#but he provided me with a distraction even if it was just briefly and i’m never gonna forget that

[heybaetae]

.

[gentaro-kinniecom]

Oh..I think you’re holding the heart of mine..

Characters: Solivan Brugmansia/gn!reader

Cw: fluff, mentions of marriage, crushes, love at first sight (?), mentions of kidnapping, yandere themes…

A/n: This is based off day two of The kid at the back :] hope you guys enjoy!

(E/c) eyes lingered across the room, trying to distract themselves from the crimson orbs that stared at their figure, drawing it with a smile. Portraits aren’t that difficult when you know how to draw, except, their skills were quite rough, unlike Sol who was nearly finishing it, looking back and forth between y/n and his paper. Blush covered part of his cheeks, placing his sketchbook down while locking eyes with them

“Is it done?” Y/n asked, sighing as the bell rung across the hallway

“Not yet, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow” He responded with a soft smile, one they’ve rarely seen the times they saw him.

Going their separate ways, y/n found their group in the hallway making small talk as they arrived. It wasn’t long until Sol and his friend appeared, chatting as Sol’s gaze landed on them. Feeling a bit curious, Y/n excuses themselves, parting away from their friends while approaching Sol.

“You must be Y/n! Sol’s told me about you..he’s right, you are kind of cute..” The guy before them spoke while chuckling as Sol sighed, blushing while glaring at his friend

“Anyways, I’m Hyugo! We were just about to eat lunch on the roof, would you like to join?” Y/n looked back briefly at their group. Perhaps something different wouldn’t be so bad today. Crowe however, noticed their sudden disappearance, his sad gaze lingered as they left with the two boys walking across the small corridor.

“I’d love to..!” Hyugo chuckled as the three of them headed towards the roof. Upon arrival, Sol handed Hyugo a bento box filled with his favorite food. It didn’t take long for them to dig in as Y/n looked around the roof, admiring the city and the view it provided.

“Have you eaten yet, y/n?” Sol inquired, staring at their hands that fidgeted around their shirt. ‘hm, cute’ he thought. The sudden question returned them back to reality while answering.

“I didn’t get to eat anything but it’s okay, I’ll grab something later-“ Before they could finish their sentence, Solivan had already taken out the other box he had saved for later.

“I made three boxes today, just in case Hyugo’s appetite was insatiable so..you can take it”

“Are you sure? I mean..” Without any hesitation, Sol had already opened up the lunch box, handing them the tasty food he prepared while smiling, reaching for some utensils.

“You made this all by yourself? It looks so good..!” Y/n praised, taking the utensils Sol provided for them as Hyugo chimed in, swallowing his food gently while speaking

“Sol’s cooking is the best! He’d make a good househusband, don’t you think?” Hearing this, Sol blushed after seeing them nod, maybe being a househusband for Y/n wouldn’t be such a terrible idea after all..

“I think so too, maybe even one day, we could get married as well” They half-joked, watching as Solivan’s smile widened, taking hold of Y/n’s hand and bringing it forth, kissing their knuckles gently

“I’d..love that, no one could ever keep us apart.” Y/n’s eyes drifted to Sol’s gaze, watching as he pressed his cheek against their hand lovingly. Hyugo was nowhere to be seen as the bell rang. After packing everything up, Sol’s hand remained intertwined with their own

“Me and Hyugo were thinking of ditching class, he wanted to see a movie..what do you think?” Upon reaching the corridor, Y/n turned, facing Sol’s body that nearly towered over theirs while leaning forward

“I..-” Looking back at the door of their next class and Crowe who had suddenly exited the room,y/n nodded “-Fuck it, let’s skip.” With that, Sol escorted them towards their secret escape place, not bothered by the glare Crowe had given him as they left.

Due to Hyugo’s request to see the latest movie in theaters, the trio arrived at the cinema shortly after. The movie itself was great, though all y/n could think about was how close Sol was, his arm in their own while sharing popcorn and some small talk. Solivan was over the moon as he walked with them around the nearby park, Hyugo had retuned home afterwards, saying something along the lines of “I’ll leave you two lovebirds be, see you tomorrow” was spoken from his behalf.

The afternoon sun had already settled down, as colder it got, a shiver ran down Y/n’s spine. Sol noticed this, feeling a bit saddened by the fact he couldn’t lend them one of his jackets. Instead, he opted on holding their hand once again until the remainder of the walk to their apartment. Sol already dreaded the look of their place, if only he could take his beloved back to his home, maybe that way he wouldn’t have to worry for any creepy onlookers. As y/n took their keys from their bag, Sol quietly wished for their lips to mest in a kiss before they would lart ways. In that same moment, they leaned forward, kissing his cheek while entering their apartment

“Thank you for today, hopefully we’ll spend more outings like this soon..!”

“Like a date?” He chimed in, making them chuckle while tilting towards him. Their gaze flickered between his eyes and lips

“I wouldn’t oppose to such idea..goodnight Sol, text me when you arrive home” With a nod, Sol bid his goodbyes and left the apartment complex, his heart racing softly while replaying tge memory of their lips caressing his cheek

“Soon..soon enough you’ll be able to see just how much I adore you, my pumpkin”

[wovenintosilk]

Hii! Could I request a hobie x reader with a girlfriend who’s in the spider society with him? Possibly during the events of the movie

Hey! Thank you for requesting, this really helped get my inspiration flowing. It's not too long but I hope you enjoy it!

No Content Warnings

GN!Reader

Word Count: 1000

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

Clattering of a metal can kicked down the street broke through the silence of an otherwise quiet night. You watched it roll along before it disappeared into the frigid shadows. Unfortunate. It’d made for some entertainment as you strolled along the dark streets.

Only smog joined you and Hobie on your walk, somehow present even if everything else had long been deserted.

“All I’m saying is I don’t like how things are playing out,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

A frozen brush of wind managed to sneak under your jacket and you shuddered. “But that’s nothing new,” you said, teasing him. “The whole organised society never suited you much.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “You’re not wrong doll. If this gig didn’t come with you included, I’d be long gone.”

“Don’t make me your reason for sticking around,” you joked. “I couldn’t handle it.”

He kicked a fallen piece of debris as you passed. It rolled beneath a flickering streetlight, briefly shining in a pale orange buzz.

“Nah,” he said. “You’re worth it.”

Even with such an admission, his words twisted in your head. Though you didn’t believe that you alone could tie Hobie to a world he didn’t like, you still felt guilty about it from time to time.

“It’s been getting worse,” Hobie said when the silence dragged on. “He always wants to know every detail from every dimension. Does he really think anybody’s going to bother with nonsense like that?”

You twisted your mouth, unsure how to defend against the truth. “Miguel’s just worried. He’ll calm down when we know where this anomaly is.”

Hobie scoffed. “Don’t even know why we care so much about anomalies. Nothing’s meant to be the same.”

“They’re dangerous.”

“So are you.”

You offered a confused expression; turned only to find your boyfriend suddenly far closer. The warmth he radiated made you want to move entirely into his space.

Your heart picked up its pace and a delicious feeling spread through your body at the promise in his stance.

“Dangerous for who?” you asked.

A soft beeping interrupted whatever may have continued. Two watches blinked in the dreary night, their glow a harsh yellow in an otherwise grungy area. The flicker of irritation made itself obvious in your expression as Hobie stepped away.

“Looks like they need some help.”

“They always do,” you sighed.

He shrugged apologetically and pulled his mask from his pocket though his grin appeared proud as ever. “’s not my fault they’re bad at their jobs. Will I see you at the complex?”

You glanced at your own watch. “Of course. Be safe.”

“You know I don’t follow orders.”

“It’s not an order, it’s a bribe,” you hummed and moved back into his space, palm pressed against his chest and lips close to his own. “Stay safe for me?”

“A bribe? What do I get if I agree?”

You smiled and pushed him toward the portal opening behind him. “We’ll see.”

He left with a laugh and you made your way toward completing your own work. Lyla wasted no time in providing a list of your tasks and you got on with it swiftly. The complex felt busier than ever as you dodged between hundreds of Spidermen.

You worked hard whenever he ran off, determined to distract yourself from worrying. Every time he donned the mask, you had to force yourself to not think about the stunts he’d need to perform – the danger he’d put himself in front of without a second thought to the consequences.

But it didn’t help anybody to worry so you tried not to until he returned.

He was in a great mood when you spotted him arriving back, his walk full of swagger and confidence as he caught your eye. He shot a wink in your direction that sent you blushing and laughing.

The others with him offered awkward waves and you relaxed in the knowledge everything went as well as it could.

Until later when you received a notice ordering every person in the complex to stop Spiderman from escaping.

Alone in your office, you couldn’t be more confused as you turned your chair around. This was something you’d never seen before. Everybody in the complex had a strange truce – no matter what happened.

The door slid open before you could think too much about it and Hobie strolled in.

“I was thinking about what you said,” he remarked before you could ask. “And you’ve got a point. This place doesn’t suit me much.”

You stood up. The alarm continued to blare behind you. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” he mused, a small smile on his face. “Neither do you.”

You glanced at your computer screen. Turned off the alarm with the press of a button and allowed silence to reappear. What had happened? Hobie didn’t quit things without reason.

Quit? Just like that, he wanted you to leave the society you’d been invited into. He wanted you to abandon your work without even knowing what exactly caused it.

He moved closer, brushed his fingers against the underside of your jaw and smiled when he saw something in your expression.

“You’re a horrible influence,” you told him.

“I think I’m a brilliant one.”

You leaned into his touch and smiled. “This isn’t over when we walk away.”

He gave a small, breathy chuckle. “Oh, there ain’t a chance. We even have a pit stop to make before we head home.”

Your watch fell heavily onto the table as you dropped it. “You’ve never led me into anything but trouble.”

“That’s one of the reasons you love me.”

[justauthoring]

Shadow of Yourself [5/18]

Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”

A/N: guess who finally reappears? eliiiiiiii! look forward to come angst :)

Based off of: Cobra Kai 02x04 and 02x05 Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that), fighting, bullying, etc. Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader

Tag List: @moonydrafts - @ashwhowrites - @traveleraroundsworld - @truly-abysmal - @likecherriesinthespring - @hollxe1 - @asonofpeter - @scarlett-verse - @musically-ambiguous - @kayda1 - @moon-zoons - @dwcode - @day-dreamsinthedark - @leilani788 - @silvermagnolias - @hawkinsavclub - @animewolflover278 - @gruffle1 - @b-tchymoon - @maggiecc - @beetea38 - @hawkinsavclub1983 - @crpytids - @embersparklz - @kimilight - @httpjiikook - @marauderssmut - @fyckcore - @multinci - @lqveabby - @oh-well-whatever-nevermind - @redskull199987 - @silvermagnolias​  if you’re in italics, tumblr wont let me tag you.

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?

Learning karate was a lot different then you expected it to be.

Mr. Larusso—Sensei Larusso—was nice and super patient with you for someone who barely knew what they were doing. He also seemed entirely too giddy at the thought of you being a new student and could barely contain his excitement the first day you walked into his dojo.

Robby and Sam had been off on their own training, which you guess made sense given that they were a lot more skilled and proficient in the art then you were. It still felt odd.

Because instead of actual training, you were doing chores. Well, they’d seemed like chores at first but it became clear pretty early on that it was a trick for the muscle memory aspect — the defence would pay off upon doing the movements repetitively.

Waxing the cars, sanding the deck, painting the house.

At first you’d been afraid it was some elaborate trick of Sam’s just to get you to do the chores she didn’t want you to do, or that Mr. Larusso needed help with—but you knew Sam and quickly deduced that that was as far fetched as it could get.

Besides, while it hurt your back and your arms were incredibly sore, doing the chores got your mind off of things. Provided a distraction. One you’d desperately needed, and in the scheme of things didn’t mind all that much.

Enough so that when you finished sanding the deck on your first day, a good two hours later, you’d all but skipped over to Mr. Larusso with a smile on your face. “Mr. Larusso,” you call out to him, eyes flickering briefly to Sam and Robby whose stood next to him. “I finished the deck.”

“Perfect timing, Y/N,” he grins, causing you to blink in response.

“What’s happening?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

Sam and Mr. Larusso eye each other briefly, before the latter turns to you; “we’re going on a trip.”

Turns out the trip meant heading to the beach house that Mr. Larusso and his family often frequented, the four of you piling into Mr. Larusso’s car—the ‘banana boat’ Sam dubbed it, which you were told was a gift from Mr. Miyagi, Mr. Larusso’s Sensei. Sam was sat up front with her father, while you and Robby were in the back.

You haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to Robby beyond your small, rather awkward chat at the Valley Festival. You weren’t really sure how to approach him given that he didn’t really seem to, well, like you all that much.

“I still don’t understand how going to the beach is gonna help us get students.”

“It’s not the students that I’m after,” Mr. Larusso answers Robby, briefly glancing over at the both of you. “It’s the parents.”

“So,” Sam speaks up, her brows furrowing in disbelief. “You’re counting on kids listening to their parents?”

You nod, “yeah. No offence, Mr. Larusso, but kids almost make it their goal not to listen to their parents.”

“No, no, I’m counting on parents doing whatever it takes to protect their kids.” He rebuttals, shaking his head. “Look, I’ve tried everything else to promote Miyagi-Do. If this doesn’t work… nothing will.”

Well, you can’t help but think, hopefully then it will.

-

Mr. Larusso told you to make yourself comfortable…

What did that even mean?

You’ve never been to a beach house, let alone such a fancy one and the bathing suit Sam had let you borrow was far beyond your level of comfort. You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone swimming or worn a swimsuit, especially in front of others.

Especially in front of a boy.

Even, really, a girl too.

Your outings with Eli and Demetri had consisted of the comic book shop, the arcade or a movie at one of your houses. This was different—far too different and you felt extremely out of your element.

You’d yet to meet up with Sam and Robby yet, it felt a lot more awkward when you were with the both of them. Sam and Robby were obviously friends, close ones at that, and yeah, you and Sam got along but it’s like every time you were within the vicinity of Robby, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

At the very least, away from you.

How were you supposed to approach that? You’d been friends with only Eli and Demetri for as long as you had because you didn’t know how to talk to people.

But you also couldn’t hide forever.

Unfortunately.

So, steeling your nerves, you pull the sleeves of your shirt further down your arms, making your way over to where you saw Sam and Robby settle down. Only, as you make your way over, you only see Robby.

“Hey,” you call softly, ignoring the slight shake of your voice. Robby turns to you at the sound of your voice, faltering slightly when he realizes it’s you.

You ignore the look, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “Where’s Sam?”

“She went to talk with Aisha.”

Your lips form an ‘o’, nodding to yourself as you shuffle back on the bench, trying to get comfortable. You can’t help but briefly glance to your left, at Robby, and hope that he’ll say something else. Anything else.

He seems determined to ignore you.

“Why do you hate me?”

The words slip past your lips before you even realize you’re saying them, shocking you just as much as they shock Robby.

Robby jerks at your sudden question, head snapping back round to glance at you in confusion. “What?”

“I mean, you must,” you mumble, fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “You never talk to me and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else then here with me right now.”

Robby frowns, unable to deny, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust you.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head; “why?”

“Because you’re friends with Miguel,” Robby huffs, “and he’s one of them.” He spits the last word with such disgust, an angry look crossing his features as he scoffs at you.

“Miguel’s my friend,” you nod, shrugging. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with what they’re doing.” Then, after a moment, you add; “besides, you’re not the only one whose suffered because of Cobra Kai.”

Robby’s brows furrow but his face softens at your words nonetheless, a mixture of surprise and confusion flooding his features as he stares back at you. He hadn’t been expecting an answer, especially such a calm one at that.

Really, with the way he’d been treating you, you’d have every right to get mad. Or, at the very least, a little upset.

Swallowing thickly, Robby shifts; “why did you decide to join Miyagi-Do.”

“I dunno,” you whisper. “At first I was determined to avoid all karate. Karate is what took away my best friend. But then, when I saw your guys’ performance at the festival, I knew then that Miyagi-Do was different. I couldn’t look away.”

Meeting Robby’s gaze, you smile softly. “Besides, I could use some friends too.”

He blinks at that, lips parting in bafflement.

He hadn’t expected that. Any of it. Least of all the sadness in your voice as you explained your reasoning.

Suddenly, Robby feels guilty for the way he’d treated you. He’d barely even given you a chance before he just decided that you weren’t in it for real and that you were just like the rest of them. That you didn’t really care about Miyagi-Do. When really, you’d been just as hurt by Cobra Kai and all of it like him and Sam.

Lips parting, Robby stammers for a response; “I-I…—”

You just shake your head, waving him off; “it’s okay, Robby. You don’t have to explain yourself. I just hope you’ll give me a chance.”

“Yeah,” he nods, perhaps slightly too quickly as you let out a light giggle at his eagerness. “Yeah, sure.”

Your smile beams all too quickly and it’s clear you’re desperate for him to like you; “great!”

-

“Hey, have any of you seen my wallet?”

Turning at the sound of Mrs. Larusso’s voice, you blink as you watch her search through her beach bag, a look of desperation and slight panic on her face. Robby and Sam are stood before you, glancing at each other briefly before back at Mrs. Larusso.

“Wait,” Robby frowns, “you’re missing your wallet?”

“It’s gotta be around here somewhere,” she shakes her head. “Can you just spread out? I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”

You nod, moving to walk off in search until you notice the look on Robby’s face. He’s shuffling off quickly, something in his gaze as he makes his way past Mrs. Larusso. “I’ll check the beach,” he explains, setting his bag down. “Maybe someone turned it in to the lifeguard.”

Your brows furrow as you watch him, something felt strange about the way he rushed off. You turn to Sam to ask if she knew but she’s already got her sights set on something and your eyes flicker upwards only to find the back to Aisha and who you assume is the new friend Sam mentioned she was with.

For a moment, you pause, unsure who to follow or if you should just go looking on your own. But the truth was, Robby had seemed uncomfortable the entire time you’d been there—it was subtle, but you’d gotten good at noticing things other people didn’t.

It was the perks of being in background.

“I’m gonna go help Robby,” you explain to Mrs. Larusso who nods at you distractedly.

It’s easy enough to follow Robby but you’re a few steps behind him, by the time you reach him he’s perched behind the stairs leading down to the beach. Your brows furrow as you watch him for a moment, slowing down your pace.

“Robby, what are you—”

The next second a handful of wallets fall to the floor. Sure enough, Mrs. Larusso’s is there as well.

“I knew it,” Robby huffs.

“How did you—”

“Yo, but did you see the shorty in the green thong?”

You blink at the new voice, mildly disgusted by the boys words as you glance up. There’s two footsteps heading down the stairs directly above you, just as a second voice calls out; “oh, man, I ain’t thinking about that right now.”

In the next second, Robby’s turning on his phone, starting a recording through the camera before he grabs you by the wrist, yanking you back. You stumble over your feet blindly for a moment, before catching your footing, turning to him in confusion as he tucks you and himself under the stairs, obviously trying to hide himself.

“All right, let’s get the stuff. We gonna bolt.”

“Just like that.”

He places himself in front of you, hiding you slightly from sight as the two boys come to a stop in front of you. By the looks on their faces, they know Robby.

“This guy here, man,” the one with the ball cap scoffs, shaking his head.

Stepping out from beneath the stairs, Robby shrugs; “same shit, different summer.”

Just what the hell was happening right now?

“What are you doing here, Robby?”

“Found your stash,” Robby gestures behind him, just as you slowly step out yourself. “You’re gonna give it all back.”

The taller, skinnier one scoffs; “the hell we are.”

“You didn’t learn your lesson last time? That’s cool. We can give you a refresher course.”

Shaking your head, you step forward; “Robby, what the h*ll is going on? How do you know these guys?”

Turning to you, Robby frowns; “just step back, Y/N. These guys stole from Mrs. Larusso.”

“I figured that much out myself,” you deadpan, “why do you know them?”

“Because Robby used to do it with us, sweet cheeks,” the ball cap wearing one grins, stepping closer to you as he eyes you up and down. “Man, where’d you find yourself such a sweet piece of a**, Robby?”

Bewildered by what he said and disgusted by his treatment of you, you shake your head, scoffing.

Robby huffs, “just shut up and bring it—“

He steps forward in preparation but then a shadow falls behind the both of you and you notice the man stood behind Robby a second too late. He brings a paddle to the back of Robby’s head, knocking him off his feet and straight to the ground as you gasp in response, quickly jumping away from the guy.

The two others laugh, “what you forgot this was a three man job?”

Glaring at them, you spin to face them; “what is wrong with you?” Racing forward, you move to swing a hit, only to have it easily blocked. It’s the one wearing the ball cap that catches your fist and you freeze in realization—you’ve trained in Miyagi-Do for approximately one day.

And all you’d done was sand a deck.

Why exactly had you thought you’d be able to take these guys?

Spinning you around, he locks you in his grip, wrapping an arm around your neck to hold you firmly to his chest as you huff. You try to work your way out but all the guy does is squeeze tighter, making you groan out slightly in response.

A huff catches your attention however, and your eyes widen when you see Robby slowly crawling to his knees.

“Robby!”

“You know,” the boy holding you calls out, “for a smart kid, you sure do learn slow.”

The man who’d hit Robby makes his way over to him, picking him back up to his feet by his shoulders, all but yanking him to his feet before putting him in a headlock similar to you. Except the guy holding Robby is twice his size and by the reddening of Robby’s face, you figure he’s holding him a lot tighter.

“Maybe,” the skinny one laughs, “we need to leave him something to remember him us by.”

Your eyes widen when he pulls out a pocket knife.

“Wait, no,” you cry, fighting the boy who’s holding you grip. He just squeezes tighter, making your face feel hot as you gasp for breath.

“Just wait your turn—“

He doesn’t finish his words. In the next second the boy in front of you is knocked to the ground, knife falling out of his hands, by… “Mr. Larusso?”

“Let them go.” Mr. Larusso calls out, hands held out before him.

“Don’t listen to him,” the boy holding you orders, shuffling back as you get dragged with him. Then, he stops, and suddenly you’re being thrown to the ground, landing onto the sand with a loud huff, the wind knocked out of you.

“Alright grandpa, let’s do it.”

Bracing yourself, you turn your head over your shoulder, the frown on your lips turning to a smile as you watch Mr. Larusso kick their asses—not to mention with ease.

When the guy holding Robby is the only one left, he throws him to the ground similar to how you’d been, moving to attack Mr. Larusso. You rush to Robby’s side without hesitation, your hands falling to his shoulders as you gaze down at him in concern.

“You okay, Robby?”

Meeting your gaze, Robby nods before the both of you glance back over at Mr. Larusso.

You just manage to catch sight of him roundhouse kick the last guy.

“Your grandpa know how to move like that, huh?”

Helping Robby to his feet, you laugh; “that was incredible, Mr. Larusso!”

“Yeah, well,” glancing at the both of you, Mr. Larusso nods. “Let’s just get out of here.”

-

“Mr. Miyagi didn’t recruit me. He wasn’t looking for students.”

Sitting up from your spot next to Sam, you smile at Robby and Daniel as they make their way out.

“He took me in because I needed him,” Daniel continues to explain, “I came to him, not the other way around. It’s time we be patient. Let those who need us, find us. Right?”

Daniel smiles at the three of you, and when he’s eyes meet yours you offer him a smile and a thumbs up. To you, that sounded like a perfect plan.

“Excuse me?”

Straightening at the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes widen at who you see.

“Uh, it was unclear if the gate was the front door or if I was supposed to ring the door bell.”

“Demetri?” You call out, eyes wide with shock as you stand up. Everyone’s eyes fall on you, watching as you step forward, lips parting.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. I didn’t know you were here.” Smiling, Demetri’s eyes flicker past you, head tilting; “is that a koi pond? How much does it cost to maintain that—“

Shaking your head, you interrupt him; “what are you doing here?”

“Uh, yeah…” shuffling on his feet, Demetri’s hands fall to his sides. “I wanna learn karate.”

Eyes widening, your lips part. Demetri had always been so against karate, even more than you… then again, you haven’t really talked to him in a while.

Clearly things had changed.

Smiling brightly, Daniel nods; “you’ve come to the right place.”

-

Needless to say, Demetri was exactly how you expected him to be.

He’s been your friend for as long as you can remember, and although you haven’t talk to him in a while, you knew him well. His heart wasn’t in it, it showed in the way he reacted to Mr. Larusso’s teachings.

Given that the two of you just started learning, Mr. Larusso had decided to teach you both together. But it was clear what set the two of you apart when you completed each and every task with no complaints while Demetri seemed to try to get out of it in whatever way he possibly could.

The both of you had been training for a few days now while Robby and Sam continued on their own. The movements were becoming easier and were starting to feeling natural, a thought that easily brought a smile to your face. The hard work was finally starting to pay off.

It was the start of your training for the day, Robby and Sam had already gotten started given that most of their training happened on their own now. You were just doing some stretching and warming up when Demetri made his way in for training today.

“Uh, hey, are we doing shirts versus skins?”

Looking up at the sound of his voice, your brows furrow. You glance over at Robby and Sam, who Demetri was talking to, noticing that Robby had taken off his shirt under this heat.

“Cause I’d prefer to be a shirt. Not saying that you have to be a skin,” Demetri calls out to Sam directly, causing you to roll your eyes. “Unless you want to. I support your right to choose.”

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you make your way over to Mr. Larusso whose just walked in, shaking your head at Demetri’s words.

Mr. Larusso nods at you in greeting before turning back to Demetri; “Demetri! Over here.”

He listens without fault, making his way up the stairs, before coming to a stop before the both of you. “Hey, Mr. L, before we begin…” reaching in his pocket, you pause when he pulls out a slip of paper, handing it to Mr. Larusso.

Holding the paper out in confusion, Mr. Larusso shakes his head. “What’s…”

“It’s a note from my mom excusing me from any extensive arm and leg movements.”

Eyes falling shut, you press a hand to your forehead.

“So, uh, if there’s an alternative lesson I could do… Maybe a workbook.”

Mr. Larusso sighs at Demetri’s words, but instead of responding the way you expect him to, he turns to you. “Y/N, show me ‘sand the floor’.”

Pausing in thought for a moment, you nod, kicking your leg back just as he does, and in the next second he’s turning, kicking his leg out towards you. But instead of hitting you, you block it, your hand moving down towards your side. Your eyes widen as you do, surprised at the ease with which you did.

“Excellent job, Y/N.” He smiles at you, to which you return before he turns to Demetri. “Okay, Demetri your turn. Just like Y/N. Show me ‘sand the floor’.”

Mr. Larusso does the same movements as he did with you, only Demetri doesn’t block. He simply… let’s Mr. Larusso kick him.

“Ow! You kicked me!”

Huffing, Mr. Larusso shakes his head; “why didn’t you block, Demetri? You know this. This is the muscle memory!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have muscles.”

“Demetri,” you huff, shaking your head.

He turns to you; “what?”

“Just… do you… do you want to be here, Demetri?” Mr. Larusso asks, letting his hands fall to his sides as he turns to your friend, a frown on his lips.

“Not really.”

“Then why are you here?”

Eyes flickering to Demetri, you frown at the look on his face.

“My whole life I’ve been, let’s just say, less than popular. But at least I had a few friends.” You meet his gaze as he turns to you. “And then Cobra Kai comes to town, and next thing I know, my friends are taking karate and becoming alpha jerks.”

Shoulders falling, you glance at your feet.

“I’m literally be threatened by one of my best friends.”

Frowning, you shuffle on your feet, fiddling with your hands. You… you hadn’t know Demetri felt that way.

“I just wanted to show I could fight back.”

Stepping forward, you set your hand on Demetri’s shoulder, pulling his gaze on you. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Demetri just shakes his head; “it’s the same for you.”

Sighing, Mr. Larusso steps forward. “Look… I understand what you’re going through. I do. But Miyagi-Do isn’t about showing off. It’s about—“

“Self defenSe. I-I know. Problem is, my ‘self’ is too weak.”

Demetri walks off at that and you turn to him, eyes watching his back. You guess you’d been just as lousy of a friend to Demetri as Eli—you can’t remember the last time you’d hung out with him, just you and him.

No one else.

And while Eli had decided on just blatantly ignoring you, it seems like he’d been terrorizing Demetri. How? You didn’t know. But you’ve never seen Demetri act like that, not for as long as you’ve known him and certainly not ever when talking about Eli.

They were best friends, friends longer then with you. They’d been through everything together.

And now, Eli had just tossed him aside.

Turning to Mr. Larusso and seeing the defeated look on his face, you swallow thickly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Larusso. I’ll go talk to him.”

“You will?”

Meeting his eyes, you nod; “I’m one of his best friends.”

-

“Hey.”

Your voice is soft as you call out to Demetri, taking a seat next to him on the step as you gently bump your shoulder against his own.

He briefly glances up at you; “hey.” He offers blandly, a single nod.

Feeling the slight tension, you bring your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly for moral support as you let your head rest on your knees. “I’m sorry about Eli, Demetri.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he waves you off. “It isn’t your fault.”

“Well, I’m also sorry I haven’t been a great friend.”

Blinking, Demetri turns to you in surprise.

“I haven’t been there for you and for that I’m sorry,” you say honestly, eyes flickering past him to stare in front of yourself. “I just couldn’t bare to be around him anymore, after… well, you know. It was too hard for me. But I should’ve still reached out to you.”

Demetri pauses a moment before slightly bumping his shoulder against yours. “If it’s any consolation, I think he misses you as much as you miss him.”

Raising a brow, you scoff at Demetri; “yeah sure. I’m sure he missed me so much while he was busy making out with Moon.”

“I’m serious. Whenever he was talking about something or when he did something impressive to show off, he’d get this look in his eyes and he’d search for you. Of course, you were never there…” Demetri explains, “he’d never admit to it of course. But, I know what I saw.”

Feeling your cheeks warm and an uncertainty on how to reply, you just pull your knees closer to yourself. “Well, doesn’t mean he’s any less of an a**hole.”

Demetri snorts, “I definitely agree with you there.”

Smiling at your success at getting him to smile, you turn to look at Demetri. “I did miss hanging out with you too, you know. Not just Eli.”

Meeting your gaze, Demetri can’t fight the smile from his lips. “Yeah, I missed you too. You unfortunately are sometimes the only sane person I know.”

Letting out a laugh, you shake your head; “thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

Licking your lips, you hesitate on your next words. You don’t know if you should bring up Mr. Larusso or just leave it—ultimately, that was a decision Demetri needed to make for himself. You can’t force him either way.

You wanted him to take Miyagi-Do lessons because he wanted to. Not because he felt he had to.

So, choosing not to mention the elephant in the room, you grin over at him; “Robby, Sam and I were planning on heading to the mall later. Did you wanna come?”

-

“I’m more partial to his performance in ‘Donnie Darko’.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile on your face at Demetri’s words, you take a seat across from him, the both of you having just finished grabbing your food. You’d purposely delayed Demetri for the sake that it looked like Sam and Robby wanted some time alone—it was pretty obvious the two of each other had a massive crush on one another.

And with Demetri here now, you didn’t have to play the awkward third wheel.

“Interesting movie,” Demetri adds, nodding before he falters. “Time travel logic left a lot to be desired.”

Sam and Robby chuckle to one another as you grin; “I personally agree with Robby and Sam, ‘Dirty Dancing’ is the best. I used to watch it all the time as a little girl.”

Demetri pauses, “really? I would’ve—wait, is today Wednesday?”

Reeling back from Demetri’s sudden change in conversation, you watch as Robby and Sam answer his question.

“Yeah.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Demetri is suddenly snapping his fingers in your direction, “the new issue of Dungeon Lord came out,” he explains, moving to stand as your eyes widen in realization. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to hang with Demetri or even think about stuff like that you’d completely forgotten.

It was, however, good to know some things never changed.

“Um, do you guys want anything from the comic book store?”

Robby laughs, “uh, no thanks.” As Sam shakes her head.

“I’ll come with,” you shrug, pushing yourself to a stand. “It’s been a bit since I’ve gone.”

Demetri grins, “okay, we’ll be right back. Make sure no one throws away my chicken.”

He’s racing across the food court before you have another second to think, and letting out a laugh you offer a wave back at Sam and Robby before you move to follow after Demetri. The trip to the comic book store is easy enough and the second you catch up to Demetri, you shake your head at the fact that he’s slightly breathless.

“I’m gonna go look around, okay?” You turn to him, laughing. “Let me know when you find Dungeon Lord.”

Demetri nods and with that, the two of you head your separate ways, a smile on your face. This certain comic book store is quite large and you find yourself reminiscing as you look at all the comic books, surprised at all the new volumes you’d missed.

You’d have to get Demetri to catch you up on all of them.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, you barely hear the sound of something being knocked over. It sounds like a stand, the sound of books clattering along with it startles you from your thoughts the second you hear it, glancing up from the comic book in your hands with furrowed brows as you glance to your right.

You can’t really see anything, tucked away in a aisle.

But it did sound like it came from the direction Demetri had headed in.

Thinking better then to ignore it, you put the comic book back, making your way over.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Eyes widening in concern at Demetri’s voice, you move to quicken your pace until you hear his next words. “I know who you really are… Eli.”

Eli? Eli was here?

Slowly making your way forward, you pause at the sight of him. He hasn’t noticed you, and neither has the other two with him—nor Demetri. You’ve tucked yourself behind a shelf purposely, because the mere sight of him makes everything in your body freeze. Eli looks a lot different then you remember, a red mohawk instead of a blue, and there’s this look in his eyes.

He almost seems unrecognizable. You know it’s him but there’s no trace left of the Eli you once knew. It isn’t just his hair or the clothes he wears, it’s the way he’s looking down at Demetri.

You’ve never seen him so mad. Let alone at his own best friend.

“So, why don’t you, Rocksteady and Bepop just leave me alone, okay?”

Just as Demetri moves to turn, two others come up behind him, effectively blocking his path. Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach at the sight, a sick feeling enveloping you as you shuffle back on your feet.

Something told you this wasn’t going to end well.

“Great. So this is what it’s come to,” Demetri scoffs, “gang assault.”

“Take it down, or we take you down.”

You haven’t heard his voice in a while. Not since at he All Valley tournament. You hadn’t realized avoiding him as much as you had been would make seeing him again so hard. Something as simple as just hearing his voice was making you feel stuck in your place.

“You’d actually hurt me?”

Eli doesn’t respond, and that scares you more than if he had.

“Well, guess what, you’re not the only one that knows karate.” Eyes widening at Demetri’s words, you freeze—he’d barely even learned wax on, wax off. “I just joined Miyagi-Do.”

He kicks his leg back, before pausing, switching his side in preparation.

Scoffing, Eli rolls his eyes; “all right, let’s see what you got.”

It happens in the blink of an eye, you barely have time to process what he’s doing. Eli delivers a nasty kick to Demetri’s stomach before ducking, sweeping Demetri off his feet and having him crashing to the ground.

The sight is almost unbelievable to you—obviously, you’d known Eli had changed but… but to attack Demetri like that?

Demetri really was being terrorized by him.

“Demetri!” You act on instinct, your worry over taking your apprehension as you rush out from where you’d been hiding. Your eyes meet Eli’s briefly, and it’s as if time slows as he falters at the sight of you, lips parting in bafflement at the sight of you there. You just glare at him, rushing to Demetri’s side as you fall to your knees next to him.

“What the h*ll is wrong with you?” You cry at Eli, helping to pull Demetri up by his shoulders as you stare back at Eli in disbelief.

Eli pauses, hesitant on what to say. His friends are looking at him in confusion, obviously not understanding what the problem was before he scoffs; “he was asking for it.”

You just roll your eyes, moving to say something else before you’re interrupted by the sound of the store clerk calling out; “hey, what’s going on back there?”

Demetri uses that split second of distraction to jump to his feet, pulling you with him by the wrist as he races past Eli’s two other friends, making his way out of the comic book store. The second you’re out he let’s go of your hand, a huff leaving your lips as you follow closely behind him.

“What are we doing!” You cry out, distressed.

“Do you wanna fight him?” He calls back.

And you both know the answer to that.

Demetri bumps into two people before knocking over a sunglasses stand. You shuffle back as he goes crashing to the ground once more, quickly moving to help him back up to his feet, calling out a quick apology to the owner of the sunglasses stand.

The second the two of you reach the food court, you both rush to where Robby and Sam had been.

Only, they’re not there.

“Of course they left.”

You shake your head, glancing around, “they wouldn’t have—”

But you don’t finish what you’re saying because you catch sight of Eli, making his way into the food court and as you turn, the rest of his friends are there with him. They’re circling around the two of you, leaving no room for escape as you stumble back on your feet.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” Eli calls out menacingly, eyes set directly on Demetri, “you could’ve joined Cobra Kai if you weren’t such a pussy.”

He’s gaining on the both of you, specifically Demetri, the latter backing up as he pants out; “well at least I’m not an a**hole!”

In the next second he’s grabbed, and you instantly turn to his defense. “Hey, let him—” however, before you can reach him, you feel two hands grab you by the arms, tugging you back.

“You’re dead meat.”

Turning to Eli at his words, you shake your head; “Eli, please stop! He’s your best friend!”

Eli meets your gaze, and for a moment he pauses, faltering, this look of apprehension washing over his gaze before he blinks, and it’s gone. He turns back to Demetri, and panic crawls up the back of your throat as you watch him gain on him.

Except he doesn’t make it far. In the next second Sam is rushing forward, kicking the guy who was holding Demetri back and away, just as you feel the hands holding you disappear. Robby is suddenly in front of you, hands falling on your shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding, breathless, you shuffle back as he pulls you behind him, Sam doing the same with Demetri.

“You guys need to back off.”

When you turn to Eli, his eyes are on you and Robby, a deep frown marring his lips before he turns to Sam. “I don’t wanna have to hit a girl.”

Robby jumps forward; “you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Eli scoffs, “five against four?” Then, setting his glare on Demetri, he laughs; “more like three and a half.”

His jab causes a series of laughs from his friends to echo and then, with a single nod from him, everyone moves into action. It happens so quickly, you can barely even process what’s happening. Everybody is throwing hits at one another, Demetri huddled close to Sam as she blocks hits and takes just as many.

Before you know it Robby is suddenly no longer by your side and as you turn to find him, or get closer to Demetri, you pause at the sight of the boy from earlier who held you gaining on you.

He smirks at you, and then suddenly, without a thought, he jumps at you. It happens on instinct, your hand moving to block his punch before you stare back at yourself in amazement. It was the first time you’d been able to actually use any of what Mr. Larusso had taught you in action. The boy huffs at your block, not wasting another second as he moves to attack. He’s quicker this time, and before you know it you find yourself getting overwhelmed, unable to keep up.

It’s his third hit that nails you square in the stomach, the wind being knocked out of you as you fall to your back. A cry leaves your lips as you hit the ground, hands curling around your stomach.

“Hey! What the h*ll man!”

You don’t recognize the voice as Eli’s until he’s in front of you, pulling you up to your feet. He’s suddenly too close, hands falling on your arms as he guides you upwards. You blink up at him as he does, stunned silent at the concerned look in his eyes, a look that reminds you of the old Eli, until you remember just why you were here.

What he’d done. What he was trying to do.

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss out, breaking out of his touch. You slap his hands away, stumbling back all whilst trying to ignore the ache in your gut.

“Y/N—”

“What the h*ll is wrong with you?” You huff, turning distressed by this whole situation—a situation caused by him. “Attacking Demetri?”

Eli pauses, that look in his eyes washing away as his gaze hardens. “He deserves it. If you’d just listen to me, you’d understand—”

“Understand what?” You cut him off, your face hardening as you step towards him, still holding your stomach but putting on a brave face. “That you’re a bully?”

Lips parting, Eli falters.

“You’re just like Kyle and the rest of them!”

He doesn’t say anything, not at first. His lips have parted but no words leave his lips.

You don’t even realize that the rest of his friends have already been knocked down by Robby and Sam. And that now all the attention has turned to the both of you.

Eli steps towards you; “Y/N—”

“Get the h*ll away from her!”

It’s Robby who calls out, rushing towards you as he gently pushes you back, towards Sam and Demetri, the latter grabbing you and pulling you to his side. But your eyes instantly snap back over to Robby and Eli, watching as the latter knocks the former into one of the tables, shuffling back to race towards him in attack.

He jumps up, swinging his arm out for a hit, but Robby just shoots his leg out behind him, kicking Eli directly in the head and thus, knocking him to the ground.

Your lips part as you watch Eli roll on the ground, obviously in pain, feeling your hands shaking next to your side. The instinctive part of you wants to reach out for him, help him. But you don’t move.

Of course you don’t move.

“We saved your chicken,” Sam smiles at Demetri, handing him a to-go box.

“Thanks.”

-

After the four of you had gotten back to Sam’s house, you’d tucked yourself away.

You didn’t have the heart to listen to Robby and Sam go on about how proud they were of how they’d been able to fight together. It was amazing what they’d done, no doubt, but you couldn’t be there. And you couldn’t be there for Demetri, even if you should be.

The reality was you couldn’t believe what you’d seen.

Of course you’d known Eli had changed—it’s what started all of this in first place. It’s what had broken your heart. It’s why you’d had that fight that day. But… but to see him actually go after Demetri like that, with the full intent to hurt him… you never thought he’d actually stoop that low.

He’d even let you get hurt.

Sure, it wasn’t him who did it but it’d been his stupid friends. Who cared if he tried to help you up afterwards? What did that even matter? Is that who he hung out with nowadays?

Is that what he did now? Bully people?

Clearly the answer was yes.

You couldn’t stand it. It hurt too much. All of it. You wished Cobra Kai had never opened up, you wished Eli had never joined—where would you be now if he hadn’t?

Would he still be one of your best friends?

Would… would you be together?

You had no to talk to… Sam was too happy about her win, Demetri was dealing with his own stuff, Miguel was in Cobra Kai… and where was your mom? Not home, like she always was.

There was no one.

A soft knock pulls you from your thoughts, startling you as you blink away the tears that had begun to build. The sound of the door opening pulls your attention up and you falter at the sight of Mr. Larusso, embarrassed at how he’d caught you.

Wiping at your cheeks, you turn away. “I’ll be out in a minute, Mr. Larusso.”

“Y/N…” he calls out faintly, “are you okay?”

You feel a sob threaten to break past your lips at his words, swallowing thickly as you shake your head, still turned away. “I’m fine.”

“Did you get hurt? Are you injured—”

“I just got kicked in the stomach. I’m okay.” Managing to gather yourself enough to look at him, you shrug your shoulders. “Sam and Robby were good. I didn’t really have to lift a finger.”

Mr. Larusso shrugs, attempting to smile reassuringly; “I heard you blocked a couple of hits yourself, though, from Demetri.”

You just shrug; “I wasn’t able to do much else.”

Pausing, Mr. Larusso steps forward, letting the door softly shut behind him. He makes his way towards you, pointing at the spot next to you; “may I?” Nodding, you shuffle over and he takes a seat. He pauses a moment, breathing in, before continuing. “Can I ask you why you decided to join Miyagi-Do?”

Turning to him, you hesitate; “I didn’t want to. At first. But then at the Valley festival I saw your performance and… well, I decided to.”

“That was all?”

“I felt guilty,” you explain further, “because of what Cobra Kai did.”

Mr. Larusso’s brows furrow; “guilty? Why?”

Tensing, you swallow thickly. “Well, um… you know how Demetri mentioned that he was being threatened by his best friend?” Mr. Larusso nod. “He’s mine too and he’s apart of Cobra Kai. He’s the one who attacked Robby illegally at the All Valley tournament.”

Mr. Larusso’s eyes widen. “The kid with the Mohawk?”

You nod.

“Was he there today?”

Your body instantly tenses, giving Mr. Larusso the answer he needs. Still, he waits for you to answer, watching as you slowly turn to meet his gaze. “He was the one who instigated it.” You explain, frowning. “I… I just never thought he’d actually try to hurt Demetri. He’s is best friend.”

“Cobra Kai manipulates kids, that’s what it does,” Mr. Larusso sighs. “It looks like that’s what it did to…”

“Eli.”

“Eli.” Mr. Larusso nods. “But it doesn’t mean he’s gone forever.”

“It feels like it,” you whisper, hugging yourself as you sniffle lightly. “It feels like I’ll never get him back and that it’ll never be the way it was. And it just… hurts so much. It hurts so much I can barely stand it.” The words are pouring past your lips before you can stop them, shocked by how much you’re confessing to Mr. Larusso. “I just want him back.”

Shaking his head, Mr. Larusso sets a hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. I promise.”

Feeling the tears slip past your defences, you shake your head, “and if it never gets better?”

“It will.”

And he says the words with such certainty, no doubt in his voice that it’s enough to pull you from your own desperation. Turning to look at him, you blink at the look on Mr. Larusso’s face, the smile on his lips and can’t help but think it’s been so long since you’ve had a parent show you any care or attention, regardless that you barely know him, that the ache in your heart lessens just faintly at the mere thought.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I’m positive.”

And it’s enough to bring the faintest of smiles to your lips, swallowing thickly as you wipe away your tears, nodding.

“Thank you, Mr. Larusso.”

“Of course,” he grins, “and you were amazing today. Standing up for your friend like that.”

Blushing faintly under his compliment, you shrug, letting out a soft laugh as he stands up. You follow him, allowing him to lead out of the room and back with with Robby, Sam and Demetri, feeling a lot better then you had seconds prior.

Then, the next day, the dojo is trashed.

-

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Pausing at the sound of your voice, Eli turns. He’d just left the dojo for the night, having stayed a bit later then the rest—you’d texted Miguel beforehand, it was the only reason you knew. He thought you wanted to rekindle things with Eli, and honestly, you were willing to let him believe that.

It allowed you this opportunity.

“Y/N, what the h*ll are you doing here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you scoff, shaking your head. “Tell me you didn’t actually do it.”

He just shakes his head, moving to walk past you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, you should go home. It’s late and what would your friends think if they say you here.”

You just huff at his jab, a humourless laugh leaving your lips as you step in front of him, effectively blocking his path. “Don’t try to turn this around. Someone destroyed Miyagi-Do, tore it apart. I… please tell me it wasn’t you.”

Tensing, Eli avoids your gaze. “You don’t know shit.”

“It was you,” you breathe, the truth revealed in the way he couldn’t meet your eyes properly. As his gaze snaps over to you, you shake your head, disbelief clear in your gaze. “You always avoid my eyes when you lie to me. You’ve done it since I first met you…”

Squaring his shoulders and knowing he’d been caught, Eli just brushes you off; “so what if I did? I was finishing the fight.”

“The fight you started!” You cry out, holding your hands out before you in exasperation. “How can you not realize what you’ve done is wrong? You attacked Demetri, trashed someone’s property and stole a veterans medal of honour!”

Eli’s cheeks warm in embarrassment, his eyes widening at your words. “Just… just f*ck off, Y/N. It has nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me. Demetri’s my best friend too. Miyagi-Do is my dojo. And Mr. Larusso is my Sensei.”

Eli’s lips part, but no words leave his lips.

“I barely even recognize you anymore. What happened to you?”

“I changed for the better. It’s about time you and Demetri changed too.”

Stunned by his words, you falter, your anger suddenly shifting as the hurt resurfaces. “I thought you cared about me,” you whisper, moving to hug yourself as you feel your voice shake, digging your nails into your arms. “I thought you cared about us.”

Never once had you thought Eli would want you to change—to be someone you weren’t. He’d always told you you were perfect the way you were. To know that now he… he didn’t feel that way anymore…

You don’t see it but Eli’s face softens, regret flooding his gaze as he pauses.

Then, with a whisper, he shakes his head; “I do.”

You meet his gaze. “If you did you wouldn’t have done any of this.”

Eli shakes his head again, stepping towards you as you move to walk away. He grabs you by the arm, pulling you close before you can break free and when you meet his eyes, you’re shocked by the desperation in his own. “No, Y/N. I do. I do care about you. A-About us. I still do.”

You watch his face, seeing the look in eyes eyes and feeling the way he holds you, hesitating before speaking. “You don’t regret it though.” You finally say, the words feeling like poison on your tongue as you frown up at him.

Lips parting, Eli’s brows furrow.

“Attacking Demetri, destroying our dojo… you don’t regret it.”

Swallowing thickly, Eli moves to speak before he pauses, as if thinking better. Then, his eyes narrow and gone is that look of desperation. “Of course I don’t.”

Smacking his hands away, you step back.

“I can’t believe you.”

And then you’re turning without another word, refusing to meet his eyes once more even as he calls after you, practically yelling your name.

You just ignore it.

You can’t bear to look at him anymore.

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

Promise

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer hasn’t been the same since the kidnapping and everyone knows it. you just wished he’d opened up to you sooner.

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, heavy indication of drug use, mentions of trauma, lots of angst, season 2 spencer, direct references to 2x15

word count: 2.3k

read on ao3

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

It’s been months since the kidnapping, months since you almost lost him.

Spencer was back to work almost too quickly, somehow passing his psych evaluation with flying colours, but you knew he wasn’t okay. Everyone did.

He’d grown distant, quieter than usual. Most days he would try to act normal and pretend nothing was wrong but you knew better than to fall for that. Spencer wasn’t very good at hiding things from the people who cared about him, especially when it was you.

The two of you had been close since you joined the BAU. You had a lot in common and you understood him better than anyone else on the team. When he rambled, you listened. When he started spewing out different statistics, you were the only one who never cut him off. You noticed his stimming and his random hyperfixations. You were one of the few people on the team who he truly felt he was never being judged by.

So, when he stopped rambling so much and more often than not you found him sat quietly disassociating so intensely, you knew exactly where his brain was straying, you knew he wasn’t okay.

He’d spoken to Morgan and Gideon but only briefly and, although they had managed to get him to confide in them, you knew there was still something he was hiding. There was more to it and you could see it eating away at him. Everyone could.

“Reid!” you called out to him as you rushed out of the building, hoping to catch him before he left for home.

His head quickly turned back to you and he knitted his brows as you hurried over to his side. Although he said nothing, you knew he was asking a silent question from the tilt of his head.

“Do you want to grab a coffee with me?”

“A coffee?” he asked, checking his watch as if only to remind you that it was an unusual time to get coffee, especially when you were both heading home to unwind after a long day at work.

“Right, yeah. Okay, how about dinner then? I know you’re only going to get a crappy takeout anyway. We don’t have to go out but if you come over I’ll cook for you?”

He smiled, although you could see a glimpse of another emotion in his eyes. You weren’t entirely sure what it was but you didn’t miss the way he held his arm, long fingers wrapping just a tad bit too tensely around his forearm.

“You know what, I’d love to but-“

“No buts, Spencer. I’m cooking for you tonight. You need a proper meal for once,” you cut him off, and began heading towards your car.

With a small smile, Spencer shook his head and followed after you, knowing you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

His strange behaviour only continued during the drive home. He seemed distracted and on edge, though you were unsure why. Whenever you tried to bring it up in conversation, asking if he was alright, he’d just insist he was fine and then change the topic of conversation.

He’d been doing this for weeks. Insisting he was okay when you knew he wasn’t. In truth, he hadn’t only been distant and distracted since he came back to work. No, he’d also been acting strange. Sometimes he was rude and antsy as if he was subtly lashing out, and on occasion, he would completely disappear for short periods of time.

You’d asked Morgan about it, hoping he of all people would have been able to provide you with more insight but even he was unsure why Reid was behaving in such a way. In fact, he had been hoping you would have the answers. All he could chalk it up to was the way each case was getting to Reid. Everything had been different after he had become a victim himself.

“Do you want anything to drink? A glass of water? Juice? Something alcoholic?”

He made his way over to your couch, as always seemed to be his routine now. You weren’t particularly in the habit of inviting colleagues over but you had had Reid, Morgan and Garcia over on occasion. Whenever they came around, Reid always made a b-line for a space on the couch. Even now, it seemed.

“Some water would be great.”

You hummed and poured the both of you a glass before slumping down beside him on the couch. It felt nice to be able to relax although you could still tell something was off with him.

“Hey, can I use your bathroom?” he spoke after a few minutes of sitting in silence.

“Yeah, of course. You know where it is.”

Your smile dropped when he reached the hallway but you shook it off and started to prepare dinner. You couldn’t blame him for getting takeout most days as you often did the same. It was always so hard finding the time or energy to cook after a long day at work.

When Spencer came back from the bathroom he seemed different again. He didn’t utter a word to you as he sat back down on the couch, his body slumped over more than usual as he rested his head back and closed his eyes. You watched him from your place in the kitchen, thankful for your small apartment at this moment as it allowed you to keep an eye on him.

Still, you had already dragged him home with you and he was probably exhausted so you didn’t want to press. Instead, you opted for getting dinner cooked so that, at the very least, he could have a nice warm meal.

However, dinner hadn’t been the only reason you’d invited him over.

He sat opposite you at the table, thanking you for the food as he began to tuck in. The one thing that had struck you as odd, however, was the fact that he hadn’t taken his jacket off once since he’d arrived.

Usually, at the very least, he would have thrown it over the back of a chair and, on occasions when he was particularly tired, he’d even loosen his tie as well. Today, however, his clothes were almost too put together. In fact, you realised then that you hadn’t seen him with so much as a hair out of place in months. Not that that had hidden the dark circles under his eyes or the redness that often resided within them.

“Spencer?”

He only hummed in reply, his head swaying ever so slightly as he lifted it to look at you. His eyes seemed watery and his cheeks were somewhat flushed. He scratched the side of his neck, yet another tell in his body language that was bringing you closer to the source of his strange behaviour.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you piled the dishes up next to the sink, telling yourself you’d wash them later.

He stood from his chair, once again with knitted brows. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He was scratching again, this time at his arm — the same arm he’d held when you approached him outside of work.

You sighed, growing tired of his lies. “Why won’t you talk to me? I know something is wrong, Spencer. You haven’t been right for a while.”

His eyes strayed from yours and he rubbed his hand up and down his arm, stopping just before he reached his elbow every time.

“I’m fine, really.”

You stepped closer. “No, you’re not.”

He glanced up at you again with guilt in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hide it from you any longer, no matter how much he wished he could.

“Talk to me, please.”

You moved closer again but he stepped back when you reached out for him as if he were afraid you’d figure it out if you so much as touched him.

You didn’t want to believe it but you were a profiler, you studied human behaviour for a living and you’d been watching Spencer for some time now, determined to find a way to help ease his pain.

It was a truth you were reluctant to believe but, if you were right in your conclusion it meant things were worse than you’d initially thought.

A part of you didn’t want to confront him about it but as you’d stood there with him you knew you had to.

“Take off your jacket.”

His eyes snapped back up to yours and he looked afraid. Not of you, but of what you were asking. Of what he knew you would find.

“W-Why?”

You didn’t answer him because you knew he knew why. Instead, you simply stood waiting for him to do as you had asked.

His eyes drifted from yours and he shook the clothing from his shoulders, turning for just a moment to put it down.

When he turned back to face you, your hands were already reaching for his arm and oh-so-gently pulling the sleeve of his shirt up.

“Oh, Spencer.” It came out in a gasp as your hand covered your mouth, heart breaking at what you had discovered.

Tears began to prick at your eyes as you softly ran your thumb across his skin, careful not to press over any of the marks that littered his arm.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, broken.

All of a sudden you found yourself lunging at him as you threw your arms around his fragile frame, holding him tight as if to try and tell him it was okay.

You still didn’t want to believe it, the guilt was eating you alive. You should have noticed sooner, you should have been there for him, you should have known. But there was no way you could have, not when he didn’t want you to know. He had been hiding this from you, from everyone. He didn’t want anyone to know.

It wasn’t your fault, yet that was little comfort to you.

He’d been using this whole time. Even now, in your own home, yet you weren’t angry with him. How could you be when this was of no fault of his own? You knew it had been Tobias who had done this, who had given him his first dose. If Spencer had had any say in it, he would have never gone near it.

You cried into his vest. holding him so tight you were almost afraid he’d struggle to breathe, yet his arms soon began to wrap themselves around you too as his body began to softly shake.

Together, you cried for what felt like an eternity as he was finally forced to face what he had become.

When you finally parted, he was wracked with guilt once again.

“Please, y/n. You can’t tell anyone.”

You finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye again and, when you did, you found your expression softening once again. “You need help, Spencer.”

Skittishly, he nodded his head. “I-I know but if they find out I could lose my job. I-I could-“

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay? When you’re sober. You can stay here tonight, I don’t want you going home by yourself, but I need to know, Spencer: do you have any more with you right now?”

He gulped and reached for his bag, pulling out two more doses. Although he was hesitant, he passed them to you. The moment they were in your hand you found yourself tearing up again and so did he.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, too ashamed to look at you.

Without a second thought, you hugged him again before slowly coaxing him to your bedroom. You helped him get somewhat comfortable, although he would have to sleep in his clothes, and tried to calm him down. You just wanted him to know he was safe and that you were there for him, no matter what.

“I’m going to get rid of these, get some sleep, okay?”

His eyes searched yours for any sign that you were going to leave only to call Hotch but he could see the sincerity in your eyes, he knew you weren’t going to do that. Not yet, at least. So, he nodded and closed his eyes, deciding to leave his fate in your hands.

A part of you suspected that Hotch already knew. He was far more experienced than you, after all. If you could see the signs then surely he could too. The only thing you couldn’t understand was why he hadn’t done anything about it.

Perhaps he too knew Spencer would likely lose his job or, at the very least, need to take time off of work to recover. Maybe he couldn’t afford to not have him on the team. Or, maybe he trusted Spencer to work through it on his own. Either way, you were angry that no one had done anything to help him.

So, with shaky hands, you poured the bottles down the drain and went back to his bag, digging through it to make sure there was nothing left. He had told you the truth and given you all he had with him. Still, you took the needles to dispose of them too.

When you returned to your room, he was already fast asleep.

You brushed his hair from his face, wanting to check he was okay, and whispered more to yourself than to him, “We’ll get you clean, Reid. I promise.”

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[perfectprettypisces]

The Princess and The Pilot • J.H.S • Sneak Peak

Synopsis: To be fair, Jake didn’t know Maya was the daughter of an admiral when they started dating. Or that her father was none other than Wilson “Hitchcock” Hayes, the legendary pilot famous for having a chip on his shoulder larger than the state of Texas and four sons who all graduated from the TOPGUN program. With her entire family set to come down to San Diego for her graduation, Jake enlists the help of his friends to woo his girlfriend’s family.

Warnings: swearing, angst(?), more to come

a/n: i have no idea if this series is going to pan out and i’m still writing my other story but i thought of this concept and i can’t let it go lol. also, i will be using a name because i don’t like using Y/N but i try to keep my characters as non-descriptive as possible because i want y’all to imagine her as whoever (whether it be yourself or a random face claim) :)

“So, you really had no idea?”

“No.”

“And you just found out today?” 

“Yes.”

“You had to have known–”

“For the last time, Phoenix; no, I didn’t know and no offense, but this is really not helping my case here,” Hangman groans. He straightens his posture from where he was bent over the pool table and runs a stressed hand over his face. “I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

The group of pilots share a look before collectively turning their gazes to Bob, who’d been distracted by the cup of peanuts in his hand. He looks up to find them all staring at him expectantly, hoping he could provide a voice of reason. 

“Don’t look at me, I’m not the one dating the admiral’s daughter.”

Hangman’s shoulders visibly deflate as he sets aside his pool cue. He sits on the bar stool across from Coyote, downing his drink in one go in an attempt to ground himself. 

“I just don’t get it,” Phoenix says. “You knew her last name, she told you her dad was in the Navy, and yet you never made the connection?”

In hindsight, there were so many clues that could’ve told Hangman that her dad was not just an admiral, but the admiral. She’d briefly mentioned him being a Naval aviator when they’d first met, but the weight of his accomplishments didn’t strike her as something to mention off-hand. She rarely talked about him after that first time and Hangman never wanted to push, assuming that they probably didn’t have the best relationship.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“In my defense, it’s a common last name,” Hangman counters weakly.

“In the entire country? Maybe,” Rooster says, grabbing the abandoned pool cue and lining up his own shot. “In the Navy? You should’ve known, dude.”

“Thanks,” Hangman states flatly as he glares at his friend. He fiddles with the glass in his hands, wishing that if he stared at it long enough it would magically refill itself. He definitely needed another drink.

Payback, ever the mediator, chooses this moment to step in. “Look, man, I don’t know what you want us to tell you. If this were any other admiral, I wouldn’t see a problem, but this is Hitchcock. We’ve all heard the stories, his daughter’s like his pride and joy.”

Hangman knew his friend was right. Admiral Wilson “Hitchcock” Hayes was, in layman’s terms, a hardass. He notoriously ruled with an iron fist and anyone that stepped out of line under his watchful eye would have hell to pay. His ever-present scowl and booming voice were enough to make a grown man cry, as evident to the poor lieutenant who had gotten in his way on a particularly bad day. The one exception to his icy exterior was his one and only daughter, affectionately referred to as Princess by her father’s colleagues.

Princess, who also happened to be Hangman’s girlfriend of nine months. Go figure.

“Isn’t he stationed in Virginia? The hell is he coming to San Diego for?” Fanboy asks.

“Her graduation,” Hangman explains, but even the slight twinge of pride he got from the thought of his girlfriend completing medical school wasn’t enough to dull his anxiousness. “And it’s not just him, her entire family is going to be here.”

“You mean–”

“Yup.”

Payback holds out his full beer bottle towards Hangman. “I think you might need this more than I do.”

He mumbles out a thanks and takes a swig.

“If I were you, I’d worry about her brothers first,” Rooster says. “Because right now, you’re severely outnumbered.”

[mae-gi-writes]

More love, more us, more healing . mark lee

Burnt out and overworked, your boyfriend Mark decidedly takes your mental state into his hands and shows you that life is much more than just jobs and routine.

Genre: fluff, angst, feelings of anxiety and helplessness, mark is a cutie.

A/N: For all those who are struggling with their day-to-day life, this is for you.

Song inspiration: More - Sam Ryder

----

"No."

Mark looks at you as if you've grown two heads, "what do you mean, no?" He demands with wide eyes.

"No means no. I need to finish this chapter before I can chill out," you don't even bother looking at him as you type out the words, the sounds of the keyboard bouncing off the walls of your Air BnB apartment that you've rented out for this week.

"You're in Dubrovnik," Mark leans over the table to catch your eye, though you do a good job of avoiding his, "there's no way you're being the slightest bit productive--"

"Mark, please. I'm really trying to finish this here," you send him a look that shows you're actually serious, "just give me ten minutes and I'll be good to go."

A sigh escapes his lips and he collapses into the chair next to yours, looking out at the panoramic view of the seascape speckled with shards of white from the reflection of the sun.

You're actually surprised and glad that he's listening to you, and resume typing up the last chapter for the story you've been posting online for free. It's easy getting back into that headspace when the silence overtakes the room, the quiet buzz of the air conditioner providing good background noise to channel your focus.

But all that is quickly shattered when Mark suddenly bolts upright, chair squeaking. He grabs onto your forearm and tugs you up to standing

"What the--Mark!"

He closes your laptop and drags you out of the door.

"Mark!" You're fighting against his iron hold even if you know it's in vain. He's not going to let you go so easily, so soon, "I didn't even save my work!"

He responds with a mere “later” as he continues dragging you out wherever he’s planned this small adventure.

Your mind immediately starts racing to all the things you still have not yet done; you forgot to send that work email that had been promised this morning, your files still need to be sorted and you briefly remember seeing your colleague’s message pop up on your screen as you were writing out your story instead of focusing on work. You mentally groan; why couldn’t have started with the ones that needed your attention the most?

It’s always this weird downward spiral in which you realize that you haven’t accomplished what you hoped you would. And then, the disappointment seeps through. Followed by shame and irritation.

Mark must have seen the look on your face, for he’s quick to press a kiss to your forehead. You blink, steered right back into the present.

“You’re getting distracted again,” he grins lopsidedly as he always does, that crooked smile that always gets your heart beating a little faster somehow, “stop that brain for a minute,” and he presses a finger to the same spot he’d kissed earlier.

“I’m trying,” you mumble out.

It’s not just work. It’s the fact that you’re not even doing a job you particularly enjoy. You spend your days wasted away at a desk, filing paperwork and printing stuff for people upon request. So whatever you do after work-hours has to be decidedly productive or towards your ideal career, that’s what your brain has trained you to think, anyway.

Every day upon coming home, it’s routine to dump the laptop and work bag on the couch before opening up your personal PC, where you’d type away at a new chapter in hopes of getting it done by the time Mark gets home for dinner. You take a small break during dinner to have nice, simple conversation, then you switch to the small art pieces you’ve been trying to create and that means splitting your time between actually making the art work and actually managing the Instagram page.

There’s no time left before bed. And the next day is the exact same cycle all over again.

No sooner have you started this so-called ‘productive’ routine that it turns toxic, though you don’t see it. Mark does and he’s reprimanded you multiple times for it.

“That much social media ain’t good for you,” he used to say as he watched you from his spot at the sink. He’s the one on cleaning duty while you’re the one cooking. It’s only fair that you divide the tasks.

“I need to do it.”

“You don’t need to do it.”

“Yes. Yes I do,” you looked at him then, “easy for you to say when you write songs for a living. That’s literally the best life anyone could ever ask for.”

“It’s a job,” Mark replied, “at the end of the day, we’re all tired.”

He’d been right that time. He’s always right.

But he came from a place of success. He had multiple opportunities to show his talent. Had the choices given to him.

And you always had to grovel as if you were being left behind.

“Alright, we’re here.”

Mark’s voice jolts you back to the present and you snap back to attention, only to gape at the entirety of seascape that dwarfs you over the horizon, beyond the bus windowpanes from behind which you’re watching. Mark’s hand finds yours, squeezing softly as he leads you out of the vehicle and it isn’t until you’re stepping onto the pavement that he throws his arms out, head tilting back up to the sky.

“Breathe in!” He sucks in a loud breath and you giggle, swat his arm for good measure, “stop it. You’re so embarrassing.”

“That’s my middle name baby,” he winks at you, causing you to swat him again as embarrassment takes over. Always the one with the flirting, even after four years together.

The roads in Dubrovnik aren’t like normal city streets. They follow the flow of the mountain, winding up and down, going narrow then expanding wide whenever it allows for space. They are flanked by multitudes of rocks and a rich foliage of green adorning the houses that line the street.

You spot other tourists making their way down the stony steps leading to the beach, where Mark is currently directing you. Beyond lies the glimmering turquoise sea water sloshing up to the bank of jagged rocks from where people are currently jumping off of. In the distance, you hear the sound of waves, the call of seagulls, the chatter of voices.

Life, in general.

"Shall we?" Mark gestures towards the stone steps leading to the beach and you nod mutely, still on the fence about leaving everything behind. Aren't you just wasting time like this? Maybe you should--

All thoughts scatter when he tugs you to him and before you know it, he's sauntering down the said stairs, whistling a tune under his breath, you in tow.

"Mark, I--"

"If it's about doing something productive, I don't wanna hear it."

Your laugh escapes you before you can stop it, "actually no, it's about the beach thing."

"What about it?" He turns to look at you and his sunglasses slip down his head to his nose. Your laugh increases tenfold and if you had taken notice of him, you would've seen the grin widening across his face.

"Well, I wanted to tell you that I'd prefer the shade," you say, following down the rest of the steps until you reach the rocky floor leading to the water, "it's hot and I don't feel like burning myself."

"That can be arranged princess."

You flush once more, swat him on the arm, "stop it you idiot.”

"You like it when I call you that huh?" Mark teases as you move to a shadier area and you pull a face at him, knowing that hitting him won't have any effect anyway.

People are everywhere; lounging along the beach on towels, sunbathing like cats in the sun, plunging in and cliff jumping like there's nothing else more important in the world.

You’re about to say something, only to be interrupted by Mark grabbing your cheeks and squishing them up.

“Gotta smile a little,” his voice is bubbly and yet, it’s the tenderness in his eyes that makes your heart feel all fuzzy, “life’s good. Right?”

“Right,” you mumble, mystified that this amazing man would want to go out with the likes of you.

But true to his promise, Mark is right. The water does cool you down and allow the thoughts to melt away as you submerge yourself. The freshness makes you gasp, hairs on the back of your neck rising with goosebumps as your body automatically moves to provide some warmth.

You can’t help but yelp when he inevitably splashes you with water, “Ugh Mark!”

He laughs, shrieking as you splash him back, “okay okay!” He giggles, ducking this way and that in an attempt to avoid your assault, “truce! I call truce!”

You lower your hands, lowering your guard and it’s only when you’re swimming away that his hands come pressing down on your shoulders.

He dunks you headfirst and you come up screaming.

“You are so annoying!” You push seawater and hair out of your eyes, hands blindly splashing him some more.

“Oh gosh Y/N,” he’s chortling and choking on water, hands coming up to shield his face, “your face! You should’ve seen your face!”

“I hate you!”

“No you don’t!”

And in a flash, his arms weave around your waist.

He blocks your arms at your sides, cages you in his hold until you’re face to face.

He grins at you with adoration in his eyes and you find yourself grinning too.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmur while his forehead leans against yours.

He chuckles softly before one of his hands slide up to cup your cheek, “an idiot for you, surely.”

“Oh stop it with the sweet talk.”

“But how am I supposed to woo your pants off?” He pouts.

“Easy. You don’t.”

"I so do."

Your hand clamps down onto his mouth, “you talk too much.”

He mumbles a string of incoherent words that make you laugh even more, only to lick your hand.

You yelp, pulling away as he smacks his lips, “hmm. Salty.”

"You are disgusting."

"But you love me."

"Not when you do that, no."

"You dooo," he whines like a kicked puppy, "you can't live without me Y/N."

Sighing, you're well aware that he's saying the truth, "you're right. I cannot--"

He's quick to interrupt with a kiss. He grins at your astounded expression. Then, heat flushes right up to your cheeks.

"Idiot," you hide your face into the crook of his neck so as not to show your embarrassment but it's of no use. Mark pulls you away to grin at your flustered expression and you know, despite the fact that you hate how transparent you are, Mark loves it terribly.

"Cute," he steals another kiss before you cab say anything else, and you splutter, "y--you--"

"Yes? I? Blew you off your feet?" He nuzzles his nose with yours, "as I always do?" And proceeds to kiss your cheek, giggling.

This is presumably what you love the most about Mark. He makes you forget the troubles of life if only to live in the moment. You can let go of everything and just be for a little while, you can relax and be yourself. The self that isn't weighed down by the numerous impossible tasks set for you.

You get cold soon enough and decide to warm up in the sun, sitting atop rocks with both legs dangling as you talk about everything, about life, about what you should do for the rest of the day.

"I'm hungry." You tell him after a while.

He hums, "what shall we eat? I know they're famous for their seafood."

You decide on walking along the street, as per what Mark likes to refer as "Hakuna Matata" style. That is, until you stumble upon a hot dog stand.

"You want that?" Mark asks after noticing the way you keep glancing back at it.

"Do you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulder with a grin, "if you want it, I want it too."

Afterwards, you decide to visit the famous Old Town, a tourist village of old stone buildings, millions of stone steps winding in and out of the main road as if you've stumbled into a fairytale. Your eyes take in the red-tiled rooftops, the buildings made up of stone pieces and the beautiful architecture that surrounds it. And you suddenly realize one thing:

You're incredibly lucky.

You are lucky to be here. Lucky to even have the opportunity to see all this.

And yet, you had been stressing about work and about not meeting deadlines.

It's when you're sitting outside on the steps leading to a random cathedral eating ice cream that you voice this out to Mark.

"Yeah you stress a lot Y/N. Sometimes you gotta just--" Mark gestures a wave with his hands, "let it go."

"I know," you mumble, finishing off the last of your ice cream, "it's easier said than done though."

His hand rubs comforting circles over your shoulder. Then, he motions for you to get up.

"Come on," he wipes the dust from his shorts, reaches a hand out for you to take, "let's go do something wild."

Turns out that "something wild" means cliff jumping on the edge of the open-air Pub that overlooked the ocean.

"You want me to jump that?" Your fear gets the better of you. You peek over the rock edge down at the deep aquamarine of the water below and wonder if this is the day you'll die.

"You better, because there's no other way down than this one," one of the other boys who had climbed up after you and Mark says. And then off he goes, catapulting into the water with a huge splash and a cry.

You look at Mark, "you want to kill me."

He laughs, a hand circling your waist before he presses a kiss to your forehead, "you want me to go first?"

"No no," you know that if Mark goes first you'll never have the courage to jump, "I'll go."

And so you do.

Taking a deep breath, you try to atabilize yourself and close your eyes. Then, without thinking twice, your feet kick off the stone and push yourself into the void, adrenaline rushing through your body.

You float in mid-air for a moment and you can't help the scream that tears out of your mouth.

And then the water hits. Your body plunges into the depths.

It's refreshing. It's cool, and the sound of rushing water fills your ears as you float up to the surface.

A grin blossoms across your face as you look up at the rocky cliff.

"Wooo!" You yell at Mark, "this is so cool!"

"Woo!" He yells back, "catapult! Incoming!"

And a second later, he's splashing in right beside you and you laugh. A full, deep-bellied laugh for the first time in ages.

"Pretty cool huh?" He pushes his wet hair back from his face and you help him, an affectionate smile on your lips, "yeah, pretty cool indeed."

"See? You would've missed all this if you were cooped up in your room," he nudges your arm with his as your hand finds support on his shoulder.

“Maybe I would’ve finished my work earlier,” you joke.

“But you’d just go back to work on something else,” he pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “at least you get to enjoy yourself a little.”

“Have you ever considered doing a ted talk?” You ask him as you start swimming back towards the ladder, the cold finally seeping into your bones and making you shiver, “you might want to switch careers.”

“Nah but then I wouldn’t be able to personally counsel my girlfriend,” he looks up at you while you rummage for some dry towels. Tossing them at him, he continues, “where’s the fun in that?’

“Your girlfriend can do just fine.”

“Can she?” He raises a brow, “I don’t doubt it. But she still needs someone.”

It’s the way he looks at you as he says those words coated with nothing but a deep, full-fledged affection that makes you want to burst out into happy tears. You blink them back fiercely, turning away so as not to make a fool out of yourself as you grovel for an answer, “stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His grin widens. He moves closer, chest almost touching your shoulder before he leans in and ever so slightly, murmurs into your ear, “like I love you?’

“Yes,” you narrow your eyes, “exactly that.”

Laughing some more as he winds an arm around your waist, he squeezes you to him, “love you,” he mumbles into your hair.

“Love you too.”

As the sun falls over the coast of the island, the pair of you decide to dash back to your little accommodation for a quick shower before deciding to have an early dinner by the beach. You walk along the shore spanning from one coastline to the next and as the golden hour comes up to unfurl its dreaminess onto the Croatian landscape, you can’t help but lose yourself in the beautiful way the sun glimmers over the waves to cast amber light over its surface, the sky turning a bright pinkish orange with cotton candy clouds that makes you dream forever.

You find a little spot by the rocks where the waves lap up at intervals and, with your Mcdonald burgers in hand — as basic as you are despite the abundance of amazing Dubrovnik food in the area — you sit back and watch the sun cast a final goodbye over the horizon before its like disappears.

“I actually don’t want this day to end,” is what falls out of your mouth when the final slithers of the sun drop away from view to cast shades of blue over the beach, “I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a while.”

“It’s nice to see you like that,” Mark turns to you then, that same soft smile gracing his lips and making your heart tickle. He presses his shoulder to yours, a gesture of comfort that warms you up, “you work so much that I tend to forget how you look like when you smile—“

“Don’t be so dramatic—“

“I’m not, Y/N.” His eyes find yours, “I mean it. You come home always tired and I don’t know what’s going on because every time I ask you, you brush me away and say you don’t want to talk about it. That’s fair enough, but do you know how helpless I feel when you’re literally sleepwalking around the house? It hurts me more than you think, Y/N. And it’s worse because I can’t do anything about it.”

Everything he says rings with truth, and despite the fact that he’s being gentle and is actually saying this for your benefit, you can’t help the tears that swell up in the corner of your eyes and you look away in fear that he’ll see you sniffling, hating how ignorant you’d been of what Mark was going through because you were too wrapped up in your own little world to care.

“I’m sorry,” is what you mumble out, “I didn’t realize how bad it had become.”

Mark shakes his head before his arm weaves around your waist to tug you closer, “no need for sorry’s,” his lips ghost over your temple, “I just want you to smile more, to be happier, to have things to laugh about.”

“I’ll try to take care of myself more.”

“Yeah and I’ll be there to bully you if you don’t,” he grins against your forehead.

You push at him in response, though there’s a wide grin almost splitting your face in two as you nuzzle even closer to try and hide your face into the crook of his neck. A comfortable silence takes hold and you bask in the serenity it brings; here with Mark and with remnants of salt on the tip of your tongue, you allow yourself this moment to enjoy the lapping of waters, the soft rocking of boats tied to the harbor, the call of birds to signal the end of the day. And you know that you’d live for more days like this with Mark at your side.

“Hey,” Mark’s murmur causes you to blink up at him, only for his mouth to descend on yours, sealing that moment with a sweet kiss.

You stifle a breath to kiss back, one of your hands sliding up to press along his neck to deepen it. His tighten his hold around your waist and as your bodies press together, your mouths start moving in sync, slowly, slow waves softly bobbing and meeting half-way. Goosebumps rise along the back of your neck, heat coiling through your stomach the more you keep kissing, the more your lips chase each other’s as if there’s nothing else in the world that matters but this moment, this touch from him to you, from you to him.

Mark tilts his head to the side and you angle yours as you feel the warmth of his tongue licking along your bottom lip. You open up to him, allowing him to delve in as a soft whimper jumps out from your throat. He grunts in response and pulls you even closer if that’s possible.

As light-headed as you feel, you pull away in order to halt yourself from getting too carried away by the magic of it all. You are in a public space after all and definitely not in an appropriate one to exchange such intimacy.

Mark’s forehead finds its way to yours and he grins down at you wickedly, the same little mischievous boy that has stolen your heart for safekeeping.

“Thank you,” you breathe out in the comfortable silence wrapping you up in a cocoon of warmth you’d like to call home, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“Thank you,” he says back before pressing one last kiss to your lips, “for loving me.”

“Ew, how are you so cheesy?” You try to wrinkle your nose, even lean back for good measure, but he beats you to it by caging you in his hold and chuckling when it’s clear you won’t be able to get out so easily.

“Just for you, baby,” he smiles at you easily and your heart melts in your chest.

Mark’s right. You need to stop, and breathe, and live a little more. All this time you’ve been running around the clock in a competition against no one but your own shadow, and at the end of the day, you’re still human. You still need to rest, to have peace, to have love. And to be loved.

To be loved, and to give more love.

And you can’t think of anyone else you’d like to share it with other than Mark.

[writingwitharlo]

Mystery

a/n: will admit i’m not in my peak era atm, whether in writing not mentally so please enjoy this tiny crumb i have provided (also tagging @nhasablogg for funsies)

(Stranger Things; Steve/Eddie)

983 words

Nothing in his life could have prepared Steve for the amount of discoveries he was still going to make, even after officially asking Eddie to be his boyfriend. Or did Eddie ask Steve? Neither of them could remember that well, and regardless, it didn’t matter. 

The only thing that did matter right in that moment, was that Steve was trying to get to sleep and Eddie had been hindering that very thing for almost the past two hours. 

“Eds?”

“Hm? Oh. I thought you were asleep.”

Steve let out a groan and propped himself onto his elbows so he could glare at the one sprawled out beside him. 

The Harringtons had left Hawkins on a ‘business trip’, which meant that Steve’s house was going to be empty for a few days. It also meant that any sleepovers were being moved from the Munson trailer and Eddie's cramped twin bed to Steve’s luxurious queen. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Steve’s mattress was softer and less lumpy, or this neighbourhood always fell eerily quiet at night, or the missing hum of a nearby fridge. Or that Steve didn’t allow Eddie to smoke in the house under any circumstances. Whatever it was, Eddie always had a hard time winding down. 

Once he was asleep, he slept like a baby. It was just getting him to be still enough to get to that point. 

“I would be asleep if you stopped moving every ten seconds.” Steve wanted to be annoyed but when he looked at Eddie, all of it melted away. Those dark deer eyes stared at him all innocently, headphones pushing back tousled hair and a collection of doodles filling some scrap paper. Clearly Eddie had been trying to occupy himself.

Steve shook his head with a defeated little sigh before dropping his head to Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re a menace. What’re we gonna do with you, hm?” Soft lips met warm skin just where the cut-off sleeve revealed Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Do with me? How about we start on the things you could do to me?” The smugness of his grin made it all the way to Eddie’s voice.

Steve laughed, shoulders shaking briefly as he lifted his head again. “Oh, yeah? Anything among that list that would tucker you out, perhaps? Cause that’s what we really need right now.” 

Eddie just smirked, propping a hand behind his head once he had set his headphones aside. “Oh, most certainly.”

There was an expectant pause. “Okay… You’re not gonna tell me then?” Steve’s eyebrows rose slowly.

“Hm, I don’t think I will. Have to keep the mystery alive somehow after all these years, don’t I, Stevie-boy?”

Steve rolled his eyes, mainly to distract from the way his cheeks heated up whenever Eddie called him anything but his name. “Always so dramatic,” he muttered mostly to himself, placing a couple precise pinches near the other’s hip. 

Immediately, Eddie’s arm shot down again with an audible gasp, hand catching Steve’s but it was too late. A full attack was already under way and nothing was going to stop it.

Steve ended up laughing along as Eddie writhed beneath him, and relished in the yelps and protests that came from vibrating digits between his ribs. “Was this anywhere on your list?” he asked, a playful glisten on his face. “Cause if not, it definitely should be.”

Eddie just let out a string of insults as a reply before being interrupted by his own shrieking laughter again. It wasn’t until a little later, a gentle claw fluttering over his belly and Steve’s face buried against his neck, that Eddie’s resolve seemed to run out.

The prickling of Steve’s light stubble against his sensitive neck had Eddie in a giggling fit, forcing him to breathe a little heavier. Until, out of nowhere, a desperate moan escaped. 

Steve froze and time stopped. As Steve slowly lifted his head, Eddie was staring quite forcibly up at the ceiling. His face was almost emitting light, it was burning so much and out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see how Steve was tilting his head to the side in question.

“Please don’t tell me you heard that,” Eddie got out, voice barely over a whisper as he squeezed his eyes shut. Unfortunately that also meant he missed how the look of Steve’s face changed from one of delight to curiosity to pure mischief.

“Oh, but I did,” Steve replied in a low rumble. A smirk already tugged on the corner of his mouth when Eddie’s reaction was simply to whimper. “So, was it the neck or the belly?”

Eddie groaned loudly, slapping both hands over his face to hide the growing burn before giving a muffled reply.

“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that.” Steve’s fingers twitched ever so slightly, which had still been resting against Eddie’s stomach. Lightning fast, Eddie’s hands came crashing down to grip onto Steve’s. “Both! I said ‘both’, you dick!”

Steve laughed, a full toothy grin on his face. “That’s what I thought you said.” They grappled with each other’s hands for a bit until Steve put an end to it by pinning them above Eddie’s head. “Ready?”

There was something incredibly flustering about having Steve practically inches from his face, fully excited to explore this new facet of Eddie’s many quirks without any judgment or hesitation. 

After almost an hour of exploration, they’d discovered that it wasn’t only those two specific spots that could draw out such a reaction from Eddie. Also, Steve found himself getting almost equally as excited on his end. But most importantly, they were both tuckered out by the end of that hour.

As they curled into each other, both with still a hint of a smile on their faces and a glowing warmth coming from their chests, Steve had only one single thought: Turns out, Eddie was the mystery keeping them both alive. 

[iosagol]

I know that the cardinal rule for staying sane on tumblr is “ignore opinions that you don’t agree with”, but could you elaborate on why you think scythe is terribly written? I really enjoyed it and the writing, so I’m wondering what exactly you didn’t like. I agree that main duo (Citra and Rowan) are pretty weak, but to me the rest of the trilogy more than made up for it. Feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel like answering, but I’m legitimately curious about your opinions.

Hey there! Thank you for taking time to ask despite having a different opinion. I'm afraid I won't be able to provide the most varied textual evidence because I don't personally own all of the books, but I'll do my best to make my thoughts on this clear.

I would like to preface this by saying that I don't know Neal Shusterman and I don't intend to judge his skill as a writer. These are personal complaints that I have; they are opinions. Everyone is free to like whichever authors they want to. Now without further ado:

Writing issues with the AOAS series:

1) Dialogue.

Firstly, I find that the dialogue for each character is not in any way consistent. Faraday is a great example of this. One moment, he says something dark and wise that matches his experience, and then he speaks with the same vocal patterns as a young teen.

When Mister Shusterman writes a distinctly teenage character, this also happens:

"It's just that I haven't had anyone to talk to in like, forever!"

"So should I, like, know you?"

Another issue leading to a lack of distinct character voice is that pretty much every character quips and snarks and smirks. Rand quips, Munira quips, Curie smirks, Citra smirks, Citra quips, Rowan quips (having those two snark lords paired together is certainly a choice) Jerico snarks, and even Faraday quips if my memory serves me right. If so many main characters are the witty banterers in the book, it makes them all start to lose individuality and blend together.

And hey, I'm a Marvel rat, I'm used to quips during apocalypses, but even in Marvel there are some characters who quip multiple times in almost every kind of scenario, and others who are more reserved. It's these different line choices that set them apart.

Another issue I have with the dialogue is that it sounds somewhat… cheesy? The wisdom bits sound a little pseudo-wise, and the death threats are miraculously over the top. Sometimes the narration is overly dramatic. Even some random lines that are neither proverbs nor threats just sound off.

Examples:

"So tell me, Munira… Who will you be?"

"Are you so consumed by grief that you can't consume this fish?"

"His eyes had a careworn coolness to them as if he had seen more than he should and had stopped caring in order to save what was left of his soul."

"One can never truly master the art of driving, because no journey is ever exactly the same."

"I guess whoever holds the torch casts the darkest shadow." "Whoever steals the torch, you mean." "Well, it seems I can steal whatever I want."

"Ha! Citra playing a harp! How she would hate that!"

"Tonight we witness the spectacle of human folly and tragedy. Tomorrow, we shall live it."

"To live between the prospects of an unknown, eternal sky and a dark, enveloping Earth must have been glorious— for how else could it have given rise to such magnificent expression?"

I'll mention this briefly here and dive in further later: Robert Goddard says the most insane things that are probably intended to sound menacing but only make him sound like a comic villain.

Overall, the dialogue is my biggest issue with the writing in the Scythe series, failing to convey character and sometimes distracting from the plot. I'm afraid if you compare it to dialogue from other teen books like The Queen's Thief, or even something from Lemony Snicket, it's unfortunately subpar.

2) Sentence fragments.

A sentence fragment is series of words that doesn't qualify as a full sentence because it lacks either a subject or a predicate. This is a grammatical error. Some authors, some incredibly accomplished authors, can use sentence fragments in artful and interesting ways that set a unique tone for their story. However, Mister Shusterman uses sentence fragments in inconsistent, strange bursts that leave me wondering as to the purpose of them. I don't know if these were stylistic in any way, and this makes me think they are errors. For example.

"Through all of this, Scythe Rand said nothing. She had taken a seat and was watching. Waiting to see what Rowan would do. What accusations he'd make."

I'm sorry, but this is a basic flawed cluster of sentence fragments that would be better written as

"She had taken a seat and was watching, waiting to see what Rowan would do and what accusations he would make."

Another example:

"He tried to move his wrist, but found that he couldn't. Not because of any injury, but because he was restrained. Both of his hands, and his feet as well."

This should be arranged as

"He tried to move his wrist but found that he couldn't, not because of any injury but because he was restrained; both his hands and feet were chained."

Another:

"She felt vulnerable without her robe. Naked in a fundamental way."

All that's needed to fix this is a comma between Robe and Naked. That's it. I have no idea why an editor didn't swoop in and patch that gap. It would make the flow of the narrative infinitely less choppy.

Sentence fragments can make story sound like it is stuttering, and I think this is true for the Scythe series.

3) nicknames are used to create emotional beats to an excess.

This may seem like a random, small complaint to have. But if you go through all of the Scythe books and note every abrupt name change and meaningful first-name basis, the tally is very high. I find this to be a good tool, but it's negative when used excessively.

Examples:

"Jeri told Sydney--- because now they were most certainly on a first name basis…"

This signals a sudden leap from coworkers to friends. Instead of fleshing out the time Jerico and Sydney spent together, nicknaming works to hint that time has passed and events happened. Once more, I will say that I don't hate this tool. But it's going to be used again. And again. And it does function as a summarizer, and summaries can only take a story so far.

Tenkamenin is Tenka

Michael is whipped out when Mister Shusterman needs a soft moment for Curaday, same with Marie

Citra bounces between Anastasia and Citra (this is part of her identity struggle, I suppose, but it's very clumsy. Instead of just swapping a name to demonstrate his protagonist is putting on a persona/ready to behave more maturely, I think Mister Shusterman should have just relied on dialogue, body language, and verbal patterns to demonstrate her switches. Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde is an incredible study on this sort of style.)

Rowan dabbles in being Lucifer

Greyson learns Citra's first name? Suddenly they're able to communicate more fully and more intimately.

Goddard is Robert when Rand wants a moment with him, even though Robert is just such a dreadful name for an evil overlord and it just doesn't work. Think about Voldemort. Did Voldemort EVER let Bellatrix call him Tom or Marvolo? Not a chance. The one person who called Voldemort by his first name was his arch-nemesis, and Voldemort tried to kill said arch-nemesis for his irreverence. Goddard literally called himself an angel, I don't see why he allows himself to be addressed so casually without repercussions. It lessens his strength so much.

The moment I learned the high scythes' first names in the second book, I knew they were going to die, because whenever Mister Shusterman lets us know a first name, it's meant to make us have a deep connection with that character.

I mentioned this before with quips, and I'll say it again; if every character has a nickname and/or an alter ego that they flip and flop back and forth with to represent their inner turmoil, well… then it's not a unique trait, it's just a general device that's used over and over. It loses meaning, it loses its punch, and it loses uniqueness.

I don't want to accuse an author I don't know, but I personally believe that simply switching names to get across complex emotional beats is a weaker, quicker way to write. If there were complex emotional beats with body language and good dialogue and then names were conservatively sprinkled in after these important parts, maybe I would be less aggravated by it.

4) Telling things that should be shown or not mentioned at all.

As a general rule, narrators do not exist to make you like characters. The characters themselves are meant to win you over through dialogue, actions, and shows of personality. When the narrator decides not to let the characters show their personality and simply blurts the character's attributes to the reader, this is called telling and not showing.

"Citra was well known for her temper. It often arrived before reason, and left only after damage was done. Tonight would be no exception."

If this scene is going to demonstrate exactly what the narrator is describing, why describe this attribute at all? Simply let the scene play out, showing us Citra's temper, and we will deduce her personality from this.

"Every ship would have its own Cirrus, as wise and benevolent as the Thunderhead."

This is said at the end of the third book. We've spent three books with the Thunderhead. If we don't know what it's personality is by now, we must be illiterate. We don't need to be told attributes we've already been shown.

Part of the reason why Citra and Rowan's relationship feels so flat is because the narrator gives us a speedran summary of their relationship growth; we don't actually get to see anything beyond them yelling and snarking at each other one second and being desperately in love the other. We're told they care about each other. We're told they take actions and have conversations. We. Are. Not. Shown. These moments.

"She was now Citra once more; proud and headstrong, but with no impressive social footprint."

This is said in the second book, at which point we ought to know all this and more about Citra. If Mister Shusterman included this for readers who chose to start reading at the second book instead of the first, this is still a bad choice because he already showed us Citra's proud and headstrong nature in the chapter before the one where this quote came from. Any new readers should already have picked this up on their own. Again, he's stating something that the character herself should have been left to demonstrate.

This feature in the Scythe series leads me to experience aggravation of two kinds:

I feel that I am being given a summary of an event I have already witnessed/a person I have already met, even though the author knows I have witnessed the event/met the person. It's as though the author thinks I suffer from short term memory loss.

I feel that I am being given a summary of a YouTube video in words when the author has a cell phone and could easily take his phone out and show me the video himself, and would paint a better picture by doing so.

5) Goddard is a remarkably awfully written villain

This part is a combination of several different technical problems, and I considered integrating it into the other points I made, but I thought it deserved its own honorable mention.

The main issue I have with the main villain is that Mister Shusterman doesn't seem to know whether he wants Goddard to be a joke or a threat.

There is a paragraph in The Toll saying that Goddard could "twist your thoughts until they were no longer yours, but his. That's what made him so dangerous."

Only a few chapters away from this sentence is another one which says "Goddard spouted erudite gibberish with such regularity, Rand had learned to turn her ears off to it."

The contradiction is incredible. I have no idea who this man ought to be.

(I will also say that if the author has to tell me how a villain is dangerous, he most likely isn't.)

Some examples of strained Goddard dialogue/descriptions are

"He was brilliant in at finding shapes in the clouds of his fury."

"I am your completion! I am the last word of your unsatisfied, unsavory lives… I am your portal to the mysteries of oblivion!"

"He had strewn them there as a way to raise his troubled spirits. Surely their magnificence would bring him not just comfort, but elevation."

"We are angels of death," said Scythe Goddard. "It is only fitting that we swoop in from the heavens."

I haven't got the book with me but there's a line about the meat of his vengeance being relished

"I enjoy spectacles, and there's no reason needed beyond that."

"Embrace it, Rowan. Suckle at its transformative breast… The thrill of the hunt and the joy of the kill simmers in all of us."

"Now Goddard paces, whipping his fury into a caustic meringue."

Goddard clapped his hands together, truly tickled.

"Goddard is as corrosive as acid hurled in the eye."

It’s him!” “He’s so handsome!” “He’s so scary!” “He’s so well-groomed!” Goddard took a moment to turn to the crowd and sweep his hand in a royal wave.

In summary, Goddard comes off as a comic villain, and not a strong one. It sounds like he's almost trying to be Thanos and just falling so so short.

But he has such damaging effects? And it seems to be for no reason whatsoever?

He spews terrible dialogue but has absolute control? He supposedly is powerful, but he is vanquished by his own henchwoman when the heroes don't care enough about him to try and kill him themselves?

Literally Citra is trying to find reasons to stay on earth and she's like "Well I guess no one really needs me here" as Goddard has been spending the past years? mass murdering people? She just forgets about him as a threat?

Also he's named Robert How can I take a villain named Robert seriously, for the love of all that is good

When the main villain is simply cringeworthy, the series suffers as a whole.

BONUS Round! Just some thoughts

To this day I think about how Sydney Possuelo had to go into a vault and find two naked teenagers lying very deadish on the floor in each other's arms and I think about his reaction and you know what it definitely checks out

Honestly Astrid was awesome, she handled her situation like a champ

I still don't get why Greyson broke up with the Thunderhead tho, he genuinely fell in love with Jerico because she said hello in the same way the Thunderhead did lol

To be real, the deaths are always the best part of this series

Xenocrates tho

Rand's relationship with Tiger was very interesting

I'm still not sure what I think about it

.... ....

Now. You may be thinking that I despise the Arc of a Scythe series.

This is untrue.

I stuck with the Scythe series through all of my nitpicks and dislikes because the concept is absolutely incredible and can't be thrown aside. Mister Shusterman did an amazing job of creating an emotional, fast-paced plot with great locations, moral questions, and themes. I just desperately wish that the flaws that I personally noticed could have been left out of such an interesting story so that I could have been drawn even deeper into the world and loved the characters more than I do.

[random-iz-stuff]

Invader Zim Deathmatch:

ROUND 2, FIGHT 9:

Zim vs Minimoose!

The rules are as follows:

1. We’re assuming that both participants actively want and are willing to kill each other unless actively specified otherwise (for example: Chammy Wamboo).

2. The fight must be one on one so no outside help is allowed, but prep time is allowed.

3. The rule for prep time is that if one contestant gets prep time, the other contestant gets an equal amount of prep time as well.

[Masterpost]

Information about both contestants (who they are, powers and abilities, etc) can be found under the cut.

Contestant Stats:

Zim:

“HE IS ZIM!”

Note: due to me doing a LOT of different analyses of Zim’s combat capabilities, intelligence, and competence in general, this section goes way further into detail than with any other contestant, to the point where I can say almost exactly HOW Zim fights along with his general abilities, which gets its own section.

Appearances:

As Zim is a Main Character, I’m not going to list where he appears. He’s everywhere

Tactics:

Zim is a very environmental fighter that uses his mind and the environment around him a lot in combat, quickly setting up traps, leading his opponents into bad positions and using anything he can get his hands on to gain an advantage.

Zim also uses his PAK a lot in combat, mostly for the extra maneuverability it provides. Leaping around and dodging attacks with it and using it to quickly climb and move around.

Zim also knows how and when to briefly get into his opponent’s head, confusing them by briefly putting on an act to seem dumber than he appears (Take his fights against Hobo 13 and Pilot Dib for very good examples). Once his opponent is distracted or thrown off, he strikes fast and hard.

Powers and abilities:

Irken physiology (Zim can lift over 3 times his body weight and is extremely durable. More specifically, I’ve estimated in the past with some calculations for Zim’s height and weight that Zim can lift about 612.8 pounds, but that’s just estimation and theories)

PAK (PAK legs, PAK lasers, shield generator, all the things an Irken PAK can do)

Elite military training (Zim is an Invader, meaning that he went through irken military training and became an elite soldier before going through Invader training. This means that Zim has the combat skills of an elite soldier)

Invader training (as an Ex-Invader, Zim is trained in espionage, stealth, sabotage, and other invader-related things)

Throwing Knife Mastery (Zim has a 99.7% accuracy rate with throwing knives, and it’s very likely that this accuracy rate also applies to other throwable things)

Superior Intelligence (Zim is the single smartest Irken we’ve ever seen and is a lot smarter than he appears, being able to build things in less than an hour that artificially enhanced irkens take days or even weeks to build. This significantly reduces or even removes the amount of prep time Zim needs to create something. Zim is also capable of manipulating people by playing dumb, a tactic he sometimes uses in combat to throw his opponents off their rhythm (take his fights in Hobo 13 and the Pilot for example))

Shock Spear (as seen in Nickelodeon All Star Brawl of all places, Zim owns, knows how to use, and always has on his person: a unique Shock Spear. This Shock Spear can presumably do anything a regular Shock Spear can do, including shocking anyone hit by it and discharging energy from the blades for a ranged attack)

[Weakness] No common sense or impulse control [Averted] (Zim normally has little common sense or impulse control and seems to struggle with motivation, a fact that usually leads to him defeating himself. HOWEVER, in the right situation where Zim properly focuses on the task at hand (usually either when he wants revenge or when he thinks his life or his mission is in danger), Zim completely loses this weakness and not only becomes completely motivated, but also starts thinking things through, becoming far more dangerous. A fight to the death like this competition definitely fills those requirements, meaning that Zim in this situation would be completely focused at basically all times)

[For This Fight Only] Past Knowledge (Since Zim built Minimoose in the first place, he has full knowledge of how to disassemble Minimoose)

Fun Fact:

Both Mark Hamill and Billy West were candidates for the voice of Zim. Mark Hamill was deemed to be unsuited for the role and Billy West voiced Zim in the Pilot episode, but ultimately Richard Steven Horvitz was chosen to voice Zim.

Minimoose:

“Been here the whole time”

Appearances:

Minimoose’s only TV appearance is in the episode “The Most Horrible Christmas Ever”, but we would have seen them a lot more if the show wasn’t cancelled, including an episode called “Nubs Of Doom” where we would have seen their creation. They also appear in Enter The Florpus and make consistent appearances in the Comics

Powers and abilities:

Telekinesis

Energy Blasts (Minimoose can fire powerful blasts of dark energy from themselves. We never officially see it so it’s impossible to say for sure, but it’s most likely that Minimoose’s “deadly weapons” we hear about in “Nubs Of Doom” are actually these energy blasts at max strength)

Teleportation (Minimoose is able to manipulate dark energy to teleport things. HOWEVER, we won’t be counting Minimoose teleporting the entire Earth as something they can do, as they needed a very specific setup involving everyone on earth holding hands combined with the Membracelets and a blob creature Zim created. Minimoose’s actual limits with teleportation are most likely just teleporting themselves and whatever is holding/around them)

Fun Fact:

Minimoose is canonically confirmed to be non-binary, making them one of two canonically confirmed non-binary Invader Zim characters with Recap Kid being the other one, and one of four non-binary Invader Zim characters if you also consider Invader Tenn and Commander Poki, who are heavily implied to be non-binary but not explicitly confirmed.

Additional Thoughts:

Does anyone actually read these? They’re kind of important for judging how powerful some characters are.

[littlefantasinia]

victory lap

Fandom: Disgaea Characters: Fuji, Pirilika Words: 1000+ Summary: Pirilika's not quite done yet. Fuji should have known, really.

A place where you can be yourself, a place where you can cry I’ll become that for you

“I was talking with Flonne about your curse,” Pirilika says, not looking up as she very carefully cuts the patterned fabric she bought the previous week. Another outfit for Ao, apparently. “I hope you don’t mind. But two sleds are faster than none, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Two heads are better than one,” Fuji says, almost automatically. Sitting across her with one of her many sketchbooks in hand, he raises an eyebrow. He’s been expecting a quiet afternoon, especially after they’ve just gotten back from helping out another Netherworld the day prior. The echoes of the curse have settled onto his limbs, and downtime is usually enough to help deal with it.

He does usually get that quiet whenever he catches Pirilika personally working on an outfit in her atelier, as she could very rarely be distracted from her newest vision. And even if he could succeed in turning her attention away, her bringing up the curse has been at the bottom of his expectations.

Shifting in his seat to a more comfortable position, Fuji asks, “What, you think she can help?”

Pirilika finishes cutting around the pattern she pinned against the fabric before finally looking up. Her smile is so bright that it’s almost blinding. “She did help Ao. And she knows of a lot of Netherworlds. So I thought, maybe she can help you too? Or at least find someone who can maybe give us a clue.”

“I’m not that excited to owe anyone, let alone an angel, another favor, Piriko,” Fuji says dryly, ignoring the tightness in his chest and the hint of blood on his tongue. “Besides, I can live with it.”

“I know, but it would be nice to know your options, right?” Pirilika says, frowning as she sets aside her scissors. “And you haven’t been holding back with doting on Ao–which she deserves! But it still hurts you every time.”

Fuji shrugs as he trains his eye on the many designs Pirilika has drawn for his daughter. She’s been trying to get all of them to wear her designs, Fuji included, but Ao is definitely her favorite to make outfits for. “Yeah, well, you always heal me anyway. It’s fine,” he says. “Besides, I don’t trust some random higher-up in Celestia.”

“She’s not just a random higher-up,” Pirilika says. “She’s a friend! And Ceefore trusts her too.”

“Weapon Otaku’s not always the best judge of character. Neither are you, Piriko.” Grinning, he adds, “If anything, you’re probably the worst.”

“I was right about you though!”

“Eh, you got lucky.”

“I did,” she says, voice so soft that he can’t help looking up. She isn’t even looking at him as she pins another part of her paper pattern on the remaining fabric. As if this is just a plain old thought that doesn’t bear any further introspection. “I got very, very lucky. I can’t thank you enough, Fuji.”

He should have been able to predict it, but he isn’t able to push down the cough in time. He remembers to hold her sketchbook away at least. For the sake of Ao and her future dresses, of course. “Damn it, Piriko. Stop saying embarrassing things. I thought you were trying to help.”

“I am!” she says as she places the fabric down gently on the table in front of her. She holds out her hands and Fuji immediately feels the relief her magic provides. “And,” she continues, after his coughing subsides, “if Flonne does get back to me, I’ll look into any of her leads. You don’t have to owe her or even me anything. We can just say I’m doing this for my own sake.”

“What, you tired of healing me all the time already?”

“Of course not, silly. But…well, I did say I’d make it so you can have a place to be yourself. And I’ve been thinking–”

“Well, that’s dangerous.”

She scrunches her nose at him briefly but continues. “I’ve been thinking, that hoping to do that while doing nothing about your curse is kind of selfish, right? I mean, that’s like saying I want you to push through the pain. And I’m sure you already do that every day for us.”

The sentiment is not surprising, certainly not from her, but he can’t help watching her face quietly anyway. It’s not exactly the same, but he’s still reminded of the times when they’d hear someone criticize Opener for the fall of Hinomoto. A hint of guilt, and maybe some helplessness in the way her lips try to force a sympathetic smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

She’s probably thinking something stupid like her not having the right to be upset about him hurting.

“You really are a dumbass,” he says, with no real bite to his tone. “Look, I can handle it, all right? But if you want to look into it so badly, I’m not stopping you.”

That brings back the genuine smile on her face. The sight stabs through him, but he carries on. “Just don’t get yourself killed while playing detective or whatever. Otherwise, I’d be forced to find another gullible customer who can pay as well as you. And with my luck and in this economy? Hah.”

The insult hardly dulls the brightness of her voice. “You can always come with me. I’ll pay for your time, of course.” It’s an excuse they both use and will probably continue to use until, well, until something changes. He’s not holding his breath on anything.

“You know,” he says instead, before his thoughts lead him further, “I’ve been thinking of upping my rates recently.”

“Is that a no?” She pouts, a little more exaggerated than usual.

“Only if you can’t pay,” he says, grinning.

It’s hardly an obstacle. Nothing ever really is with Pirilika.

As Fuji watches her go back to making another dress for his little girl, he allows himself to let go of what little doubt he has left.

Maybe she can do this one too.

---

A/N: This is more of a practice piece, since I haven’t written anything in sooo longgg, let alone for Disgaea, oops. Please forgive (´；ω；`)ｳｩｩ

I see FujiPiri in…a lot of aspects to the point that I’d prefer to call them soulmates…? Not necessarily in a romantic sense. But more of in a, “they would have inevitably been in each other’s lives one way or another” or “they come in a set; do not separate them” kind of way. Shrug emojis at the universe. It’s not my fault the ending song is like that ww.

Anyway, Fuji literally calls her Baal’s archnemesis. Of course, she can kick a curse in the ass too. The only thing stopping her in canon is definitely just the status quo.

Also, I had this in mind for Ao’s outfit! She’d be so cute. (*´▽｀*) I love you, Ao-chan!!! https://www.tumblr.com/lolita-wardrobe/727907991892967424/yupbro-the-spring-of-high-mountains-wa-lolita

[sparxwrites]

Hello, I'm Nyde from Kofi :D my fic prompt/ request is for RenDoc & "trust". Thank you!!

want a lil fic like this one? you can get one here!

“Easy now,” says Doc. The casual tone of his voice is given lie by how tense his flesh-and-blood shoulder is, by the creases at the corner of his eyes. To anyone else, he might look relaxed, but Ren knows him better. “That is delicate, in that bit. If you make those wires touch, we will be in an even worse situation than we are now.”

Given Doc currently has a fully non-functional arm that’s sending feedback loops of pain up into his neck and down his spine every several hundred ticks or so, that’s a pretty big claim. Hard to see how the situation could get any worse than that, in Ren’s opinion.

Nevertheless he looks up, briefly, from his task. “Don’t worry, dude,” he says, and grins until he sees Doc’s shoulder drop, a little. “I’m being careful. These big ol’ paws of mine can do that, sometimes, you know.”

He says it as though he is not currently shitting a brick. Or several bricks, as the case may be. This is Doc’s arm, under his fingers. Doc’s arm. His arm, that he hardly lets anyone touch even with the casing on. And Ren’s here with exposed wires and circuitry and motors at his fingertips, like it’s nothing.

It’s a gratifying display of trust, but, also– aforementioned shitting of bricks. Just a little.

“What happens if the wires touch?” he asks, to try and distract himself. He’s fine. He’s got this! Doc’s given him clear instructions, he knows exactly what he’s doing. All he has to do is do as he’s told, and not fuck it up. Easy. Easy.

“Oh, well, you know,” says Doc, with a grim sort of lopsided smile. He’s holding his mechanical arm very, very still, Ren suddenly notices. “The whole thing short-circuits, and it electrocutes me, and then–” He makes a noise like an explosion, gestures like an explosion, next to the metal plate side of his head. “Very messy, I would imagine.”

My head explodes, Ren’s brain translates, helpfully, and provides him a mental image of exactly what that might look like. Of exactly what he might accidentally do, if he’s not very, very careful.

For all his many virtues, Ren is not, per se, known for his carefulness or hand-eye coordination.

He recoils, with a yelp, his hands leaving Doc’s arm entirely on reflex. “Dude!” he cries, horrified. “What the hell! Why would you– what do you– I– you– what? Why would you let me do, you know, fancy redstone stuff on something that might kill you! I’m– I’m not even a redstoner, dude, I– why– …why me?”

The stress at the corners of Doc’s eyes softens, all at once. Which is ironic, because Ren’s own stress has just skyrocketed. He thinks his heart might be about to beat its way free of his chest out of sheer, abject terror.

“I trust you,” Doc  says, simply. Like it’s the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my best friend, man. If I’m not gonna let you do this, then– who?”

“Tango?” suggests Ren, a little helplessly. “Mumbo? Hell– Xisuma? Cub? Literally anyone on this server that’s better at machines and redstone and stuff than– than me.”

“Well, none of those people are my best friend, now, are they?” Doc shrugs his flesh shoulder, keeps the other one very carefully still. “So why would I choose them, over you? Hmm?”

Ren feels his cheeks heat up, flushed pink against his will.

“Love you too, dude,” he mumbles, and then realises that’s not what Doc said at all, and then decides. Fuck it. It can stand. If you can’t tell a homie you love him whilst elbow – slight exaggeration – deep in his forearm, then when can you? Never, that’s when.

When he looks up, Doc’s grinning at him, something exasperated and fond and– something else Ren isn’t going to put a name to, not right now, in his eyes.

“Right,” he says, to stop himself thinking too hard about that. If he’s not careful, he’ll blush all the way down to his chest, and if that happens then Doc will never let him forget. “Okay, dude. Well. If you’re sure…” He swallows, hard, and sets his hands back on Doc’s arm. “Right. Remind me what I’m supposed to be doing?”“With pleasure,” says Doc, easily, and – unbelievably – sounds like he truly means it.

[krillissue]

Shower - Lazarus "Coyote" Nashville Pt 1 (Prequel)

parts 1 and 2 of my trisona stuff is here but this is a prequel that takes place before August was August. Lazarus and Matheus (@cosmiq) both work for the Eye of Michael and were Hopeland kids. Sorry for only writing stuff about my ocs but these tragic gay men have consumed by every waking thought. ~700 words

It was a quiet and mild evening. Lazarus sat in the open window, blowing his cigarette smoke out. It was a concession to his insufferable roommate, Matheus. He had a certain affinity for worms Lazarus didn’t understand and the scent of the smoke irritated him. 

Good. Matheus was irritating. Lazarus didn’t know if he’d ever met someone that could get under his skin like that. He’d done something stupid on their job again, reckless and dangerous. He swore the guy had a death wish. It wouldn’t normally be a concern of his, they were both disposable members of the Eye of Michael, but Matheus was going to get them both killed at this rate.  

Sharing a hotel room wasn’t his ideal situation either. Even though there were two beds and it was cheaper than two rooms, he didn’t like sharing his space. Lazarus had spent years in the orphanage sharing his room, he thought now that he was an adult that part of his life was over. But no, there was Matheus. He was aggravating, alway leaving his things around and asking him asinine questions. He disturbed him late at night with his glowing eyes and sleep talking. Honestly he couldn’t have been stuck with anyone worse. 

“Hey, Rusty,” Matheus called from the open bathroom door, dragging his attention out of his thoughts. “Shower’s free.” He always had that smirk on his face that made Lazarus want to punch him. But his smirk wasn’t what caught his eye. Matheus was naked save for a towel wrapped low on his hips, his skin still damp from the shower. Lazarus had sucked in a breath at the sight but luckily the cigarette between his lips provided him cover. 

The immediate heat that flooded him mixed with shame. He’d never felt like this about anyone, not really, and of course it had to be Matheus of all people. He had to stop staring. It didn’t matter that his partner had nice broad shoulders and distracting arms. Lazarus shouldn’t follow the bead of water that dripped its way between his bare pecs. He shouldn’t be wondering about what was beneath that towel. It wasn't his business, none of his concern. 

“You hear me?” Matheus snapped in front of his face, startling him. 

“Yes, I heard you,” He snapped back, smacking his hand away. “Can’t you see I’m still smokin’ here?” Matheus opened his mouth to make some flirty comment or crack a joke but Lazarus wasn’t in the mood. His face still felt too hot for Matheus to be this close to him. ”Just shut up.” 

“What’s up your ass tonight?” Matheus just kept leaning on the sill next to him, completely obvious to his burning face. He thanked the stars and angels above for his darker complexion. But Matheus could tell he was riling him up anyway and there was no escaping him once you gave him even the smallest hint of attention. 

“You,” He tried to spit but Matheus snorted and he realized his mistake. “Just— Shut up and leave me be. Haven’t you started enough shit today?” 

“What did I do?” He asked with false innocence, his eyes flicking down to the cigarette still between his lips. It was burning out faster than he’d like stuck between the window and his roommate. He contemplated briefly jumping out but it would just encourage Matheus further. 

“Y’know exactly what you did, bug boy. I’m tired of covering for your ass.” He stood and shoved Matheus back, getting in his face. Lazarus was just a bit shorter and it pissed him off, too. Matheus just smiled, crossing his arms. He wanted to hit him, he wanted to kiss him. He did neither. 

“Do somethin’ about it then,” Matheus challenged, that light sparkling in his eyes for violence. He liked getting Lazarus angry enough to hit him but he didn’t take the bait this time. Not while he was naked. The last thing Lazarus needed was that embarrassment. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Lazarus blew the last of his smoke directly in his face before brushing past him to the bathroom. He felt shaky and hot but he’d done it, he could calm himself down in the shower and when he was done, hopefully Matheus would be asleep. 

If he was lucky. 

Lazarus wasn’t a lucky man. 

[kaisarion-tactical]

Dinner Date | O'Breckenridge

A soft piece about these awkward, adorable idiots about an interaction that never got to happen.

EB -> SO: Sorry, change of plans. Meet me in the mess for dinner?

SO -> EB: No problem. I’ll find you later.

The news that they’d been cleared of suspicion in Cliffords’ death was a relief to hear, but Eisley knew that it meant back to work. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed, knowing that it meant a change in her plans with Séan. She’d gotten excited about the idea of spending the afternoon together, just hanging out like two normal people, a pocket of normalcy amid all the chaos and suspicion of everything else going on. 

No rest for the wicked, she supposed. 

She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text message, smiling sadly at Séan’s quick response and flexibility about the change in plans. The way that she could hurt this man if she wasn’t careful. 

She listened as Kit provided an update on the situation, and the squad discussed the next course of action. More hacking into personnel and other files, identifying people worth talking to for information gathering purposes. Sgt. Hadrin had been on security detail that night; Eisley would need to talk to him, find out if he saw anyone unusual in the barracks that evening.

After a few hours of focused research and discussion, Eisley stood. “I’m going to mess for dinner. You coming?” she asked Rachel who was hovering over her laptop, typing furiously. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Rachel replied.

Eisley sighed. “Don’t just subsist on Red Bull, okay? I’ll bring you something back.”

She made her way to the mess, letting herself be carried by the flow of bodies through the hall. She made her way through the line: some chicken dish, a rare occasion that they actually had a real piece of meat. Scanning the tables, she caught sight of at a table with a few other soldiers and made her way over. 

She slowed when several sets of eyes turned toward her as she approached. Séan grinned when he saw her, and the others dropped their eyes back to their dinner, although Eisley could still feel the occasional lingering glance. 

“Sorry I had to change plans this afternoon. Kit showed up right as I was getting ready, and well… duty calls, all that.”

“Hey, no problem. I get it. Things change at the drop of the hat. It’s the nature of the job.” 

Eisley smiled. She found Séan’s foot beneath the table, knocking her boot against his. She glanced up and Séan was watching her, and they held each other’s gaze for a long minute before Eislely looked away, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. A moment passed and there was an answering tap of a boot against her own beneath the table. 

“I was thinking next time we have an opportunity, we should go to the range.”

“The range?” Séan returned. “What for?”

Eisley, eyes still downcast, shrugged. “I want to see you shoot. Maybe we could have a friendly competition.”

Eisley could hear the smile in Séan’s voice. “Yeah?”

She glanced up briefly. “Yeah.” 

There was another tap of a boot against hers beneath the table, except this time there was sustained contact. Eisley could feel her face heating again. They might as well have been holding hands. Her finger clenched around her fork at the thought. 

“Where are you on shift tonight?” she asked.

“Exterior checkpoint duty. Why? You planning to come say hi?”

Eisley rolled her eyes. “Just curious and making conversation. It’s probably not a great idea to distract you while you’re on shift.” 

A small smile pulled at Séan’s mouth. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but he tapped his foot against hers against the table once more. 

Eisley narrowed her eyes. “Tell me,” she pressed.

Séan’s ears went red. “I’d be distracted anyway,” he admitted. 

Eisley couldn’t handle this, her face hot once more at Séan’s words. “I said I’d bring something back for Rach since I don’t trust that she’ll eat dinner otherwise. We’ll make plans. For the shooting range.”

“Right. Just shoot me a text. You know where to find me.”

Eisley hovered for a few more seconds before picking up her empty tray and weaving her way through the tables and back into the line, ignoring the lingering glances as she went.