#but i did go back once again to the same self destructive tendencies

[itmightneverbetherighttime]

...

[moonflvver]

Starlight

character: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: angst (with fluff)

a/n: This is probably one of my favorite pieces about Bakugou that I've written. Also, I'm clearing out my drafts so expect an influx of posts over the next few days. And I'm getting back into mha so trust that there will be lots of Katsuki content in the future lol.

w/c: 1297

He was running his fingers through his hair as his jaw clenched. “What the fuck do you want from me then? What do you want? Because I just can’t figure it out. No matter what I do for you it’s never enough.”

You sighed, you were getting tired of having the same argument with him over and over again. And now of course he was turning this on you. Of course Bakugou Katsuki just couldn’t fucking admit that he was in the wrong for once. 

“What I want is for you to care about yourself Katsuki. I want you to stop overexerting yourself and coming home with an injury every other night. I want to trust that you’ll be safe when you’re out there.” You were trying your hardest not to let him hear your voice shake but it cracked mid-sentence nonetheless. 

It was just too much. God you loved him, of course you did. But he was too stubborn for his own good and he refused to stop pushing himself to the very edge of his limits. But that’s the thing about Bakugou, he’s a star. I mean it sounds silly to say but it’s true. 

He’s not just good at what he does, he’s great. But there’s something in him that refuses to let him enjoy what he has at any given moment and that’s the problem. They say that the stars that shine the brightest burn out the fastest and you know Katsuki better than anyone, so it’s clear to you that he’s just one mission away from crashing and burning. Which is why you can’t stop. If he won’t care for himself then you have to do it for him. 

“You don’t get it do you? I can’t just stop doing my job. People need me, people depend on me. I keep this city safe. I won’t drop it all just for you.” He shouted back. 

“Just for me, are you serious? Do I really mean that little to you, that you’d choose your own self destructive tendencies over me?” You’re crying now, tears are running down your face as you look at him. “I need you too, Katsuki.” You mumble, looking up at him.

Fuck. He looks exhausted and you’re sure that you don’t look any better, especially not after all of the crying you’ve been doing. But it’s clear that the long hours he’s been working have taken a serious toll on him and it makes you sob just a bit harder. 

His head is in his hands now as he says, “Shit y/n I didn’t mean that. I just-” But before he can finish you stop him. 

“I can’t watch you implode like this, I can’t stand by while you do this to yourself. I was so stupid to think that you’d actually change. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still that same impulsive, stubborn little kid that you were in highschool.” He knows you don’t mean it, he can tell by the fatigue that’s evident in your voice. You’re done. You’re clearly just grasping for straws at this point. There’s no fight left in you anymore and it’s all his fault. Fuck, of course he ended up pushing away the one person who’s remained consistently by his side.

The person who makes him lunch, who reminds him to take care of himself. Who always texts him on patrol asking him how he is no matter how late it is. He can’t let you leave, he just can’t. He wants to scream, he wants to fucking cry, he wants to let himself crash and burn and he doesn’t want you picking up the pieces. He just wants to be left alone but there’s a part of him that needs you more than the air that he breathes. And that part of him just can’t allow you to go. 

He’s taken you for granted, he knows that. He knew that his rise to the top would put a strain on your relationship but he had convinced himself that he would be able to figure it out. I mean of course he would, Bakugo Katsuki can do anything. Right? Anything except for preventing himself from getting completely and utterly blindsided by his own goals apparently. 

You’re grabbing your keys to walk out and take a breather but then he stands up, abruptly grabbing your arm.

You look up at him in mild shock. “Bakugou what are you-” 

“Don’t go.” He says, and it comes out as a quiet whisper. “Please don’t go, I’m sorry. Okay? I am so fucking sorry, just please don’t leave.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so desperate.

He looks down, lets your wrist drop. And now he’s just waiting for you to say anything, anything at all. You sigh, dropping your keys back down onto the table. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He echoes back as his head comes up and you see that his eyes are full of tears. 

You step forward taking him into your arms and he buries himself into your chest as you stroke his back. You inhale that familiar caramel scent that always seems to linger around him, a scent that reminds you of home, a scent that never fails to make you melt into his arms. He makes you feel so at home whenever you’re near him, you just want to hold onto him forever. You open your mouth and just as you’re about to say something to him he pulls away, pausing for a moment.

“I know.” He says quietly. “I know that it’s been hard for you. It’s just that no matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve it’s just that. Fuck. It’s never enough.” There are tears falling from his eyes. His long lashes are coated in the salty drops of water that won’t stop cascading down his face as he continues, “I get into this insane mindset that I could just be doing everything better, that I could be stronger, that I need to try harder. And I end up pushing you away. I end up hurting you and it’s not fair to you and I’m just really tired.” His voice cracks as he finishes and all you want right now is to take away everything that’s weighing on him and put the burden on yourself. 

Really that’s all you’ve ever wanted, just to make him hurt a little less. Because seeing him like this makes your heart ache. How could he ever think that he was anything less than good enough? Katsuki Bakugou is a star. And sometimes his light is blinding and it overwhelms you. But he’s also capable of illuminating everyone and everything around him. And he needs to know how important he is. 

You close the distance between the two of you and you swipe your thumb under his eyes hoping to clear away his tears. Your hand lingers for a moment and then you cup his face. “You are good enough. I get that it’s hard, I know how much pressure you put on yourself. But I need you to know that I see it. Even if no one else does. I see how much of yourself you’re putting into your job, I see how deeply you care.”

 He’s staring at you, practically dumbfounded. But then his eyes soften, “Thank you. Thank you for seeing me.” It comes out almost as a sigh, like he’s finally able to let go of the air that his lungs have been holding in for the past half-hour. His shoulders relax and your hands find their way into his hair as you bring him into your chest once again, mumbling into his hair. “How could I not see you? You’re too bright to ignore.”

[bumblingbabooshka]

Elieth.

_ “I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

“It’s fine,” B’Elanna said. “We’re both going the same way.”

The Klingon woman was walking with him through the quiet city streets. They were both on their way to the transport station and Tuvok had decided to walk rather than ride with anyone else. The fresh air would be…beneficial. 

It was surprisingly calm for a city at night. Even on Vulcan, nighttime was usually when the city came to life. Tuvok glanced up at the sky, looking for stars, and found only a swath of smooth black interrupted by jagged buildings.

“B’Elanna.”

The woman straightened. “Yes?”

“Have you ever heard the word pelrinah?” 

B’Elanna nodded. “Yeah, it’s Terrelian right? For gotcha.”

Tuvok narrowed his eyes. “Forgatcha?”

B’Elanna gestured but Tuvok didn’t know how to interpret it. He was still intoxicated and it was dark. He could only really see her in the lights from the businesses they passed.

“You know…um…gotcha! Like, fooled you.”

Tuvok blinked, turning forward once again.

B’Elanna smiled. “Did someone play a prank on you?”

“It would seem so,” Tuvok said thoughtfully.

“Maybe you should get them back,” B’Elanna suggested.

“I believe it would be in poor taste given the person in question is either in hospice or-” he paused, remembering that Terrelians did not have graves or funerals. He remembered the red bag. What did they do with their dead, if they didn’t bury them? 

“It just hits you sometimes, huh?” B’Elanna asked.

Tuvok tilted his head.

B’Elanna continued. “I’ll just be walking along, minding my own business and suddenly it’ll crash onto me like a ton of bricks aimed right for my chest; oh, she’s dead. He’s dead. They’re all dead.”

“You’re referring to the Maquis,” Tuvok guessed.

B’Elanna hummed in affirmation. “I know you probably don’t care about them but they were my friends. They were like family to me, really.”

“On the contrary, I believe that any loss of life is unfortunate.” Tuvok looked at the woman’s hazy profile. She seemed strangely energetic. From what he remembered of her she’d usually been somewhat agitated, frowning, she’d most often seemed…upset. Dissatisfied. He’d expected her to be even more so after ending her marriage to Tom Paris.

“Though I do not ‘care’ in the way you might feel is warranted, I do appreciate that their loss is not something to celebrate.”

B’Elanna exhaled, perhaps laughing. “Thanks Tuvok.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes and it occurred to Tuvok that they’d never really spoken like this aboard Voyager. There had never been any occasion for them to. When they spoke there had always been a reason or some sort of pressure behind it.

He stumbled and held out his hand to stop B’Elanna from touching him. She held hers up and backed away, watching him carefully as he continued on.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked after a moment.

“You are free to do as you please,” Tuvok replied.

“Great, well…” she hesitated and stilled as if considering whether or not she’d like to speak while sedentary but then began to move again, even faster. Tuvok kept up with her pace.

“Sometimes when I think of them it’s that thing I said before. The bricks and the sadness and the…the hollow feeling. Like, ‘what’s the point?’ where nothing has meaning anymore.”

Tuvok remembered the ex-lieutenant’s past troubles. Kathryn had been disturbed by her self-destructive tendencies and Chakotay had been frightened. Tuvok had not understood why a living being would intentionally seek to injure itself. In truth he still didn’t but he understood the mindset that B’Elanna was speaking about; the urge to do nothing, to stop and stay down. 

Unlike her however, he did not desire to feel anything.

“People get that,” B’Elanna continued. “People are sympathetic about that but then there are things they aren’t quite so sympathetic about. Like the anger.”

“Anger?” Tuvok asked, avoiding a puddle. It had begun to snow. It reminded him of ash.

B’Elanna shook her head. “It’s horrible but sometimes I think if I could see them again all I’d do is scream. It’d be all I could do to keep from wringing their necks; How could you do this to me? What were you thinking? Nothing in the universe was more important to me than your life and you threw it away for some ideal that never took hold.” 

When Tuvok didn’t respond she brushed her hair out of her eye. She’d let it curl a bit. “The ones in jail thought I’d berate them for being cowards. I said I’d rather be friends with a live coward than a dead idealist. Some days I don’t know if I believe that, others…”

The snow began to come down harder and B’Elanna sighed, muttering about the weather on Earth. Tuvok held out his hand and let a snowflake hold against his skin, melting slowly. 

“Neat trick,” B’Elanna said.

Tuvok wondered where Elieth was.

“Look, I know I’m getting all…” a frazzled hand gesture. “A lot with you right now but I just thought maybe you could use someone. I know you’re Vulcan and all but…the captain feels too guilty to even face you, Chakotay’s gone, Seven’s gone and the rest of them don’t really know what to say. I mean, I don’t either but…”

Tuvok turned his hand over and thought about the ashes sitting in an urn of T’Pel’s making. She had worked tirelessly for several days while Tuvok slept or attempted to meditate before sleeping once again. He remembered Wari’s effigy.

“It is important that I move past this,” Tuvok asserted.

“Your son’s death? I think even Vulcans-”

“You know nothing of Vulcans,” Tuvok said icily before lowering his hand. “I am not…processing my grief as I should. It should not be so…present.”

Several nights he had laid awake in bed, aching. The longer the ache lasted the more fright chased after him, attempting to devour him whole. He was frightened of how much he was grieving. Vulcans could not allow themselves to become victims of their emotions. It could kill them. He was well aware of this, having nearly died from the shon-ha’lock in his youth: the burning, being engulfed by the flames of affection. 

This was a different sort of engulfment. It was weighty and draining and whenever he slept there was a voice in the back of his mind that told him this time it might be forever and that always brought with it a…relief.

“You’re right,” B’Elanna said, voice slightly rougher than it’d been previously. “I don’t know anything about Vulcans or how you’re feeling- or not feeling right now. But despite everything, we’re friends. And because we’re friends I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

She looked up at a passing hovercar. Snow was sticking to her hair but it melted the moment it touched her skin. “...You’re a good father. You care about your kids in your own way and if I ever lost Miral I know it’d be the end of the world to me. That’s all I know. The rest I can’t imagine.”

She looked at him and quickly wiped her eyes, clearing her throat. She’d always been overly sensitive. “You’ve probably heard this too much but I have to say it. I’m sorry, Tuvok. I’m so sorry.”

“Elieth-” Tuvok started before knowing how he was going to finish his sentence. “I did not feel his death. He shut us all out from his mind the moment he decided to forgo evacuation. He did not leave his katra behind or it did not come to me. The ash Starfleet gathered for our mantle holds nothing of him.”

Tuvok’s eyes burned. He tilted his head. It felt as if he were observing his body from another, detached, perspective. He disliked the weak creature he had become since his experiences in the Delta quadrant. He had no control over himself. Though the world had stopped spinning he was still stumbling and acting like a fool.

“One moment he existed. On Deneva, within my mind, and the next he did not and there is nothing but…absence, to confirm that he lived at all.” 

B’Elanna didn’t speak but she stepped closer to Tuvok as he sat down on a bench. His head was in his hands. She was blocking him from view.

“Elieth…” Tuvok began again, voice low as the snow came down around them; the vigilant Klingon and the Vulcan with tears in his eyes. “...I wonder if he sang.” _ This is a snippet of 'Tuvok: Patron Saint of Love' which you can read in full as a member of my patr*on (any tier) or on my itch*io! I hope you enjoyed regardless!

[reality-inflicted]

This is a photo with more personal than artistic value (not saying that any of my photography has any of the former, but one can on the rare occasion hope that someone likes what I like). Somewhere in Nashville, Tennessee there is a little park. That park has, or at least it did about ten years ago, a little stage. On that little stage was the most askew little bench I've ever seen. And I loved it. I've never read a book about photography. I started out with a cheap ass little PoS-camera – i aimed it in the general direction of what I liked and I pressed the button. The camera did the rest.

After about a year or so i took money that I really didn't have and bought a small camera that I would bring with me on a trip to China. The plan was to write an article on the trip and to get it published and at least get some of the money back. I did actually manage to sell the articles (there were two of them), but the photos weren't taken with the new camera that I'd bought. On the second day of trip I got absolutely shit-faced in a drinking contest with a retired Major in the Chinese army and consequently lost the camera somewhere in a dark alley. Not a great success. I eventually bought a new camera for more money that I did not have. The last time I saw that it popped up was in a random plastic bag, a forgotten memento of forgotten times. I'd somehow managed to keep the camera though, which was a bit of a step forward I guess. As I geared up to go on my trip to the US, during which this photo was taken, i bought yet another camera I couldn't really afford. True to form I got shitfaced yet again on my second night, this time in San Francisco – a city notoriously unforgiving for drunken tourists. The camera, together with my headphones and some cash vanished. Luckily I'd managed to transfer the photos I'd taken previously onto an external hard drive (now sadly defunct and the photos – again – lost to time). I still had to buy another camera that I couldn't afford to document the remainder of my trip.

I have since lost that camera as well due to being shitfaced. As can be deducted I've had a very long and not very glamorous relationship with alcohol, however I am happy to report that I haven't lost anything to being shitfaced for quite some time now, which is always a bonus. I'd been toying with the idea of cutting down on the drinking before I went on the trip to the US (it will be ten years come December next year) but it would take about four or five more years before I finally felt shitty enough to go through with it. Alcoholism takes many forms – I was in no way drinking every day. But when I did it was always difficult to contain oneself to "just a few beers" resulting in increasingly self-destructive behaviour. What finally pushed me over the edge was the realization that I'd become that which I despise the most – my father. When he got drunk he turned into an absolute asshole and I started to see the same tendencies in myself or, rather, I came to accept that I showed those tendencies and I. Really. Did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit.

So I quit. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol for almost three years. Not that it did any good for my inherent ability to loose things. I still forgot headphones and laptops, but – increasingly – I noticed that I could find them again. In the hangover is a quiet despair, a disgusting apathy, that prevent you from handling even the easiest of tasks.

Today I have the occasional beer. Or a glass of wine with dinner once in a while. I can handle that – I know that some people can't and I place no judgement in that. I like to think, however, that I am at least a little bit of a better, albeit a bit more lonesome person. But that is ok. I like being alone. Like the bench above, all crooked like.

[hell-drabbles]

Your fics are probably one of the few things keeping me in the fandom now and I honestly have a lot of questions so I hope you don't mind. Since the Halloween event where Minhyeok turns into a devil by Satan kissing him to transfer a bit of his power into him when we pull for white hair Minhyeok, he is said to be in Satan's camp. And after my ask and you said something about dying and going back to being alive again, do you think a pact/contract/seal from a specific king is needed for Minhyeok to turn into a devil and become that king's servant? Because I just think it can't be all that Minhyeok can turn into a devil only by just dying like there has to be something else like with Companion.

If he becomes a devil he already has to serve a king he makes a contract and be in Hell without coming to Earth to his family anymore (I think he will live with Ppyong cause the red lump did make that offer). Also after becoming a devil will Minhyeok still gonna be a simp for Raon? Will their relationship turn more toxic (that sounds very likely)? Or will he just put himself in the same hole as Raon like other devils before getting out like them? What would the Companion's opinions on the whole thing? Will they just gonna cut ties with Minhyeok and Raon at some point? Without Companion being in their right mind anymore after their angel's transformation, Minhyeok and Raon are for sure gonna become even more of a mess.

Sorry for asking too much but I think fiction that makes you question a lot is great, it keeps you there and contemplates, your fics do it for me so they're really amazing.

Hehehehe it's a habit of mine to read things that are lacking or very disappointing and just, turn them into reader inserts and also tweak them in a way that would be enjoy for me. You have no idea how many other obscure webcomics, manga and other things I've did that with. It's fun for me, and it's fun to just, drag people into the pit I'm in when there's little Fandom. It's fun! I'm serious when I say I write for real obscure things.

Hmm let's see, I have an floating around in my head. If Minhyeok has the intention of becoming a demon, and he makes a contract for that to happen, I feel the other devil kings will make it a bitch for him to become one. Minhyeok is about the only string that's keeping Ra-on from fully converting into Hell, and with his presence here, he serves as a constant reminder to Ra-on about how much he wants to come home.

Now, onto the contract making with the devil kings and how that would go.

Sure, the easy solution would just be give Minhyeok what he wants and fully turn him into a demon, but, again, the thought of just giving him what he wants without at least some entertainment on their end just isn't in their nature. So, if Minhyeok wants to become a demon, he'll probably have to injure himself for it. You know, as proof of Minhyeok's conviction. What they weren't expecting was Minhyeok's capacity of self-harm for the sake of taking care of others that are in very clear distress. He coddles Ra-on and it's infuriating, and what makes it even more irritating is how Minhyeok is willing to run himself to the ground to take care of everyone. Certainly, Ra-on takes priority, but given the chance, he would not say no to the Companion also shutting themselves up in his house.

So anyway, Minhyeok's decision to become a devil is meant to be the peak of his self destructive tendencies. He's willing to throw away all of his humanity and be forever bound to Hell if it meant he can take care of his childhood friends in that moment.

I feel that originally, Minhyeok only approached Satan with this idea since he shared power with him once, so his chances of getting something out of this were a little higher than anyone else. But then the other devils hear about it, and then they're all hit with the fact that, depending on who Minhyeok ends up serving, that's the devil Ra-on is going to be spending time with the most.

So... yeah, most of them are probably going to fight over who gets to be the one to turn Minhyeok into a devil. Which is funny to me.

And then I'll probably do a twist of irony where Lucifer ends up winning somehow, probably talking some sense to him like "Do you think, in the state they're in now, that they would recognize you if you were to become a devil?" So the deal changes from Minhyeok turning into a devil, and more someone that ends up healing real fast. But then he dies, because the Companion is ruthless in their berserk state. And so Minhyeok is revived. But he dies again. Then is revived. It happens, over and over again, and it makes one question how many times can a human be revived by a devil without said human being unaltered. Either way, the idea here is that each revival changes Minhyeok a little bit until it can't be reversed.

In the end, Minhyeok gets what he wants, at the expense of his ability to go home, to go back to everything that he knows.

So anyway, yeah he's still coddling Ra-on on hand and foot. And, of course, without the Companion to be the voice of reason and hand of of discipline, the dynamic that Ra-on and Minhyeok have would devolve into something a whole lot worse. It goes from "let's go back home when everything's over," to "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it, no matter where you are." Completely and utterly sucked into the world they're building for themselves, indulgent in all their worst vices.

Alrighty alrighty, what would the Companion think of it all, after everything they've been through. The funny part about it is that the Companion was ready to cut ties way back at the start. They gave themselves a deadline and if things don't start to change at least a little bit by that time, then they're packing their bags and leaving. But, of course, Hell comes and swallows them after the angels come in, so that put a damper on things.

The Companion is stubborn and wants things to go their way. They want for all of them to go home first, and then continue with the plan with cutting ties, because at least then they're not at risk of losing their lives to an angel attack. So if Minhyeok shows signs of missing the human world, of missing his family and wanting to go home, then they can breathe for a moment, regardless if he's a devil or not. The chances of Minhyeok going home are minuscule, but they're just as small as the Companion going home.

So, really, the only way for the Companion to truly cut ties with Minhyeok and Ra-on is when they imply they're happier here than the human world, when they do things that show how much they're slowly starting to devalue the human world they're born in. When all they're focusing on is the flaws of the human world, and how nice this world of Hell is, that's when the Companion just cut ties. No warning, no prompt on their part. They're just done. They want nothing to do with them anymore. There's no point.

But yeah, that be the idea. Seems like something fun and angsty.

Also, I'm kind of sleepy, so if there's any information here that's contradictory, whoooops.

[hoodoo12]

Rock and Roll (4/?)

NSFW. Dewey Finn x OC

It'd be so easy to let Mora be the aggressor. Already she'd been satisfied with kissing him and had moved on to his neck. He could only imagine the little marks she made on his skin and how he'd have to cover them before the students saw them maybe a scarf like old school Mick Jagger--

Dewey gave an involuntary yelp when Mora's teeth found a bit more purchase. Before she could apologize, or worse yet stop completely, he caught her again and planted his mouth on hers once more. 

her mouth tasted of smoke and booze I can't get enough, it's never enough

Unbidden, song lyrics came to life in his head. He'd have to find the right notes to convey to an audience what he was feeling--

Goddamn it, Finn! Stop getting lost in your own dumb head and just do this! the primal animal inside him demanded. 

At the next natural pause, after he'd chased Mora's tongue with his own and they panted a little, he forced himself to man up.

"Mora," he said--he'd use her name in the song. Should he use her name? Yeah, totally, "this is so hot. You're so hot! I wanna do this--I mean! I wanna do you--oh shit, that sounded bad! I mean, I want to . . .  see where this goes? But it's . . . it's been a while and--and I'm not gonna last long. Unless? You have a rubber? I don't carry them--I mean I don't have one with me, 'cause, 'cause, well . . ."

Somehow he'd set and bumbled into a trap he designed himself. He'd all but admitted he was basically a two-pump chump who never expected to get laid.

With how much hot and heavy making out they were doing, she was thankful his facial hair wasn't so short it would give her a rash but also not so long it got in the way. Despite his less than suave women skills, Dewey was a damn good kisser. Mora ignored the butterflies that were increasing in quantity in the pit of her stomach. 

They parted, just slightly to take a breather and she met his eyes. It looked like his mind was going a mile a minute until he finally managed some words.

Oh. Oh, right. Condoms.

If a guy didn't ask to use one, she wouldn't bring it up. No one ever asked. "Felt better" or something.

For someone who was very pro-proper sex education, she did not tend to apply the same rules to her own life.  Just another line on her Self Destructive Tendencies List. 

He didn't need to know that, though.

She tried not to look taken off guard and just gave a small nod. "Y-yeah! I have some. One sec." Mora tumbled off his lap and scurried to her room, closing the door behind her. There was only one place they would be if she did have them. 

"Shit, shit, shit...." She whispered to herself and she rifled through the drawer of her side table, she pushed past her sex toys and their instruction manuals. At the bottom was two condoms attached to each other. Quickly, she checked the expiration date and sighed in relief. She mentally thanked whatever god or deity was watching.

Mora left him sitting naked on her couch as she raced from the room. Dewey took a moment to try and calm himself. 

'Okay, okay, Finn--she wants you. She went to her bedroom and didn't invite you but that's okay, a bedroom is too intimate for a kinda drunk hook up. That's okay. That's okay.'

He hoped repeating the word okay would make it real.

'We can stay here on the couch. I want her on top of me. Do I tell her that? Does it make me seem lazy? Like I expect her to do all the work? Oh christ, what if she wants me on top of her?! Wait, that might be better--I'm gonna finish in like two seconds and then she'd be in the perfect position for me to go down on her. Will she let me? Will she be pissed I get off so quick and then kick me out?"

Before any of the hypotheticals could wind themselves more tightly, Mora was back with a triumphant air. She shoved two condoms--ribbed for her pleasure!--into his hand and plopped back down beside him to wait. 

Mora exited her room quietly and found her place back on the couch with Dewey. She handed him one and played with his hair while she waited for him to get situated.

Her fingers carding through his hair was welcome and distracting. Now that she'd produced what would overcome the final barrier--hahaha, should he tell her that?--to the end result of all this, Dewey's nerves made themselves known in the tremble of his fingers as he worked to open the package.

The rubber was lubed. That was good because he hadn't done anything to make sure she was prepared for this. Oh god, he was the worst--

Somehow he rolled the thing over his dick. Being encased dulled some sensation, which was going to help. Turning back to Mora, hoping to sound more confident and less worried, he said, 

"So . . . lady's choice . . . ?" His voice trailed off into more of a question than he'd intended.

The mop of hair on his head was a little damp with sweat. She pushed away some pieces that were stuck on his forehead and went back to twirling the locks at the top. His hair was softer than hers and she wanted to punch him for that.

Once he was finished, their eyes met again. 

In the midst of her own anxiety, she had forgotten to invite him into her bedroom. Maybe for the best, it was a little messy but if he was going to stay the night then he would have to see it one way or another...

She hadn't stayed the night with a boy in over a year. Part of her hoped he would. Sleeping alone sucked.

Oh, right. There was a person sitting in front of her.

She shifted and swung a leg over him to straddle his lap. Sort of how they were before. On a couch, this was probably the best position. She hovered over him for a moment before slowly lowering herself, each inch descending into her. She moaned in an exhale, keep the grip her hands had on his shoulders steady. She waited for him to move on her own accord as to not overwhelm him.

The way she just made a decision blew his mind. Dewey automatically took her waist as she threw a leg over his. She even kept facing him! Her tits were right there!

Holding the base of his cock steady and to soothe the anxiety in his brain the condom was going to slip off or something, he groaned as Mora sank on to him. His jaw loosened to the point of looking comical but he couldn't help himself. Even the dulling effect of rubber didn't prevent him from moaning as she settled fully into his lap. 

"Oh fuuuuck," he wheezed.

Mora had stopped. Her hands on his shoulder were tight and her moan, full of pleasure and still with an odor of booze and weed, made his cock jump. Dewey stretched upward to kiss her again. He needed another taste of her, he couldn't be without it--

His movement rocked her too, sending spikes of bliss through his core. As if that was the spark that ignited the primitive section of his brain, he rolled his hips for more friction, even as his lips met hers.

It took a moment for them to adjust to the new sensations of each other. They were both very capable of keeping a steady beat which helped with their rhythm so once they got it going, it was smooth sailing into euphoria.

Mora and Dewey attached at the mouth again. They were sloppy, open mouthed kisses but she didn't mind. It added to it. Each swipe of their tongues tasted like alcohol and yearning.

As she rocked her hips, her clit rubbed up against the base of his pubic area and it felt heavenly. Dewey certainly a little cushion for the pushin'.

"D-Dewey... Oh, my god..." Mora mumbled against his lips, her brows furrowing slightly as she focused on their movements and the feeling on the most sensitive part of her body. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders harder, creating crescent shaped red marks.

Her lips on his, her words slipping into his mouth like secrets, the sweet rock and roll the push and pull--Dewey lost himself in it. 

Some guys were good with dirty talk. He was not. At most he could utter an occasional "yes" and "fuck", but during the act the friction of his body and a woman's eroded the higher brain function needed for speech. It may worry him at other times but right now, with so much pleasure radiating through him, he couldn't care. 

Mora's fingernails added a sharp counterpoint to that pleasure, not distracting but sharpening it. Dewey felt her flesh indent with the grip he had on her waist. He may not be actually lifting her and setting her back onto his dick, but the illusion was there. 

When Mora's expression shifted to concentration, as she made subtle movements that obviously felt good to her, he wanted to capitalize on it. One hand unglued itself from her side and went to her tit, cupping it, rubbing his thumb over her nipple, before holding it steady so her could lean forward and capture it with his mouth. The skin around her nipple was a different texture, giving him a target, and he used a combination of suction and light pressure with his teeth to tease her.

Deliberately shifting his attention to this made it a little easier to forcibly ignore the fact that in less than a minute he was going to explode.

They started to pick up a rhythm, despite only knowing each other's bodies for a couple hours. It wasn't perfect but the groove was there. Now that they had that, all the other pieces could fall into place.

It was game over when he started sucking on her nipples. Modesty had flown out the window and speaking of,  her neighbors definitely could hear them at this point. The window had been cracked slightly in the kitchen to air out the smell of the dinner she attempted to make her earlier.

Mora moaned, her volume increasing drastically. She let him suck and nibble at the flesh until she could feel herself getting close. Her hands tangled themselves into his hair and she began to grip and pull. She tugged his hair back, so that he was looking to the ceiling and kissed him hard and sloppy, not caring about precision in her orgasmic state.

"Oh my god, Dewey... holy fucking shit... Dewey, I'm so close..." She mumbled between kisses. She trailed her lips down his bearded jawline to his neck and bit softly. She yanked his hair again. "I know you're close too. It's okay, I want you to cum. Cum for me, Dewey."

It would send them both over the edge, surely.

The couch under them announced its protest in being subject to this vigorous activity with squeaks that were anything but subtle. The moans from Mora were more delicious knowing his mouth on her tits were the cause. 

It was a shock, then, when her fingers migrated from his shoulders to his hair and she yanked his head back. Before he could protest or even utter a one syllable, "ow!" her mouth was on his, her tongue delving between his lips. She left a wide trail of wet from the corner of his mouth to under his jaw. Through it she never stopped rocking on top of him. She should be a percussionist with all her multi-tasking skills. 

Speaking of which--the grip she had on his hair and her directing his head distracted him enough to stop focusing on his dick for precious seconds. Her grip on his hair provided a counterbalance that, while just that side of being painful, made the pleasure that much sharper. 

Dewey groaned, louder than ever, and if he could have formed words he'd have sluttily asked for a little more of that, please--

Mora tugged back as if she'd read his thoughts, and her semi-growled order undid him. 

With an embarrassing wheeze instead of a cry, Dewey came on one of her up thrusts. When she completed the motion to settle back into his lap, he managed an opened mouth moan at the additional sensation even through the rubber.

At the height of their crescendo, the coil of pleasure that had built up in her belly has finally snapped. She buried her face in his neck, her moans getting caught in her throat as she clenched and released around him. Dewey's own release was a direct causation of Mora's. Hearing him moan and go weak underneath her, knowing it was from her - because of her, made her feel on top of the world.

But, with every orgasm came the cumdown.

She was still besides her heaving chest. Her breath was hot against his neck as she tried to return to a normal inhale, exhale pattern. The weed was wearing off and the budding of a hangover was peaking through. There was odd feelings of guilt; maybe even anxiety. It happened every time and she internally scolded herself for not having a healthier relationship with sex.

She was officially in her head.

Without saying anything, she got off of Dewey and quickly stepped back into her underwear and bra. Mora headed to kitchen which was adjacent to the living room. She grabbed two glasses of water for the both of them and handed him one before sitting down beside him.

"Sorry about the, uh, hair pulling." She offered a small smile.

For an eternity of seconds everything in the world compressed to just the two of them in the most primal way. Dewey felt Mora loosen her grip out of his hair and returned the favor with his own hands--his fingers felt locked into place on her for a moment--and the only sounds in the room were their off-rhythm pantings.

He'd have stayed just like that for as long as she'd allow, but without a word Mora extracted herself out of his lap. Still silent, she got dressed and turned her back on him, heading towards her kitchen.

Dewey sat stunned. Not because he was still loopy and out of breath from the unexpected sex--although that played a part--but because Mora'd been nothing but warm and bold before and now she just . . . walked away. Like this had been a mistake.

Quickly he pulled the soiled condom off and then didn't know where to put it. Keeping it in his palm he hiked himself into his briefs again and wormed into his shirt, then still didn't know what to do with the squishy rubber in his hand. Mora returned with two glasses of water and he sat down again.

He accepted the offered glass and took a drink as she sank onto the cushions.

"Oh. That! It was--no problem. I kinda . . . liked it?" he stumbled. "It, uh . . . I like a woman who knows what she wants and just does it."

Oh god. Did he just call her a bitch? To cover his ineptitude, Dewey took another swallow of water.

Despite the thick, humid air they created, Mora felt a little exposed in just her underwear. With a little tug, the blanket on the arm of the couch engulfed her lap. She took a sip of her water and set it down on the coffee table.

A grin spread on her lips as Dewey stumbled on his words. Funny how his dick was just inside of her but now he was struggling to compliment her.

"In that case, I don't care whether or not you liked it." She laughed and added: "I'm kidding. I'm glad you liked it. 

"And for the record, that was really good." She reached out and put a hand on his thigh. And kept it there. It was then that she noticed he was still holding onto the condom.

"You keeping that as a souvenir?" Mora giggled and nodded to the other arm of the couch. "There should be a garbage can underneath the side table there."

The booze and weed were mostly replace with adrenaline and endorphins from the sex. Her crash would be any minute now if she got too comfortable.

"You're more than welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Dewey jumped a little at Mora's sharper tone, then relaxed as she laughed. Her praise made him blush, which became a full on sunburn as she pointed out the soiled rubber he still had palmed in his hand. 

"Oh, uh . . . just keeping my DNA sample," he tried to joke weakly. He hated to move out from under her hand on his thigh, but did anyway to not seem more creepy than normal. He tossed it at the garbage can she mentioned and was eternally grateful it went in on the first try. 

Mora's offer to stay . . . was it just polite? No, he quickly decided. She was nothing but straightforward, and if she wanted him gone he was sure she'd tell him in no uncertain terms. 

He was getting tired. And tomorrow was Sunday, so he had no excuse that he needed to be up early. There were a few lesson plans to type up he had for homework, but he never did those in the mornings anyway. Mora looked like her eyes were getting a little heavy too. If he stayed, he could make her breakfast! Well, buy her breakfast. Well, have it ubered in.

"That. Yeah. That'd be nice," he agreed. "I can crash here on the couch, or . . .?"

Usually, she would kick her one night stands out after they finished up, claiming she had to be up early for work. That was partly true except, she always made sure the next day was a day she had off. 

This would be the first time Mora had anyone spend the night since she moved into this apartment six months prior. After the band broke up, she decided to take a break from boys in general. Being the only female in the band was lots of cons and no pros.

But Dewey was different. He was kind and unassuming. "Wouldn't hurt a fly" type. She didn't worry about what he might do once she closed her eyes and drifted off. Between robbery, murder, and unwanted advances, she couldn't see Dewey being the kind to try any.

"You don't wanna sleep on this ol thing." She patted the couch beneath them. "It's alright for fucking but not for sleeping. You'll wake up with a broken back."

Getting up, she stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "You can sleep with me in my room, silly. I've got a queen, so we'll be plenty comfortable."

Mora started towards the bedroom she had previously entered. Inside, was pretty much what could be expected for a goth girl's bedroom. It wasn't super tidy but it wasn't dirty. Just a little messy. Clothes on the floor, makeup items all over her vanity and not in the drawer. Her laptop was open and on her bed.

Welp. Clearly, she wasn't expecting company.

She laughed nervously. "Heh. Sorry  'bout the mess. I promise it's not usually like this."

It was.

She crawled into bed, closed the laptop and placed it on one of her side tables. Once she was comfortable, she lifted to blanket to invite him in. Her smile was sleepy and warm.

Mora's bedroom looked lived in. That made him feel more comfortable; someone who had a completely tidied place made him anxious. Dewey worried too much about making a mess or screwing something up--or god forbid, breaking something. This actually reminded him of his room, minus the rock posters papering the walls. 

Oh, and the makeup on her dresser. That added a little feminine touch that he found embarrassingly arousing. 

Mora was obviously tired, so there was no way he was going to give any indication his dick was taking notice again. He smiled, shook his head, and shrugged at her little self-depreciating laugh. Carefully he picked his way across the floor and slid under the blanket beside her. 

The mattress wasn't anything like his, which was going to take a moment to get used to. Everything smelled like Mora, which he'd also get used to, but that was much more inviting. He rolled over on his side to face her, wondering if she wanted to talk some more or if staring at her was going to be super creepy. Best just to pretend he was asleep. Then he'd look less stalkerish, more normal, less like a horndog with his dick semi-hard again--

--somewhere after closing his eyes to feign sleep, Dewey actually did.

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / anonymous / accepting !

╰┈➤ 1 . does your muse blame themselves for their trauma?

||. As is ever the case with Thor Odinson, the short answer is still, in itself, complicated. Ultimately the answer is, in my personal opinion, yes , though Thor is an incredibly introspective person, and so he can be self-aware enough of himself and his family situation to see it plainly for what it was. Thor is not a doormat. But whether or not he fully commits to acting on what he's feeling, and thinking based that awareness is its own issue. One mostly steeped in how Thor views himself and partly how he views his own family (specifically: he views them all with blinding rose-colored glasses ESPECIALLY once they've died, regardless of the damage they've caused him).

For some context on what I mean, by "how Thor views himself", I mean that he is shown to have something of an atlas complex (also known as: superman complex, savior/hero syndrome, codependency). Everything comes down to him. He's the strongest, so he'll do it. He can outlive and outlast, so he'll endure. He's the eldest, so it's his responsibility. So on and so forth very often times coming out as "I will solve this problem for you" statements most notably with Jane Foster. He takes failure personally, especially when other people are at stake, or the collateral. And he will hold himself accountable for tragedies beyond his control at length. In "The Avengers" and a deleted scene in "Thor: Ragnarok" he actively and repeatedly lumps himself in with his family (aka his father and siblings, mostly), and their catastrophic, destructive actions and pasts — both of which are things that thor himself actually hasn't partaken to any large degree (unless we count the failed Jotunheim heist and even that he WAS going to bail on before his temper got the best of his judgement.) He proceeds to call them (his family) "bilge snipe", while using the terms "we" (denotating himself as part of the issue) and proceeds to call the metaphorical bilge snipe "repulsive". He does this again in Ragnarok while telling Banner that "we're cursed to fight amongst ourselves while everyone else suffers for it"), meaning his opinions on the matter have not changed since 2012.

And by "blinding rose colored glasses" I mean that Thor has another tendency to see the good in people, partly in nature and partly deliberately, especially when seeking it out. And he does this especially when it comes to his family, and he will justify their actions by trying to step into their shoes even when it may not always be appropriate. (//gestures at literally all of thor: ragnarok and how he still idolizes his father to an obscene degree thankstaika re: "i'm not as strong as you", and even further back to the way thor speaks to odin in thor 2011 at the end of his banishment re: "there will never be a wiser king than you or a better father". He also idolizes Loki in "The Dark World" with the line "loki, for all of his grave imbalance, understood rule as i know i never will" and to a lesser degree does this with Frigga in the same film "she saved us all, a thousand times.")

From a slightly more psychological perspective:

The long and short of it is that it is much easier to blame yourself for things that hurt you that were beyond yourself. Especially when you can't understand it, or didn't deserve it. Especially when they come from someone you hold in high esteem, and hold a lot of love for. Like caregivers and family. In a twisted way, it grants the guilt-bearer some level of CONTROL over their emotions and their situation that they did not have in the moment the hurt occurred. If you're can blame yourself, then you're at fault. If you're at fault, then you can feel guilty, and if you're guilty, then you can atone. You can actively work to make up for it. ( "By blaming ourselves, we maintain the perception that we’re still in control of the situation and ultimately safe -even when we’re not." - rosscenter.com) This is especially critical in children who go through this sort of parental dysfunction and neglect. And the reason why I think this is not a development saved for his young adult -> adult years is because of exactly what we see on screen.

Thor comes from a family that is just as loving as it is toxic. His father was so good at being a wise king that he completely failed at being a good father. It's something Thor even calls out in "The Dark World" ("I'd rather be a good man than a great king") after speaking on how being king is losing who you are to politics and mind games and war. Odin as a parent, and Odin's overbearing, all-encompassing shadow of a legacy is what Thor's entire character arc was always about overcoming. His mother, Frigga, is by far the most decent of the bunch, but she is far from perfect. To pull from a previous meta on the subject, my opinion on frigga/thor is as follows: " [...] an unfortunate cycle in which [Frigga] spent SO MUCH ENERGY [...] making sure [Loki] felt seen/heard and had “some sun for himself” that she COMPLETELY neglected to see that her other son was in just as much pain as the youngest was [...] And only realized how estranged they had become when it was too late, and she couldn’t reach Thor anymore. (She also died before she could make it right.)"

His brother is arguably the person he was ever closest to (even among his friend group), up until his brother manipulated and betrayed his trust, killed him, attempted suicide in front of him, tried to take over earth as payback, tried to kill him again, rejected him outright, and then got put into jail.

Suffice it to say that while I think that Thor's issues stem from deep childhood trauma (and only ever further reenforced by the fact he ages so slowly), my dude's got some issues, and blaming himself for past trauma is definitely one of them. (When he can't get away with internalizing it and avoiding it any longer, anyways.) I do also think to a lesser degree this behavior does also count towards friends, just to a less extreme degree. With the main difference being: Thor adores his family. He wants to keep them close to him. He's incredibly protective of all of them. Which isn't to say he doesn't love his friends, because that would be the biggest lie. But friends come and go. Thor will always want to be a good friend, but he wants to be a good son even more than that. And so in cases of conflict with a friend and a peer, Thor will gladly and readily call out his friends for their bad behavior just as readily as he would also dismiss and justify their bad behavior towards himself. (you know like not checking in on him for five years in "endgame", apparently...)

[touchmycoat]

Temptation Tuesday oh I love it: a list of the ideas distracting you from your current WIP (tagged by @authenticaussie)

fic ideas pouring out my brain (all Only Friends TTT):

sequel to everyone bleeds, Sand catches Ray & Boeing at the hotel and has a Fucking Moment. Ray gets to see Sand's insecurities up close and personal.

Ep 12 fix-it where BostonNickBoeing bang at the club, Nick goes with Boston to the nye party, and Sand apologizes to Boston in front of the whole friend group about stealing the recording. This disrupts the "Boston needs to apologize to everyone" flow and Cheum gets competitive apologizes too for the Atom thing. BostonRay bff agenda, and as everyone gets progressively more drunk Mew also comes around. Ray and Mew catch Boston & Cheum up on the whole Boeing situation and Boston demands to see a pic. Nick is horrified he sucked Sand's ex's dick 'cause that's not Bro Code.

OF x Not Me crossover where once upon a time, Sand helps a random street artist escape pursuit by cops and as luck would have it, Dan's one of the arresting officers at the Halloween party. Problem is, Dan's more interested in shutting Sand up than taking Top's money so he finds an excuse to take Sand away (a la Dan just kidnapping Yok out of school & taking him to an abandoned building). This is where all my dark fantasies can go but point is, no good deed goes unpunished for Sand yet again and Ray has to contend with the fact that Sand's bearing the consequences for his recklessness.

Another Not Me crossover but it's just a Sand/Ray/Yok threesome, 'cause Sand trusts Yok and Ray deserves to be the filling in a First sandwich

OF x The Shipper crossover where Kim's working in heaven as *handwave* a junior in the Grace department (in exchange he gets to watch his loved ones grow old and move on, at least for a little bit, until he feels like he's got closure). He develops a little program based on A Christmas Carol and yoinks Ray to purgatory to show Ray past, present, and future: Sand's past with Boeing to explain why Sand reacted the way he did when Boeing came back into the picture; the present, some of the little things Sand does because of Ray that Ray doesn't know about; a vision of the future where eventually Ray's inability to exercise patience & self-destructive tendencies results in him really hurting Sand again. Ray gets frustrated at this point at Kim putting all this blame on him. Kim reveals that Sand's been his client this whole time, not Ray; it's Sand who needs a bit of grace. Ray's even more panicked at the prospect of failing Sand so he asks why Kim didn't just tell Sand all this instead of him. Cue Kim monologue about how he just wanted to prove something, how he'd immediately seen Sand was the type to stupidly carry the whole world on his shoulders and how he just wondered if someone Sand loved would be willing to share the burden.

Don't know if this would be a part of ^ fic or a separate relapse fic but Ray & Kim having a conversation about suicidal thoughts. Something about how Ray imagined his death would bring people relief vs. Kim imagining his death would bring about regret, very vindictive how does it feel to lose everything I do for you huh? vibes. And ultimately how both their thoughts stem out of the same desire: I wish I could stop. Ray wants to stop fucking up and disappointing his loved ones. Kim wanted to stop taking everything onto himself and resenting the world for it.

I don't fucking know I just have so much unresolved grief about Kim I want to rotate him

Tagging YOU who sees this (so I can scramble to a work meeting nsklfasjdbfksd)

[ina-nis]

What I feared is happening... kind of.

It’s been about a month I’ve completely cut off contact with the online peers I’ve been closest the most, and about a week since I’ve cut off my “safe” person.

It was hard until... it wasn’t. As if I lifted a weight off my shoulders, I’m not particularly bothered by anything and I’m trying to go out more often again, and especially: trying to treat myself (something I never really do normally).

It’s enjoyable and I don’t think about being alone. People outside walking or being together doesn’t trigger me anymore because I’m busy doing my own things to care about anyone other than me.

My mind isn’t foggy and I’m not extremely depressed or suicidal anymore. This is “progress” except... it isn’t really.

This is what I meant when I said “quitting” - in a way, I did quit. Despite my desire to have other people in my life, it’s too stressful and triggering, it makes me very lonely, so it’s understandable that once I’m actually by myself and not having to deal with triggers everywhere about everything, I can just let myself be and enjoy life.

Being carefree and having a more relaxed demeanor means I’m less susceptible to isolation and won’t go out of my way to avoid others. If I stop avoiding people, and am actually open to them, means... you can imagine what that means and where it ends... this is why I want to address this thing, so I stop getting caught in this self-destructive loop. I still don’t know how.

My absence and the fact that people in my life, unwillingly and unconsciously, ended up enabling my avoidance only make matters worse.

My brain had a blast shoving it in my face how unimportant I am to them - even when I was the one to walk away and tell them “I’m sick, I need to leave for a while”. No one was expecting a farewell, and it really doesn’t matter, does it? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to come back, the longer it goes, the harder it is to reconnect. I was never very capable of repairing severed bonds from which I have walked away and cut people off.

I know this is hideous and what I’m doing is selfish, as if I didn’t care about others’ feelings. I have to take care of myself and my own feelings, before I start thinking about others. This is even more true when it involves these self-destructive, suicidal tendencies of mine: I’ll keep myself alive, then I’ll worry about others. I cannot count on anyone but myself, because I’m the only one who will be available 24/7. I can reach out to others, but even that help is conditional. I need certainty regarding imminent risks and I can’t be 100% true there will be someone out there for me. I know I will.

Even if I am safe and can care for others’ feelings, my predicament remains: eventually I’ll burnout due to the frustration of not having my needs met, I’ll start resenting and will become progressively unhappy and depressed, then I’ll cut them off my life.

I cannot be there and comfort others over my own discomfort and discontentment - that’s the trap of selflessness, that it took me so long to be free from. There’s no point in being there for others, if I lose myself in the process. They can’t be there for me in a way to soothes my desire, so I lose them in the process.

Everything is fine now because I’m keeping away from people who were close to me. Deep inside, I hope they forget about me and that we become strangers once again.

The outcome is always the same, and that’s what I’m trying to change.

For now, I guess I should try enjoying life a little longer, trigger-free and without any pressure to meet expectations or perform relationships, until it happens again...

[mokutone]

@gertrudehatake replied to a post:

(I know it's two years later but) What kakashi was "doing" to be sorry about?

totally fine to ask a question two years later! honestly, i really don't feel like that comic did a good job of explaining itself, and i don't mind explaining for it, in its absence.

this is gonna be a bit of a long response because that comic was supposed to have a lot going on...but in practice...it doesn't hold up.

Basically, they're having a conversation beneath the words they're actually saying, as they do frequently when I write them. The "underneath" conversation they're having is as follows (TW for discussion of Kakashi's self destructive/suicidal tendencies):

TENZŌ: You're not protecting yourself in battle. You're letting yourself get hurt. I'm beginning to be afraid that you want to let yourself get hurt—maybe that you want to kill yourself.

KAKASHI, who doesn't want to talk about being suicidal: Maybe I don't. Maybe, I just trust you so much that I don't have to be as careful in the field. TENZŌ:

TENZŌ: That was a fucked up way to evade the question. TENZŌ: Even if that was true, which it's not, that was an extremely fucked up thing to say to me. And for what? The crime of being worried for you? KAKASHI: You're right. sorry. sorry.

it's messed up because Tenzō is confronting Kakashi about his very real self destructive patterns, and Kakashi, instead of being honest and acknowledging them, or even being honest and saying "I really don't want to talk about this" tries to sidestep the conversation with an alternate, explanation, that he's just so comfortable working in this team that he's not afraid for his life. Which is bullshit. He's not taking this seriously, he's dodging. Maybe, he was even thinking he could avoid it while complimenting Tenzō, talk about how much they trust each other and how much he values that bond, instead of talking about how little he values himself.

The problem is, the way it comes off, especially to tenzō who, unlike kakashi, is worried for Kakashi's safety and life, is that it sounds like Kakashi's saying "I only act like this because you're here" which is both untrue and something that is really upsetting to hear.

kakashi, who obvs knows what it is to blame himself for the death of a friend, is immediately incredibly sorry for having said that, once its made clear to him how that sounds. Its not an incident he's going to ever repeat

like i said...the comic doesn't do a good job of explaining itself. It kind of needs me to stand beside it, explaining for it. I think that now, with the skills I've gained in the past two years, I could remake it better...but I also don't think I would?

This particular angle of their relationship...I don't think I see it in the exact same way that I did back then. If I were to make a comic abt this topic again, I don't think I'd make it in the same way at all

anyway, I hope this was useful, or at least interesting to you!

[moonflvver]

characters: Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x reader

warnings: angst with comfort

synopsis: reader and katsuki get into yet another argument about his inability to take care of himself which leads to him opening up about his inferiority complex

a/n: none

w/c: 931

He was running his fingers through his hair as his jaw clenched. “What the fuck do you want from me then? What do you want? Because I just can’t figure it out. No matter what I do for you it’s never enough.”

You sighed, you were getting tired of having the same argument with him over and over again. And now of course he was turning this on you. Of course Bakugou Katsuki just couldn’t fucking admit that he was in the wrong for once.

“What I want is for you to care about yourself Katsuki. I want you to stop overexerting yourself and coming home with an injury every other night. I want to trust that you’ll be safe when you’re out there.” You were trying your hardest not to let him hear your voice shake but it cracked mid-sentence nonetheless.

It was just too much. God you loved him, of course you did. But he was too stubborn for his own good and he refused to stop pushing himself to the very edge of his limits. Bakugou is a star. I mean it sounds silly to say but it’s true.

He’s not just good at what he does, he’s great. But there’s something in him that refuses to let him enjoy what he has at any given moment and that’s the problem. They say that the stars that shine the brightest burn out the fastest and you know Katsuki better than anyone, so it’s clear to you that he’s just one mission away from crashing and burning. Which is why you can’t stop. If he won’t care for himself then you have to do it for him.

“You don’t get it do you? I can’t just stop doing my job. People need me, people depend on me. I keep this city safe. I won’t drop it all just for you.” He shouted back.

“Just for me, are you serious? Do I really mean that little to you, that you’d choose your own self destructive tendencies over me?” You’re crying now, tears are running down your face as you look at him. “I need you too, Katsuki.” You mumble, looking up at him.

Fuck. He looks exhausted and you’re sure that you don’t look any better, especially not after all of the crying you’ve been doing. But it’s clear that the long hours he’s been working have taken a serious toll on him and it makes you sob just a bit harder.

His head is in his hands now as he says, “Shit y/n I didn’t mean that. I just-” But before he can finish you stop him.

“I can’t watch you implode like this, I can’t stand by while you do this to yourself. I was so stupid to think that you’d actually change. But it doesn’t matter. You’re still that same impulsive, stubborn little kid that you were in highschool.” He knows you don’t mean it, he can tell by the fatigue that’s evident in your voice. You’re done. You’re clearly just grasping for straws at this point. There’s no fight left in you anymore and it’s all his fault. Fuck, of course he ended up pushing away the one person who’s remained consistently by his side.

The person who makes him lunch, who reminds him to take care of himself. Who always texts him on patrol asking him how he is no matter how late it is. He can’t let you leave, he just can’t. He wants to scream, he wants to fucking cry, he wants to let himself crash and burn and he doesn’t want you picking up the pieces. He just wants to be left alone but there’s a part of him that needs you more than the air that he breathes. And that part of him just can’t allow you to go.

He’s taken you for granted, he knows that. He knew that his rise to the top would put a strain on your relationship but he had convinced himself that he would be able to figure it out. I mean of course he would, Bakugo Katsuki can do anything. Right? Anything except for preventing himself from getting completely and utterly blindsided by his own goals apparently.

You’re grabbing your keys to walk out and take a breather but then he stands up, abruptly grabbing your arm.

You look up at him in mild shock. “Bakugou what are you-”

“Don’t go.” He says, and it comes out as a quiet whisper. “Please don’t go, I’m sorry. Okay? I am so fucking sorry, just please don’t leave.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so desperate.

He looks down, lets your wrist drop. And now he’s just waiting for you to say anything, anything at all. You sigh, dropping your keys back down onto the table. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoes back as his head comes up and you see that his eyes are full of tears.

You step forward taking him into your arms and he buries himself into your chest as you stroke his back. You inhale that familiar caramel scent that always seems to linger around him, a scent that reminds you of home, a scent that never fails to make you melt into his arms. He makes you feel so at home whenever you’re near him, you just want to hold onto him forever. You open your mouth and just as you’re about to say something to him he pulls away, pausing for a moment.

“I know.” He says quietly. “I know that it’s been hard for you. It’s just that no matter what I do, no matter how much I achieve it’s just that. Fuck. It’s never enough.” There are tears falling from his eyes. His long lashes are coated in the salty drops of water that won’t stop cascading down his face as he continues, “I get into this insane mindset that I could just be doing everything better, that I could be stronger, that I need to try harder. And I end up pushing you away. I end up hurting you and it’s not fair to you and I’m just really tired.” His voice cracks as he finishes and all you want right now is to take away everything that’s weighing on him and put the burden on yourself.

Really that’s all you’ve ever wanted, just to make him hurt a little less. Because seeing him like this makes your heart ache. How could he ever think that he was anything less than good enough? Katsuki Bakugou is a star. And sometimes his light is blinding and it overwhelms you. But he’s also capable of illuminating everyone and everything around him. And he needs to know how important he is.

You close the distance between the two of you and you swipe your thumb under his eyes hoping to clear away his tears. Your hand lingers for a moment and then you cup his face. “Listen to me. You are good enough. I get that it’s hard, I know how much pressure you put on yourself. But I need you to know that I see it. Even if no one else does. I see how much of yourself you’re putting into your job, I see how deeply you care.”

He’s staring at you, practically dumbfounded. But then his eyes soften, “Thank you. Thank you for seeing me.” It comes out almost as a sigh, like he’s finally able to let go of the air that his lungs have been holding in for the past half-hour. His shoulders relax and your hands find their way into his hair as you bring him into your chest once again, mumbling into his hair. “How could I not see you? You’re too bright to ignore.”

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

[shihalyfie]

The meaning of the Beast Spirits in Frontier, and what it means to control it

(On request by @digitalgate02​.)

When you think about it, Frontier can be framed as a story of outcasts or misfits having to accept the idea of “changing themselves” in order to become better people, both literally in the sense of embracing physical transformation, and metaphorically in the sense of making attempts to do better. Implicitly, it speaks a lot as to how quickly these kids accept the idea of turning into something else -- perhaps implying as to how ostracized they’ve felt that such a thing instantly sounds appealing -- but it also adds some interesting layers to the concept of the Beast Spirit and how the difficulty of “controlling it” ties into each character’s personal story.

I think a lot of it has to do with the idea that these kids did have inclinations of being selfish or shallow at the beginning -- while they were full of potential to become heroes, they definitely started off as unlikely misfits at the beginning. In that respect, you can see the Beast Spirits arc as a sort of lesson that great power must be used wisely and responsibility...

Believe it or not, our biggest clue to all of this comes from episode 16, Izumi’s episode. It’s not directly stated in words, and the abstract summary of “determination” is passed off as a joke, but looking at the context clues around the episode indicates that’s actually not far off.

The thing is that Calmaramon is depicted as having the hardest time with her Beast Spirit compared to practically about anyone else in the group, and one of the recurring themes about it is that it’s partially because her personality is downright terrible. If you look at the context clues behind the prior episode (15), you’ll notice that while her looks are briefly brought up as an issue there and in this episode, the part that’s really freaking everyone out (and is making everyone worried Izumi will turn out to be the same) is that they actually saw it have an impact on her personality, where she was clearly conscious and able to talk but also indiscriminately destroying everything and enjoying it. At least in the case of Kouji, Takuya, and Junpei, they can be forgiven because they all did their best to keep it under control after the initial fallout, but Ranamon changing into Calmaramon had also involved her becoming someone actively reveling in senseless destruction. When everyone worries that Izumi might turn out like that, they don’t even bring up looks at all, and they all recoil when she does start showing signs of being destructive anyway.

The thing is, the entire rest of the episode puts a massive spotlight on Izumi’s actions of standing up for the Gomamon and empathizing with their loneliness (which, given the contexts added about Izumi’s background and backstory in episodes 8 and 26, are most likely her feeling that the concept of “being isolated from others no matter how much you want to reach them” hit way too hard for her) to the point she puts her foot down to override the boys’ prior plan of chasing the Toucanmon and their Digivices. She actually faces quite a bit of protest from the boys on this issue, and even admits she’s not sure if her own plan will work, but focuses on the idea of doing her best to undo the whirlpool with her abilities -- that is to say, using her power to protect and help others.

This sentiment of “I have to protect everyone” drives Izumi’s actions for the rest of the episode, to the point it’s the only thought consuming her head right before she finds and claims her Beast Spirit. So to make it clear, at the time she claimed it, the thought of “protecting others” was desperately, single-mindedly consuming her head...

...and the contrast is immediately apparent when Shutumon emerges, and the only thing Ranamon cares about is looks.

In other words, the reason the Beast Spirit wasn’t working out for Ranamon/Calmaramon is that she only wanted the Beast Spirit’s power for the sake of pride, vanity, and dominating others, and because of that, she had difficulty controlling it because it resonated with those feelings -- after all, although she wanted to “control” it to the extent of not carrying her all over the place, she was perfectly fine with the part about causing wanton destruction. Izumi, on the other hand, is clearly holding herself back even after her first evolution to Shutumon -- trying to keep a calm head -- and, after all, her entire motivation had been driven by “helping and protecting others” for the whole episode, so she doesn’t want to let this fail on her now, and she keeps that calm head all the way throughout the rest of it.

When we get to the next episode (17), you’ll also notice that one of the first things Blizzarmon (Tomoki) does is actively attempt to restrain himself. If you look back at what Tomoki’s character arc is about, he’d spent the better part of his past being bullied by others and tossed around, so “overpowering the weak” is the last thing Tomoki ever wants to do (especially given the events of this episode, as well). So, having witnessed the potential consequences of the Beast Spirit with the other boys, it stands to reason that Tomoki would want to avoid “hurting others” so much that restraining this would be a strong priority for him. While it’s commented that it does take his personality out of control a bit, the worst it ever gets is that he seems to be overly elated and cheerful about his defeats, but that’s also in line with Tomoki constantly having been pushed down so much during his life that you can imagine he’s enjoying the opportunity to finally be strong and have the spotlight.

But because he hates the concept of bullying and pushing others down so much, it stands to reason that he wouldn’t really have as much of a problem with that.

So when you look back at the prior episodes with the Beast Spirits with this context, you can see it applying there as well. In episode 14, Junpei was spending the better part of the first half of the episode livid at what was happening to his friends -- absolutely pissed at Grottomon for taking Izumi's spirit (and, despite Izumi's doubts, it's pretty apparent he actually does care about it beyond just having a crush on her), and then upset at the idea of being a sitting duck while Agnimon and Wolfmon are getting tossed around. While Junpei initially has trouble keeping the Spirit under control, the exact moment he gets a grip on himself is the moment he reaffirms his determination to fight for the sake of his friends.

Looking back at the other two episodes about rampaging Beast Spirits in episodes 10 and 12, you can also see why the concept applies there as well. It’s interesting how the “worst” rampage shown among the main protagonist Beast Spirits was not the first one obtained (Garmmon) but the second one (Vritramon), and if you look at the circumstances surrounding them, it doesn’t seem to mean as much about Takuya having any particular stronger tendency towards condescending violence as much as the sheer circumstances that went on behind them:

Kouji obtained his Beast Spirit under the circumstances of already knowing that he needed to protect Gotsumon with that power (and, moreover, having spent the end of the prior episode and the duration of the beginning of this one mulling on Ophanimon’s warning that he’d need to “grow” before he could obtain it). Therefore, “using this power for the desire to protect others” was a huge thought in his head from the very beginning, even though -- presumably partially because this was a first time for everyone -- it threw him off just enough for him to end up exhausting himself.

Takuya obtained his without warning and without proper understanding of what he was dealing with, having had it practically forced on him after Shamamon-as-Vritramon’s defeat, and so, with no context of purpose and no real depth of what he was about to get into, he ended up on a complete destructive rampage. He was snapped out successfully by the need to not hurt someone (Tomoki), and spent the rest of the episode agonizing and mulling over the risks and meaning of having such power before he eventually evolved into Vritramon without too much issue the second time.

So the point is made clear: the “destructive” and “uncontrollable” impulses associated with the Beast Spirits will be sent out of control if the user doesn’t have a strong desire to use it with proper purpose. For Ranamon/Calmaramon, she had the worst time with it because she was the single most obsessed out of the Legendary Warriors to use it to stroke her own ego and vanity, whereas at least the other three Cherubimon-allied ones (besides Duskmon -- see below) were at least capable of using it towards a greater goal, and the remaining five went through the proper outlets of thinking about how this power should be used and how it shouldn’t be used lightly.

While the issue of the Beast Spirits being inherently difficult to control isn’t as prominent as we go later into the series, we do actually see shades of it when we get to the tale of Kouichi/Duskmon/Velgrmon, because while part of it can be chalked up to the power of darkness being consuming, Kouichi, during his first transformation to Velgrmon in episode 30, is only able to talk barely coherently and is really just venting his rage and anger out, presumably because his entire state of mind is locked into all of that, making the rampage even worse. (Also keeping in mind the theme of embracing the idea of changing yourself, you can also think of this in terms of how Kouichi is getting so consumed by his own emotions of anger that he’s become almost completely unrecognizable from his original self.)

Once we get his first “proper” evolution in episode 33, however, Kouichi is abundantly aware of what he’s done and has all of the proper determination to never let such a thing happen again -- so it’s not surprising that his evolution to KaiserLeomon happens with relatively little incident.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Fallout 4 romanced Companions reactions to sole being cute and todderlike when they get anxious? Like they hold their companions thumb or bunch up the bottom hem of their shirt?

FO4 Romanced! Companions React to Sole with Anxiety Tics

This was an awesome prompt! Thanks so much for sending it in! I hope you enjoy! 😊

(Also, I realized after the fact that I totally have like... almost all of these tics. So this was a fun journey of self discovery for me 😅 )

Cait:

Cait’s nostrils flared as Sole sat beside her, their anxiety clear in the way they incessantly cracked their knuckles over, and over, and over again. How their knuckles could even crack that much, Cait wouldn’t know. And she knew a lot about knuckles! She even cracked her own from time to time. But this seemed like overkill. Her hands would fly over to grab at her partner’s, her grip firm in the way it pried their fingers from where they clenched at their knuckles. Sole would look up at her in shock, utterly unaware that they were doing it at all, and Cait would loosen her grip, flashing them an apologetic smile and asking if there wasn’t some better way for them to release their pent-up anxiety? Maybe they could train with Cait? Box a little? C’mon, she promises to go easy!

Curie:

"Oh! Mon dieu, do not injure your clothes like this!" Curie would focus her attention on Sole, gently pulling their hands from where they bunched and tugged at the fabric between their fingers. She knew this was a tendency her companion had whenever they felt uncomfortable, and the doctor would do her best to find an alternative coping mechanism for Sole to deal with their stress. Going through breathing exercises and helping them to identify what was the true cause of their anxiety, and then trying to make whatever it is seem less daunting, Curie would do everything. Her medical training would help quite a bit in these instances, but her presence at Sole’s side would be all the more comforting, given the nature of their relationship. Once Sole shows Curie that they are trying to adhere to her more professional coping mechanisms, the doctor would be thrilled, giving constant praise and encouragement to her partner any time they seemed to be successfully dealing with their anxiety.

Danse:

Danse would spend a long time wondering silently to himself why it was that Sole always made that face when they spoke to strangers for the first time, or they seemed lost in thought, or had to speak in front of a crowd. Their mouth turned sideways, chin gyrating in such a strange way… He wondered if it somehow helped them? He wasn’t sure. When he finally managed to ask Sole about it, and they looked down at their feet in embarrassment, their expression raising up to reflect that very same face that he had been inquiring about, he decided that he already understood. He had a nervous tic as well, his superiors always berated him for cracking his knuckles when he was stressed, and now he would be the one to say something to Sole, to place a hand comfortingly on their shoulder and fix them with his sympathetic gaze when they were anxious enough to bite at the inside of their cheek. He would feel as though he were being too hard on them every time he told them to cease their nervous tendency, no matter how gentle he was about it, but ultimately he told himself, (and Sole if they brought it up) that it was because he cared. The idea of them physically harming themself, even in such a miniscule way, wouldn’t sit right with him, and he would try to work with them to find a more productive outlet to dealing with their anxiety.

Deacon:

The Railroad agent noticed early on that Sole would tug at their collar when they got antsy, and would see it as an opportunity. Every time he would see them reach for the top of their shirt, he would do the same to his own, making it a game to see how long it takes them to notice his mimicking. It was a fun way to pass the time, and to distract his partner from whatever it happened to be that was worrying them. Once Sole made it clear to Deacon that they knew what he was doing, he'd just grin at them, nice and big, telling them that everything was gonna be okay, maybe pulling them in for a reassuring hug or kiss if they looked like they needed one. Bonus points if they get nervous talking to him. In that case, he just stares straight back at them as his hand mirrors theirs, tugging at his own shirt collar…or he may even begin to tug at their collar as well, booping them on the nose as he tells them how cute they are when he makes them nervous.

Hancock:

When Hancock first noticed Sole biting at their cuticles, he figured they might be hinting for him to stop doing it himself, as that had always been a habit of his. He would continue to watch when they did it, to see if they only tore at the tips of their fingers after they had seen him do it himself, but that didn’t seem to be the case. No, only when they were about to have a tough conversation, speak in front of people, or otherwise were uncomfortable, would they engage in this destructive action. Hancock would smile to himself, approaching his partner and would slowly pry their hand from their mouth as he asked them what was bothering them. When they admitted to having their little habit, he would ask if they’d noticed his, and found that they thought he was the one mimicking them. The pair would chuckle at the thought, both of them thinking the other was making fun of them; when, in reality, they both just coincidentally happened to have the same bad habit. From then on, the couple would work together to try and prevent the other from tearing at their fingers, and would instead settle for holding hands when one of them was uncomfortable.    

MacCready:

He hated to think that he liked when his partner was anxious, but he just can’t help but smile whenever he notices Sole bringing their fingers up to tangle in their hair. The way they nervously stroked at the strands on their head, turning them round and round into little coils that would unravel once their hand left it’s place atop their head, it always made him smile; and in certain situations he would most definitely have to resist the urge to tackle them with his affection. In other situations however, if they weren’t in a very public place, or a dangerous area, if their nervousness was stemming from his steamy compliments, he wouldn’t hesitate to run his own hands through their lovely locks before covering their blushing face with kisses, even as his own cheeks turned pink. Did he ever make them flustered on purpose? Um... no. He wouldn’t dream of it ;)

Nick:

Whenever Nick sees Sole's hands running up and down their thighs, he knows that they're becoming uncomfortable. It’s his job to pay attention to the little details, and it hadn’t taken him long at all to notice his partner’s little habit, and to take action when he realized that the action was direct evidence suggesting that they were uncomfortable. No matter the situation they're in, Nick will cease whatever he's doing and reach over his good hand and rest it atop one of theirs, or lay it, palm up, on their thigh so that they can grab ahold of it if they so choose. The old synth's eyes miss nothing when Sole is in an anxious state, and he, without fail, will offer himself as a listening ear, a hand to hold, or an advice giver until he sees that Sole has physically calmed down.

Piper:

"Stop biting your nails, Blue!" Piper would shout every time she saw her partner giving in to their little nervous tic. It almost became a game with her, to see how quickly she would notice their discomfort. The sooner the better, because then she could help talk them through whatever was bothering them, Sole would startle easily every time she did it, but would find themself looking forward to the times that Piper caught them “red handed,” as it were. Sole rarely ever registered when they were doing it, and the fact that their partner did, well… they would be touched to know that Piper paid that much attention to them. And it made them even happier when she offered to paint their nails or give them a hand massage whenever she noticed that their nails were grown out.

Preston:

The first time Sole went to grasp his hand firmly in theirs, Preston thought it was rather odd, as they weren't yet together. Though he didn't mind, he did bring it up to Sole later on, just out of curiosity, and when they explained that it was a nervous tic they had, to grab onto someone they trusted when they felt anxious, he would feel nothing short of honored. The fact that Sole felt comfortable enough with him to look to him in their time of uncertainty, that they depended on him like that… it would warm his heart. As it became more of a common occurrence, the two would develop a sort of communication system this way, if Sole squeezed his hand a certain number of times it would tell him what they were nervous about, which became quite handy (pun fully intended) in certain situations. As bad as he feels about Sole being uncomfortable in any capacity, he can't help but admit how much he adores their reaction to it. It makes him feel strong, and protective, and loving, and trusted, and needed, and allows him to communicate to Sole that he'll always be there for them.

X6-88:

The courser's attention would fall to Sole the instant they started shifting side-to-side on their feet. His eyes would note the condition of the rest of their body, knowing full well that this tic of theirs was a direct result of their anxiety. When he realizes that Sole is outwardly fine, he won't quite know how to help them, but he'll want to try to do something for them. X6 will move towards them, reaching out a hand and placing it on their shoulder, his grip soft, but the weight of his palm pressing down on them would help ground them and prevent them from continuing their nervous movements. He'll want to help for their sake, want to make them feel safe, but also will want to prevent them from disclosing their anxious state to any onlookers or potential enemies.

[alexiethymia]

A Case Study on Vanitas’ Character: On Vanitas’ Two Conditions

Since they’re animating the What is Love? episode next (episode 7), I couldn’t help but want to talk about that chapter. [spoilers for anime-only watchers!]

Vanitas has two conditions for Jeanne: 

1) She mustn’t drink blood from anyone else but him.

I admit that like Jeanne, it’s easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking Vanitas is a better guy than he is because of certain biases. Let’s admit it, this part was plain blackmail, and yet for some reason, with what we know of Vanitas now, there are also different ways of seeing this scene. 

Vanitas is ‘blackmailing’ Jeanne, but at the same time that blackmail is actually him also offering a solution to Jeanne’s problem. AND YET, HE DOES IT IN SUCH A WAY SO THAT JEANNE NEVER HAS TO FEEL LIKE SHE OWES HIM. More to the point, he does it in such a way to ensure that Jeanne continues hating him. In other words he, in his own twisted way, is doing a nice thing for Jeanne, while ensuring that she never likes him for it. Now I’m not saying it’s a purely altruistic thing, but I still think that Vanitas is drawn to Jeanne because she reminds him of himself back then. If so he knows precisely how to get her to receive help albeit through manipulative means. 

It’s not a purely altruistic thing. He states it so himself, what he gets out of it is the ‘divine feeling’ Jeanne sucking his blood gives to him again purposefully painting himself as a pervert so that Jeanne wouldn’t like him for helping her. But if we are to believe some theories that it’s not actually as enjoyable as he himself paints it out to be (I digress, but I think he’s being honest here. He strikes me as having a bit of a masochistic streak in him) (I digress from my digression, but theory time, what’s his bases of comparison?? Who besides Luna and Jeanne have drunk from him??), then there’s another dimension to his condition of ‘you must drink blood, only from me’. If he’s just in this for the feeling it gives him, then why word the condition that way? He’s never stricken me as possessive of Jeanne despite his words of ‘I want to possess all of you’, and as he’s stated, he doesn’t want Jeanne to love him back. I think this is just another case of his ‘use me’ mindset rearing its head again. He’s said it to Count Orlock, and we know that it started since his time with Dr. Moreau. It is definitely, definitely, unhealthy, and I believe it’s also coupled with his slight suicidal tendencies. If worst comes to worst and Jeanne ends up going out of control and killing him, he seems not to care. 

Going off tangent here, but another one of his contradictions is how ruthless he is at surviving and yet how careless he is with his life, especially when it comes to people caring for him. He’d rather be left in the snow than have Jeanne take care of him as repayment for him protecting her, or when he got angry at Noe for protecting him from Ruthven.

But at his core and as Luna stated, Vanitas is a kind child. It’s developed in an unhealthy way, but he’s quite self-sacrificial. It’s fine for Jeanne to use him so that Jeanne has a focus or outlet. At least when the craving for blood gets to be too much, Jeanne knows there’s someone she can drink from, which helps her so that she doesn’t lose control and lash out against Luca for example. And on Vanitas’ side, it seems like it’s fine for him to be put at risk so other people don’t have to be, and on Jeanne’s part too, it also helps her from further hating herself if she ends up hurting other people. 

In other words, his condition is both a selfish and selfless one, yet he paints it to be blackmail. It’s not an entirely good thing for him to do, because there’s definitely power play involved, but it’s also not as scummy as it is initially presented out to be with what we now know of his past. 

2) For Jeanne to call him by ‘name’. 

There are so many things going on here that I just can’t help but ramble about it. Firstly, I’m really interested in how this’ll be translated in the anime. Did Vanitas say call me by ‘Vanitas’, or call me by ‘my name’? Because if it’s the latter, then couldn’t Vanitas also mean (although not fully consciously) that he wants someone to call him by his true name like Luna did before he inherited the name ‘Vanitas’? (And I will just die if in a future chapter, Jeanne and Noe do end up getting to call him by his original name).  

Second, there are slight parallels and contrasts with this arrangement he has with Jeanne and with the one he had back then with Moreau. Obviously Moreau is trash and took full advantage of ‘No. 69′. He exercised all the power. In this case, Jeanne is hesitant about hurting Vanitas despite how aggravating he is towards her. She doesn’t want to drink his blood at all. Moreau was a human. Jeanne is a vampire, and despite physically being superior towards Vanitas she changes her demand into a plea or request for Vanitas to keep her secret. (And whelp that’s when she sealed her fate, because she apparently triggered Vanitas. Don’t worry though Jeanne, you’ll get your payback soon enough). Vanitas was completely without power before, so faced with a similar situation this time around, I think part of him let the power get to his head, causing him to partly take advantage of Jeanne (he’s a complete sadist AND a masochist). He has complete agency this time around. Sure he’s once again offering himself with the expectation of pain and at the risk of his life, and he’s also doing this for another person, like with Misha, but unlike with Dr. Moreau, the power is on his side this time around. 

Going off tangent, that’s one thing that Vanitas and Jeanne have to work on. Balancing power and agency. I get where Vanitas is coming from, surrounded by vampires as he is, and with his past too, but he has to realize that caring about and loving someone isn’t a matter of power. You don’t lose when you love and care. You don’t surrender power. You don’t have to take away someone’s agency or exercise your own power for you to manage to do good things for the people you care about. He has to manage that balance - likewise with Jeanne, Noe, and Domi as well. 

Going back. Since he has full agency in this case, it’s his decision to offer himself to Jeanne in this way, he doesn’t want to be dehumanized while doing so. He’s had enough trauma about that already. Despite how he words it, it’s actually a somewhat equivalent exchange between Vanitas and Jeanne. He offers her blood as a way for her to keep her sanity, but she can’t be removed from it, she has to look at him properly and consider him a person with full agency and choices, and not just as ‘that human’. 

And looking at their faces - Jeanne’s is an incredulous one as if to say, ‘that’s it?’ It’s both an easy and difficult thing for her to do. Meanwhile, for Vanitas, I’d expected him to look goading, but he just looks patient and soft. At least in this instance, I don’t see it as him forcing Jeanne to do something she doesn’t want to do - just an unexpected moment of wanting to be known and treated as himself. 

LISTEN HE IS FULL OF CONTRADICTIONS OK. We’re led to believe that all of his interactions with Jeanne until the moment he realized he fell in love with her was just him teasing her, but I believe he was already in the process of falling in love with her slowly. I’ll go so far as to say that he was the one who fell in love first, but he just interpreted it as his being ‘excited’ by her. In other words, the words he said (’I love you’) which we thought was a lie was actually the truth, albeit a truth he didn’t realize much later. 

Why do I think so? It’s because he revealed certain moments of vulnerability or sincerity with her or about her without any of the teasing, as represented by the italicized dialogue. It’s the same case for when he said he didn’t want to trod on her foot with Noe, or when he happily grinned and he said forthright Jeanne was the side of her he liked best (or when he promised he’d kill her). 

This is just an example of his contradiction. He never wanted or expected Jeanne to fall in love with him, and sure this could just be his wanting to push boundaries or test limits, being the chaotic person that he is, and yet, wanting to be called by name is a desire to form a genuine connection. 

He could have just remained as ‘that human’ to Jeanne while interacting with her. After all, what could stop him? He also had the first condition in place to make sure they’d continue to interact. And yet, he refused (like how Noe refuses to be ‘that vampire’ to him). 

Like Luna said, as long as he didn’t close his heart, he wouldn’t be alone. Even if Vanitas thinks it burdensome or wants to be ‘free’, it seems that he still does long for connection - romantic, platonic, or otherwise. 

And this is why I ship them, even in this instance so early on in the manga when arguably the dynamic wasn’t at its healthiest. It’s because of their background that draws them to each other and allows them an understanding of one another. It’s because of that desire to know more about each other. It’s because of that genuine care and wanting to form a connection with each other, despite part of them rejecting it because of their issues.

Do I think they’re good for each other? Yes. Admittedly, they have so much to work on, but I believe that they push (Vanitas with regards to Jeanne’s blood addiction, and Jeanne with Vanitas in his moment of vulnerability) because the both of them tend to be self-destructive if left to their own devices. It’s just that their version of care for each other is aggressive. They’ll have to find that balance though eventually. On Vanitas’ part he also has to be inspired by Noe that the kind of salvation a person wants may not be the best possible outcome, especially for those left behind. I’m not sure what Mochizuki sensei’s end message is suppose to be, but death I don’t believe is salvation.   

tldr: Vanitas is a self-sacrificial idiot who longs for connections under layers of self-loathing (but he’s still an asshole), and VaniJeanne is a good ship which had the foundations laid down from the beginning. 

[animeangsteng]

Exchange

▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Exchange

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⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎… ⋙

Warning: Death, Human exchange, Kidnapping, Brainwashing, Torture (mention), Self-Hate, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, Trauma, (canon) Violence, Betrayal, Self-destructive tendencies

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Bucky x fem! reader

Based on this post by @thefandomplace

I’ve never written something so fast.

It literally took half an hour so it might not be the best thing I’ve ever written but I really like it.

Enjoy and stay tuned for White Chocolate pt. 3 with Hermione Granger!

Ps: I love Bucky! Please let me give him an hug.

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█ █ █ █ █ 100% *Tuning complete*

————

No.

It couldn’t be.

She could not be part of Hydra.

All that he went through with her, all the trauma she helped him overcome... she was part of what caused it.

James “Bucky” Barnes, once the Winter Soldier, didn’t want to believe it, despite what the others said.

She couldn’t be part of it.

She would never... but was he sure of it?

He wanted to trust the sources they had but at the same time he didn’t want to believe his beloved could be... one of them.

They told him to keep it hidden from them, to hide from you the discovery of this information.

It wasn’t hard for him not to mutter a word about it but much harder was not to notice how he avoided her.

Every time she looked at him or he noticed he remembered her betrayal.

So when the time came he made a decision.

.

Steve Rogers was captured.

Captain America was captured by Hydra and he had to do something.

So he struck a deal.

The Captain for her.

Steve would have never accepted no matter what she might have done.

“We do not trade lives” he would have said.

But Bucky wasn’t like that.

Steve was his priority, especially compared to her, whom had betrayed him.

Whom was part of Hydra.

Yes, it was no real problem for Bucky.

It hurt but it was a win-win situation for all, one last kindness on his part.

She’d go back to her Organisation on Steve would come back home.

Easy as it was.

At least that’s what he told himself.

So why did his heart ache when he slipped the chloroform into her drink?

Why did every step get harder to do when handing her over?

Why did he want to never let go of her hand when they took her away?

Unfortunately the answer came too late and he regretted.

He regretted it all.

.

It was fake.

The sources were wrong.

She never had anything to do with Hydra apart from fighting her.

And they, no he, handed her to them on a silver plate.

As soon as he heard these news he wanted to run and rescue her, heart full of guilt.

He gave her to those monsters.

He didn’t trust her.

Why?

Why did he do it?

What if... what if now... what if now she was gone?

Steve had to stop him and force him to make a plan first.

To be honest he planned very little, being a crying mess in a corner.

His own hands.

He did it.

He was a monster.

And if she was fine... when he rescued her he’d leave them alone.

Disappear from her life.

He had no right to stay in it.

Not after what he had done.

When the others were ready he ran into the Hydra base with no care but finding her.

And when he did... it was too late.

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They brainwashed her.

Turned her into a second Winter Soldier.

And his please nor the others’ reached her ears or her heart.

Yet, as she beat him up, he couldn’t find it himself to react.

He did that to them.

All he went through.

All she helped him overcome.

He put her through that.

Over some stupid fake information.

And at one point... nothing more.

When he looked up he saw her eyes flash in recognition and then nothing.

She fell on her back, a hole in her chest.

And he scrambled to try save her.

Try save her from the mess he had made.

He knew there was still life.

Still hope.

He couldn’t have killed her like this.

He couldn’t!

Yet all he was trying to do was reanimating a dead body.

.

Dead.

That he was.

He barely survived, forced to go through a tremendously monotonous routine.

Steve and Sam became his caretakers.

They woke him up, have him eat, run a bit, eat again and go to sleep.

But every step was harder.

Every waking moment was.

He could feel her touch, her hands grip him as he gave her to Hydra and now ghosting over his body all the time.

Not that sleeping was much better but it felt somehow comforting.

The nightmares were more dreams than anything else.

He could see her, although she either hated or ignored him.

But he could dream she was still alive.

He could hope.

He fluctuated between his little delusions, created not to break down completely, and reality.

And despite all Steve and the rest of the Avengers told him it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t help it but protest.

He established he exchange.

He made it.

And he caused her to suffer.

To die.

He exchanged her life for Steve’s on lies’ basis.

What he didn’t realise at the time was that he exchanged his life too.

And now he couldn’t help but let her drag him down with her.

After all... it was his fault.

He was reaping what he sow.