had stopped). You can implement the same to any other activities that can easily be split, like e.g., your house chores. If you can't do the whole thing in one sitting, split it into smaller tasks and proceed doing them one by one as time allows. Thus you'll be progressing no matter how small your steps are. You're not stuck 'cause you did at least something. You are still moving forward...

When I have several things on my plate to choose from, yet in hesitation which one to choose, I consciously take one thing or another saying to myself "Okay, now I'm doing ...this... ." You can say it outloud or in your mind, no matter. Like, "well, now I'm reading this magazine." And then the action itself - grab it and start leafing through. I read about this psychological trick years ago. It helps to get rid of any irrelevant thoughts about other stuff on the agenda, as I give my brain a command to be focused on the current activity only. It's so simple but works really great right from the moment you pronounce it. You make a clear decision, then you start acting accordingly and the hesitation related nervousness is dissipated. It is the power of choice in action :)

Do more of what you love. It's not about that poisoning "doing more", but about making time for your favorite activities every day. Even if it's just a few minutes only, do it anyway, and you will be rewarded with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. Because if you're constantly postponing doing things you love, you'll end up having to repeatedly accomplish undesirable stuff most of your time. If you don't start including "happy stuff" into your daily agenda, there'll always be something "more important" distracting you from doing what really makes you happy. ✔So many things might be getting piled up that we shifted for "some time later". So just start doing it little by little. Watch not a whole movie, but 5 or 10 mintues of it as time allows. Next time you will see the rest of it. “Slow progress is better than No Progress." - Jami Gold, {an Award-Winning Fiction Author, Developmental Editor, Workshop Presenter, and Blogger about the craft, business, and life of writing.}

Add a parallel task to your main activity if possible. E.g., I like to listen to my favorite music while doing house chores. I listen to educative and spiritual videos on youtube while doing some fancy work (crocheting or embroidering), or while having my 15 minute beauty time with a face mask on. Thus, I can kill two birds with one stone (ugh, that's kinda cruel! Anything more kind? .......yeah, I've just googled for a 'compassionate replacement' and it suggests this one - "Tie two loose ends at once.":)

And finally, to support your nervous system while you're learning to embrace a new lifestyle, it's very important to practice deep breathing and develop a feeling like "I am home in my body." I also love to rely on herbal teas with a calming effect - passiflora, chamomile, valerian, lavender and hops are very helpful.

Well, since I started to live this way, my daily life improved so much -- I calmly choose what to do and when I do it, and I can always relaxedly track my progress. (This is also thanks to a special daily schedule structure I had to develop myself by trial and error, because none of the existing examples worked well for me. This scheme simplified my life immensely. I can switch between activities easily knowing that nothing is forgotten. I would like to speak about this more in detail in one of my next posts:) So, with all this, no matter how much I did or how little, I always give myself a pat on my back for what's already been accomplished.

” …slow living is not about living your life in slow motion; it’s about doing everything at the right speed and pacing instead of rushing. By that same logic, slow living is not about losing time by going slowly; it’s about gaining time by doing the things that are most important to you.” - Kayleigh Dray, stylist

...thus, for me, living slow is not about doing less either (eventually, I can often accomplish more than I expect). It's about being gently present in every moment, knowing what to do and moving at my own pace. Quality over quantity approach, in everything.

Well, I don't even know if anyone would ever read this or not, but I just wanted to share my story, because I hope that someone could benefit from it and get out of the similar situation with ease. Also, commiting my thoughts into this digital paper here helps me a lot to organize my instrospection process. It's kinda win-win. :)

...And an absolutely amazing message! I've come upon it right now on youtube and it is just so on point!... ツ

youtube

#pics & chat tearoom #nature #blooming trees #slow living #Youtube

1 note · View note

cantarella · 10 months

Note

I know what you mean about not feeling safe in the gi fandom from the jump. I’ve also bumped heads with some well known wlw creators for different, though still ridiculous, reasons. I’ve also seen the way a good number of ppl who ship popular wlw pairings (one in particular that I won’t name bc I’ll be eviscerated on the spot probably) have attacked/harassed other, usually rarepair, wlw shippers the same way cishet lesbophobes do in this fandom—infighting (I guess) over pixels just to be petty or feel superior or something. Which is just… so odd. This doesn’t even delve into the racism and colorism that you mentioned that festers the minds of so, so many popular wlw artists in this fandom (and they always get off scot-free when they’re called out, too.)

So while I do feel somewhat of a loss when it comes to so. many. sapphic creators and mutuals going “oh nvfr is kind of cute actually” out of nowhere, I’m not entirely surprised. Blocking people stresses me out, but it seems like the wisest choice 🥹

yeah еimiko shippers suck that much. no offense to all my mutuals who like them I like them too but jesus christ I've never had good experiences with their hardcore fans

anyway, I do encourage you and everyone to just block freely like unless they're your friend or mutual, so you reasonably find them fun people to be around and respect their opinions at least, then why force yourself to bear it. we'd hardly ever interact with these people anyway and they're not gonna be thankful bc we were nice enough not to block earlier. it's just not worth our peace of mind

#also sorry for the late replies the horrors (studying) were consuming me💔#chi.txt #ask #anonymous #teyvat talk

1 note · View note

minecraft-sideblog-tm · 1 year

Text

There are so many little details in my solo world that I put like a solid amount of logic into why something looks a certain way that A) just floats around in my head for no one else to see/hear, and B) are all details that like if I just let someone freely explore my builds they would not think twice about. So I just want to ramble about a couple of them for a minute lol

(under the cut, because yeah it’s definitely a ramble. I include pictures though!)

For example: The secret nether lab under ground is full of magma blocks and campfires, because there are a couple rooms meant to labs for studying different nether plants. Nether plants grow in very hot temperatures natively, therefore lab must be very hot in order to grow them. But there’s no way some campfires are going to match the same heat intensity as a literal hell dimension, and therefore the nether trees in the lab are small and stocky.

Because when real life plants grow in inadequate conditions, they tend to grow smaller/slower than they should. A tomato plant that only gets 70% of the light it needs might still make a tomato but it’ll probably be pretty small. A flowering plant might just not make any flowers, etc.

The smaller nether plants are easily placed much closer to open flames than a full tree can be. Therefore, they can grow to their normal sizes a lot easier.

Also in the Nether lab is a room with an excavated fossil. (Don’t think to hard on the logistics of how a single person would excavate an entire nether fossil, get it into the overworld, and build a room for it alone... lol). It’s one of my favorite rooms in my base tbh

I decided it should be covered in lichen and have those roots hanging off it. The logic there was like: if there is any organic matter somehow left in the bones, it was protected by the heat in the Nether preventing any kind of lifeform that could decompose it from being able to survive. But bring it into the Overworld, which is significantly cooler, would have a lot more moisture in the air, and has significantly more life, suddenly that organic matter becomes susceptible to decomposing.

The character brought it to the overworld to study it, very quickly noticed bacteria and lichen starting to grow on it, and then tried to make this room as hot as possible to slow the growth of anything else.

Okay, one more that still kind of involves the secret nether lab™, but this detail lore is a little retroactive. I added the sculk veins to these bushes a while back because I just thought it looked interesting. Now, however, I decided there’s a story reason for it lol. I haven’t built it yet, but I plan to make a closed-off part of the lab that’s like a sculk research lab gone horribly wrong. Basically the character discovered sculk while exploring, brought some back to study, but didn’t realize the speed it would spread under the right conditions.

They create those conditions, the lab starts to get overgrown, and the sculk is spreading much faster than they expected. They eventually cut their loss and try to remove any of the hospitable environment created for the sculk before closing off the lab for good. It’s in a secret, hidden lab that likely no one will ever find anyway, but they still try to put up warnings just in case someone ever does.

Some of it still gets into the ground water through the cave that part of the lab is in (which is also pretty close to being under where these bushes are).

(this pond is directly behind me in the previous screenshot) At some point part of the path outside collapses into this strange pond that seemingly one of the nether plants and the sculk have somehow seeped into and created a weird little ecosystem (there are fish in there too).

I actually didn’t plan that at all when I first decorated the pond like this, I just thought it looked cool. Originally it was a joke that since I used to throw poison potatoes in it all the time to let them despawn, it somehow created an ecosystem. But then I built the nether lab and the blue room ended up being almost directly below this, so I was like hey wait that’s much cooler lol

#minecraft #stuff i built #i really need to make a rambles tag at this point lol #lee speaks

1 note · View note

hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Note

the tags on your football Billy story about autistic kids not being allowed to play sports, gave me the idea of Steve with autism not being allowed on the basketball team and how Billy and maybe Tommy if you want since you write kegboys sometimes would react

It doesn’t take Billy long to notice him, the benchwarmer boy who sits on the sidelines, never getting his shot in a single game, just riding the bench with a smile on his face.

At first he sort of pegs it to mean the kid is just really not good, maybe riding the tails of his daddy’s sportsmanship legacy, but then Billy realizes something, that this kid doesn’t even get to play at practice.

He shows up and he sits there like being excluded is the happiest he’s ever been, and the only time he ever has the ball in his hands at all is if it’s to toss it to one of the boys on the court when it rolls to him.

Despite this though, he has his very own jersey. Number zero. Harrington.

Billy asks Tommy after practice once who this mysterious jersey kid is, and he smiles sort of tight, like maybe Billy shouldn’t have asked him that, and tells him, “I’ll introduce you.”

Tommy walks over to the kid and tells him something that makes him light up, jump to his feet and follow Tommy back over, “Billy, this is my best friend, Steve Harrington.”

Steve just sort of waves, so Billy jumps straight into it. This kid intrigues him and he wants to know more, “There a reason you don’t play, Harrington?”

In response he shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of his way too big basketball shorts, “I’m not allowed.”

“Why not? You fail some test or something?” Billy tries to ask lightly, not noticing the way Tommy’s face scrunches up before Steve drops a bombshell on him instead, “They don’t let special ed kids on the basketball team.”

And if that’s not bad enough, Tommy then adds, though significantly more bitter than even Steve is, “Or on any team for that matter, whether it’s sports or clubs or debate, you name it. School board denies every last application.”

“Oh.” Billy frowns, totally dumbfounded, his school in California never had any issues with that, “Oh that- that’s bullshit.”

“I know.” They say at the same time, prompting Billy to ask, “They don’t even have like, a separate team?”

“Not enough kids would do it.” Tommy says, and he gets a sharp look from Steve, who corrects him quickly, “Not enough kids could get permission to do it.”

“But that’s such bullshit.” Billy repeats, not very helpfully.

“Nothing we can do about it. We’ve tried everything. Not even momma Harrington could convince the school board, and let me tell you, that woman is scary.”

Steve elbows Tommy for that one, and Tommy laughs softly, throws an arm around his shoulder, but Billy is thinking, biting the corner of his nail in concentration, “Why don’t we start our own team?”

“I don’t know.” Steve’s face scrunches up, and he turns to Tommy, like he doesn’t trust what Billy says, so Billy continues, “No, I’m serious. School says you can’t play for them, so fuck ‘em. There’s courts in the park, I have a ball, and I’m out there half the time watching my little sister anyways. Let’s start our own team.”

Tommy answers for him, “Practice takes up too much time. We’re not gonna be much of a team unless we’re going to be playing at night or in the winter.��

“Then we quit the tigers.” Billy shrugs, like it’s obvious.

Instantly Tommy narrows his eyes, “Very funny, man.”

On the other hand though, Steve looks at him with awe written all over his face, eyes wide and spelling, “You’d really quit for me?”

And Billy, he plays it off like that look doesn’t make his heart melt, claiming, “For you and for Max who’s been talking my ear off about how much she wants to play soccer and whose heart is going to break when she finds out she can’t.”

Convinced, Tommy looks over at Steve, “If you’re in Stevie, I’m in too.”

Steve seems like he’s considering his options, drumming his fingers on the outside of his thigh, occasionally humming softly in thought, and it’s making Billy impatient.

“So?” He asks, to which Steve nods a confirmation to his offer, his hair bouncing with his enthusiasm.

Tommy cracks a crooked smile, holds out a hand for Billy to shake, seal the deal, “You’ve got yourself a team, Hargrove.”

They decide not to give their little team a name, the idea of being called something feels too exclusive, which was the reason they’d all quit the school's team in the first place. Billy had gotten in big trouble when his dad found out he quit for wasting their time and money on basketball, but that was all bullshit anyways, games were only usually a half hour long and were free to get into for the players family, and the school paid for the uniforms.

But that was what he said and what he’d been going to punish Billy for until they found out about the reasoning behind quitting, after which Susan was flattered he cared so much about his little sister, and he got his permission to freely go down to the park and play with the “special” kid.

Neil of course didn’t care about him doing it for Max, he was just concerned with Billy’s public image. Playing ball with the richest family in town's dopey son did nothing but good things for the way their neighbors saw him, so he’d allow it.

A few weeks into their games though, which are mostly just playing HORSE or teaching Steve how to do trickier shots since no coach ever would, Billy has to bring Max along because nobody was going to be home and she wasn’t allowed to be by herself. It’s a dreary day so there aren’t many people around at all, so he decides he’s going to loosen her leash, and walks her over to the playground (that they can see clearly from the courts, he’s not that irresponsible.)

He teasingly offers to push Max on the swings or lift her up to the monkey bars, making her roll her eyes and proudly declare that she’s not a baby anymore, so he chuckles and leaves her be, walking back to the basketball hoops.

Tommy and Steve are just sitting on the old wooden bench just off to the side of the court, waiting for Billy to get back because he’s their little impromptu coach and they can’t start without him, but he notices that they’re sitting awful close together, and between them, Tommy’s hand sits slightly on top of Steve’s, pinky fingers linked together.

Now he knows these two are affectionate, he couldn’t even count how many times Tommy picked Steve up after he made a good shot or ruffled his hair and smiled at him when he messed up, but that was all just friendly affection.

This was different though, he could tell it was from the way Tommy’s eyes snap up and he pulls his hand away, the both of them looking away from each other guiltily.

He feels a little something like jealousy in his chest, or maybe it was just anxiety at the fact that they’d been so obviously holding hands in the public park, but either way, he just kind of freezes up, looking between their two terrified faces until Tommy’s turns angry, standing from the bench so fast the old rusty things creaks loudly and Steve has to cover his ears.

He grabs the front of the baggy jersey Billy wears from his old school's team, the bears, and gets right up in his face, sneering, “You gonna say something, Hargrove?”

And Billy’s not afraid of Tommy, he might be mean, but he’s on his toes to threaten him, and he’s pretty sure they both know Billy would win the fight anyways. He’s not going to fight him though, and he makes that clear, putting his hands up as a clear sign of not going to sock Tommy for yelling at him, “Secrets safe with me, dudes. You go down, I’m going down with you.”

Tommy doesn’t get it though, because he growls, “Right. ‘Cause all that matters is what will happen to your reputation after giving up your precious sport just to hang with a couple of fags, right?”

“Tom.” Steve snaps, but he gets ignored, Billy arguing over him, “Actually, no. You know all that talk about queer kids flocking together without even knowing? That doesn’t come from nothing. I out you, it’s putting a target on my back, and from there it won’t be not long before a little birdie tells the wrong person the right rumor and we’re all dead.”

“Oh.” Tommy says softly, his face falling.

Billy nods sarcastically in response, “Yeah, oh. So let go of my damn shirt before I find a reason to punch you in the face.”

“Can we just play basketball?” Comes a timid request from behind them, so Tommy lets go, wipes his hands on his shorts, and answers him, “‘Course we can, Stevie.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get bored though, none of them are really in the mood to play after that. They play a small game that’s pretty much just Tommy blocking Billy the whole time, but after he shoots the ball they all just let it roll, none of them caring enough to keep the play going. So instead, Tommy offers up his place to hang out there.

It sounds at least better than this, so Billy drops Max off back at home, making her promise not to do anything stupid to get them in trouble until he gets back later that night, and heads straight to Tommy’s like they planned.

The whole drive he’s worrying that they’re gonna pissed at him and beating himself up for not just pretending like he didn’t notice, to the point where he almost just drives right past, but Steve waves at his car from the front window, and he can’t do all this petty angry shit to him.

Tommy’s house is empty for the night, so that means two things, that they’re free to drink as much as they want, (smoking’s a no go though, the smell is too strong and makes Steve upset), and that Steve sits right on Tommy’s lap like it’s nothing.

Which, it is nothing. Billy just told them he was gay too, and now they don’t have to hide from their best friend, so it’s common sense that they wouldn’t.

But Billy, well, he wouldn’t say he’s jealous watching the two of them together, it just makes his chest burn every time they touch or laugh at some joke and whisper amongst themselves like he isn’t even there, or when Steve kisses Tommy’s cheek.

Yeah no, there’s no pretending, Billy is totally jealous. He’s had a thing for Tommy since like, day one of practice when he bounced a basketball back in his own face trying to show off, and Steve for just as long, yearning to know more about the pretty faced mystery kid who turned out to be a total sweetheart and won him over. It’s tearing him to shreds watching them just being happy together without being a part of that.

He wonders if these small town boys have ever even heard of having more than one partner other than like, mormons, and if they haven’t, how is he supposed to bring it up without sounding like a total weirdo. Maybe he could claim that he was just trying not to be left out since they were probably the only queer kids in Hawkins. Or maybe not and Tommy would try to kick his ass again for even trying.

He doesn’t have to do much wondering though, because as pointedly as he’s trying to ignore them, Steve keeps getting closer to Billy on the couch until he’s sitting in his lap, and Billy has to ask, blue eyes going a little wide, cheeks flushing red in a way that had nothing to do with the sunburn he’d gotten at the park earlier, “What’re you doing Steve?”

“You included me. Now I’m including you.” Steve hums and leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, holding eye contact with Tommy.

To say that Billy is flustered and doesn’t know what to do with himself is more than an understatement. He'd like to say he’s not the most inexperienced one here, but it’s not looking good, because he’s flushed as red as a tomato, and the only thing he can think to say is just, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Tommy says and smiles that big goofy smile of his, a playful imitation of their little argument from before, “And I’d much rather you kiss me than punch me.”

#kegboys #steve x billy x tommy #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tommy hagan #autistic steve!#ej writer #story by ej!#requests #based heavily on personal experience lol #thank you anon for reading my mind #and for the request <3

87 notes · View notes

padfootastic · 2 years

Note

they claim they love sirius but it *always* turns out the one they really love is remus. it kinda makes me sad many people who love sirius and tell valid things about sirius and fight for him, like you, blindly stand by tall top sirius and get tortured with no reason. haven’t you noticed your friends don’t do like or reblog your posts about how the fandom demonizes sirius and makes remus an untouchable angel? because, that’s exactly what they want. small angel remus and his rich tank servant.

anon, i say this with all the fondness in my heart, why is this so dramatic 😭😭 i am ‘freely standing’ and am not oppressed or bothered in any way, promise. no one has to rb anything i say, especially if they don’t like it, and i won’t judge because i’m the pickiest person on tumblr, i assure u. there’s people who love sirius who’ve made points about him i don’t like and i’ve unfollowed/blocked for that—i’m unreasonable as fuck and i definitely don’t expect people who like remus to even interact with me, let alone my posts. i’m very pro-curating ur own positive space.

it’s funny u mention tall top sirius bc i haven’t even mentioned top/bottom positions so far because like, i’m usually more interested in his interpersonal dynamics and i get my smut needs fulfilled elsewhere lmao (also,,,,why would i form my opinions around r/s dynamics,,,that doesn’t make sense)

re ur other ask, i can’t publish it because you’ve mentioned a couple people (who, funnily, i don’t know. if that isn’t an indication of how choosy i am 🤷‍♀️) but u made points in it that i found interesting because i’ve had a completely different experience? i definitely think sirius’ character is butchered to make others’ look good (—i am not gonna rant about tags again, i am not gonna rant about tags—) but i haven’t seen it in the way u mentioned (which could be because i’ve stopped reading wolfstar unless it’s an author i *trust*).

in fact, one of the most annoying characterisations i’ve seen (and this is a problem i have with a lot of bottom harry in drarry too) is the stereotypical typecasting of short!bottom!sirius (and the tall!top!remus who becomes everything that his best friends are stripped of). the way sirius is written as a stupid damsel or a bratty princess who’ll shriek if his hair is out of place, or small and needing protection (either emotional or physical) bc he’s weak/incapable makes me wanna pull my hair out. it’s annoying bc sexual positions are not a personality indicator, but even more so bc sirius is butchered along the way too. nothing of his character remains until he’s just an OC or a caricature made to prop someone else. it was one of the biggest reasons i stopped reading the ship. the few r/s fics i read now don’t really have any smut in them.

anyway, all of that aside, we’re all playing in a fictional sandpit with actions figures, aren’t we? everyone’s gonna move and clash them differently, u just gotta decide which one u like 🙃

#look at me: the metaphor queen.#for all i shit on certain things ultimately i’ll still stand for everyone to bend a character the way they want #i’m sure i have opinions/characterisations that are horribly unpopular or flat out wrong lol #and i expect people’s interactions w me to be based on that. i still get shocked when someone likes/rbs something i say lol #i have zero expectations here my friend #coming to s/r dynamics #like i have nothing against bottom sirius that guy deserves to get railed to filth; but also like. u don’t have to change him for it ykno?#bottoms don’t need to be physically small or feminine or delicate i promise #we are trying to let go of cishet dynamics not replicate it #u can’t use top/bottom as closed boxes of of classification like astrology or type a/b ykno?#sirius is canonically so fucking badass?? he cares not for his hair or robes or food or anything when he’s on a mission #u don’t have to strip all that away just because u want him to be fucked lol #(see how i didn’t even rag on remus this time? growth)#i’m still not sure if these asks were like. genuine or trolling.#and someone out there will definitely have a laugh at my expense if these were a joke & i took them so seriously #but hey. i am a fool regardless so what does it matter.#hope u have a good day anon. i assure u there’s a lot of well written sirius-loving fics out there #(may i suggest the prongsfoot side of the internet? 😏)#we are *very* good to our boy #pen’s asks

16 notes · View notes

oneoftheextras · 4 years

Text

brother-in-law | one

yandere shota aizawa x reader

masterlist | tip jar

from the kinktober requests: “skull, grey, 7″

skull - eraserhead (shota aizawa), grey - yandere, 7 - family

(no incest don’t worry, i needed to think of a way for it to be family & not incest)

Part 1 | Part 2

The family dinner was going well. That was until the topic of politics came up and then your father went off on a rant that wouldn’t finish until desert was served.

It was always strange to have the whole family around your large dinner table, and it was even stranger that your parent’s still kept it considering all of their children had since moved out and gone their own ways.

It was the day before Halloween, and your mom had ordered everyone back to your family home for her annual Halloween party. Old and new family friends would be there as well as long lost cousins and second cousins, and even third cousins - there would be an average of 300 people. The house was big enough.

But tonight was close family time, just parents and siblings.

Well, you and the sibling’s partners and children.

You were the second eldest, but even your younger brother was already happily married with a baby on the way. The inevitability of your great aunt asking when you would settle down tomorrow loomed over your head. But for now, you were eyeing up the pudding.

“And that’s my opinion on that” your father finished before plummeting his fork into the desert, whilst everyone was just relieved the conversation was over.

You went to follow suit but felt something brush against your shin from the other side of the table, looking up at your sister- who sat opposite you and smiled. She must have accidentally kicked you while rearranging herself in her seat.

Hearing your father clear his throat, you turned your attention back towards him, “How about that teaching job of yours, Shota?” your dad addressed the man sitting next to your sister. He wasn’t quite ready for the question to be thrown at him, so he quickly struggled to swallow the lump of pudding he had put into his mouth only moments before.

“It’s good, rewarding as ever” was all he said, he was a man of very few words, often the person that would silently listen to the rest of the room without barely saying a thing.

Normally his long black hair would flow down to meet his broad shoulders, but as this was a, somewhat, formal occasion he had it pulled back into a bun. He often did this to be respectful, although he wanted to hide in his own hair, it was rude for the rest of the room to not see his face.

Your sister turned towards her husband, in a semi-whisper “Tell him about the move!” she ordered him, Shota tiredly looked at his wife- your sister- as though this topic was something that had been talked about a million times.

“The move?” your mother chimed in curiously, “You’re not getting rid of that lovely house we bought you, are you?” of course she would be concerned when it came to property.

Your sister huffed and crossed her arms “I would never! It’s a lovely house, it’s just-” your sister cut herself off and turned to stare at Shota with a frustrated look.

Oh no. You knew it was all going too well, here comes the yearly argument that makes everyone uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Shota glanced between all of the faces staring at him in anticipation, “It’s not that big of a deal” he sounded very calm for someone who was receiving a death glare from his wife. “The school has asked the teachers to be closer to the school for security reasons, so I’m renting an apartment elsewhere for Monday to Friday” he explained.

“But we will have to be apart” your sister whined, to anyone else looking into the situation it would seem like your sister was the youngest of you all when she was actually the eldest. She was definitely the most spoiled.

You continued to listen while eating your pudding, everyone else had stopped to gape at the one-sided argument happening opposite you, you weren’t going to let yours get cold.

“To be honest, it’s better for me anyway, the apartment I found is only a short walk from the school, normally I have to drive for an hour” Shota sipped his drink after he spoke. It was obviously something he had no choice over so he wasn’t stressing himself.

There was a quiet that fell around the table, your sister silently eyed every family member as a way to get them to defend her, but Shota was right.

“Where’s the apartment?” your dad asked out of nowhere, Shota put his drink back down on the table and you watched him lick the remaining residue off his bottom lip “Downtown” was all he said.

You felt his eyes fall on you for a brief second, it was so quick there was no way you could be certain that he even looked at you. “Isn’t that near where your apartment is, Y/N?” your dad asked you, suddenly all eyes were on you.

Letting out a puddling-muffled “Uh-huh”, you gazed towards Shota who’s eyes had gone slightly darker. “That’s good, you can keep an eye on her then, Shota” your dad chuckled, “Make sure she’s not getting into any trouble” he finished before lighting a cigar.

You were about to protest when you felt something rubbing your leg again, it was slower than before and very gentle, you looked directly at your sister but she wasn’t paying you any attention.

“I’m going to get more champagne” she huffed and stood upright, marching away from the table. The rubbing stopped a few seconds too late to be your sister. Nervously, you looked towards the only other person on that side of the table, and he was already staring back at you.

“I’ll come with you, I need to wash up my dishes anyway” you quickly stood and took your plates with you feeling your face start to burn.

You had always found Shota attractive ever since he first started dating your sister a few years ago, but there was nothing you could do about it other than be jealous that your sister found him first.

By the end of the night you were rather sweaty, everyone was starting to make their way to bed so you decided to hop into the shower. It was bad, but while the hot water was running down your face and body, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Shota was going to be living a few blocks away from you - alone.

It was wrong to think about him, he was your sister’s husband - your brother in-law. But as long as you didn’t act on anything or tell anyone, it was fine to let your mind drift, right?

When you’d had enough, you wrapped a towel around your body and opened the bathroom door. Your old bedroom was at the end of the hall, opposite the bathroom, and you preferred to get dry in the comfort of your own room. As you passed the doors to your left you heard your dad snoring, surely he hadn’t fallen asleep that quickly.

You glanced down at your watch, which was resting on top of the clothes you were carrying, it was gone 1am - you had been in the shower for over 45 minutes.

Just as you were stood facing your door, you realised that between holding your towel up and carrying your clothes you had no free hand to turn the door handle. At that moment, the door just behind you opened and you heard the faint sound of the floorboards moving.

Immediately, you turned and began to apologise thinking that you’d woken your brother’s pregnant girlfriend - who had previously warned you all about how light of a sleeper she was - “Sorry if I woke you up, I didn’t realise everyone would be-” but it wasn’t her.

“I haven’t gone to sleep yet” Shota said, putting his hands into his pockets after he silently closed the bedroom door behind him, “Oh” was all you said, there was no point in apologising when you hadn’t done anything wrong.

“What took you so long?” he asked out of nowhere, his gaze unmoving from your face as you could feel it heating up. “Just needed to unwind after dinner” you weren’t technically lying, dinner was very stressful.

Shota made an ‘Ah’ sound which told you that he definitely didn’t buy your lie, this man works with children every day, of course he could spot a lie. “What’s the real reason?” he pushed you. Something in his eye told you that he knew, it was probably your paranoia, but his upturned smirk made you anxious.

To change the subject you decided to ask him the first thing that came to mind, “So, where’s your new apartment?” almost immediately he answered you, “The Fitzgerald Estate”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “That’s my apartment block” you replied a little shocked.

“I know” he said, taking a few steps towards you, never breaking eye contact. You stayed put, he was probably moving away from the door so you could talk more freely without risking waking up your sister.

“What floor are you?” you asked before you could think, you weren’t sure you wanted the answer. “Four” he continued to make his way towards you, he was getting a bit too close for it to be socially acceptable so you backed up until you couldn’t any longer, “That’s my floor” you breathed, surely it was all coincidence.

“I know” he said again, you stopped yourself before you asked what number but almost as though he read your mind he said “36″, you were number 37 - he would literally be next door. It was going to be extremely hard for you to put your attraction for him aside when you would be seeing him so often.

“That’s-” “Right next door” you started, but he finished. By this point your back was flat against the cold wood and he was towering over you - so close that his chest was against the clothes you were holding.

“Why? How?” you had too many questions and the smell of him was making your senses weaker, “Like your dad said, I need to make sure you’re not getting into trouble” he lifted his hand to wipe away some water that had trickled from your hair and onto your cheek, his fingers were warm against your skin.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other” he whispered in a low voice as he let his hand fall to your side, barely brushing your towel-covered hip but it was enough to make your whole body tense.

Suddenly the door opened from behind you, you stumbled backwards and if it wasn’t for Shota’s arm holding you close to his body you would have fallen. He didn’t let go of you straight away, your chest was heaving up and down from the adrenaline of almost falling mixed in with the intimate position you were in.

Slowly, he released you and allowed you to get your footing, “Sleep well” he commented before turning away to return to his room.

The next day you tried to keep your distance, focusing on the numerous tasks that your mother had set for you all: putting up decorations around the house, organising the furniture to open the room up to look even bigger than it already was.

In almost no time at all, the party was in full force and you had managed to avoid Shota entirely. It gave you time to try and get yourself together, but you still couldn’t get around the questions of how he knew exactly where you lived, you hadn’t told anyone, not even your parents.

You were dressed as a porcelain doll, your hair was in two braids and you had a baby blue dress on. To be honest, you were trying to be as close to Annabelle as possible, but you weren’t that good at make up.

Before the party your mom had gone out of her way to tell you that you had to be social, you were sure that she had noticed you sticking to yourself for the majority of the day. To please her, you decided to join the 50 other people that were dancing to the music.

After a while various family members came up to dance with you and talk, well shout, over the music. It was good for a while, until someone snaked their hand around your waist and turned you to face them, taking your hand in theirs in a traditional ballroom style.

“Shota” you grumbled as a greeting, you felt his chest vibrate as he said your name back to you. “You’ve been avoiding me all day” he stated, he was talking so softly that if he wasn’t leaning into your ear you wouldn’t have heard him over the music. You decided it was best for you not to comment on that and continue to pretend your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest.

“I spent so much time and effort to be here and you repay me by avoiding me?” he continued as he moved you quickly in time with the music, “I wasn’t avoiding you, I was busy” you lied, the second time in the last 24 hours. “Too busy for your neighbour?” you could feel him grinning without even looking at his face.

Somewhere from the crowd of people you heard someone say “Ah, isn’t he a good big brother” and it made you feel sick to your stomach, hearing those words paired with how you were feeling about him.

“Why’s your heart beating so hard?” he continued to hound you with questions in an attempt to get some conversation out of you - you tried to step away from him but his grip on your waist got tighter, making you whimper slightly.

There was no use trying to lie to him, he could feel your ragged breath against him, dancing with you was the perfect excuse to get closer to you. “You’re making me anxious” you made sure to word it in a way that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion.

“I’m sorry” he sounded sincere, so you reared your head up to look at his face, “I only want to protect you” as he spoke you noticed the fangs attached to his teeth, “A vampire? Really? How original” you mocked his costume. “And a doll is better?” he shot back at you.

He let go of your hand so he could play with one of your braids, he was so gentle that you genuinely believed that he wanted to protect you, “I wonder what noise you would make if I pulled these” he grinned evilly, you were taken back by his complete change in tone.

Almost as quickly as he had said it, he slowly started to tighten his grip on your hair until a small moan left your mouth, you were lucky that the music was so loud otherwise the people around you would have heard. “Fuck” Shota breathed and you felt his fingers dig into your back for a second.

You took his moment of weakness to break away from his embrace, you headed straight for the back door, not looking back to see what his reaction was.

Taking a seat on the swinging bench outside, you put your head in your hands and tried to steady your breathing. What the Hell were you going to do?

(if you want a part 2 let me know, I had fun writing this)

Taglist:

@mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @hereticpriest @enagmaticether @anxiousgoddest @kodzu-ken @raine-needs-help @waitwhatsrealityagain @multifandomshitblog

#aizawa #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #halloween fics #kinktober

388 notes · View notes

ajerzaaddict · 3 years

Text

Let’s make things right between us

Jellal believed that Erza shouldn't be with him for valid reasons, but Erza thought otherwise. And she would fight until she make things right between them.

Rated: M

Words: 5.8k+

FFN

I can’t believe I’ve actually come up with 5.8k+ words for a oneshot. And it has taken me near 6 months to complete this, as I checked that I actually created the doc on 31/3/2021. The lack of canon contents was discouraging me, and there were other things occupying me as well. So usually I wrote a few paragraphs and then would put it aside for weeks. Anyway, I’m so glad that I’ve done it and happy with the outcome. I really hope that you find this rollercoaster of Jerza filled with hurt / comfort / sexy time enjoyable to read.

~~~

"Jellal."

His shoulders stiffened when Jellal heard his name being uttered by the voice he yearned but also feared to hear. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the uninvited visitor.

"Erza." There was a tightness in Jellal's voice. He was slightly irritated, but mostly nervous. "How did you find me here?"

"I'm sorry I can't tell you. I've promised confidentiality to my source." Erza opened the wooden gate and stepped into the backyard.

"Nevermind." Jellal sighed. His location should only be known to his former guild mates. "Then may I ask what brings you to me?"

Erza looked at Jellal with a piercing gaze. "It has taken me hours to come to see you. How about you being a friendly host, inviting me to your cottage for a seat and offering me a cup of tea? Then I can answer whatever questions you have for me."

Jellal stared back at Erza as he considered the options he had, but decided there was none other than complying with Erza's request because she definitely would not take his rejection as an answer. He took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Please come in." He finally looked away from Erza as he injected his magic force into the magic-driven wheelchair through the body-link to move himself towards the cottage's backdoor.

Erza followed Jellal in silence. Passing through the backdoor, they entered the dining room equipped with an open kitchen.

Erza was surprised to find there was a woman in the room, and her heart suddenly felt heavy. The woman was a blonde like Lucy but had short hair. She was in the middle of clearing the dishes when she sensed their presence and turned to look at them. Erza studied her face and guessed that she was of a similar age to Jellal, not older than thirty.

"Mr. Fernandes." The woman greeted Jellal before fixing her gaze on Erza. "Oh, you have a guest. Would you like me to serve you and this lady anything?"

"Thanks, Iris. There's no such need. I have something private to discuss with my guest, so you can leave earlier today."

Iris nodded her understanding and took off the apron and put it in the kitchen drawer. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Fernandes."

"See you tomorrow, Iris. Thanks for your hard work today."

"Not a problem." Iris smiled at Jellal before she excused herself.

"Take a seat." Jellal told Erza after Iris left the room.

"Is Iris your domestic helper?" Erza tried to ask casually as she took her seat at one of the two chairs placed by a small round dining table.

"She's not merely a domestic helper. She's my caretaker as well, assisting me in doing things I can't handle on my own in daily life." Jellal answered while moving to the stove cabinet that was clearly specially made lower to suit his height in the wheelchair. "I'm sorry that I only have coffee but not tea. Or would you rather have water?"

"Water will be fine, thanks."

Jellal filled two glasses of water and put them in a tray. He then placed the tray on his lap and directed the wheelchair to the dining table. He settled himself at Erza's opposite before placing the tray on top of the table.

Erza picked up one glass and took a mouthful of water; while Jellal simply watched her and left his glass untouched on the tray, waiting in silence.

"I'm here to fight for my happiness." Erza said as she laid the glass on the table, and looked straight into Jellal's eyes. "And I won't leave until I get what I want."

Jellal balled his hand around the wheelchair's armrest as he willed himself to hold Erza's determined gaze which seemed to penetrate his soul. "You've come to the wrong person, Erza. What you are looking for is not something I can offer you."

Erza snorted. "You sound like you really know what can make me happy, better than I do. But Jellal, you don't really. You need to stop deciding what is the best for me and assuming you can't give me what I need."

"Aren't you assuming, too, Erza?" Jellal questioned, raising his voice in frustration. He knew Erza didn't like being challenged but he was also not afraid of confronting her when needed. "Didn't you sound like you know me better than I know myself when it comes to what I'm capable of giving and what not?"

Erza slammed her hands on the table top, shooting up from her chair. "Then let's speak our minds and make things clear for each other once and for all, and stop making assumptions any further." She paused and swallowed. "I love you, Jellal. I have a crush on you the moment you named me Scarlet and since then I've never stopped loving you."

"Stop it please, Erza." Jellal asked in a distressed tone.

Leaning forward, Erza grabbed Jellal's shirt and pulled him closer.

"I've never stopped wishing for us to be together one day since I met you again before the Grand Magic Games. After Zeref and Achnologia have been defeated, after you've been pardoned by the Queen, I thought my wish would come true finally." Angry and hurtful tears pricked at the corners of Erza's eyes.

Gritting his teeth, Jellal turned his head to the side and closed his eyes as it was too much for him to watch Erza crying sadly because of him once again.

"Yet you avoided me when I tried to reach you after you were pandonned, and chose to isolate yourself, not giving me a chance, not giving yourself a chance, to find the happiness we deserve together. "

Jellal grasped Erza's wrist as he came face to face with her again. "What kind of happiness can you find in taking care of a handicapped man like me for the rest of your life, Erza?" He questioned in a grave tone. "You'll just find I'm nothing but a burden to you eventually."

Erza searched Jellal's eyes. She found herself still being enthralled by their beautiful deep blue color which reminded her of the ocean at night. But it also pained her to see that they were dimmed by sorrow which blocked out the light of hope.

"Why are you having so little trust in me even though I've shown you time after time and crisis after crisis, that I'll never give up on you no matter what happens to you, Jellal?" Teardrops rolling down her face like a chain of pearls. "And how can you still belittle yourself as nothing but a burden? You've protected me from danger and comforted me in ways no other could when I was vulnerable despite your physical disabilities!"

"But I couldn't even have come to your side without someone else's help!" Jellal cried out in pain. "There are many things I can no longer do on my own and I must rely on a caretaker to live my everyday life. And I don't want you to shoulder such a duty for a lifetime!" Jellal lowered his head as he could no longer hold back his tears from falling. "I'm very sorry to disappoint you, Erza. I'm very sorry you've invested your love in the wrong person, that is me. Please don't waste your time on me anymore. You should live freely, not be bound by me."

Jellal wouldn't be surprised if Erza rebuked him, or even slapped him in the face, for being a coward who didn't dare to accept the love of his life because he didn't know how to overcome his insecurity. He wished she would. He deserved to receive her anger. But what descended on him was only a heavy silence which seemed to suffocate him.

"I'm already tired of you forcing your vision of freedom on me. It never ended well."

Erza's voice was nothing more than a whisper, but her words were crystal clear and sharp like her sword, breaking the silence as well as slicing through Jellal's heart. Placing his hand over his left chest as he felt his heart aching, Jellal slowly raised his head, glancing at Erza with anguish-filled eyes.

Erza released Jellal's shirt from her hold. Wiping her cheeks with both hands, she tried to dry them from her tears, before she took a few deep breaths to force down her sobbing.

"You so desperately want me to leave you, don't you? Then this is how you can make it." She kneeled in front of Jellal such that she could look into his eyes on the same level. "You only need to look me in the eyes and tell me that my love for you is one-sided all along, that you've never loved me, and you never will."

Jellal's eyes widened in disbelief. "Erza…"

"Tell me what I've told you, and I'll gather the pieces of my broken heart and disappear from your life forever ."

"Have I not already made my point clear enough for you, Erza? Why can't you just accept the reasons I've given you?" In a shaky voice, Jellal almost cried out his questions.

"I'm waiting, Jellal. If you can't tell me to go from the bottom of your heart, then allow me to stay."

"Just…...leave me alone." Jellal shut his eyes and balled his hand over his chest.

"Look at me Jellal!"

Countless moments in their past flashed across Jellal's mind, like a movie being played fast-backward. He still remembered it like yesterday, the joyful look on Erza's face when he named her Scarlet, and the first taste of falling in love when she thanked him with a timid smile which made his heart skip a beat and jump unusually quick. Their fate had intertwined since then. To deny that he had been in love with Erza since they were young teenagers was like abandoning the most influential element which made up the Jellal Fernandes he was today.

Yet, he believed he was a man who was already too broken to be repaired anyway. It seemed like a fitting fate for him to lose himself more by severing his ties with Erza completely. He told himself that it would also release Erza from his bond, so he should not hesitate to become a cruel man to smash Erza's heart, as well as his own.

Jellal had never felt his eyelids so heavy before when he opened his eyes again to look at Erza, the woman who was like the force of his life. Putting down his hands on the armrests, he held them firmly as he felt his body trembling.

"Your love for me is an unrequited one and I never…"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

In a lighting speed, Erza had held Jellal's face between her hands and crashed her mouth over his.

Startled by Erza's sudden advancement, Jellal was immobilized as Erza greedily tasted him. He grabbed her shoulders once the initial shock was over, trying to push her away. But Erza refused to let him go. As they struggled against each other, the wheelchair, being unable to withstand their combined forces, lost its balance. Jellal fell forward and into Erza, landing on top of her as Erza fell backward on the floor.

They were both panting as they took a break from their fight and kiss. Jellal's face was buried in Erza's hair and between her head and shoulder. Her scent was alluring, that it took every ounce of his will for him to not give in to her seduction and stay but to distance himself from her by pushing his upper body up.

He looked into Erza's teary red eyes and sighed. "You've never planned to actually accept my rejection, didn't you?"

"I simply can't lose you." Erza admitted with a bitter smile. "And I shouldn't have challenged you, forcing you to say things which were against your heart and will. For that I apologize."

"And I'm sorry for trying to tell the biggest lie to you. But Erza." His eyes were filled with sadness but also tenderness as Jellal gazed at Erza. "You must understand that love can't be the solution to everything. And you must accept that even if we are in love with each other, being together still may not be the best choice for the both of us."

"Love can't be the solution to everything, but it's what motivates us to find one even when the problem seems unsolvable. It's the force which keeps us moving forward when we feel tired and weak. Love gives us comfort and warmth and courage which helps us to endure suffering when life gets cruel." Holding Jellal's shoulders, Erza rolled them over and got on top of him. "But not everyone is lucky enough to find love in life. There's no other worse choice than rejecting love when we are blessed with it. I really, really, hope that we can treasure the love we found in each other and allow its power to grow on us."

Jellal breathed a sigh and smiled a small knowing smile. "You are ever optimistic, Erza."

"That's why I'm a perfect match for you who is ever pessimistic. We can balance each other out."

Gently, Erza held Jellal's right cheek in her palm.

"Do you love me, Jellal?"

Jellal knew he should not evade the issue again as they were trying to make peace with each other after going through an angst drama.

"Always."

"Do you love me?"

Jellal breathed deeply. "I love you, Erza." He said it with his clearest voice and firmest tone. "I always do, and always will."

"Thank you." Smiling, Erza whispered, then lowered her head and pressed her lips over Jellal's. This time, she kissed him less forcefully but more sensually.

Jellal was hesitant to react, but also unable to reject Erza. Having admitted his love for her was like having his heart stripped of the steel wall he built around it, making it impossible for him to pretend any further that he didn't enjoy her kiss. When Erza traced his lips with the tip of her tongue asking for entrance to his mouth, he finally let go of his last restraint and gave in to his desire.

Running his fingers through Erza's hair at the back of her head, Jellal opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue around her intruding one. He had never known a taste as toxic as Erza Scarlet in his life. He forced their tongues into her mouth as his desire to taste her more thoroughly grew beyond his control. He explored her warm, wet cavern as far as his tongue could reach, as well as stroking her tongue with his.

Erza felt dizzy. Jellal had not only taken away her breath and emptied her mind as he kissed her eagerly and dominantly, but had also ignited an aching need deep in her core and between her thighs. Moaning deep in her throat, she ground her groin against Jellal's.

Jellal snapped out of the spell of the kiss and regained his senses as Erza's action made him realize that he had led them to something he feared to face. His hand slid down Erza's head. Grabbing her shoulder, he pushed her away from him, breaking their kiss finally.

A thread of their mixed saliva stretched between their parted lips as they both panted heavily to draw air in their lungs.

"I can't." Jellal said once his breathing resumed normal.

Disappointment flashed across Erza's face but she managed to keep her negative emotion at bay.

"What do you mean? What are you worried about?" She asked Jellal in a concerned tone.

Jellal covered his eyes with his palm. He had wished that he would never need to reveal his disturbing problem to Erza. He could have kept it in the dark if Erza had accepted his rejection and left. But now, after he had failed to convince her to give up on him and even given her hope in their relationship with his confession of love, he knew he must tell her the truth. She needed to know it.

"My injury has not only rendered my legs useless." Jellal paused, tasting an unusual bitterness on his tongue. Or the taste was only from his imagination, reflecting his unwillingness to admit his incompetence to Erza. He swallowed hard before continuing. "I'm…...suffering from a certain degree of…...sexual dysfunction, too."

Silence engulfed them once again. After a moment, Erza held Jellal's hand over his eyes and tried to pull it away from his face. To her relief, Jellal had not put up much resistance; although he had chosen to look sideways instead of at her after she uncovered his face. She didn't blame his act of avoidance. She tried to make him at ease, caressing his forehead with her fingertips. Then she ran her fingers along his eyebrows and traced the shape of his facial tattoo, before she palmed his face, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb.

Jellal casted a glance at Erza. He didn't look as stressed as a moment ago, and heaved a quiet sigh. "You have every right to change your mind and leave me, Erza. And I won’t blame you."

Erza smiled a little, shaking her head. "I didn't come here looking for you unprepared, Jellal."

She straightened her back and moved to Jellal's side. Kneeling on one knee, she picked Jellal off the floor in bridal style.

Out of instinct, Jellal wrapped his arms around Erza's neck to steady himself, and his face turned slightly pink out of embarrassment.

"Erza? What are you doing?" He asked in a voice laced with anxiety.

"I don't suppose the hard floor is a comfortable place for you to lie on." Erza answered matter-of-factly as she walked out of the dining room.

On the other side of the door was the living room which was furnished with a two-seat couch, a coffee table, two bookshelves and a fireplace. Erza glanced around, then moved towards the two closed doors on her left-hand side.

"Is your bedroom behind one of these doors?"

"The one…...on the right." Jellal answered hesitantly as he was still unsure about the purpose behind Erza's action.

"Could you help open the door for us to go in?"

"What are you planning, Erza?"

"I just want you to loosen up while we try to sort things out between us."

Jellal sighed, not being completely convinced by Erza's answer. He did what she asked anyway.

Erza closed the door with her feet after entering Jellal's bedroom. She tenderly laid Jellal down in his bed ensuring that she would not hurt him, before she joined him in the bed. She lay back down beside him and rolled onto her side. She then rested her forehead against his strong upper arm while she held his hand in one of hers and put her other arm around his chest.

"When I decided that I would do anything to bring you back to me, I borrowed books trying to find out what kind of health issues and inconveniences would be faced by people who suffered the similar injuries as yours in their daily lives, and to learn some caretaking skills. Things were much more difficult to understand than I originally expected, though." Erza laughed dryly as she admitted her incompetence.

Jellal said nothing, but Erza knew he was listening intently, feeling his chest expand and contract under her arm as he breathed in and out deeply.

"Luckily Wendy was nearby and always helpful when I asked her questions; and also Porlyurisca, despite her resentment towards human contact, has given me some professional advice on things Wendy couldn't answer. She's always a little bit more lenient to me than to other people when I need her help."

Erza lifted her face to look at Jellal as her hand slid up his chest and found his face. Their eyes met when Jellal turned his face towards her.

"What you have just confessed on the floor of the dining room…...was one of the things I've prepared to face once we become a couple. It's not a big deal. There are many ways which allow us to satisfy each other." She looked away for a moment and lowered her voice. "It's also possible for us to make our own babies with the help of some tools if it's what we want. But no matter what." She turned her gaze back on Jellal. "I won't give you up because of this issue, or any other challenges."

Jellal cradled Erza's cheek in his palm; and tears appeared at the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Erza asked gently. "What's it about this time?"

"I haven't expected that behind your resolution in being with me, you've made such a big effort to understand my circumstances, and to prepare yourself for living with me. I assumed you came to find me without knowing all the troubles I'm facing or you may face to be with me, and said something terrible to you. I'm truly sorry."

"I didn't blame you. Like what I've said earlier, I knew that love can't be the solution to everything. So I tried to find out what challenges await me to become a part of your life, and to prepare myself to face them. Jellal, I'm truly ready."

"I trust you are. I'm just...worried that the responsibility of looking after me will tire you out in the long run because things could be more difficult in real life than they look on paper. Iris is already the third caretaker I hire. The previous two quit in less than three months because they felt the workload was too heavy."

Erza chuckled. "You don't compare me with ordinary people. Have you forgotten which guild I come from? I've helped look after a guild filled with some of the most difficult people to handle on the continent for years, yet I'm still good and don't find it a problem. But we would probably need a part-time helper so that someone can assist you when I'm away for long. Anyway, listen, Jellal." Erza put on a serious look. "I truly hope that you are finally convinced that we can be together, and understand that it will bring me infinite joy instead of making me miserable, with everything I've said and done."

Jellal took Erza's hand and placed it over his loudly-beating heart.

"I'm a handicapped man with a broken heart. I feel…...very inferior to you, the best woman and also person I've ever known, and ashamed to offer myself to you. But…...I'm all yours as long as you want me."

"You are my treasure and all I want." Tipping her head upward, Erza closed the distance between her lips and Jellal's. It delighted her that Jellal responded immediately, kissing her back. Their lips moved against each other in an unhurried yet fervent manner as they tried to enjoy the moment but also couldn't get enough of each other. Only when their lungs screamed for air that they finally pulled away from each other.

Erza slid one leg over Jellal's thighs and got on top of him as soon as her breathing had returned to normal, and used her equip magic to change into nothing but her underwear: a set of bra and panties made of thin white lace embroidered with flower patterns which barely covered her nipples and private area.

Jellal widened his eyes and opened his mouth slightly. He was not only unprepared for Erza's bold action, but he was also in awe seeing the divine beauty of her almost naked form. He took a few deep breaths to calm his racing heart before he was finally able to take his eyes off Erza's glorious body but to look at her face instead. He found that her face had already turned rose-pink, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. Despite appearing shy and nervous, she chose to look at him instead of avoiding his gaze.

"We have time. We can take things slow." Jellal suggested. He didn't want Erza to force herself to do something she didn't feel comfortable with. And he wasn't sure if he really should develop physical intimacy with Erza in the current moment. Everything between them seemed to progress too fast all of a sudden and out of his grasp.

Erza shook her head.

"Eighteen years have passed since we parted ways in the Tower of Heaven against our will. I think we should make up for the immense time we've lost without further waiting."

Leaning forward, Erza laid her body flat against Jellal's and held his face to kiss him again. Jellal slid one hand to her bare back and weaved the other into her hair as he opened his mouth to welcome her tongue in, choosing to go with the flow and abandoning his hesitation.

Their kiss came to a halt when Erza drew back. She took a deep breath, and then brought her mouth to Jellal's throat. She trailed wet kisses from his Adam's apple to his chin and along his jawline, while her hand went underneath his shirt, roaming over his abdomen and chest. His nipples hardened under her touch and she pinched one lightly between her fingers.

A sigh fell out from Jellal's lips.

"Have I made you feel good?" Lips brushing against his ear, Erza asked Jellal in a whisper. Jellal nodded.

"I want to feel you touching me in the same way." She brushed his other nipple with her fingertips. "Have you ever fantasized holding my breasts in your hands? Caressing them, fondling them, squeezing them? Dreaming of rubbing my nipples between your fingers and of me moaning your name?"

Jellal shut his eyes, and various fantasies he had made about Erza flashed across his mind. He couldn't help but question if all the flirtatious words he had just heard were also from the Erza he imagined. Yet, he could clearly feel his body temperature rising, and his heartbeat quickening. He felt aroused; something he could only experience occasionally since he was injured. He opened his eyes to look at the real Erza. Raising a hand, he cupped the side of her left breast and squeezed.

Erza gave a little yelp and lifted up her head; her eyes found Jellal's. Jellal wasn't sure if the emotion he saw in Erza's eyes was surprise or excitement, or both. But he had no doubt that the color of her face had turned red like her hair.

"Should I stop?" He asked.

"You should continue." Erza pushed herself up with both hands and got on her knees, hovering above Jellal with her hair falling down like a red curtain at both sides of his head.

Jellal held Erza's cheek with his unoccupied hand as he looked at her fondly like he had found the brightest star in the sky. Being trapped in the scarlet world of Erza with her alone, isolated from the outside world, Jellal seemed to finally be able to honestly admit to himself that no matter how undeserved he felt of Erza, his desire to be with her would never die. If it was a sin for him to accept Erza into his life, he would willingly bear such sin instead of pushing her away.

"I love you, Erza." Smiling, Jellal ran his hand down to Erza's neck, over her collarbone and the side of her right breast, before cupping her breast from its underside.

"And I love you too, Jellal."

Sighs fell from Erza's lips as Jellal began working on her breasts and nipples over the thin fabric of her bra.

"Ah. Yes. Keep on." Erza encouraged Jellal, trying to arouse him more. "Make me wetter."

She freed one hand to unzip Jellal's pants. She then pulled his underwear down and reached for his manhood. She had seen naked men many times but touching a man's cock was a first time for her. Feeling both curious and nervous, she palmed Jellal's member.

"You feel smooth." She wrapped her fingers around him and began stroking, in the way she learnt from books. Gradually, he swelled and stiffened slightly in her hand. "How about I massage you between my legs instead?"

"Oh god. Erza." Jellal felt pleasure rising from deep in his stomach as Erza pumped him quicker and seduced him with words.

Erza leaned back as she lowered her bottom onto Jellal's thighs and pulled her breasts away from his hold. Jellal pushed his upper body up from the mattress with his elbows and forearms to have a better look at Erza. His heart skipped a few beats as he watched Erza gilding her lace-covered core along his length.

Erza moaned lowly in pleasure, feeling the aching need of her damp, throbbing folds being soothed by the physical contact with Jellal's flesh. She flattened one palm on Jellal's abdomen for support as she rubbed herself harder against his partly erect cock, and alternately rolled her nipples between her fingers to stimulate herself further.

Jellal fisted the bed sheet and panted, feeling his inside burning with lust which he had not experienced as strongly for a long time, as he watched Erza pleasuring herself with his body. Her arousal had already soaked through her tiny panties and rubbed over his cock. Her nipples stood hard and popped against her bra after receiving all the ministration from his and her hands and her breasts were bouncing as she moved her hips back and forth. Her moans falling out from her parted red lips were mixed with the sound of his name. He could feel excitement tingling over every nerve endings of his upper body. It was like Erza had awakened his lost senses with the combined forces of intimate touches, erotic view of her body and the lewd sound she made. He growled deep inside his throat and his head fell back with his eyes shutting closed and his teeth biting his lower lip, when a strong wave of rapture washed over him.

Erza smiled in relief when she realized that Jellal had reached his peak. She slowed down her movement to a stop despite having not reached her own climax. When Jellal laid his back flat on the mattress again, she lifted herself off him and moved forward to take his face between her palms. She then dipped her head to kiss him on the lips.

"I'm so glad you enjoyed the things I did with you."

"You are marvelous." Jellal smiled and ran his fingers through Erza's hair. "But things between us aren't over yet. I want to make you feel satisfied, too. Would you turn around with your back facing me?"

It warmed Erza's heart that Jellal not only cared about her, but also showed willingness in taking the lead in their newly established relationship. She nodded and did what he asked, turning her body around and straddling his waist.

Jellal palmed one side of Erza buttocks and pushed lightly, making her lean forward a little to leave a gap between their bodies. Erza steadied herself by grabbing Jellal's thighs. Jellal then slid his free hand through Erza's inner thighs and pressed two fingers against her slit through the damp panties. Erza sucked in a deep breath. Jellal started stroking her with his fingers sliding up and down along the lace barely covering her opening, drawing sighs out from her mouth. He soon felt his fingers being coated in Erza's juice, and slid them beneath her panties. Her lip-shaped folds against his fingers were slick and soft and warm, being more ready to welcomed his fingers in.

"Let me know if I hurt you."

"Okay." Erza breathed out the word.

Jellal slipped his fingers partially into Erza's folds first, giving her some time to adapt. When Erza gave him no sign of stop, he then inserted his fingers fully into her core. Erza uttered a cry; her inner walls spasmed as they were stretched by Jellal's intruded fingers more than she had ever done to herself with her own.

Jellal pulled his fingers out a little and thrust them back into Erza's tight core, and repeated the action. He spread and twisted his fingers every time he buried them deep inside of her, to explore and excite her sensitive spots. Erza moaned and mewled helplessly and her body trembled, and it didn't take long for her to start riding Jellal's fingers.

Jellal felt like he had been turned on again watching a lust-filled Erza fucking his fingers zealously. He could perfectly picture it was actually his cock but not his fingers which was filling Erza up and being hugged by her inner walls. His body was burning up, and his heartbeat was drumming against his chest echoing Erza's moans.

"Oh dear. More, Jellal. More." Erza gasped and her nails dug into Jellal's thighs as she tightened her hold on him.

Complying with her demand, Jellal added a third finger in thrusting Erza, and slid his hand on her buttock over her thigh to reach for the bundle of nerves at the top of her opening. He easily located it beneath the panties as it had already stuck out from her folds waiting to be touched. He pinched it between his fingertips, massaging it. The additional effort he made soon pushed Erza over the edge into ecstasy. She screamed his name and squeezed his hand between her thighs as she came on his fingers; her juice overflowed and left a trail along his palm to his wrist.

Jellal breathed deeply to slow down his erratically beating heart before he slid his fingers out Erza's core. Erza panted for air on top of him until she regained her breath, then she slid off him and lay down at his side.

Jellal turned his head to look at Erza and she, sensing his gaze, turned to look at him as well.

"I love you." They said at the same time, and both laughed softly at their perfect timing.

Jellal held Erza by her shoulder as he looked at her with a tender loving gaze. "You are the biggest miracle to ever happen in my life, Erza. I promise I'll cherish you as much as I can, and do my best to improve my physical conditions with whatever therapy or medicine which are considered useful."

Erza nodded her head with contentment; her eyes welled up with happy tears. "And I'll always walk by your side to support you, to love you. The road ahead of us may not be easy to walk, but we can do it."

"As long as there is love, am I right?"

"Absolutely." A heartfelt and satisfied smile spread across Erza's face. She then yawned as she finally felt consumed by the tiredness accumulated from all the things she had done in the day: taking hours of travel to find Jellal, confronting him first, persuading him next and finally having sex with him. She snuggled against Jellal's chest, closing her eyes. "But now, I simply want to take a nap with you, and also take a shower afterwards. Then we shall see what we should do next."

"Sure." Jellal kissed Erza on the forehead, before closing his eyes as well. "Rest as much as you need."

Having never felt as peaceful and as fulfilled in their hearts, they quickly fell into a sweet slumber.

~~~

You should have already known where I got this idea of Jellal being disabled and using wheelchair if you are in the fandom long enough but if you don’t, see this.

#jerza #Jellal Fernandes #erza scarlet #oneshot #fanfic

33 notes · View notes

jate-kara · 4 years

Note

For the ask thing- temerate - to break a bond or promise - with Rex and ahsoka? Hope you get over your writers block

“I guess this is goodbye.”

The spaceport is cacophonous around them, brimming with beings from every corner of the galaxy. The noise is good, Rex knows: it’s easy to hide in a crowd, and even easier to disappear when you’re completely surrounded by other people who don’t want to be found. No one looks at you twice when they don’t want you to look back.

Ahsoka shifts from one foot to the other, then tugs her hood up so it covers her montrals and shades her face. “Rex?” she calls, a little uncertainly. She lifts her hand a fraction, letting it hover in that empty space between them as if she’s afraid that extending it any further would break the tenuous pact they’d made.

Travel alone. Stay in the shadows. Stay safe.

Alone has never been safe. “Yeah, kid,” he answers, anyway. “I heard you.”

Her shoulders sag. Her hand falls back to her side, vanishing beneath the folds of her cloak. “I know you don’t agree,” she offers, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. They’d huddled in one of the port’s many alcoves, far enough out of the way that no passerby will spot them if they’re not trying, but close enough to the landing platforms that they can make a quick escape if the Force gives Ahsoka a surge of alarm.

“Doesn’t matter what I think now. The decision’s made,” Rex returns. His voice is low, but it still cracks on the last syllable. He curls his hand into a fist at his side.

His arm trembles.

Ahsoka tilts her head a degree to the left. Rex can just barely make out the sheen in her eyes beneath the shade of the hood. “You’ll be able to move more freely if you’re not traveling with me,” she reminds, an echo of the point she’d made when they’d had this same debate before: on that damned moon, with the bodies of his brothers buried a few hundred meters away; on Bo-Katan’s ship, in hyperspace; and then again after they’d disembarked and bought passage on their respective freighters.

Rex clenches his teeth so hard his jaw pops. “Like I said,” he repeats. “Decision’s made.”

Ahsoka looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Tears threaten the tremulous edges of her tone. She sounds, for a moment, less like the capable warrior he’s long fought beside, and more like the kid she is. “This is what I have to do.”

Skywalker had never been good at grief; he’d closed down. Rex wonders, for a breath of a moment, how much of that would live on in Ahsoka. Wonders where she’d asked the freighter to drop her off, and whether that grief would well up inside her until she drowned in it.

Wondered if he’d drown himself before her saw her again.

Rex takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her close. Ahsoka’s fingers curls into the fabric of his cloak. A ragged breath escapes her.

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I promised Fives I wouldn’t leave your side.”

Rex gives a disbelieving chuff he guesses might pass for a laugh. Umbara haunts him like a distant nightmare, far removed from the hell they’d been swept up in barely a week ago, but he still remembers those first days after. Remembers a hand on his shoulder, and Fives’ presence, always close by. When command had pulled Fives for another solo ARC operation, he had somehow, in the cyclone that was reassignment, found time to track down Ahsoka and ask her to keep an eye on Rex. True to spirit, she’d squared her shoulders and sworn to stick to his side.

Jesse had told the story later, when Rex had come back from that warehouse with Fives’ ID tags clutched close, and no words to say why.

“Different times,” Rex says. “Fives wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Ahsoka’s breath shudders. “I wish I could thank him.”

Rex’s eyes burn, suddenly. His throat tightens. There are so many things he would say. I’m sorry. You were right.

You’re the reason I’m still alive.

“Me too, kid,” he whispers, and holds her a little tighter. “Me too.”

#captain rex #ahsoka tano #arc trooper fives #the clone wars #tcw #clone wars #don't tag as ship is2g #asks #my writing #thank u for the ask and the kinds words anon!!!

101 notes · View notes

stillness-in-green · 3 years

Text

Ahistorical, Absurd, and Unsustainable (Part Four and Conclusion)

An Examination of the Mass Arrest of the Paranormal Liberation Front Introduction and Part One Part Two Part Three

PART FOUR: Thematic Problems

For all that portions of the Western fandom look at the MLA and see Evil Quirk Eugenicists and Hypocritical Ultra-Rich, they had legitimate complaints, and their goals, while overly radical if taken to their logical extremes—see Geten[51]—still offer a way to address a huge number of the problems this society faces. Locking them up and throwing away the key is shutting off one of the most prominent angles on addressing those issues. Consider:

The Problem of Heroics

Quirk-based prejudice is real, and a huge amount of it is based in the hero/villain dichotomy. This isn’t surprising; when you set up a group of people as “heroes,” it follows logically, linguistically, naturally that the people they fight must be villains. Villains are bad, are evil, are black-and-white figures with no motivation worth considering. Toss them in jail; who cares? They earned being in there with their Bad Actions. But that kind of thinking is insidious—it spreads.

If someone looks like a villain, if someone has a bad quirk, they may well be a Bad Seed. And if they aren’t, well, the responsibility is on them to rise above that prejudice, to become better than the people around them think they can be—but no one asks the people around them to maybe stop being so damn prejudicial all the time.

A horrifyingly stark example shows up in Chapter 310, in which a woman is being attacked by a group of three men for no reason save that they think she looks like a villain, so they assume she must be a villain. Her obvious villain trait? She’s a heteromorph—unusually tall, with a vulpine face. That’s it. She’s not dressed in a threatening or antisocial style; she’s not aggressive or angry. She’s just a heteromorph who didn’t go to a shelter right away because she thought things would calm down if she waited it out.

Love Midoriya following this up with, “I bet they were just scared too.” Way to chase an aggression with a micro-aggression there, hero. (Chapter 310)

Of course, tensions are running high right now, higher than would ever be the case under normal circumstances, but even in “normal circumstances,” this uncomfortable bias persists. Consider Class 1-A’s Shoji: Shoji wears a mask because he's a gentle soul who doesn’t want to scare small children, but maybe instead, people should be teaching their kids not to judge by appearances? Then maybe their kids wouldn’t grow up to be the kinds of people who attack others for looking a little scary and not going to sufficient pains to hide it?

As far as bad quirks go, meanwhile, Shinsou is the classic example on the hero side. He was told by classmates, laughingly, that he had a good quirk for a villain; he carries himself at all times like he’s got something to prove. I suspect the only reason he’s at U.A. and not running with the League of Villains is a supportive home life,[52] but either way, people are all too ready to apply a villain label to him based on an ability that was nothing but genetic lottery, and that’s because the existence of heroes defines itself by the existence of villains.

Of course, the otherization of villains and people-who-kind-of-seem-like-they-might-be-villains is only part of the problem. The other and frankly larger issue is the effect that limiting quirk use to heroes-only has on the cultural mindset—heroes, villains, and civilians alike.

Japan in real life fosters a sense of community support so profound that children as young as four can be sent on small errands[53] around the neighborhood, safe in the knowledge that if they need help, they will be able to get that help. It’s far more common for young children to walk or take public transit to school than it is in the U.S. Another example is the country’s enthusiastic embrace of publicly available AED machines, complete with easy-to-understand printed and audio instructions about how to use them on people suffering heart attacks, a movement that has saved the lives of many who might not have otherwise survived long enough for an ambulance to arrive.

In My Hero Academia’s Japan, though?

You wind up with people who don't even particularly want to become heroes enrolling in hero schools anyway because it's the only way they can imagine contributing to society. Uraraka and Gran Torino are obvious examples—Uraraka becoming a hero less because she felt a calling to and more because it seemed like the best way to ameliorate her family’s hardscrabble lot in life; Torino getting a hero license not because he cared about being a hero at all, but because he was in on the One For All situation and needed to be able to use his quirk freely to help fight that secret war.

An even more telling case is that of the main character himself. Midoriya desperately wanted to “save” people, and from all the evidence we have in the early manga, as far as he was concerned, the only way for him to do that was to become a hero. He never even considered e.g. signing up for any volunteer programs around his neighborhood or joining the police. It’s like he never even considered the possibility of helping people via other channels.

And this is a consistent issue! People who don't think that they can become heroes train themselves (and are trained by society) into believing that they are powerless, that it isn’t their responsibility to help when they see trouble, leading to things like Shimura Tenko's “long walk,” where countless people look at a child of five, bloody and alone, and then make the conscious decision to look away, because “a hero will help.”

Hell, it even spills over onto actual heroes, who in the first chapter stand around like chumps waiting for “someone with a better quirk” to come and do something about the sludge villain, because they don’t have the perfect quirk to solve the problem themselves, so they don’t even try.

Of course, even if they did try, it might not be welcomed. Consider cases where people wanted to do good, like Gentle Criminal or Vigilantes' Koichi, but had their road to heroism blocked—this led them to villainy or vigilantism, which in turn can lead to arrest and possible prison time, with all the attendant stigma.

Restricting quirk use to heroes-only has impacts beyond just how it distorts people’s desire to help, too. Evidence in the manga suggests that some people feel a stronger biological drive to use their quirks than others. What options do those people have, then, if their quirks—or their personalities—don’t seem naturally cut out for heroism?

In Tamaki Amajiki’s flashback in Chapter 140, a teacher tells his class, “People make fine use of their quirks at any number of jobs. Being a hero’s not the only option. How will you be useful to society in the future? That’s what we’re here to explore in quirk training.” This is the scene in the manga that most explicitly tells us that other avenues for quirk use exist, but we’re never once shown what those avenues might be. At best, this suggests that those avenues are drastically limited (e.g. only available to those whose quirks are deemed “useful to society”) and/or poorly explained to people in-universe—else why would Uraraka have chosen heroism despite her lack of interest in it if she could have just gotten some kind of job license for her quirk? At worst, it’s an example of Horikoshi throwing in a line that contradicts the surrounding canon. Either way, we’re left with people who feel a strong drive to use their quirks being pressured into heroism or straying into villainy for lack of other acceptable outlets.

All of these issues could be mitigated by less draconian restrictions on quirks—which Destro's followers are the only characters in the manga we've actively seen pushing for, rather than just heard about second-hand—and by not using an ideologically charged word like “heroes” to describe a glorified independent police force. Allowing people to freely use their quirks[54] means fewer people being pushed into a heroics job they're unsuited for, means fewer people being pushed into villainy, means a more rounded view on how quirks can be used, leading to less quirk-based prejudice and less—well, let’s talk some about false dichotomies.

All For Nothing, Nothing For All

Shigaraki stands as a fundamental accusation of the way the hero/civilian dynamic exacerbates the Bystander Effect, making people think of themselves as powerless, while at the same time putting untenable pressure on heroes to be perfect victory machines who don't experience pain or doubt or weakness. He further attests that this dynamic pushes out people who don't fit either category—victim or hero—making them villains. This is one of the fundamental thematic conflicts of the series—is one hero enough? Are heroes themselves enough? What are heroes, what do they fight, and what should they be fighting? Who deserves to be “saved” and what does it mean, anyway, to “save” someone? What happens to the people who aren’t saved? How will the world grapple with the consequences, the resentment, that stem from that failure?

In his work Underground, written to grapple with and criticize the way Japanese media covered the sarin gas attacks, author Murakami Haruki talked about the response to the incident being to call the members of Aum Shinrikyo evil, insane, diseased, other. They were spoken of as a monstrous fringe that could not have been predicted, about which nothing could have been done, rather than examined as bright, well-educated young people who by all accounts ought to have had good futures ahead of them but instead spiraled down into a doomsday cult. Murakami asserted that, because the Japanese public was unwilling to ask how and why that happened, was unwilling to self-examine, the country was locking itself into a repeating cycle. Memorably, he wrote, “Most Japanese seem ready to pack up the whole incident in a trunk labeled THINGS OVER AND DONE WITH,” to describe this resolute incuriosity, the strong aversion to looking into the face of evil and trying to find the humanity within it.

In this post and its follow-up, tumblr user @robotlesbianjavert discusses the problems that stem from that exact tendency as portrayed in My Hero Academia. She says, “Only making decisions that benefit the greater good is not the real solution that the narrative is rooting for. Not so long as it fails to recognize and address the needs of the victims that still come of it.” Hero Society will never stop creating its own villains so long as, every time it fails people, it does nothing but shrug and write off the victims as unavoidable, inevitable sacrifices for the greater good.

I would also like to highlight her point—which I hope she one day posts her own full essay on—about the way All For One and One For All serve as two extreme poles of equally unsustainable visions for society. This dynamic is all over the manga.

There are the characters of AFO and his younger brother themselves, each forever locked in battle to prove the correctness of his own way of thinking, and forever talking past the other even when they’re face to face.

There’s the contrast of heroes, giving their all to help strangers even when it hurts the people they love, with villains, giving their all to help the people they love even when it hurts strangers.

The flaws in the One For All model can be seen in the multilayered ravages it inflicted on All Might physically, emotionally, and socially. Thus, one for all is not always ideal.

The strengths of the All For One model can be seen in a team of heroes and police combining their efforts and will to help one single person—Eri. Nighteye even highlights this with his speech about everyone’s efforts coalescing into Midoriya and helping him to “twist fate.” Thus, all for one is not always about selfishness.

Once you start looking for it, this duality shows up everywhere, and I think—I hope—it’s an angle Horikoshi is conscious of. The obvious solution is that the extremes of this society are all undesirable—that total selflessness and total selfishness are equally unsustainable, and both are, ultimately, damaging. A more holistic approach is needed, yet if a holistic approach is what the manga ultimately proves to be seeking, it makes the mass arrest of the PLF particularly problematic, if it’s allowed to stand unchallenged. You cannot just choose not to see 115,000 dissatisfied people—some way or another, you have to reckon with them, and if you don’t do it in a way that actually helps them address whatever their core problem is, you’re just setting yourself up for more of the same further down the line.

The MLA believed that they were fighting for a just cause, for freedom, for the future. They absolutely had issues—Geten’s words indicate that much—but they were issues that would have been much better addressed by actually challenging them openly, rather than suppressing them. If they couldn’t get society to agree right away that the use of one’s quirk should be as unregulated as the use of one’s hands, maybe they would have accepted a tiered license approach to quirk use as a good starting compromise. If they wanted totally unhindered quirk use, such that people could murder with impunity? Well, that would never have gotten past the House of Representatives, but maybe a bill declaring that crimes committed by quirks should be treated no differently than crimes committed via any other means would have. A weeklong debate on the Diet floor would have stood a much greater chance of e.g. addressing the needs of the quirkless than the MLA alone would have bothered with.

The MLA didn’t get to have that kind of debate. Instead, they ran headfirst into Shigaraki Tomura, who made them far more dangerous. And yet… For all that Shigaraki twisted them, he didn’t change them so much that Re-Destro couldn’t still see the light of his ideals within them. Furthermore, even though the PLF didn’t win the battle we call the War Arc, it may be that they’re well on their way to winning the actual war.

“The Seeds Are Already Sown”

So what did the PLF actually want? Well, we have a few sources on that—Shigaraki’s desire to destroy “everything,” the cloned Re-Destro’s vision of liberation through “order without order,” and so forth. But a very instructive place to look is Hawks’ doomsaying in Chapter 258. While the PLF is a bit too scattered or imprisoned to appreciate it, a shocking number of the things Hawks laid out for the audience have actually come about, even if they didn’t happen exactly as the PLF planned. Consider:

Bring down the status quo by annihilating all heroes. Heroes—a number of whom died the day of the raid—are retiring in mass numbers. As the manga describes it, they are “being put through a sieve.” They certainly haven’t all been annihilated, but the ones remaining are having to do the work with little in the way of thanks or glory—the false heroes Stain spoke of have left the table.

They plan to attack all major cities at once throughout the nation. Gigantomachia stampeded over more than twenty cities in the space of less than an hour. A bunch of them were surely not major cities, but all the same, it was a rampage that caught the heroes almost completely off-guard (because they were all tied up arresting the PLF and didn’t think Machia would be an issue), leading to massive collateral damage and unspeakable loss of life.

With society brought to a lawless standstill… Thanks to AFO’s prison breaks, a bunch of villains are now out there raising hell to their hearts’ content, and there aren’t enough heroes around to always respond in a timely fashion. They’re having to open up schools as shelter zones, evacuating entire cities, which the common people respond to predictably poorly, leading to groups of people who were not previously villainous deciding to take the law into their own hands.

…Re-Destro and the Hearts & Minds Party will storm the political world. In Chapter 297, the less openly fascist guard worries that the remaining factions of the HMP[55] will still be stirring up trouble on the political front, especially given the enormous wave of brand-new complaints about human rights violations that he doubtlessly figured were incoming.

They will distribute weapons and extol the virtues of self-defense, calling it true freedom. Whether Detnerat picked up the pace of its black-market support goods sales, bankrolled Giran doing the same, or some other groups—yakuza, perhaps—stepped up, we already know that there are weapons and support goods circulating throughout society, and that people are using them for self-defense.

These people will throw the world into chaos and enthrone Shigaraki atop the rubble. The second coming of All For One. Far more so than anyone in the PLF would have wanted, this one has come horribly true with the AFO vestige’s possession of Shigaraki.[56]

While it is perhaps karmic that the PLF is in no position to enjoy the fruits of their villainous efforts, it’s striking how much of what they wanted has come about anyway. And how much of this can really be undone or wound back? Complete societal breakdown isn’t the kind of genie you can easily rebottle, and this, I think, is particularly illustrated by the civilians Yo and Tatami encounter in Chapter 307.

I’d like to wind this essay down by zooming in on that encounter somewhat.

The group of people the Ketsubutsu pair encounter in 307 are not nice, but neither are they violent. Having, like so many others, lost faith in heroes to protect them, they want only to protect their hometown and for heroes to leave them be. They’ve fended off a few small-time villain attacks and are bluntly uninterested in cooperating with condescending heroes (an impression Yo is not helping to mitigate) who have done nothing but disappoint them.

The spokesman in particular feels to me like someone who’s suffered a significant personal loss. The shadow over his eyes here is telling. (Chapter 307)

When Muscular shows up, they are 100% ready to put their lives where their mouths are. They are all in the process of charging outside, first to stop their town from suffering more damage, then to back up a hero kid they just got done telling to buzz off. And you know? It’s possible—probable, even!—that Muscular would have murdered every last one of them, and them charging in to fight him would have led to a horrific tragedy, one more to stack atop the pile.

And yet, while the narrative doesn’t allow them to actually assist,[57] neither does it entirely rebuke them, in the end. When all is said and done, the civilians agree to hear Tatami and Yo out, and they help Tatami get Yo inside for medical attention. The leader is a little abashed, but he doesn’t bow his head and admit to being wrong; his group doesn’t meekly submit to being herded to shelter. And that’s because the narrative is—wisely—unwilling to say that they’re wrong.

After all, how could it?

Midoriya Izuku and the jaded civilian's instincts. (Chapters 1 and 307)

For a last comparison, remember that in the first chapter, Midoriya Izuku—quirkless, untrained Midoriya Izuku—dove into a fight he had no way of winning, no way of even affecting. All he was doing was endangering himself and making the sludge villain even harder to target. Still, All Might and the narrative alike praised him for his action, because it was driven by a “desire to save.” In Chapter 307, a group of undertrained civilians witnesses a high school boy being attacked by the highest tier of villain their society knows, a Tartarus escapee, a gleeful and unrepentant serial killer with a devastatingly powerful quirk. Their response is to gather up their weapons and numbers and dive in to try and help. Regardless of the weakness of their quirks, regardless of their lack of training, regardless of the danger to their lives, their instinct is the same as Midoriya’s was back then—“the desire to save.”

How could the narrative possibly tell us that they're wrong?

And if they aren’t wrong, this group of people who are so very close to the vision the PLF had for the world after their revolution, the narrative simply cannot expect to retain the slightest hint of credibility if it tries to tell us that the PLF are worth nothing more than an authorial handwave and the slamming of a cell door.

Conclusion

What we are seeing in the manga now is a society that is fumbling towards a new way. It isn’t perfect; it has a lot of wrinkles to iron out. Yet in some ways, if this is a society that has gone back in time, it is also a society that has a chance to chart a different path forward than it did before, a more inclusive path, a more balanced one. Heroes can still exist in the same way that surgeons and emergency responders exist, but that doesn't mean people throw their first aid kits in the garbage.

People protest that untrained civilians using their quirks leads to collateral damage, and that's true. The same would be true, however, if a nation that relied solely on public transit suddenly faced the total breakdown of that system and found that, if they wanted to get anywhere farther than walking distance, they had to get behind the wheel of a car and drive there themselves with no previous experience handling a motor vehicle. With some basic training, or perhaps a test and associated license that is as ubiquitous as a driver's license, how much of the collateral damage caused by civilians fighting might be reduced? How might people feel more empowered to act when necessary?

I very much want to see that future in the manga. It will feel terribly bitter, however, if the people who always believed in that future the most don’t get to see it themselves.

Bit characters are bit characters, I know. Terrorists in fiction don’t typically get to walk away scot-free. But numbers aren’t just numbers, even in fiction, even when they’re villains. If all Horikoshi wanted was a sufficiently large, scary threat to throw his heroes up against, he should have stuck with mindless Noumu or maniacal robots. He didn’t. He chose to make that threat human. He cannot now choose to dehumanize the threat, just because those humans are no longer convenient to his story.

Or at least, he can’t make me look at his doing so as anything other than appalling—ahistorical, absurd, and unsustainable.

Come back next time for sources and further reading.

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

[51] And yes, as always, I do think that Geten-whose-name-means-Apocrypha is a radical, not a reliable barometer for the MLA norm.

[52] Contrasting Toga, the standard-bearer for bad quirks on the villain side.

[53] We don’t know if that practice—so widespread it became the subject of a long-running TV program—survived the Advent and raised crime rate, but if it didn’t, that only further suggests that kids wandering the streets unattended are probably in need of assistance.

[54] Within the same bounds other freedoms exist, e.g. they’re not unduly burdening others.

[55] Small political parties in Japan merge and fragment all the time, particularly in times of crisis, so it’s not surprising that the HMP has some sub-groups. I am somewhat surprised that these factions themselves weren’t dissolved as well, given the heavy-handedness on display everywhere else. This is about the only thing that suggests that the arrests might not be as totally over-the-top as is otherwise implied, though really, if that’s the case, it just brings us back to the problem of all the people who probably slipped the net if the HPSC did opt to undercompensate.

[56] Another enormous thematic issue I have with tossing away the PLF like this is that it renders Shigaraki and the League’s hard-fought victories in My Villain Academia all but meaningless—worse than meaningless, since settling into the villa instead of staying on the run or bunking up with Ujiko wound up losing them Twice—but that’s more a problem with the writing of Shigaraki’s arc than the themes of the series as a whole. Certainly, fumbling Shigaraki’s arc will have a nigh-incomparable impact on the themes of the series as a whole, but there’s time to salvage his situation yet, so I’m crossing my fingers and reserving judgement on that for now.

[57] It should have.

#bnha analysis #bnha meta #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #my writing #plf arrests #stillness has salt

34 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

Save Me

Summary: It’s hard to be the hero, especially when no one saves you.

Warnings: Cannon level Dean Winchester depression. Mentions and hints of drug use, Alcohol abuse and excessive drinking, language, self loathing, maybe a hint of jealous!Dean? Dean’s in a very dark place in this fic, and it’s a tear jerker.

Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2013

A/N: This fic was based on the song Save Me, by Jelly Roll. The lyrics are in Italics. This fic was also beta’d by @miss-nerd95! Thanks so much hun! Please do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check my Masterlist!!! Want even more? Become a patreon, and as little for two dollars a month you can get exclusive fics first!!

**MASTERLIST** ***BECOME A PATREON***

Somebody save me Me from myself I've spent so long Living in hell

Dean twisted the cap off of another bottle and downed the contents of the warm alcohol quick enough to make himself a little tipsy, and that alone felt like an accomplishment. He could hear Elieen and Sam in the room just down the hall from him, and honestly, it made him sick.

It wasn't that he disliked Elieen. In fact, he was the one that told Sam to go for it. She knew what they did, understood their lifestyle because she herself was a hunter and if Sam had a chance at being happy, who was he to tell him otherwise. It was more than Dean himself felt he’d ever have, or even deserve.

He supposed this was the price of being the 'hero'. The guy who saved everyone's ass. Why couldn't he be the one getting saved for once?

Eileen’s laughter cut through the silence of the Bunker and drifted into Dean’s room where he pulled the covers up over his head to try and block the sound.

He was tired of living this way, but once he got drunk enough to not feel the lonely ache in his chest, he guessed it would stop mattering then. Then he could carry on with this shit-storm of a life he’d been reduced too. People thought Hell was lonely, turns out it was pretty much the same topside too.

They say my lifestyle is bad for my health It's the only thing that seems to help All of this drinking and smoking is hopeless but feel like it's all that I need Something inside of me is broken, I hold onto anything that sets me free

“Dean, you're getting too old to drink like that, man,” Sam said from his side of the table in the library where he and Eileen had taken up residence to look for another hunt. Dean hoped they’d fucking find one because he was tired of sitting here looking at them and just twiddle his thumbs.

His liver desperately wanted him to find something to do with himself as well, not just keep on damaging it, and seemed to be screaming at him pretty loud this morning.

“I’m fine, Sam. I quit the hard stuff a long time ago. I just need some sleep. Come get me if you guys come up with a hunt.”

He got up and slid the chair back with more force than needed, but he hated it when Sam tried to butt in his life and tell him what he should and shouldn’t be doing. It’s easy to say shit like that when you don’t have to wake up to a cold bed every morning.

Dean was just like everyone else. He craved companionship that didn’t come from some one night stand he picked up at a bar. He wanted a family, hell, he wanted to have kids someday. There goes that opportunity when you're in your forties and too damn broken to even get through the night without alcohol.

“So much for being a good father figure,” Dean snorted to himself as he flopped down on his bed, letting the silence that stood in his room carve him deeper than any torturer from Hell could conjure up, or any wound his body had ever endured.

Dean’s eyes drifted over to the almost empty bottle of Tennessee Whiskey on his nightstand, and he let out a huff. He would never tell Sam about the dime bag he kept in the hiding place under the floorboard of Baby for when things got really bad and he knew that he should stop doing this shit to himself, but it was the only relief he seemed to get sometimes. Today seemed like one of those days.

I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams I'm a lost cause Baby, don't waste your time on me I'm so damaged beyond repair Life has shattered my hopes and my dreams

Dean picked up his phone that was lying next to him on the bed, and somehow he started to dial your number, just like he’d done a thousand times over the years. It felt like a lifetime since he’d last seen you, but he always kept your phone number and would even dial it on occasion to just hear you say “hello” before he would quickly hang up.

But he couldn’t do that to you, he couldn’t put you in the kind of danger his life seemed to be saturated in. Besides there was no hope for someone like him, and if he thought he was fucked up years ago when he’d first meet you on that hunt in Wichita? Well, fuck if he wasn’t more in deep shit now than he’d ever been.

Dean was sure you’d moved on by now anyway, he wasn’t going to waste your time on him. He was a lost cause. A shattered, broken shell of the former hunter when he was 28. Now it was all an act and a brave face until he could get stoned enough to get numb to not give a damn, because Dean fucking Winchester wasn’t allowed to feel. And as a result, he never did .

What if the night sky was missing the moon? And there were no shooting stars, to use wishing on you And all of my sorrows, I just wash them down It’s the only peace I've ever found. All of this drinking and smoking is hopeless but feel like it's all that I need Something inside of me is broken, I hold onto anything that sets me free

Dean didn't stop until he was tired of driving, but it was better than being in that Bunker with the couple fucking happy in love. He found himself in probably another state, but fuck if he even knew which one, they all looked the same after so many years on the road. A joint burning slowly in one hand, a bottle of cheap whiskey in another, and his back stretched out on Baby’s sleek, black hood. Nothing out there between him and all of his past years of regret but the stars, and the moon that shined out over the body of water he was parked in front of.

He was starting to feel the effects of his self-medication, and he knew he’d end up spending the night out here-which wasn’t much of a problem for him. At least it was quiet, peaceful even. That or he was just shit-faced enough to drown out the voices in his head that were screaming at him louder than usual that he would die alone, just like his father. Chasing his demons.

If this little bit of pot and that little bit of alcohol gave him a little earlier out without having to actually pull the trigger? Well, fuck he’d take that too. He deserved nothing less than to die stoned, drunk, and probably in his own vomit. So much for being a hero. At this point though, he was pretty positive that heroes didn’t get saved.

When the alcohol had run out and he had to lean against a tree to take a piss, he decided that he’d go crawl in the backseat and try to sleep it off so that he could play the hero one more day. That was, if he woke up

When he had flopped across the leather seats of the only real home he’d ever known, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he was pretty sure he’d never forget. It rang and rang until he was just about to say fuck it, and hang up when you finally answered the phone.

“Hello?”

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat, and he knew that he should've just hung up but for some reason, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand the ache in his own chest any longer.

“Hello?” your voice said again as one silent tear slipped down his cheek onto the leather seat underneath him.

“Y/N, It’s Dean… I-uh, I’m sorry to call you so late.”

You could have heard a pin drop as your own heart picked up pace, your mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

“Dean? Damn it’s been years. I thought you were dead!” you tell him in disbelief, sitting down on the concrete steps outside of your little house. His face still was a clear picture in your mind, the night he’d left you felt like it was yesterday as it was all those years ago.

“Not dead yet, Sweetheart,” Dean laughed almost humorlessly. It was too late to hang up now, so he could either lie to her, or he could tell the truth, he could tell her how lonely he really was and how much he regretted the day he’d left her all those years ago. “I’m-uh… I’m thinking about coming by and seeing you for a few days. It’s been a long time, and I just… God Y/N, I just really want to see you again.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. You could tell he’d been drinking by the slurred speech, but it was almost as if you could hear the cry for help in his voice.

“You know you're always welcome here Dean. I told you years ago, and it still stands today, you can always come home.”

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as the tears started to flow freely down his face now. “So you never moved on? No, Mr Right?” Dean tried to sound like he was joking, but honestly, he just felt like he sounded weak. Still, he had to know.

“No Dean, I told you-it was you, and it would always be you,” you said, drying tears of your own away with the sleeve of your shirt. “I still love you, Dean, I always will. No matter how dangerous you say it is.”

Dean was about to hang up and tell you it was a mistake, but you had to go and say that. The internal battle was still raging inside of him, but dammit if he wasn’t tired of fighting it.

You talked to Dean until he had passed out with the promise he’d see you in the morning. He told you over and over again that you should hang up on him, that you should rightfully tell him to fuck off, but you refused to. So now you stood pacing the front porch of the address you had texted to his phone last night. Praying, hoping that you’d see that beautiful black Impala that haunted your dreams pull down your driveway.

Some of the things that he’d told you last night that he’d been through were horrific and you knew he wasn’t the same man he was all those years ago, but you also knew he still had the same soul. He saved you all those years ago, and now, it was your turn to save him.

You didn’t breathe easily until you heard Baby’s engine purr and saw her coming down your street. It took all you had not to run to meet him halfway, and when he got out of the car, he said nothing, just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight into him-like you were a lifeline, and if he let you go, he’d never surface again. Little did you know that it was exactly what he felt.

“You’re home Dean,” you told him through broken sobs of your own mixed with his.

And he was. Finally, someone decided he might just be worth saving too, and he was glad that it was you.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @rain-dance-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002

#Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x You #Dean Winchester fanficiton #Dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester cannon #dean x reader #dean x you #jealous!dean #hurt!dean #sad!dean #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #jensen ackles #save me #jawritter #x reader inserts

222 notes · View notes