#care about morality and shit anymore nothing good has come of being moral or healthy or trying to get better

[youraveragemushroom]

♡♡♡♡

[shorkbrian]

Creep

Prelude - bitch hold on what about mean brother Shigs being an absolute creep? Inspired by me playing a boss in AC Odyssey and my controller vibrated so hard I almost dropped it, and I couldn’t beat this dude and it was so freaking frustrating!!!!!! 

Pairing - Shigaraki X Reader

Warnings - - INCEST, NSFW, innocence kink, do not read if those squick you out bro!!! Seriously! abuse of trust, dubcon, noncon, literally nothing about this situation is good, or healthy, or nice. Disgusting behavior is exhibited by Shigs.

Music - (does anyone actually like when I provide music? I like getting music vibes while I read through fics but ik that my music taste is a bit wacky lol anyways). https://open.spotify.com/track/0ODyahnUlK9G5bT4dA5NCI?si=10R9ggoJS1inYidrMeWrHA

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

He offers to let you play his Xbox game, you keep annoying him by pouting for his attention and he gives up with trying to ignore you.

Stipulation - you gotta sit on his lap while you play, you’re such a stupid little girl that he forces his hands over yours, showing you how to use the Xbox controller while sneering at how dumb you are.

You’re too focused on the game to pay attention to how one of his hands has dropped from the controller, is creeping up your thigh, thumbing at the hem of your shorts. You don't realize that he’s plastered against your back, breath picking up in your ear as he hunches over your shoulder, thinking of all the dirty things he wants to do to you, how you’re too absent-minded to realize how much of a perverted creep he is. 

“Shit!” You curse, breaking Shigaraki out of his thoughts as you bounce your leg in frustration. He feels the slight vibration of the controller - you’re getting attacked in the game, enemies surrounding you and hacking at your player. Shigaraki is too entranced by how he can watch your jiggling breasts over your shoulder, jostling around as you jerk your arms, trying to not die in the game.

“Nii-san help me, ‘m gonna die!” You shriek, whole body getting into the gaming experience, jerking around in his lap as you struggle to press the right buttons. Shigaraki tries not to groan - he can feel the space between your thighs as you move around, hot and doughy and he wants to touch so bad.

Yeah, he’s always been a bit of a creep, but he’s never actually done anything to you.

The most he does is fantasize, thinking about how you’d feel clamping down on him, how’d you’d taste if he made you ride his face. What you’d look like if he forced his cock into you with barely any prep - you’d squeeze your eyes shut so tight, let out little whimpers and clench your fists because “Hurts, hurts! Go slow Nii-san, don’t want this!”

But he wouldn’t have to listen, you’re just a naive little girl who doesn’t know that Shigaraki would be trying to make you feel good too, that it would feel good soon.

“Stop wiggling, you’re gonna fall off.” He rasps back at you, taking his other hand off the controller to grab your waist, barely saving you from keeling over and onto the floor. You’re left to fend for yourself now, button-mashing, groaning when you finally succumb to your enemies and die a violent, gory death.

“I died! Why didn’t you help, you’re right here?!” the accusatory tone of your voice is ignored as you revert to the last save, huffing in frustration as you’re forced to start over.

“You’re never gonna learn if I’m holding your hands like that.”

Shigaraki’s glad you’ve stilled again - if you’d kept up your wiggling, he’d have to figure out a way to explain what the hard thing poking into the side of your plush little rear.

God, you had the most perfect ass.

Maybe he’s a freak, a disgusting man with fucked up morals, but Shigaraki’s always been a social outcast, seen as weird and wrong and criticized for every little thing he did.

What’s wrong with settling into the role other people were so quick to offer him?

Surely you’ve noticed his odd behavior by now, the behavior that’s picked up in the last few years. How he stares at you a little more than he should, how sometimes he slips into bed with you, murmuring some lame excuse about not being able to sleep.

The way he freezes when you give him an affectionate hug, clenching his fists by his side as your breasts are squished up against his body.

You had to have caught on to his uncharacteristic softness with you. He’s still mean and coarse and rude, but there's an underlying affection underneath the way he mocks your outfits, when he says you look like the gross character out of a manga he’s reading, how he tugs on your hair sometimes when he passes by you, wheezing out a laugh if you turn around and try to slap at him in irritation.

If you didn’t want him to be weird, you could’ve said something by now. You should’ve said something by now.

So really, it’s your own fault that he feels so comfortable being a sicko.

“Don’t tickle, I gotta focus.” You tell him, squirming away when he runs a hand experimentally over your stomach. You’re so cute, and dumb, he wants to bully you until you’re crying, say mean things and hurt your feelings only so he can kiss it better. 

But he doesn’t, because he’s a good brother.

His hand travels further up, rests right underneath your breast, almost cupping it. Still, you don’t say anything, attention on the game.

Do you want this? Are you just stupid? His affection is so obviously not normal for siblings, and yet you act like it’s fine. Maybe you’re a virgin, untainted with the knowledge of how sexual touches feel like.

The hand on your waist begins to slip under your shorts, his cold fingers quickly warmed by your skin. “Nii-san, stop that, it’s weird.”

Ah, there’s the common sense.

“I though you wanted to play the game? Don’t be a bitch.” He doesn’t really care whether you want him willingly now or not, he’s getting excited by the heat of your body, your weight on his lap.

You pause the game when his hand creeps lower into your shorts, when his fingers skim low over your tummy, too close to a private place that brothers shouldn't touch.

“Stop touching me, I don’t like that.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t enjoy it.” He mumbles, and you stiffen in his lap, but he quickly takes his hand out of your shorts, stops cupping your soft breast.

The game gets unpaused, and you resume playing, although your attention is divided now, nervous about sitting in your brother’s lap.

Has it finally clicked? Are you thinking about what he could do to you, how he could make you feel?

“You suck at this.” Shigaraki observes, the controller shaking almost violently as you’re attacked again, overwhelmed by enemies.

“Well, maybe if you taught me how to play instead of being weird, I wouldn’t be.” You snarked, frustrated with the game, uneasy with your brother holding your hips like that.

Shigaraki rolls his eyes. You’re so dramatic, and although you have a valid point, he’s always been weird. This is nothing new, you’ve just been too thick-skulled to realize it before, which isn’t his fault.

A few more tries, and you still can’t get past the one group of enemies, dying after a few minutes every single time. You’re going to waste the batteries like that, controller jumping in your hands. 

“I can’t-” You whine, coming across the enemies after your latest death, already knowing what’s going to happen.

Shigaraki stays silent, red eyes finally flickering away from your body and up to the screen of the TV. 

You’re at one of the hardest parts of the game, facing a section that took Shigaraki two days to beat (not that he’ll tell you that). He grins as you throw yourself into the fight, immediately getting decked.

The noises you’re letting out are cute, frustrated groans on each hit landed on your player, muttered curses and triumphant scoffs whenever you manage to strike an enemy, which isn’t often.

The controller’s still shaking like crazy, and you’re moving around in his lap again, and Shigaraki is done. He can’t take this anymore, you’re being a tease.

He snatches the Xbox controller out of your hands, ignoring your little “Hey! What’re you doing, I was playing!”

“You call this playing?” The shuddering of the controller surprises him, gives him an idea.

There hadn’t been a plan, he had just been acting on instinct, hands itching to push you off his lap and to the floor, just to see the way you’d look up at him after. 

Like that, you’d be in the perfect position to suck his cock.

But he wants to go in a different direction now.

“Stay still, you’re so annoying.” He’s spreading his legs out, sinking back further in his chair to get a better angle, your legs hooked over his.

There’s no time for you to protest. Like this, you’re spread out nicely, exposed, even though your shorts cover your intimate place.

Without any further preamble, Shigaraki shoves the vibrating controller up against your clothed cunt.

“NIi-san!” You shriek, immediately writhing in his hold. But Shigaraki has an arm locked around your chest, keeping you pinned to his chest. “Don’t, think sins’t-this isn't-! Stop this, stop! Don’t touch me!”

He can bet it feels good, that you’re struggling to tell him to stop. He begins rubbing the controller against you, snickering at the way you jolt and writher on each pass of the hard, curved plastic against your protected clit. He can’t even imagine how good it would feel if your stupid shorts weren’t in the way.

“Stop, stop! Stop it! Stop!” You sound like a broken record.

“Shut up, you can’t even play the game right. Feel that?” the controller gets rubbed harder against you, and you writhe. “That’s how bad you are. So pathetic, can’t even fend off a couple of bad guys.”

Can’t even fend off one, Shigaraki thinks to himself. You could be trying harder to get out of his hold, could be screaming and yelling and scratching and kicking.

Well, you are scratching and kicking, moving around so much that he’s having a hard time keeping you still. And you making a lot of noise, but there’s no one else home.

He’s fully hard, and every movement you make struggling rubs him right up against the meat of your ass, and he sucks in a stuttered breath, biting his lip.

“No, no, no, no, don’t want this Nii-san, stop it-” Your panicked pleas are ignored, Shigaraki shoving your hands away as you try to pull the controller off of your cunt, get the vibrations to stop.

On screen, the player is still getting attacked, each new hit making the controller vibrate even harder.

“Ow, ow! It hurts, make it stop! Nii-san-”

“I’ll gag you if you don’t stop complaining.” Shigaraki seethes, feeling irritation creep up. “It hurts because you’ve never felt this good before, idiot.”

He remembers the first time he’d used something on his dick. It was your toothbrush, unsurprisingly, the one that vibrated with three different speeds and made you so proud of your pearly whites.

It had been so overwhelming, he couldn’t even touch the back of the head to his cock. At times, it felt so good it had hurt, had completely blinded his senses and leave him in a puddle of his own cum and sweat, panting.

So Shigaraki understood what you were trying to say - your inexperienced body needed him to slow down, ease up a little. But your gross, nasty brother wanted to ruin you.

Your character on screen died, resulting in one last heavy vibration that made you sob, thighs struggling to snap shut, hands desperately pushing at Shigaraki.

He felt you convulse in his grip, could practically feel the way your little hole was clenching as you gushed all over yourself, whining and moaning at the pleasure.

Your character was sent back to the last save, the game on a loading screen.

But Shigaraki wasn’t done.

He was still hard against your back, rubbing himself off as best he could, but he was finding his own pleasure in watching you writhe on his lap.

The controller was tossed to the side, nimble fingers sliding over your shorts, Shigaraki laughing at what he found.

“You’re so wet, holy fuck. That’s disgusting, wow.” You were drenched, the fabric of your shorts completely soaked with your juices. You only sobbed out a pitiful noise, maybe trying to deny it, but Shigaraki wasn’t listening. He was too busy rubbing over the wet spot, gleefully feeling you up. It was easy for his fingers to find a comfortable, mind-numbing rhythm, so used to playing games and deftly pushing buttons, using sticks and joysticks, directional pads and the like.

You were rocking against his hand unconcsiously, body unable and unwilling to decided whether to pull away or push closer - you had just cum, but that didn’t negate the vicious, heady sensation that his fingers brought.

Shigaraki quickly grew bored of this though, unable to ignore his dripping erection. He had never been a patient man, quickly removing the hand stimulating your swollen pussy so he could pull his cock out of his sweatpants.

With a quick movement, your shorts were tugged down, your brother completely pushing past your refusal to lift your hips, burning your skin with how forcefully the fabric was ripped down.

“Nii-san, what are you doing-you can’t, you can’t!” You cried, renewing your struggle when you felt skin against skin, his cock hot and velvety as it rested against your cheeks. “I don’t wanna do this, don’t make me do this-”

“I don’t care. I’ve tried to be good, and it’s like you don’t even care.” The man ground out, beginning to rut his hips against your ass. It was dry, and it didn’t feel great, but it was more than enough to satisfy Shigaraki. “I barely touch you, I keep my hands to myself-”

Which was a lie. Late at night, when he was sure you were fast asleep, he’d touch, just a little. Rubbing your nipples, feeling them peak under his touch. Feeling the curve of your waist, skin soft against his dry palms.

“-I wouldn’t stare either, but you wear those stupid shirts-” The deep cut ones, the ones that showed off your cleavage and allowed him weeks of jerk-off material.

“So annoying, just a stupid little imoto that follows me around, you just want attention.”

He knows you don’t do it on purpose. You aren’t trying to make him see you in a sexual light. But maybe that’s what makes it all the more appealing, how naive and innocent you are.

Fuck, he’s getting close just thinking about your purity, how much you don’t know, how much he could teach you.

He doesn’t know a ton, but Shigaraki knows enough about what feels good for him, and you probably wouldn’t want to learn, but he deserved something nice every once in a while, didn’t he?

The drag of his cock between your ass cheeks was making him loose his mind, the slide too rough, but it felt delicious and stimulated him just right, pulling at his foreskin and spreading his precum into a sticky mess on your skin.

“Fuck, stay still, lemme feel good-” His voice was choked up, still holding it’s usual nasal resonance. 

You sobbed in his hold, his fingers still playing over your shorts, exploring, keeping you occupied and frozen with sensation while he got himself off with your body.

And then he was breaking, splurting his seed all over your lower back, watching it come out of his cock in shaky squirts, painting your skin a cloudy white.

Shigaraki groaned, eyes transfixed to the sight before him. It was hard to keep them open, body shaking with little snaps of pleasure in his veins, in his stomach.

On the bed next to his thigh, the controller started shaking again. Panting, Shigaraki raised his eyes to the TV screen as you slumped against him, softly crying.

Your character was getting attacked again.

“Let’s keep playing.”

And the vibrating controller was pressed to your bare cunt, making you scream.

He’d have to wash it after this, but he figured it was worth it in the grand scheme of things

[songbirdstyles]

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

 --

 After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change. 

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation. 

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

 --

 It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table. 

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

 --

 Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

 --

 Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not? 

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci. 

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

 --

 The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than  appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

 --

 Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty  in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

 --

 Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

 --

 For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide. 

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.

[hacked-by-jake]

Take you home ²

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞...

>𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷

Summary: Jake can’t accept that this has been done to you, the thought torments him, and all he wants is revenge, and he gets it.

Words: 4,2k

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Warnings: Swearing, insulting

A/n: Well, hi.

So, this one has taken on some dimensions again, they weren’t planned, about 3k. Now, it is a bit more. Actually, the whole thing should not be quite so extensive, but well, once Jake starts, he doesn’t stop.

Thank you alls so much for the support in part one, I was really surprised. And thank you very much for wishing Part Two, which means a lot to me. ❤️

So, that’s a bit more related to alternative two of part one. Actually, it was supposed to get a little darker and generally the plan was different. The ending should be different and longer, but I think it’s good as it is now.

I hope you’ll like it.

And apologize for the mistakes.

(I think I wanted to say more but I forgot xD)

Anyway, have fun, stay healthy and take care of yourselves.❤️🌹🎭

There lies the hacker now, in the early morning hours, not even the sun has risen already, wide awake, full of emotions and agitated.

In his arms, you, fortunately asleep, deep and firm.

He also wanted to sleep, he has been trying for two hours but it doesn’t work. And how should he? After the past hours it is practically impossible to sleep.

The only reason you sleep is probably the effort you had to experience. Your body was finished after the shower. You were still shivering from the adrenaline, agitated and yet so terribly tired.

So now he lies here, doesn’t know what to do with himself, doesn’t know how to react, how to feel. TThe pure fear that lay in your voice when the call came suddenly, gives him goose bumps again, crawling all over his body.

This fearful tone of your voice won’t let it go.

What if he hadn’t been there in time? If he hadn’t been able to save you in time? If it took him a minute longer? If something had gone wrong?

He can’t even imagine what could have happened. At this horrible imagination in his head, he pinches his eyes tightly. Try to remove the images from his head that make him sick, he would like to vomit, so horrible is the thought of it. He shakes his head, tries to drive away the thoughts, but they don’t go away. His fingernails drill deep and firmly into the skin of his palms. It hurts, it’s uncomfortable, and if he still squeezes even harder, he’ll start bleeding, but he has no control over it. In his mind, the worst scenarios circle and he can only imagine, if even he feel so bad now, how bad did you feel in this moment?

He controls himself to be quiet, exhorts himself to loosen up again so as not to wake you. You need sleep. You deserve sleep. But these pictures, these fucking pictures, they're not going away. The imagination that someone would touch you- NO!

The hacker opens his eyes wide! He must not go in this direction, he must look straight out and make sure that you get your revenge, as you deserve! That he protects your honor, that he makes everyone see what happens when someone wants to do something bad to you.

He’s Jake, one of the best hackers in the world and now he’s gonna show what he’s capable of.

-

His breath is so heavy, so full of anger and hatred, so full of negativity that he would like to hit the next wall.

He bites his lower lip when he thinks about leaving you here alone. He needs to be in his study. He just has to find out who this guy was. That bastard.

Just really reluctant, actually he would just like to lie here with you, but he has to, he's winds cautiously out of your embrace.

He can’t lie here and wait, he has to do something. Now!

Even if he feels weird with it, he opens the laptop that is in his bedroom and directs it so that he can see your sleeping shape. He will simply connect the laptop to his PC to keep an eye on you. As soon as you get restless or wake up, he could be with you right away.

That’s how he’s gonna do it.

He gives you a final and gentle kiss on the forehead before going to his study.

-

After he has prepared his work setup and everything is ready, he wastes no time and immediately gets to work. Quickly scan the data of the man who was tracking you.

Everything that had ever happened in his life, the hacker would find out now. And of course, the most important information is quickly obtained.

Name

Age

Date of birth

Address

All bank accounts

His social security number

Where he grew up

As what he works

What friends he has

With whom he is friends

His pets

On what elementary school he went

On what high school he went

Who his parents are

The siblings

All information about each individual family member

And at the very end, the police certificate of conduct with all the information who are important for him. And that’s more interesting than he thought. The further he read the information from the police, the more his emotional state changes.

It starts with drug abuse

Bodily injury in two cases

Insult

Gun possession

Domestic violence against his ex girlfriend

....

The list is shockingly long: a two-year stay in a prison, probation and community service.

The further Jake read, the more worried he is that he couldn’t have been there in time with bad luck. But he’s all the happier he could save you.

At the same time, he’s thinking about telling you who the guy is, because he doesn’t know how you’re gonna take this information. But he would worry more about that later.

As he glances at the laptop’s camera, a smile creeps up on his lips. Meanwhile, you are lying on his side of the bed, your arms are tightly wrapped around his pillow and your head is pressing into the soft fabric, as if you were looking for his proximity in your sleep.

How perfect can a person be? How perfect is this beautiful being lying in his bed? Immediately the tingling starts in his stomach, as always when it comes to you.

He’s so terribly in love. So insanely strong.

Again, he begins to regret that it has not progressed further between you. Everyone knows that he loves you, and everyone knows that you love him. And yet you both have not yet managed to finally do what you both so much want. But the fear of destroying everything is so great. You two spend so much time with each other, become best friends, best friends who feel more for each other than just friendship.

In addition, his fear of putting you in danger is added. He is not a simple man, no one who prefers a regular daily life, no fixed working hours, no fixed income, even if he earns more than most others. As a hacker you have one or the other possibility. Nevertheless, he is still wanted by the government. Not as strong, and the danger is not as great as it was a few months ago, but it still exists.

But last night’s incident somehow inspired him to think, and he feels different when he thinks about it. He wants you, he wants you with everything you have, he wants you by his side. He always wants to protect you, he always wants to be there for you, he wants you by his side, he doesn’t want to live alone in this apartment anymore. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, he needs you, he has always done it and he will always need you, he wants you so bad!

This incident clearly shows that life is always uncertain, and this incident shows him that he is lying to himself. He wants to be able to say that you’re a couple, he wants it so badly. So fucking urgent.

"I want to share my life with you," the hacker murmurs, driving through his face with his hands. Now his thoughts have drifted in another direction again, but you’re just sitting in every corner of his mind. You are the biggest and most important part of his life and that since the first time you met.

But now something else is more important. After that, he can think of you a lot, but now revenge counts.

He breathes in and out again before turning back to the screens and begins to gather more information.

-

About half an hour later, he releases himself from his cramped posture. The further he delves into the life of the man, the more aggressive he becomes.

This guy’s not a petty criminal, the way he thought he was, this guy’s got dirt on him through and through.

And the further he reads, the more he wonders why this guy is on the loose and not in a maximum security prison.

From organized crime to gang activities. Drug dealing, counterfeit money, prositution. All the shit every gang is involved in.

Disgusting chat histories, images, threats of other people, extort protection money. And the hacker just assumed the guy is just a disgusting bastard. But he thought wrong.

And yet, it’s actually only good for him, really very good, because Jake has now a lot more options than he thought.

He thinks hard about how to proceed. How best to tackle this whole situation, so that he has the best chance of success.

But what’s also positive for is the fact that this guy really doesn’t deserve anything other than what the hacker’s up to.

To destroy a person’s whole life is actually nothing that he would do; he simply cannot reconcile this with his morality. Even if it’s about you, but now he’s not just doing it for you, he’s doing it for everyone. This is a favor he does to the whole society.

Oh and he’ll do it with pleasure.

-

Meanwhile, he has gained access to the man’s laptop and can take a closer look at the living room. He also got lucky and found some camera shots taken by a bakery that is on the street where you were being followed.

Unfortunately, it has no sound and yet it is more than enough. He saved the recording and censored you on it.You don’t have to be broadcast in video format all over the world.

But it is still clear that he's persecutes you. It is more bad than quite recognizable on the videos that he is angry and that he shouts something, but when you see the video, everything is explained by itself.

That was number one on his list.

Let's continue with point two.

And point two is a summary of all the information he could find that could even remotely involve anything criminal.

And this is a really long list, he can prove everything, he can prove every single point. With all the information that will help.

Videos, chats, pictures, recording of conversations. Locations, meeting places, other names.

Because his plan has changed, and it’s not just about destroying this man anymore, it’s about destroying all the criminals around him.

-

Point two, finish! Now, point three, and that’s the confrontation with the man.

The most important information is in front of him as he puts on his headset and leans back relaxed.

The recording program runs as soon as he turns on his microphone. The recording is automatically converted into the computer voice and then sent as a video along with his sign, the eye, as a gift to his new friend.

He puts one leg over the other and folds his arms in front of his chest.

"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."

-

And send.

Soon the man’s cell phone will start ringing, and it will only stop when he gets up and then listens to the hacker’s nice message on his laptop, which will breaking his little world in which he lives.

But it’s his own fault.

A look at the camera of his own laptop tells him that you still sleep quietly and calmly, which makes him happy. -

The ringing of the mobile phone and the terrible ringtone of the persecutor annoy the hacker so slowly. He didn’t think it would be that long before Ted wake up. But when it finally happens and a door is opened, a slightly arrogant grin appears on Jake’s face.

It’s Showtime.

"What the hell?" grumbles the sleepy guy as Jake makes the video file pop up.

The eye flickers on the screen and Ted skeptically approaches it.

He pulls back his desk chair and sits down.

"What the fuck?" he hisses angrily and pushes a button on the keyboard.

"Hello Ted, my identity doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve made some serious mistakes, and about this, I will teach you now."

Amused and eager, Jake follows the course of the situation.

Ted becomes more and more hectic, the more facts the computer voice enumerates. He probably didn’t expect this to ever come to light. He wildly presses all the buttons he can find, tries to turn off the laptop but he has absolutely no control over it.

At the very end, after all the crimes have been enumerated, the computer voice informs him that he has video footage of his nocturnal activity.

"That was a big mistake, Ted, and it’s time you understood that you understand how unimportant you are in this world"

-

After Jake has decided to leave Ted alone, with the knowing that he can now say goodbye to his life as he knows it, he move on to point 4.

And point 4 involves sending all the information to everyone who can do something with it. But don't worry, that’s not the finale.

The finale will be something special.

Everything collected is sent first to the police in Duskwood. He doesn’t think much will happen, but the police will certainly not be the agency that will take care of Ted, in the end.

After the police, Jake sends the information to his place of work. He won’t be needing the job in a few hours anyway even longer.

Then his sister gets an e-mail with everything there is about her brother. Because Jake found out that poor girl always had to take care of him. Had to pick him out of the cell at night, had to pick him up of the hospital one or the other time and things like that. Among other things, good Ted broke into her apartment once, but this was not reported to the police. Jake saw in a chat that Ted promised to stop doing criminal things. This didn’t work out that way. The hacker feel sorry for the sister, she certainly doesn’t deserve it and yet this is about more than just that.

And after all the important people have received the information, he finally go to the final, which the hacker is most looking forward to before he can finally return to you.

Back to you, to his bed where you lie, this day can’t be more beautiful, can it?

Well, the morning show on TV sounds good, doesn’t it? The channel is littered with scandals and really unscrupulous means of getting attention.

No one will be angry with him if the actual broadcast is interrupted for a few minutes to do something good. And to appease his vengeance. All he has to do is fade in everything, play the video and the rest would come by itself. The spread on the Internet. The information is forwarded to other authorities like the State Police Authorities as it is about more than just the pursuit after revenge for his love. Gang crime is not liked by the state.

So then, curtain up, the final begins.

-

About half an hour later, now it is shortly before 9  in the morning, the whole took longer than he had expected, he sinks back on the soft mattress. Satisfaction spreads and seeing you sleep so peacefully also makes him tired.

Carefully he pulls the blanket over himself and then grabs again around your body to bring you back into his arms. He hides his head in your neck bend and a few moments he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He couldn’t stop himself from posting some things on Ted’s Instagram page for his personal feeling. Pictures that Ted prefers not to watch for the Internet, but Jake doesn’t care; in a few hours, Ted will never have access to the Internet again. Hopefully Ted makes friends in prison fast, or it won’t be so funny for him.

Well, don’t mess with the hacker’s love.

----------

When you open your eyes, Jake still lies peacefully asleep beside you.

His hair stands wildly off his head and he has put his arms protective around you. Immediately a feeling of home spreads within you and you smile.

His body nestles warm against yours and you wish you could always wake up like that.

Bu, if you didn’t have to use the bathroom.

Carefully peel out from under his arms without waking him.

With leaving Jake’s arms and getting out of bed, the first pictures of last night immediately come back into your head. A few moments you stare at the wall before you shake your head. You don’t want to think about it. Actually, you never want to have to think about it again, you just want to forget it, focus on everything that’s more important now. And this is you, your feeling that you don’t want to get involved in this situation, you don’t want to leave room for this man. You don’t want him to have room in your life, and you don’t want to investigate any further. Actually, you don’t want to know who this guy is. You just want to focus on how lucky you were, that everything went well, that Jake saved you, and that nothing happened to you.

Jake!

You want to focus on Jake! And most importantly, that you finally want to be with him! He was there to save you right away. He was ready to help you immediately, he protected you, especially the way he protected you. The way he sounded, as if he was doing everything he could to save you. And this irrational fear that this could not work with you two, it’s bullshit! You want him with everything he has and you don’t want to be just friends anymore. You long for his lips, for his kisses that don’t just go on your forehead or cheek. You want to finally be able to say that you are a couple, you want him so badly, so damn badly.

Like a miracle cure, the thought of Jake really distracts you. You didn’t even know where your thoughts went, it just happened. But it always is, it’s just in every corner of your mind.

-

After you left the bathroom, you turned on the coffee machine. You’d stay awake and pass the time until Jake wakes up and you could have some breakfast. While the coffee is cooking, you drop down on the small sofa in the hacker’s living room and decide to pass the time with a little bit TV.

You switch through the channels looking for something interesting but don’t really find something you like.

When the Coffee machine gives you confirmation that the hot drink is ready, you quickly jump up and leave the remote control there.

While you prepare your coffee, you listen to an advertisement about an electronic toothbrush and then one about the latest vacuum cleaner.

With your cup you go back and then put a thin blanket from the sofa around your legs.

The News Show that you sometimes see starts broadcasting.

And you really expected a lot, really a lot, but you never expected what was actually going on.

While the news announcer reports on a gang crime, a picture is displayed. There’s a man to be seen, and you’re a thousand percent sure that’s the man who chased you yesterday.

Silently and with your mouth open you are listening as a whole gang was arrested, warehouses and factories were stormed. Drugs and counterfeit money were confiscated and in the end, how a hacker uncovered all this.

During the narration about hacking another channel and the materials shown there such as images and video, your heart begins to beat faster and faster.

And when it is shown what was published there, you put your hand infront your mouth in shock.

"Oh my-" you watch the camera shots where you can clearly see the street, which is only a few streets away from your apartment.

And then you see a censored shadow running, a few moments later a man.

You and the man who was now identified as Ted.

Jake.

That was Jake, you know it!

You don’t know how to react. While the pictures and videos scare you, since this man met you yesterday, you feel moved to tears on the other side. When the hell did he do that?

Did he do it because of you?

Where does he get so much information? Sure, he’s a hacker but THAT?

When the news anchor finally ends her post with the words "This man will probably never see the light of day again" and "The whole Internet speaks about this man and the victim who was persecuted by him. When you see this, we wish you all well!"

You have the feeling that you are breathing again for the first time. Like you’ve been holding your breath all this time without noticing.

You stutter at things, try to explain, sort out and understand your feelings. But somehow, just like last night, it’s too unreal.

"You shouldn’t know that in this way"

Startled you turn around as Jake’s sleepy voice appears behind you.

He's leaning in the door frame and yawns once.

With an open mouth you stare at him, "Did you-?" but you break off immediately because you have no idea what to say.

"Is everything okay? Shouldn’t I have do that? I wanted to tell you myself but now it’s too late. I wanted to teach you gently," explains the hacker, and his gaze slowly turns into a worried one.

"Did you- I mean- you were -" you stutter, can’t bring out a normal sentence. Point you to the TV, to you and back to Jake.

"I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything," he explains straight away." It was just, I don’t know, I was so mad! I still am! This disgusting bastard was following you, he-"quickly breaks off. His hands are clenched into fists, his eyebrows pulled together and his breath accelerated. However, he doesn’t want to remind you unnecessarily, even if that didn’t work out so well through the news. He really has to hold back from screaming completely and somehow making sure that Ted gets more than what he already has.

"No Jake, I-I" you just can’t find the right words and before you know it, you threw yourself awkwardly over the sofa, rolled over it and stood two steps later directly in front of Jake. Without control, you reach into his neck with one hand and pull his head down towards you. Not quite gently your lips hit on his.

And just as quickly as the kiss came about, you finish it as quickly.

"Oh, um, I... so.. I-" you laugh nervously, still holding his head. "Um, sorry?"

Jake also laughs nervously.

"I shouldn’t have done that," a little embarrassed, you let go of his neck and kick a few steps away from him.

"No, no, everything was fine, I thought it was great, so I mean-" a slight redness adorns Jake’s cheeks.

"Sorry" you mumble with a much too high voice and try yourself on a grin that probably looks like you’re in pain. Jake makes an waving off hand move, then it’s quiet between you for a moment. You chew on the inside of your cheek and let your foot slide across the floor in a semicircle, "Did you..- Did you say you thought it was great?" You ask as unimpressed as possible, as if it were a question about the weather.

Jake’s eyes grow big, "Did you find it bad?"

"No, no, of course not!" you assure him quickly." It was great, I would do it again and again."

You sigh.

Smiling, you put one hand to your forehead and look back at the hacker. Jake smiles too, and then you start laughing out loud. Until you have to hold your stomach and the first tears run out of your eyes.

"We’re so ridiculous," you chuckle, shaking your head over you two.

"Do you think?" Jake asks, grinning, "I find us great together"

"Me too" you agree and look back at him.

"Jake I-"

"MC I-"

At the same time you start to speak and then both of you are immediately silent to let the other go first.

"Do you first" you offer and he returns it to you.

"No, I’m fine, say what you wanted to say," you confirm.

"I can wait, you start"

You’re twisting her eyes again.

However, Jake understands this wrong and at the same time the magic words leave your lips "I love you"

Masterlist

-

And thank you @a-d-alison your submission gave me a lot of motivation🤭❤️

-

[jjkyaoi]

hey besties i’m thinking about c!quackity again, so take this post. which is just me rambling abt him for an extended amount of time to the point where it’s almost concerning but that’s not the point just take the post

- quackity’s character, to me at least, is probably one of the most complex? like, it doesn’t seem that way to most ppl, because in the beginning he was the comedic relief character: back in the manberg era he was just joking around, laughing with the ppl of manberg and never taking anything too seriously? he was the life of the party, he was schlatt’s right vice that was basically just there for the fun of it more than anything, you could say. but. quickly, after the festival, he began to realize that things weren’t all fun & games. that the person he’d run with — the person who was in control of the nation, the person who’d he’d laughed and had fun with and bickered with wasn’t safe to run the nation anymore, wasn’t a good president and furthermore, wasn’t a good person. & you could say c!quackity isn’t the most morally set person, you could say that he isnt the best person & that he’s an antagonist, but he saw that c!schlatt wasn’t a good person, and he stood his ground and left him in the dust and went to go fight with the ppl who was actively mocking — who he was enemies of before, and that’s when his arc really started. take this with a grain of salt, because it’s something ppl believe & it’s something ppl don’t believe; but the fight that schlatt and quackity had? their relationship in general? it wasn’t healthy. during the fight c!schlatt was actively berating him for getting upset with him/berating him in general, talking to him in a mocking tone of voice, saying “oh, are you gonna cry?” and yelling at him in chat even when he was already lone gone from manberg — they weren’t friends. their relationship wasn’t healthy, from any way you look at it, especially considering the way you notice how c!quackity was still subtlety shaken up about the interaction when he was interacting with tommy afterwards. quackity, in that arc, also revealed that he hadn’t ever run for president of l’manberg for some sort of power trip: he revealed that it’s because he’s cared about l’manberg, and simply didn’t see wilbur as a fit ruler/wanted the best for l’manberg, & that’s why he went up against him because he thought he could give l’manberg the best; he’s cared about the country since the beginning, whether you like to believe it or not, and it makes it all the more heartbreaking that the man he’d thought was going to make l’manberg better — the man he entrusted to make l’manberg better just turned out to be worse than the ppl who they kicked out in the first place. in that arc i think c!quackity still cared about tommy and wilbur, to some degree, even though he actively mocked them behind their backs in manberg, and i honestly do think he thought manberg was what was best for what l’manberg once was and only left once those rose tinted glasses where taken from him — or, furthermore, once he saw how awful of a person c!schlatt really was.

- c!quackity is a person who cares deeply for his friends. he’s always quick to jump to their defense if & when he believes they’re being wronged in some way —the way he was outwardly outraged at c!tommy being exiled— and he’s willing to stick by their side, but also, what makes him an interesting character is that when he has a goal in mind, that care sort of takes a back seat and what takes the forefront in his mind is accomplishing his goal. he had a friendly relationship with c!tommy before the election arc, but he saw, in his mind that l’manberg wasn’t fit under wilbur’s reign and ran against them; an example of showing care, but also looking more at the grand scheme of things/caring more about his goal if it’s something he really wants to achieve. c!quackity is a incredibly stubborn & determined character, and if he wants something he’s going to get it, and he’s going to get it no matter what, which is both a strength and a weakness. it’s a strength because it makes him strong; it’s a strength because it makes him a worthy opponent, however. it’s a weakness because he gets sort of,,, tunnel vision,,,? whenever he wants to accomplish that goal? he pushes everything to the side when it comes to that goal, and that includes relationships with others. he was willing to have karl lose a canon life in order for their plan against eret to work. it’s something that could be detrimental to the safety of his friends/his relationship with his friends, and it’s detrimental to the safety of himself. another example is him guilt tripping sam in order for him to let him into the prison. another example is him putting an extreme amount of pressure onto c!tubbo’s shoulders/forcing him around during the butcher army to do what he wanted.

- c!quackity is good with his words. he’s funny, he’s charismatic, but also he’s extremely intelligently smart. he was able to go up against c!dream in a debate and even got him frustrated him enough that he felt the need to private message him with a warning. ppl tend to underestimate quackity because he isn’t that physically strong, he doesn’t have much when it comes to armor, but what he does have his words. he’s a cunning little shit (affectionate). in the butcher army he was able to come up with this plan against techno and was able to get the others to bend to his will petty easily, and during el rapids time against eret he was able to come up with a plan that would’ve worked perfectly fine if his friends weren’t all dumb idiots (affectionate). he’s a natural leader, because he’s got the brains to plan ahead and he’s got the charisma to execute that plan to a pretty good degree, and it’s even better because, once again, he’s willing to go to any length — pull out all the stops in order for his plan to work. he’s a mastermind, and he’s dangerous in a way where he’s unpredictable because you don’t know what he’ll do in order to get what he wants. and, glances at everything he’s doing to c!dream in canon to get what he wants, there’s clearly nothing stopping him in canon at this point in time. also considering the fact that he’s stripped everything that would be attachment/that would stop him from achieving his goal from him. glances down at him tearing down el rapids.

- c!quackity would be a very, very good antagonist to have because he’s always been a sort of cunning person that’s been on the morally gray side since the beginning, but now? now that we’ve seen how far he’s willing to go — now that we’ve seen the sort of,,,, dark path he’s fallen down since everything, the plan he has in mind? the fact that he’s going to revive fucking schlatt of all people once he gets what he wants? casino man by beloved; what fucked up shit r u gonna do. i am so ready for it.

- tldr: c!quackity is a super interesting character and he deserves to be fucked up and evil. as a treat <33

[writesowhatnext]

we’re only getting older, baby // george weasley

Summary: enemies // that’s how you and george weasley started out

Request: nee

A/N: this has been in my head a while and essentially it’s a 3-part enemies-to-lovers thing and I am excited about it!!!!! And also Y/L/N is your last name which I usually skirt around but couldn’t in this :)

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing, arguments

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

Almost immediately, you could tell there was something wrong with that bludger.

You were a beater, and a hell of a good one at that, and so you had a knack for knowing when a bludger was acting strange. It was your job, really, and you considered the one that seemed to have a death wish for Harry Potter definitely out of the ordinary. Until it broke off the end of Wood’s broomstick and sent him spiralling to the ground, you hadn’t even noticed it and whilst you had absolutely no love for the Gryffindor keeper, or Harry Potter for that matter, you knew that a bludger, especially a rogue one, could do a lot of damage.

Despite the inevitable grief you’d get from your teammates, it was obvious that Potter was probably quite important in the grand scheme of things in the wizarding world and it seemed that whilst you did really want to win the match, you were also pretty fond of being alive. And so, after a few moments of internal debate, you cursed under your breath and set off after Potter, your bat at the ready.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Slytherin beater, is… following Harry Potter?” Lee Jordan shouted over the speakers, garnering a healthy level of confusion from the crowd.

When the bludger came at him, certain to knock him off his broom if you did nothing, you huffed and adjusted the bat in your grip. With a grunt, you smacked it away, sending it spiralling across the other side of the field.

“What- what are you doing?” Potter stuttered; his eyes wide as he looked at you. They turned into saucers when he looked to your right and without thinking, you surged your broom forward and turned, the bludger striking your bat so hard the vibration reverberated right down your wrist.

“No need to thank me, Potter,” you said dryly, looking around for a blur of black in the sky. “Bludger’s enchanted; if you were smart, you’d get out of the sky.”

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Flint and Pucey sandwich one of the Gryffindor chasers, angling her into the Hufflepuff stand. You rolled your eyes at them, already vaguely irritated at the presence of your own morals, their cheating only adding further insult to injury. You couldn’t deny your annoyance that every Slytherin success was surmounted to pure cheating and they did nothing to help the case.

Turning around to reprimand Potter, you groaned when you saw him disappear into the stands followed by a flash of green and white. The bludger soared after both him and Malfoy and you ground your teeth together, reluctantly flying over.

“As Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy search for the snitch, they are followed into the stands by a bludger!” Lee Jordan’s voice rang out. “And Y/N Y/L/N?”

Loud, echoing boos filled the air as you grasped your broom, trying to listen to the sound of beams being broken by the weight of the iron ball. You rolled your eyes, barely stopping in time as the dark object whooshed in front of you, the force of it blowing a gust of wind through your quidditch robes.

As it curved in the air, preparing to circle back into the stands and no doubt maim Harry Potter, you prepared yourself. With your shoulders set back and palms gripping both your broom and bat tightly, you inhaled, watching it gather momentum. Absentmindedly, you contemplated how far Potter would fly if it hit him. Then, with a hefty swing, you sent the bludger over the top of the stands, so far that it disappeared for a few moments in the mist. The sound of your bat cracking down the middle was a horrible one, the wood pinching your palms as you grimaced. You slowied your broom down to a stop and hoped they’d give you a replacement. That is, if you were even allowed on the team anymore, after this stunt.

You only remembered why you’d cared so much about the bludger in the first place when both Potter and Malfoy rocketed out of the stands with their arms outstretched in efforts to reach the snitch you were far too far away to see. A chuckle left your lips as Malfoy hit the ground, rolling over twice before lying still, clutching his side. Potter, however, was a different story and when he tumbled to the ground, your mood soured as in his opened palm, was a shining golden glint that could only be the snitch. Applause and cheers rang out through the stadium along with Lee Jordan’s incessant shouting and you huffed, your shoulders sagging as you lowered your broom to the ground. You’d never hear the end of this, you thought crossly, knowing Flint would more than likely bar you from the team.

Strolling casually over, you didn’t even blink as the bludger soared back from where you’d hit it, never wavering from its desire to pulverise Potter. It exploded in the sky just above him as you dragged your broom across the field, only mildly interested in the swarms of people invading the pitch. You were halfway between Malfoy and Potter when you slowed to a halt, standing your broom up and watching carefully as crowds surrounded them both.

“Oi, Y/L/N!” Flint called; his anger palpable. You clicked your jaw and twisted your head to face him, clutching the handle of your broom tighter at the look on his face.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“The bludger was-“

“I don’t give a shit! Why weren’t you paying attention to the game?”

“Me?” you said indignantly and probably far too loudly. “I was the only one that bloody noticed that bludger going after Potter.”

“That was fine by us,” he said, shrugging. “With Potter out the way, we’d win the match easily.”

“You’re such a fucking troll, Flint,” you snapped. He lunged at you, only for you to slam your hands into his chest, pushing him back.

“Don’t forget whose side you’re on, Y/L/N,” his breathing was ragged as he got close to your face. “Helping Potter’s done you no favours.”

“Helping?” someone called from behind you. “She wasn’t bloody helping anybody!”

You turned around to see the Gryffindor team collecting behind you, the Weasley twins looking decidedly angry as they glowered at you.

“She was firing bludgers at Harry the whole bloody game,” George said gruffly.

You grumbled, tilting your head to the side, already done with the whole debacle.

“He’s lucky he’s alive!” Fred added, scowling. “What, with her stalking him the whole time!”

“Oh really?” you asked, turning to the twins, the air turning tense. “Where were you idiots, then? He’s on your bloody team, isn’t he?”

“Hey!” George leant forward, his fist clenching at his side. “That’s not-“

“That was blatant cheating,” Wood interrupted, his voice stern.

“Remind me, Wood; isn’t hitting the bludger at the other team the beater’s job?” Flint asked, though judging by the dirty look he sent you, you were inclined to believe that his intention wasn’t to stick up for you.

“This is different, Flint. That bludger-“

“Was enchanted!” you said, throwing your arms up, only to catch the eye of George, who seemed more irked than ever.

“So that’s your excuse, is it? Bloody enchanted, eh?”

“Have you ever seen a bludger behave like that, you moron?” you countered, leaning closer to him, itching to just punch him in the jaw.

“Typical Slytherin,” he muttered, his red brows drawn together. “Cheats, the lot of you.”

You started forward, beyond prepared to start a fight when Professor McGonagall stepped between you, fixing her glare first on you before turning it to George.

“I think we have more pressing matters to deal with,” she said pointedly. “Don’t you?”

You stepped backwards, still simmering with anger as you looked at Weasley, who also appeared barely able to control himself.

“Like restoring Mr Potter’s bones, perhaps?” she stared icily at Wood for a moment. “Or maybe Mr Malfoy’s ribs?”

Her stare trailed back to you and her lips twitched and if it hadn’t been for Malfoy’s overly-dramatic groan, you thought she’d probably have never looked away. With a miffed huff, you turned on your heel and stormed off, muttering under your breath.

You didn’t see George Weasley again until Professor Lockhart’s stupid duelling club. You were peeved enough that you had to be taught by a glorified mannequin, but having to navigate around all the spiders that kept cropping up everywhere was slowly pushing you over the edge. George Weasley was just the icing on the cake.

“You know, Fred,” he started, a teasing grin on his lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N was the Heir of Slytherin.”

You rolled your eyes, purposefully stepping backwards to grind your heel into his foot. You were rewarded with a little yelp, but you stiffened when you felt him come closer behind you.

“Careful, George,” Fred said, the smile in his voice evident. “You could get yourself petrified.”

You scoffed, turning around sharply, surprised to see George’s face so close to your own.

“Oh, yes, Weasley!” you whispered rather loudly. “You’ve cracked the bloody case; I just go around petrifying people for the fun of it! Brilliant detectives, you prats are.”

They mocked your words, wobbling their heads from side to side as you whipped back to face Lockhart, suitably aggravated as you crossed your arms over your chest. A Hufflepuff from one of the lower years turned around to shush you and in turn, received the full brunt of your anger as you tutted loudly.

“Oh, piss off, Finch-Fletchley.”

Your mood only soured further when George snorted behind you.

Why George Weasley pissed you off so much you couldn’t say. Your head-butting was indisputably his fault with his catty remarks and stupid pranks and all just because you were a Slytherin. It would’ve been a lie, though, to say that you didn’t return the favour. Justifiably, though, you thought. Ever since your first year, it had always been the same; you and Weasley at each other’s throats, somewhat enjoying having somebody to hate, somewhat enjoying the rush of arguing with someone. Thankfully, though, you didn’t have to think about him a lot; you were rarely in the same classes and when you could, you just ignored him for the sake of your own wellbeing.

When you saw Harry Potter and the youngest Weasley boy, Ron, in the corridor, though, spying on the teachers as they examined one of the messages that had been sprouting up all over the castle, you couldn’t help but think of George. His little sister was missing and despite every insult you’d thrown his way, you felt bad for him. You knew that you should’ve reported them for being in the corridors when they shouldn’t have been, but you watched Ron’s expression go from upset to desolate as his eyes settled on you and with a quick decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret, you turned away. They whispered to each other as you walked in the opposite direction, confused as to why you acted as if you hadn’t even seen them.

You did, in the end, regret your kind gesture, and any other you’d done in the past, when George stormed into Slytherin common room, barrelling past the charms and stopping short right in front of you, panting like a stampeding rhinoceros. You clenched your jaw, standing up so that you were chest to chest.

“Was it you?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.

You narrowed your eyes, fully aware of the dozens of ears eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Was what me?” you said slowly, trying to contain your anger. He really didn’t have a clue, did he? He never did.

“Oh, you know what,” he spat, joined by his brother Fred. You rolled your eyes, knowing that if everyone wasn’t already staring at you, they sure were now. “My sister.”

You bit back every retort you wanted to spout and instead leant forward, poking at his chest with your finger.

“Weasley,” you said, your voice level, but rippling with barely concealed irritation. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

“Yeah, well, you would say that- what?” he stopped, visibly taken aback.

“I heard about your sister,” you said, dropping your hand and looking at his chest. “I’m sorry she was taken. I didn’t do it.”

Fred, along with the rest of the common room, watched your jaw clench before you exhaled. The toll attempting to be civil to George Weasley was taking on your composure was obvious.

George opened and closed his mouth like a fish and, had you seen, you would’ve mocked him, but you didn’t notice. Your just lifted your chin as you sat down, turning back to your book and pretending that you could concentrate on the words with your heart thumping so loudly in your ears. You didn’t look up until he fled the room, his twin hot on his tail.

After that altercation, you didn’t see much of the twins. The castle seemed to somehow go back to normal, the petrified students reanimated again and the blood washed off of the walls like it was never there. Potter smiled at you in the corridors sometimes as well and though you didn’t mean for it, he always noticed the slight curl of your lips in response.

That particular day, you were lurking near the doorway of the Great Hall, waiting for the house-elves to bring out food for you to take on the train home.

As you dug dirt out from under your fingernails, you watched Granger walk past looking a lot less lifeless than the last time you saw her. She stopped in front of you, her smile faltering slightly under your stare, your eyebrow raised in question.

“I see you’re up and moving again, Granger,” you said offhandedly, hoping she would actually do something other than stare. “Can I help you with something?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at you before she just shook her head, scuttling off to where Potter and Ron Weasley were sitting at the Gryffindor table. You rolled your eyes at her as someone clearing their throat next to you drew your attention. You grimaced at the sight of Fred and George.

“Uh,” George said, his face alone enough to flare your irritation. “Harry told me that the bludger at the start of the year was enchanted by a house-elf.”

You stared at him passively for as long as you could before your anger bubbled over.

“So, you blamed me for the work of a bloody house-elf? Oh, right, yes, cheers, George,” you said sharply, watching Fred scurry away, leaving you facing his brother alone.

“Well-“ George said indignantly before you cut him off, leaning closer.

“And let’s not forget that you also blamed me for what You-Know-Who did in the ‘chamber of secrets’-“

“Right, I’m trying to say sorry here,” he said plainly, scowling.

“You what?” you asked, rather breathless after your little rant.

“I’m trying to say that I’m sorry for being such a git,” he said, the air thick as he waited for any semblance of a reaction on your face. “And to say thanks, you know... for not telling on Harry and Ron.”

George expected many things when you opened your mouth then: shouting, insults, a punch perhaps, maybe even a hex. What he did not expect, was rationality and fairness.

“Alright,” you nodded, your expression still hard.

“Alright?”

“Yes, fine, I accept your apology.”

“What?” he said, the stupidly confused look on his face stoking your rage again.

“Are you thick? I said I’m accepting your apology.”

“I didn’t expect you to accept.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to calm yourself down.

“Well, you don’t know a lot about me, Weasley,” you said, your voice surprisingly soft and almost religiously guarded.

He relaxed a little, strangely curious all of a sudden.

“I suppose I don’t…” he said, a wary grin pulling at his cheeks. “Maybe we could be friends?”

In fairness, he’d said it more to judge your reaction than anything; to test the waters between you.

You stared at his outstretched hand with a deadpan look.

“Don’t push it.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

@yuptha-tsme​

@obsessedwithrandomthings​

@dreamer821​

@iprobablyshipit91​

@in-slytherin-we-trust​        

@haphazardhufflepuff​

@princesof-theuniverse​

@whovianayesha​

@ickle-ronniekins​ 

@harrysweasleys​ 

[clevercorvidae]

BNHA Common Misconceptions

I’ve been seeing wayyy too much bs on my dash lately. So I thought I’d share some of my thoughts on some Controversy™

***Spoilers For The Manga***

1. “What the HPSC did to Hawks wasn’t bad”

A government organization putting a young child through rigorous training so that he can be used as a tool is bad. I don’t know why I have to spell that out

Hawks had to abandon his real name at a very young age. That’s damaging for a kid’s sense of identity. His identity as a person no longer has any separation from his work as a hero. Being a hero is all he is now. I wouldn’t be surprised if (provided Hawks’s wings are gone for good) he has an identity crisis after this arc because he can’t be “Hawks” anymore.

Hawks is based on Lionel Messi, a soccer player recruited at a young age in return for paying for his medical procedures. I’ve seen people say that Hawks chose to be a hero. One, he was a child, young children shouldn’t be making decisions like that. Two, we know based on context clues that Keigo was more than likely living in poverty, possibly with alcoholic parents, and we literally are told that the HPSC payed for his family’s living expenses. Do you really think Keigo had much of a choice here?

I’ve seen people say “it’s just like what UA is doing”. First of all, UA is called out for being irresponsible and endangering their students IN UNIVERSE. Second, Keigo was a young child, the UA kids are 15+. There’s a huge difference.

2. “Mitsuki isn’t abusive”

Honestly when it comes to her smacking Katsuki, I could excuse it as a joke done in poor taste and not hold it over her as a character.

Hitting him WASNT just discipline tho. You should never, ever, under any circumstances hit your kid. Fuck that noise.

What I really have an issue with is what she SAYS to Katsuki. Her guilt tripping him isn’t a throwaway line either. He repeats the sentiment that he is responsible for Kamino during Deku v Kacchan 2. It’s one of the main reasons he fights Deku.

Horikoshi says that Katsuki has a good relationship with his mother. In that case, he did a horrible job at presenting that. What is written in the canon is what should be used as the basis for how we interpret her character.

3. “Shigaraki chose to kill his family/was born evil”

No...just...no. He was FIVE for crying out loud.

He wanted to be a hero, and took extra care to play with kids that had no friends. He definitely wasn’t born evil lmao.

His quirk manifested while he was having an emotional crisis. Decay is controlled by emotion so of course it went haywire.

He didn’t even know it was him doing it at first.

“But Shigaraki said he WANTED it to happen” Shigaraki is an unreliable narrator. What we actually SEE tells a very different story. He reaches out to Hana and his Mother for help. His grandparents are just caught in the shockwave. The ONLY person he killed on purpose was his father.

Now when it comes to his father, he had just beat him and locked him outside. He’s FIVE, and he has no healthy outlet for his anger and frustration. Hell, we see that in his “itchiness”, he only feels like this in the house, because his father makes him suppress his love for heroes and his dream to become one. He takes joy in killing his father because it’s the only release he’s ever experienced.

The fact that you guys forget that this is an abused child with no real control over his quirk that just got beaten and locked outside... Nope, no reading comprehension here.

4. “The League of Villains are justified/are a revolutionary group”

...Shigaraki has stated over and over again that he just wants to destroy everything. He doesn’t care about reform or improving anything. That one panel in Ch. 222, where he says he wants to destroy everything I think sums it up perfectly.

He wants to destroy EVERYTHING good or bad or neither or both. There’s a newborn baby, a field of flowers , Nine, various heroes, the UA kids, etc all varying in innocence.

The rest of the league have very different goals and reasons why they continue to support Shigaraki. Twice wants to protect the only people that accepted him. Spinner just wants to have purpose for his life. Toga wants to live the way she wishes with no consequences. Compress is also here.

The only “revolutionary” is Dabi. But his views are not universal throughout the league.

Even if they were trying to improve things. They have killed countless innocent people, they’ve tried to kill the UA kids too. That’s not ok. And it’s not erased by the fact that they’ve done good. (I do appreciate them for killing the MHA version of the KKK, truly epic of you)

5. “Hawks is abusive”

It’s not abuse to manipulate someone for info when you’re a double agent. It’s kinda shitty, and you could argue that it was unnecessary for Hawks to do so in context. But it’s not abuse.

Y’all need to stop using the word abuse/abusive tendencies to describe all immoral actions

I’ve also seen people say that Hawks has abusive tendencies (as in he’s abusive in all his relationships with other characters) and...do I really need to explain why that makes no sense at all?

6. “Twice deserved to die/it was necessary to kill him”

Feel like I need to remind people that we’ve only ever actually seen Twice kill one guy and that was one of the KKK guys.

Twice isn’t evil, even Hawks admits that he is a genuinely good person. Good people don’t deserve to die.

It wasn’t necessary, and here’s why: Hawks could’ve just knocked him out or even just severely injured him. (Or the HPSC could’ve just grown a brain cell and sent more people to back him up, making it easier to hold back his quirk and arrest him)

Hawks shouldn’t have killed Twice, he only killed him because he’s been raised as a child soldier and I wouldn’t be surprised if what he told Twice about taking out villains was a direct quote from the HPSC

Also, Hawks would’ve killed Twice with or without Dabi’s intervention

Something I do have to say though is that Hawks was right not to just let Twice go. It’s tragic because Twice WAS leaving to help his friends, but the other side of that tragedy it that his friends are terrorists. If he was allowed to leave a shit ton of people would have died (again that doesn’t mean he deserved to die either, don’t get it twisted)

The WHOLE POINT of Hawks v Twice is to make you question who the bad guy is. Both characters are morally gray and the only reason they even have to fight is because of the outside forces controlling their fates. It’s supposed to be tragic it’s supposed to be unclear who is in the right, so stop arguing about it.

7. “Bakugou is abusive/irredeemable” (I know it’s been talked to death but I still see it everywhere)

People are, in fact, allowed to grow past the person they were in middle school.

Most people get hung up on the “throw yourself off a building” line. Which is fair, but again, he was in middle school.

People also say “he hasn’t apologized yet”. Yeah? And? The story isn’t over yet. Horikoshi has already acknowledged that too. I don’t know what you want? People who like him know that his arc isn’t over yet.

I’ve seen a lot of people denying his character development. In the beginning of the series he was a bully and let his ego control him. I don’t think he’s bullied...anyone since Deku v Kacchan 2. He insults people but they obviously don’t take it seriously.

He’s also gone from preferring to fail a final exam to avoid working with Deku, to following him into battle against Shigaraki.

Also, when he actually likes and respects someone he doesn’t mistreat them. This is the same thing with Hawks where y’all NEED to stop misusing the word abuse. He was an abusive friend to Deku when they were kids, that’s it.

8. “Rei was abusive too!”

I’m BEGGING YOU to learn what the term “abuse” means istg

She had a psychotic break. She genuinely thought it was her abusive husband coming through the door, and she acted out of fear.

“Well that’s not an excuse” yes it fucking is. Not to mention that as soon as she realized what happened, she sobs hysterically because she hurt Shouto and tries to use her quirk to help him.

I genuinely don’t understand why people think this

9. “Dabi actually does care about the league”

Listen, I know it sounds harsh, but y’all need to get your heads out of your piles of headcanons.

We know next to nothing about how Dabi feels about just about anything. But we do see that he’s aloof and distant with the league, he doesn’t put in more than he needs to. The rest of the league think of each other as family. Dabi straight up says he doesn’t give a shit about them.

“What if he was just putting up a front for Hawks” Why? Why would he do that? When asked who he was he answered him. He tells him how he feels about hero society and Stain. Not to mention that he was getting ready to kill him. If he was hiding his true feelings about the league I doubt he would’ve so easily said that he didn’t care about them but rather how useful they were.

At this point it’s just wishful thinking. Based on everything we’ve seen in the series so far and everything we know about Dabi, I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t care about them all that much. If he secretly does care about them, I’d say it’s likely that he doesn’t even know he does.

Idk why all of a sudden villain stans and hero stans are feuding over things that shouldn’t even be up for debate in the first place. Sorry if this came off as super aggressive, I’m just sick of seeing this stuff all over the place. If anyone has anything to add go ahead

[recurring-polynya]

I have to say I knew that at one point renji, ikkaku, yumichika and iba were in the same squad with kenpachi but good god you managed to paint a beautiful picture for me. I simply assumed that for them it was simply party time all the time along with a few bald jokes but this is much better. Emotionally healthy squad 11 which still love fighting more than anything. I always cringed when someone would just describe them as hooligans that do nothing but fighting. I mean they do that too but I love the idea that they are all emotionally healthy and mature, a loving and supportive family to their own - in their own wakka doodoo kind of way thats endearing - and of course they are in my opinion they single capable force against sexisim. Because they don't care about anything else - gendere, sexuality, gender performances, race, mentality or anything - other than if you fight good you respectable and if you fight good in squad 11 you family. ( like when kenpachi just became captain he made yachiru his lieutenant and no one was against it no one thought it was beneath them, sure thru nag at her sometimes but that's mostly in a banter like way because she call them stupid nicknames but no one hates her for being unrightfully their superior. One day they got a new captain and a new lieutenant that's a child and they just went with it.) I admit their disdain and disrespect to squad 4 is still frowned upon but I do believe some squad 4s can handle their own, it's just that we saw the really peaceful ones. Anyways sorry for ranting. Just wanted to say that yeah, I really like how the past squad 11 with iba and renji in it was a great place in general. I think if they found out some one was being sexist - for whatever reason - they would be there right next to nanao - or iba's mom protesting. Kenpachi and yachiru as well. And that makes me want to be squad 11 ,despite not being much for fighting, so bad.

So, for starters, thanks! I try to have fun whenever I write Squad 11, and I’m glad you enjoy my take on them.

My Squad 11 is just... really not very canon, though. Canon Squad 11 is actually pretty gross and sexist. Yumichika is transphobic, Kenpachi makes homophobic remarks about Yumichika, they bully Squad 4, there’s a filler episode devoted to a guy that Ikkaku bullied for, like 100 years because the guy lost his reiatsu saving Ikkaku’s dumb ass.

When you write fanfic, you occasionally run into these more problematic aspects of the source media, and you can choose to dig in and analyze them, or just... remake them in your own way. Take for example, Gin. If you read fanfic about Gin, there are some people who will peel away the layers of him and his fears and insecurities and still make him be a horrible gremlin, and it’s really stellar writing. Other people prefer to write him in an AU where maybe less bad stuff happened to him, and he’s more mischievous than sociopathic, and this is a less meaty interpretation, but it’s also more fun. Sometimes fanfic is a meal and sometimes it’s candy. It fulfills different needs and different fantasies and all of it is welcome.

Yumichika, who for me is the fulcrum of Squad 11, presents this problem. I really don’t like the way his “appreciation for beauty” plays out in canon. He doesn’t actually appreciate beauty, he just likes telling other people they’re ugly. I don’t think he’s ever pointed out beauty in anyone else aside from himself or his zanpakutou. I remember the first time I watched his fight with Charlotte and it struck me as so off -- why wouldn’t he find her beautiful? I mean, I know it’s a transmysogynistic joke, that’s why, men dressed as women is funny, hurr hurr, but Yumichika is gender nonconforming himself. This was an opportunity to make a cool character point, and Kubo took the cheap laughs road instead. Going back to what I said last paragraph, a skilled writer could, in theory, write about his insecurities and his brittleness and meanness and write a pretty compelling story, but a) Kubo certainly doesn’t, and I have never actually found a Yumichika-centric fanfic of this nature, and b) this doesn’t fit the role I need him to play in my stories. I am rarely really interested in writing about Squad 11 for its own sake. I like to write them as a backdrop for the period of Renji’s afterlife where he hit absolute rock bottom and bounced back up again. We already know the role Ikkaku played in this, except that Ikkaku is a complete moron in terms of mental health, and I really, really felt like this is where Yumichika needed to come in.

I like to massage Yumichika’s character a bit, but I do want to keep the flavor of some of his character flaws-- he’s still shallow and mean and judgy, and I love that for him, but I like to add in a positive side to his appreciation for beauty. Having Yumichika make fun of Izuru’s pores is funny but it’s even funnier if he’s just given Renji a compliment on his hair first. The idea that a Yumichika compliment is attainable makes all his drags the more vicious. Yumichika also judged people by their beauty instead of their moral character, which is humorous to me. He dislikes Byakuya as a person, but is obsessed with his haircare regime. I like to have him treat Rangiku as an equal, beauty-wise, and a person whose opinion he respects based on her aesthetic. Rangiku is actually a pretty savvy and very emotionally intelligent person whom many people write off because she likes to present herself as a lazy airhead, so in an extremely convoluted way, this all works out. I like to think that Yumichika’s ideas of beauty are also caught up in boldness and risk-taking and having one’s outward presentation ring true to their inner self. To me, this is the core of why he loves Ikkaku. To him, Ikkaku’s devotion to doing the most Ikkaku thing at all times, no matter how stupid, is irresistibly sexy. 

Aside: At some point, I decided that the fact that a lot of people in Bleach have colorful marks on their faces and elaborate hairstyle and accessory games implied that make-up in Soul Society is gender neutral. I like to think there is actually more of a divide between the nobility, who like their make-up to follow rules and be classy, and, well, Squad 11, who like to get make-up ideas from Jem and the Holograms. I don’t even wear makeup (I don’t know how and it’s expensive and I am ashamed of myself, we can talk about my own gender presentation later) but I like to write about both my male and female characters wearing make-up. I don’t actually know how my readers feel about it, but it just falls under the “Is that what people want?”/“It’s what we do” philosophy of all my writing.

I think one of the theses of my writing is that middle management is more important to the character of a squad than the person at the top. Captains sort of act as ideals to strive for, but they are generally unapproachable for one reason or another. Yachiru is more like her captain in this respect (which makes sense, since she is, in fact part of her captain). Ikkaku and Yumichika present this dual idea that 1) strength is awesome, fighting and being the best is awesome, and 2) part of strength is presenting yourself to the world in a bold and confrontational way. (The fact that both of them are hiding huge parts of themselves is laughably ironic). Kenpachi and Yachiru are shining examples of Do Whatever You Want and Be So Strong That No One Can Stop You. 

What really makes this work is that you need someone one layer down-- does anyone actually subscribe to this nonsense, and that’s why Iba - Abarai Squad 11 is Best Squad 11. I really, really enjoy the genre of Reddit posts where a total bro will find out that his girlfriend is trans and react by becoming a vehement advocate for trans rights. I love the bodybuilders typing encouragement to each other meme. Our world is flooded with disingenuous messages from concern trolls trying to tell us why being kind and inclusive to one another is bad or that you should reject help because struggle makes you stronger and the idea of a Himbo looking at something like that and saying “that seems dumb" is delightful to me.

I actually feel like there are a lot of awful people with bad ideas in Squad 11, it’s just that Renji and Iba don’t put up with their shit, and over time, that becomes the culture of Squad 11. I think that Squad 11 has incredibly turnover, but the ones who stay are the ones who subscribe to the ideas you mentioned-- fighting is what matters, if you wanna go argue about shit, go join Squad 5. In the IkkaYumi story I wrote, which happens shortly after Zaraki takes over, a ton of people leave. The Bount Arc (which I know a lot of people skipped) features a dude who was extremely pissed off because he had liked the old Kenpachi and thought Zaraki sucked and was so mad about it that he betrayed Soul Society. You might think that this arc would feature Zaraki caring about this in some way shape or form, but he really didn’t. So, I think there are a lot of Soul Reapers that took issue with serving under a little girl as a vice captain, they just aren’t in Squad 11 anymore.

Oh, one last note on Iba’s mom. I am of an age where a number of my friends have mothers who were Second Wave Feminists. The moms in question are a real mixed bag, because they Came From a Different Time, and on one hand, you have to respect what they went through, and on the other hand, they are very difficult to get along with. I liked the idea that Iba has always chafed against his mom and her big personality, and then Renji comes in, and is like, “hey, your mom is strong as hell and she has a lot of ideas that I never thought of but they make sense” and Iba realizes that, even though she’s still a huge pain in his ass, his mom is the person who made him who he is. Moms are complex.

Uhhhh, I have definitely lost the thread of wherever I was going with this post. Thank you for enjoying my Squad 11, which is nothing like canon Squad 11. Hopefully maybe this year, I will actually finish my Squad 11 Self Care story, where Renji stops being a drunk disaster person after Yumichika teaches him how to fill his brows; I got stuck on a part where Rangiku gives Renji a talk on ethical sluttery.

[a-ghostlight-for-roman]

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least. 

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin. 

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!” 

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention. 

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream. 

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

[eerythingisshaka]

The Coffee Prince Pt. XIV

[T’Challa x Reader]

Word Count: 4.3K

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3*  *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8* *Part 9*  *Part 10* *Part 11* *Part 12* *Part 13*

A/N:  Long break, but it’s back!  Hope those who read are still here to enjoy and new ones get with it too.  SO much has happened for a recap but shit went down. and now we are here.  Links to previous chapter above.

Tavia stands before you, looking healthy in plain clothes, less bewildered than your last meeting with her hair braided back like Cleo in Set It Off.  Your mouth goes dry from anxiety as you grip your door, thoughts ping pong in your mind to let her in or slam it in her face.  She has no right here.  Why didn’t you throw her shit out anyway?

Shuri steps between you both, speaking softly.  “This doesn’t have to happen if you don’t want it.  She is only here because she has made strides in rehabilitation but you have the final say.”

You swallow the rock in your throat, feeling damned by this choice being up to you. But at least you could control this situation.  “I don’t want this.”

Shuri nods,  “Then we will leave.”

“But I need to.  If it’s over with now, I can be done for good.”  You step your feet heavily aside from the doorway to allow Tavia entrance.  She hesitates, looking away but once Shuri gives her the go ahead, Tavia shuffles by to go straight to her room.  

“Do you need me with you?”  Shuri asks.

“No, it’s fine.  Thanks.”

“Ok, I will be just around the corner, waiting.”

You thank Shuri, before shutting the door slowly.  You instantly feel warm and stifled.  Having this space alone has been Hell itself but having someone there you absolutely loathe was worse.  You choose a spot on the couch, biting your fingernail anxiously.  Each click of the nail to tooth comforted you during the ransacking Tavia was doing in her room.

Tavia steps out with a duffle bag over her shoulder and a rolling luggage bag by her side.  She closes the door behind her, meandering to the middle of the living room and stops.  

“(Y/N),”  Tavia says calmly.

You lift your hand up  between your face and her.  “Don’t fucking say my name, just...”

“Ok.”  

You both sit in a stalemate of silence, making you gradually angrier.  The presence in your place felt stifling, felt evil.  You can’t stand it.  “Tavia, why aren’t you leaving?”

Tavia shrugs.  “I want to talk to you.”

“Then talk!” you shout out.

“(Y/N), you told me not to.”

You stand up, clapping aggressively.  “I said don’t say my name, Tavia!  You don’t listen, damn!”

“I’m sorry!”  Tavia screams out.  Her hands fall to her sides in defeat.  “I can’t make it better but I can’t stop being sorry!”

“And you can stay being sorry, but I will never give a fuck about the apologies!”  Your voice shakes your core, making your head throb from the energy you’re exerting.  The adrenaline you get from letting her know exactly how you feel is exhilarating and long overdue.

Tavia closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.  Tavia has never been the bigger person in an argument.  If the old Tavia caught this attitude, the whole apartment building would’ve had a show to watch.  “I just hope when you see him again, you’re as tough on him as you are on me.”

You feel your feet moving before you can think, bounding towards her.  Tavia retreats behind the kitchen bar.  “Chill, chill!”

You glare at her from behind the counter.  “Who are you threatening?  After all this bullshit, you’re still fucking around and throwing Erik in my face like he’s your personal hitman now?  Don’t think I won’t tell Shuri.”

Tavia scoffs.  “Erik?  Fuck him!  I haven’t seen him since that day.  I just know he ain’t dead, since Wakanda doesn’t fuck with that kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?  If you don’t talk to him, how do you know he’s not dead?  He almost killed T’Challa.”

“Because when I thought my head was on the chopping block, one of the red chicks said capital punishment isn’t practiced anymore.  I was talking about T’Challa, actually.”

“Shut up.”  You walk away, shutting her out as much as possible.

“I’m serious.  You want to come at me for what I did, that’s fine but you got a lot to talk to him about and I just hope cuz he dickmatized you, that you don’t let him off easy.”

You fold your arms defiantly.  “What do I have against him?  He protected me from you all acting up on me.”

Tavia bucks her eyes at you wildly.  “Do you really feel no anger towards him during all of this?”

“Of course I do!  But this isn’t about him right now!  Why are you deflecting so damn much?  You should be telling me how you and Erik decided kidnapping me and taking over an African nation could possibly turn out for the best!”

“I wasn’t a part of that.  I was-”

“But you were Tavia!  YOU put that gun to me just like he did.  I had no autonomy because you stole that by putting fear in me because I was so shook my best friend could flip on me like this.  How am I supposed to take that Tavia?  Should I just forgive you for being so close to ending my life?  And ending my child’s!”

“I didn’t know you were pregnant!  There’s no way I would’ve put you through that with that on information.”

“I didn’t know either, Tav.  But it sure is great to know that is where your moral code sticks.  ‘Let’s not wreck the fetus but send her through all the hell she can take.’  And you want to talk about T’Challa?  T’Challa the bad guy??  I would’ve taken his lies way better if they didn’t have to come out because my life was in danger!”

Tavia shakes her head, picking up her bags to leave.  “He is selfish.  If you know him, he is barely any better than Erik.  He just has a nicer way of talking.  They all lie, they all kill, you just gotta pick a side.”

“So which are you, Tav?  You still deciding?”  you ask, plopping on your couch with exhaustion, unscrewing the cap of your room temperature wine to take a swig, your hands shaking.

Tavia points to her chest, “I’m for me.  I suggest you do the same.  Don’t let him lead your life anymore.”  

“I haven’t seen him in months.  Trust me, I’m over it.”

She walks over to the door, stopping to look back at you.  “Stop thinking about him.  Get rid of that damn stuffed panther plushie, and maybe move cuz I know you can’t afford this place alone but you need a new environment.”

“Step, Tavia.”

“I’m sorry girl.”  

When she finally leaves, you glug the wine bottle a little more to drink down the pain, coughing it up when your throat closes too tight to swallow anymore.  Wiping the drips of wine off your mouth, you cry out harder than you had since you came back home from Wakanda, feeling your loneliness hit you hard.  There was no way to repair things with Tavia, no matter how badly you wanted it.  And there was no way you would reach out to T’Challa for anything ever again, no matter how badly your heart ached for a glimpse of him.  You hoped he would stay in Wakanda for good.  If he could do anything for you now, that would be the best gift you could ask for.  

The weather was getting cooler by the day as fall snapped the summer heat wave, you had more reason to stay in and unsocialize from the world around you.  You stay up late watching a marathon Will & Grace, laughing at Jack using his teaching position in his acting studio as a means to pick up guys.

“That would not fly today,”  you quip between laughs, hugging your panther plushie under your chin in the darkness of your bedroom.  The world around you grows quiet as the days get shorter, giving you peace with a sprinkling of eerie sensations.  You look at your bedroom door instinctively, feeling a shiver run down your spine ominously.  You close your eyes and shake your head.  Being alone and in the dark makes your imagination run in a dangerous direction.

“It’s nothing.  There is nothing.  It’s just you,”  you repeat to yourself again and again, pulling your covers tighter.   Your brain visualizes the worst at night.  Prowlers, murderers, ghosts, and monsters plague your brain when night falls no matter what you have watched before bed.  You say a prayer for protection to ease your worry, but something hovers above you, waiting for you to trip over your words.

The brightness of your TV creates a halo that makes your eyes tired, so you rest them while listening to your episode play out in the background.

*BANG*

The sound makes you hop up in your bed.  Listening carefully, you try to orient yourself and find out where it came from.  Your TV is off, leaving you completely wrapped in pitch darkness.  

“Heyyy, princess.”

You gasp sharply, seeing for the first time a dark intimidating figure standing by the window,

His voice is calm but in a way that you know you fucked up.  “You thought we were through?  Nah, far from it.”

He lunges at you, ripping your blanket back and pulling you by your ankles off the bed.  Yu land on the floor hard, feeling yourself land on a charger.  Your body seizes up, voice completely stolen as he gets on his knees, pushing your shoulders back until he has a clear grip on your neck.

“Just cuz that bitch punked out on me, don’t mean it’s over.  I’m taking you out regardless, and that fake ass T’Challa can come get you once your soul gone.”

His grip on your neck tightens harder and harder.  You try to beat his hands off of you but it feels like you’re underwater as your arms move slow and heavily.  You reach for his face to give him any reason to let off of your neck, but he won’t let loose his hold.  

His snarl glows in the darkness as his hands compress your neck.  “See how you like the afterlife without ancestors to take care of you, princess.  He has no clue what it’s like to be us.  Where is he now?”

You let in a deep breath suddenly, sitting up continuing to gasp for air.  Your hand rests at the base of your throat, making you pull it away, quickly running to the lightswitch.  Once your room is illuminated, you see your wrinkled up blankets, your plushie on the floor.  The TV is still off but no one is waiting at your window.  

Your heart is still pounding as you pick up your plushie and sit on the edge of the bed, taking time to evaluate what happened.  The violence of your dreams were nothing new, keeping you from being able to rest most nights.  Most of them are short, and jolt you awake so soon that you barely remember them but this one was vivid and completely etched in your brain.  Erik waking you, dragging you, choking you.  Your neck still feels sore like it happened but that must’ve been your own doing, there’s no other way.  

You fall back on your pillow but your body was too energized by the fight to rest anymore.  You watched the sun come up in its bright orange hue, lovely but nowhere near Wakanda’s views.  

At work, you feel the lack of rest overcome you as you type away at your computer, wanting nothing more than to rest your head on the keyboard.

A coworker of yours tosses a scarf around their neck with a flourish.  “Hey!  I was going to make a coffee run, and you look like you could use some!” they say in a sing songy manner.

You look up at them before leaning back and rubbing your temples.  “Ah, that’s fine.  I’m disciplining myself to finish this report before I get any treats, and I am just about there.  I’ll get some for lunch but thanks.”

“Suit yourself.  I just need something warm.  This building is terrible with heat in the winter time.  Uh...is that a hickey??”

You pull up the collar of your shirt further, feeling hot from embarrassment.  “No, uh, I got an allergic reaction.”

They squint their eyes.  “Lemme see…”

You grab your phone, pretending to take a call and apologize.  They shrug and mouth that they will talk to you later.  No way in hell could you explain that you choked yourself last night, which sounds even more freaky than the hickey assumption.

Making their exit, you rest your head on your arms for just a couple minutes and it feels so good, you can’t stand to be at work anymore, wishing you could snap your fingers and be done with the day.  Instead you shake yourself loose and type away, continuing your project until the very last minute before lunch.  

You feel a small sense of accomplishment, having done something arbitrary in the grand scheme of things but to add some positivity to your life, you decided not to deny yourself your promised treat:  a hot cup of a frilly coffee drink and maybe even a little cake pop or something.  Treat yourself Tuesday is afoot!

As you bundled up for the weather, you took your time crossing the street to make your way to the coffee shop near your job, crunching the red and orange leaves habitually along the way.  As you walk in, the smell of the roast livens you up on impact.  You wait in line behind the others, looking over the menu for fall specialty drinks until it’s your turn and you order our usual macchiato along with a big chocolate chip muffin..

“Abby!”

“Tall vanilla latte, no foam!”

“Sausage egg sandwich for Steven!”

“Order for Thomas!”

You check your phone lazily scrolling through celebrity feeds until your order is ready.  

“Oh shit, I forgot to ask for it to be warmed,” you say to yourself.

“Already done!”  The peppy freckle faced barista says.

You hold your hand over your heart, touched.  “Thank you so much!”

You put the warm pastry in your pocket and walk out taking a sip of your drink.  As you round the building, a figure in the distance looks familiar.  Long black coat, broad shoulders, a contemporary confident gait.  Your stomach does a somersault, feeling dizzy and breathless all at once.  You take your time watching him walk away, heading for the garage parking lot.  There was no doubt in your spirit that that was who you thought it was.  Your reaction told the truth that your eyes couldn’t confirm.  Was he in the coffee shop while you were?  Did he ignore you for his benefit?  No, that wouldn’t matter because that’s what you wanted.  But how could he not say anything?

After work one day you head over to the community center to visit with Shuri.  It had been a while since Tavia came that you got to talk to Shuri.  As you turned the corner the parking lot of the center looked pretty empty compared to what it used to look like during the school year.  

Walking up to the building you look around and catch a glimpse of a balloon caught in a powerline.  Across the street from the center is a park.  That park was the area in which the community block party was held that T’Challa invited you to early on in your relationship.  The bustling bodies congregated around food and music was so awesome, they really pulled something off great that day.  When T’Challa carried your weak ankle self back to your place to help mend, he seemed like the most important thing to you on Earth.  You never thought he would be the kind to lie and leave.

“HEY!”

The bang of the doors in front of you opening startles you.  A body rushes towards you suddenly.  You feel doom impending upon you as you raise your hands to stop the attack.  This wasn’t going to happen again.

“Stop stop stop!”  You yell out, stepping backwards your heel collapses over the edge of the sidewalk.  The rough asphalt catches your hand behind you as you watch two youths run past you giggling, not even noticing you on the ground.  Their laughter fades in the distance as they run across the street in the grass, slinging their backpacks at each other morning stars.

“Hey!  Why are you on the ground?”

Shuri comes out of the doors, leading with a hand out to you.  You instantly feel foolish having this stylish teenager helping you up as you sit amongst rocks and old gum.

“No reason.  I wanted to come by but some kids-”

“Eh!  It was Marcus and Angel, right?  They play too rough, and I try to tell them but they have NO RESPECT!”  She shouts at the top of her lungs to the unknowing kids.  “Come in, I was just thinking about you.”

Walking inside, the warm colors greet your eyes, entertaining you with their aesthetic.  Deep, cherry wood lines the hall with intricate carvings along the ceilings and baseboards.  Touchscreens displaying activity schedules, meal menus, and student achievements are located at the end of each hall.  You can just barely see the inside of the gym through the double doors to the left.  

“I don’t think you have ever been in here before.  Have you?”  Shuri asks.

You shake your head.  “I guess some things got in the way.  It looks amazing in here.”  

“Thank you.  It took a lot of planning on my part.  Jabari can be very stingy with help sometimes.”

“Who is Jabari?”  you ask.

Shuri starts to speak but catches herself.  “Come this way.”

Her square block heels clop down the hall as you follow behind.  She takes you to a podium in front of a frosted window.  

“This is something I especially like.  New visitors to the center are shown this during the tour, usually toward the end.  It gives a bit of some background on what brought us here and what our mission is.”

She pushes a black panther head embedded in the stand, which begins to stream a flood of light onto the frosted glass.  A voiceover talks to you about the long reign of Kings and Queens that reside in the independent nation of Wakanda.  Images of the sprawling landscape and the beautiful sunset lure you in.  Images of King T’Chaka come in that show him making a boisterous speech that is translated by a narrator. Stating his desire to close the gap of education, generational wealth and health disparities between whites and minorities across the world.  He says he wishes to make a better world for himself and his son.  As he picks up a toddler, you see a young boy with multiple beaded necklaces around his neck, smiling and clapping as a crowd cheers.

“I wasn’t born yet, so don’t worry, it gets better,”  Shuri whispers to you jokingly.  

Your eyes begin to water and it catches Shuri’s eye.  “Sorry.  He just looks...like himself.”

You feel butterflies, holding your stomach as you reminisce on what was.  The little boy in that film is T’Challa with his father.  And he looks so much like Bean did in your dream, shockingly so.

The voice over goes on to showcase the outside of the community center during its construction.  Some big burly man lug logs of wood, breaking them down to lumber.  

“Those are Jabari,”  Shuri says.  

A shot of T’Challa looking over blueprints and directing construction workers fill your vision.  You focus on him, looking at his hair coils, his black clothing with the pop of embroidery.  The camera zooms in on his long finger pointing to the blueprints and fades back in to show the constructed center.  As the film closes a final shot of T’Challa welcoming you and hoping you stay crumbles you.  This was him before he ever knew you.  He looked so happy and accomplished and looking forward to the future.  Nothing like how you left him.

Shuri touches your arm.  “Is everything alright?”

You shake your head.  “Is there a bathroom close?”

“Two doors down.”

You jog down to find the unisex bathroom, pushing open the door heading straight for the sink.  Your head is pounds as you gasp for breath through your tightening throat.  Each inhale feels more painful than the last as you lean your back against a wall and tears roll down your cheeks.  You heave a big breath and sob out loud, wringing your emotions out like a sponge.  This amounted to too much today.  Tavia’s words ring in your ear as you realize she’s right.

The door opens a crack as Shuri pokes in and sees you weeping.  She doesn’[t say a word as she wraps her arms around you, taking on your pain with all her little frame can handle. You feel like you’ll never stop crying, especially with Shuri there to help you through it.

“Please...I can’t,”  you squeak.

Shuri squeezes you tighter.  “Yes you can.  Just cry, it is fine.”

-

Shuri offers you some tissue to wipe your face and says, “He isn’t here, I’m sorry if you were looking for him.”

Wiping your eyes, you barely look at Shuri out of guilt.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have come.”

“It’s ok.  But he’s been spending more time in Wakanda now, so if he’s here it’s for official business.”

You purse your mouth before saying, “I swear I saw him this week.  Leaving the coffee shop near my job.  But it couldn’t be, I know he would’ve said something to me.  Has he been in town at all?”

Shuri stands quietly, looking past you.

You look at her face suspiciously.  “Has he mentioned me at all?”

Shuri’s shoulders fall as defeat washes over her face.  “I don’t want to be the one to talk to you about him.  He should be doing that.”

“I know!  But...I can’t contact him except through you or by coming here.  I shouldn’t have to hunt him down, why hasn’t he even checked on me?”

Shuri tightens her jaw, refusing to answer.  You get up and walk past her to throw away your tissue.  

“Ok.  Well tell him he needs to take his bank info off of my rent.”

“He won’t do that.”

“So you have talked to him about that?  He said something?”

“He won’t let you be without.  Even if he isn’t talking to you currently.  He may just think you need space but I haven’t got a single idea what is going on besides Wakanda.”

“It’s fine.  I’ll move then.  That will cancel it officially and he won’t have to extend his charity to me anymore.”

“What?  Where are you moving?”  Shuri asks.

“Shuri, you know I can’t tell you.  But I have to leave that place.  Probably this city.  I hate my job and I haven’t been myself since Erik came and fucked things up.  I’m done, there’s nothing for me here.”

Shuri takes our hands in hers, eyes heavy with sympathy.  “I know he wouldn’t want that.”

You shrug.  “I can’t care anymore.  It’s holding me back.  I want to leave all of what happened behind.  But here while I’m here, I have had nothing but constant memories of it.  And Shuri I love you, but your brother is job.”

Shuri nods.  “With no benefits that I can see, if you ask me.  I understand, you deserve more.”

At your office, you draft a resignation letter a couple times before the verbage hits just right for you to print and sign.  Giving it an official trifold, you put it in your desk drawer and feel your excitement in your toes just thinking about a new chapter in your life that could lead to bigger and better things.  Most of your work hours have been filled with researching homes and jobs in other counties or and some neighboring states.  

“Hey hey!  You look a little peppy!  Have you had your coffee on time today?”

Your coworker invites you to join them on a field trip to the shop, talking your ear off about the office gossip, which reminds you not to tell them about you leaving until after you have given your letter to your manager.  When you make your order, they treat you by paying for the two of you and you sit together waiting on your name to be called.

“One order for Kibble, one for Bits!”

“That’s us!  I’ll get it, stay here.”

You look out the window watching the breeze whip the trees loose of their leaves until they come back, setting your drink in front of you.

“Here you go.  My phone is buzzing the hell out my ass.”  As they take their call, they get more irritated with each minute, rolling eyes and mouthing words they choose not to say.

“Sure thing, thanks Karen!  Girl, I apparently have to help fix a fuck up that wasn’t mine AGAIN!  Fuck this job!”

“Right?  Well, hit me up another time.  You still have to tell me about who ate Lawrence’s lunch when he went the fuck off.”

“You right.  It was me, but there’s more to it.  Catch you later!”

You smile after them, taking your cup in your hand to carefully remove the top to release some heat.  Coffee jumps onto your hand, hot and messy.  You shake off the excess liquid and subtly lick your finger, spinning outward to get up and get a napkin.  

“Need this?”

You take it thankfully, looking up at your good samaritan and freezing in place.  He takes a seat in front of you, using another napkin to wipe the table up.

“How are you, umhle?”

Your mind is empty.  Your sight goes black.  You can’t recall what happens, until you hear him holler as your drink is tossed down his lap.

Masterlist

RagTag

@sweetpeachjones​@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​@universalbri​@therevolution-willbelive@you-like-this-chain @sarcastic-sunshines​@airis-paris14​@afraiddreamingandloving​@kreolemami​@lalapalooza718​@syreanne​@thiccdaddy-mbaku​@she-is-golden @wakanda-inspired​@90sinspiredgirl​@bidibidibombaclaat​@sithlordslut​@brujademente​@chaneajoyyy​@slimmiyagi @lewatigress​ @shesakillerkween @queentearra @fiercedeception@yaachtynoboat711​ @yofavcocoa @katasstrophey​ @zxddy-panther​@babygirlofwakanda​@destinio1​ @heyauntieeee​ @ambthegamer​ @savageiz​@klaine15689​ @nickidub718​ @dramaqueenamby

[botwstoriesandsuch]

P-please talk about your Rito OC, please... ramble without any context, please... I have one too... please make me feel less alone...

Ok ok let me just *unloads all of Illeka’s super angsty self-indulgent backstory*

I technically have two backstories, one for botw that I’m gonna use for my fic Where Time Takes Us, and another I use for my dnd campaign. My dnd one is more fleshed out (thanks to my amazing GM) so I’ll probably just share that one. 

Warning for super duper long post that is barely coherent and I haven’t checked for typos and also rip to ADHD folks because I have no pictures to ease your brain with. Anyhow prepare for like thousands of words worth of rambles this is not edited at all

This is just a copy paste of the random incoherent shit I sent to my poor DM. Anyhow, I technically have 3 ocs here, but Illeka is the one I play

A weird Rito, that one is. I hear they’ve only cried at birth...

- Illeka was born on the Day of Living Fire, its a celebration of the dead essentially, where you mourn and remember your loved ones and ancestors and all that. It’s superstition to be *born* on this day, because your life/creation takes away from the day that’s supposed to honor the dead, and some people on birb island believe these things, that if you let the kid live it’s a curse. But most people are like no wtf you boomers it’s fine there’s no such thing you crazy old people are weird, which to be fair is kinda true.

- When Talako is around 6, his single mom dies. He’s adopted by a new family, Kala (also around 6 years old) and her parents.

- Illeka meets Talako after he kinda follows her around, because he’s an innocent cinnamon bun that admires Illeka’s calm and stoic demeanor after they help him with some bullies. Through this, Talako, Illeka, and Kala all become best friends.

- The events in Illeka’s life aren’t really helping their whole curse case. Every bad event, from their dad getting injured and having the slightest limp, to their brother, Zekk nearly setting himself on fire— it’s all a supposed punishment for not killing them when they were bored. But at this point most people brush it off as coincidence, besides, nothing THAT bad has happened yet.

- the trio of friends grow strong, becoming some of the best in their arts on the island. And their relationship is seemingly adorable. The serious ~~cursed~~ one, the optimistic sunshine one, and the sarcastic firey one. Prides of their village, set to protect their people from harm.

- Illeka is the best in the village when it comes to physical fights. Trusty halberd, and a keen shot with a bow, they’ve never lost a sparring match on that front. Their personality is offputting to some, there’s a rumour that they’ve never cried. The easiest of jokes, and the vilest of insults don’t spark much reaction from them— except in the presence and topic of their family, Kala, and Talako. But otherwise, the story goes that the cursed kid doesn’t have a soul, and hence, no morality or emotions.

- When they train with Talako and Kala, they never back down, if only out of respect, Illeka wouldn’t want to embarrass them with pity. Talako always laughs at his inevitable defeat, though he tries nonetheless. He promises that one day he’ll be strong enough to beat them.

- Talako is a pleasant soul, but has an nack for adventure and a hint of chaos. He prefers to dual wield daggers, and on occasion a short sword or two. He’s great with the blade, loves the thrill of the fight, but is more skilled with cooking and physical healing and remedies. He’s always the one encouraging fun celebratory hang outs at the tavern, with his two closest friends after a day of guarding the village. Kala always sides with him, and Illeka typical gives in after at least putting on a show of reluctance. He humble and happy and loved by most of the village, if only things would last

- Kala is of wit and cunning, she’s typically the first to speak. She’s headstrong and not afraid to insult whoever she displeases, and a bit too arrogant in her abilities. She laughs at all of Talako’s jokes, if perhaps only to spite Illeka’s groans. She’s also the most strategic of her friends, being the “one with a plan” in battle. While she’s a decent wield of two khopesh, Kala’s mostly gifted with magic. She’s got a knack for conjuring, though is well researched in other types as well. Illeka and her are an even match, with decent win ratios on either end. Illeka doesn’t take it that personally, they suck/hate magic after all. Kala’s a bit more competitive tho.. While her power in magic is certainly the best on all of the island, she can’t help but feel salty/jealous for always being overshadowed by Illeka’s feats, since the people prefer/understand the physical over the magic.

- Oh, and she was born on day after the Day of Living Fire, according to her parents. How lucky.

- In a sense, they’re all a bit of an outcast. Kala the fiery independent one, a bit sidecasted for prefering magic over steel. Talako the weird orphan, for being a chirpy, happy boi, which is a bit annoying for some. And Illeka…well lets just say their situation isn’t going to be improving

- One year, Illeka’s family is expecting more kids, twin sisters at that! It’s the most excited anyone’s ever seen Illeka, thought perhaps that’s not the right word… They’ve still got their usual demeanor, but they did spend nearly a week crocheting little baby hats and tunics and scarves. They threatened to kill their brother if they told anyone, although Zekk was allowed to let it slip to Tal and Kala

- [They are absurdly good at crochet btw. They never do it anymore to try and maintain their “reputation,” but their family will never forget the time they crafted matching blankets and hats to win a little competition in their home town.]

- Then the Day of Living Fire arrives for that year. Theres a little celebration for Illeka’s birthday, before moving on to other activities.

- The twins die that night.

- The village was in a bit of shock…and rumours grow considering the timing of it. The mysterious circumstance of it…well it does turn the heads of even some of the less-superstitious. The rumours, the death, the silent thought that perhaps that cursed bird caused some babies’ death, Illeka endured it.

- Years later would it get worse.

- Illeka is still publically respected at this point, weird rumours sure, but try telling that to the edge of her halberd. Their mother had made the twin’s shrine, but they say Illeka didn’t visit that often. Talako was always by their side, trying to help them, which was always appreciated, even when they tried to hide it.

- Kala was busy in the library these days.

- Zekk had started a family by now, a little baby birb named Mili hatched into the world.  Illeka would often steal her away for little cuddles when they (thought) no one was looking. Zekk would jest that they had to fight for the right to hold his own kid. Kala would also occasionally tease them about it, though Tal was mostly happy to see them in better spirits

- Then, another Day of Living Fire.

- Talako and Illeka were usually on guard duty together, the northern patrol by the village edge. But tal was still a bit worried about his friend’s state of mind, he’s not sure he’d even seen them mourn. He pushes for Illeka to take the day off, it’s technically their birthday after all, plus they can pay their respected at the shrines and attend the festivities and do the ceremonies and all that. Illeka denies it, brushing it off like they always do.

- Soon, their nightly patrol begins, and Illeka is about to set off to met up with Talako, but Kala intercepts. She has a talk with them, similar to that of Talako’s, but with…more well crafted and laced words. It’s nearly the same message that Talako tried to tell them, “It’ll be healthy for you, visit the shrines, be with your family, maybe brush off some rumours in the process.” Illeka nearly denies again, joking that Talako would get afraid of the dark if they didn’t show up. But Kala interjects, stating that she’s already made plans to take the patrol that nigth with Tal. Trusting their friends to be safe in each others care, Illeka relents and takes the day off.

- …yeah. so

- perhaps you can see where this is going.

- Kala’s jealousy had been growing over the years. Not only was she being shadowed by Illeka and their non magic ways, but it was irritating even more that all the talk about magic in the town was not of her exceptional abilties, but of stupid rumours and non-existent evil curses. If the people wanted show, she’d give them a show

- This mindset made her spars with Illeka a bit more personal as of late, getting it in her head that she needed to get stronger, strong enough to best Illeka with ease. Strong enough so that there would be no question who was the best warrior on the island, magic, bows, halberds, or no.

- The library had many forgotten books that she had been studying. Conjuring, rituals, illusions, necromancy. It was all…beautiful. Kala soaked in every word, sometimes berating the bookkeeper offhandedly for not keeping them in the best condition

- In her research she eventually found a beast. A..thing, a demon? A monster, the specifics weren’t there, but the gist of it was, if you had the courage to summon it, it would grant you the knowledge for attaining anything you desired. All it asked in return was…to eat some people.

- But not just any people mind you! Supposedly the ritual only worked for the people with the greatest of ambitions, willing to sacrifice the lives of people they might care about. The sacrifices had to be of someone with great trust and bond with the person.

- Kala’s parents disappeared that day, a few feathers laid about, but there was no blood.

- Near the northern border, by a open field, a weird circle dripped the grass red

- Talako waited by the village edge, ready to fly off with their patrol partner when they arrived. When Kala greeted him, he was a bit surprised, but happy when she explained that Illeka had gone off back to town.

- Indeed Illeka was with their family now, as the sun started to set. Occasionally, a passerby would give them a weird glance before walking swiftly away.

- Somewhere in the northern border, a warrior is knocked unconcious, and dragged upon a blood red pattern

- Illeka is by her sisters’ shrine. For the sliver of a moment, they contemplate crying.

- Then an explosion is heard off in the distance

- Talako was wide awake at this point, although his wings being pinned to his sides wasn’t that helpful considering there was a giant, *giant* dark monster in front of him.

- Kala lets off a final remark, saying it was for his own good. The death would be swifter if he didn’t squirm.

- He whipped back at her, glaring with a fire she hasn’t seen before. He calls her a coward for tricking Illeka, a coward for kill their parents, a coward for not even giving him the decency to fight for his life.

- She nearly smiles at the last remark. “Fine.” She tosses him his blades. “You were never much of a warrior anyway.”

- Illeka was flying towards the booming sound at full speed, nearly knocking over their family and other mourning, people in the process. A few others had tried to slow them down, claiming they should suit of better first, before confronting whatever had been the source of the explosion. Illeka didn’t listen.

- They barely had time to grab a weapon, before approaching the northern border. After gracing the crests of the hill tops, they finally saw it. A giant demonic beast, snapping it’s jaws against a flying dash of black feathers, Talako.

- Illeka called out to him, nearly dashing off into the air again, but they stopped when they spotted Kala, standing idlely by next to her.

- Before they could even speak, before they could even question why she was acting so nonchalantly while their best friend was fighting for their life against an evil monstrosity, Kala shook her head and spoke. “You always have to ruin my fun, don’t you?” She struck a magic blow and Illeka, square in the chest.

- It knocked them to the ground, but they got up, setting their halberd and pointing it at them.

- Then insert some dramatic scene where Kala is like “you’re so selfish, hogging all the attention, thinking you’re better than me, but today I’m gonna finally best you mwahaha” and Illeka is like “wtf why did you do this? I thought we were friends? I trusted you?? the fuck? also talako is our friend!!?” and then its “yeah thats right I manipulated your stupid feelings to gain the upperhand. you’re super pathetic honestly for falling for it. anyhow yeah talako will probably die, i tried to give him the luxary of a swift death but he wouldn’t listen, so now he’s probably gonna get brutally slayed lol” and illeka is all “I’ll kill you” and kala is “no u. This whole thing is gonna give me so much power no ones gonna question me again” and then they fight each other

- The duel is nearly a draw, Kala’s magical ability is certainly is certainly stronger, but she’s not as all powerful without that knowledge from the demon monster guy that needs to eat his meal. Illeka is fighting with all theyve got, but all they brought was a halberd, but they are very fueled by rage and spite so it’s still an even match. Illeka eventually lands a blow that’s got Kala bleeding severely, but Kala pretty much almost kills them with a direct attack. Kala’s too weak to finish the job, plus those other guards have finally started to fly and approach in the distance, so she flys off. Illeka finally slips into unconsciousness.

- When they wake up, it’s almost sunrise. Their mom is shaking them awake, part of the party that was investigating the explosion that summoned the beast. Illeka bolts up, they’re still in the field were they had fought Kala, but she and the beast are no where to be seen.

- They run off, trying to find Talako, and ho boy do they find him alright. His body is crumpled by some rocks, his wing nearly ripped clean off, theres so much blood, even a warrior like Illeka can hardly bare it. Some small bit of hope in their head thinks that he might still be alive, and they listen to his chest to see if he’s still breathing.

- His eyes flicker once at Illeka, his chest rises, then falls for the last time.

- Illeka cries.

- Then, still pretty wounded and tired, they collapse again

- The days following are living hell. Kala hasn’t been found, and their her parent’s [bodies]. The rumours are creeping as ever, at the coincidence of Illeka and this disaster. They spend nearly a weak in bed at home, recovering physically, thought probably not mentally.

- As soon as they’ve fully recovered, Illeka’s mind is set. They are going to leave, no more warrior/village protection for them. They’re going to travel far off, train and hone their skills in combat, and find and kill Kala.

- Their family is opposed to this at first, but in the end nothing they say changes Illeka’s mind.

- In a sense, there was another, unspoken reason Illeka was leaving the islands. They didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

- Hell, the rhetoric is even stronger down the line, concerning the fate of poor Mili. Illeka has given in and accepted it, they are cursed to cause pain to the people they care about. [It’s basically that trope of the character isn’t actually cursed but they believe they’re cursed] Illeka will stay away, and go it alone for as long as they can. Then once the deed is done, once they draw Kala’s corpse across the mud, they’ll probably fly off somewhere far to die, before anyone else gets hurt. It’s probably best for their family never to see them again.

- - - - - - 

Wow you did it, you made it through the super angsty self-indulgent backstory congrats. Illeka is my lil baby and I love them and I’ve gonna send them on a revenge quest and then they were gonna have a cool character arc probably about learning to grieve and have self worth and all that and to actually allow themselves to show emotions for once in their lives. That’s the general plan I had in my head anyhow

But you know what my dm thought?

They were like how about mORE ANGSt

Fucking shit you not, session three of the campaign, I’m heading back to birb island because of circumstances, and I’m getting supplies from my blacksmith dad and showing off this sword that says “fuck” a lot that I got from a dungeon that took a selkie’s soul which they gave up willingly in exchange for fire hair...long story

but THEN I meet up with my bro Zekk and it’s like “wassup bro just passing through” but then I find out that Talako’s shrine thing was DESTORYED by some unknown entity and that’s very not good because spirituality and all that

and also I find Mili and they’re a cute lil toddler birb now aww it’s so great hope nothing happens to them because I sure do have enough emotional traume to burden right now. anyhow due to CIRCUMSTANCES our only lead to the thing that destroyed Talako’s shrine is 1) a delinquent named Chesio [that our party nicknamed cherrio because the GM misspelled it the first time i think] who apparently was Talako’s shitty cousin and his only living relative who could build his shrine and 2) the destruction of the shrine lines up with a period of time where Mili went missing but its ok she came back so her parents were like “chill we gucci”

Our party decides we should go down the Mili lead [because I accidentally knocked Cherrio i mean Chesio to near death with a crit roll with my halberd so they’re in the infirmary now but it’s really not my fault that they triggered my emotional trauma by mentioning how I keep running away from grief and never staying around to confront it it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine] so we stop by Zekk’s house and we’re like “hey so remember when you disappeared for like a week where did you go, and then mili was like “oh it’s in this cavern that no one knows about and I can’t really give you the directions but I can lead you there if you take me with you” in which I then glare at the GM for this obvious attempt to force us to take Mili with us to put her in danger and apparently I was the ONLY one who cared about this because everyone else in the party was ready to adopt this birb child, and Zekk was like “sure take the kiddy harness” so here I am, watching my niece run around in a kiddy harness that’s also attached to me, while my Chaotic neutral party someone gets grilled cheese sandwiches in the background

Badabing, badaboom, we come to some crystal caverns. while I, being one of the only members of the party with morals other than one chaotic good dragonborn, am watching the selkie, halfoot, and elf girl steal a bunch of crystals, Mili fucking DISAPPEARS the fucking KIDDY HARNESS fucking NOT GOOD she FCUKING SLIPPED OUT AND SHES GONE AND IM FREAKING OUT 

after about an hour or two of searching through the deeper parts of the cavern and tunnel and also fighting a minotaur and discovering an abandoned arena and a cleric, long story. We find Mili fucking laying on A NECROMANCER’S RITUAL CIRCLE WHAT THE FU- 

I pull a “I don’t hesitate bitch” on the hooded dude that’s hovering and chanting shit. He’s dead, it’s all swell. Saved the day, the evil’s dead. Mili’s fine she can go back to being a cute lil baby who loves shiny rocks and-

oh wAIT actually Mili is still transformed into a demonic monster and the necromancer dude was actually in the middle of completing a ritual to bring her back to life after he killed her a few times

So turns out, necromancer dead dude was hired by a mysterious someone, to steal something from Talako’s shrine, and to destroy any evidence. Turns out, his methodology for doing so was to kidnap some birb kid who had the misfortune of wander too close, killing them, turning them into some demonic monster that does their bidding, using that monster to steal and ruin some shit, and then when the day’s done he turns them back like nothing happened. Sure do wish he was alive to redo that last part

I’m freaking out, the party’s freaking out, that sword from earlier is cursing to high heaven for no apparent reason. Cleric unhelpfully remarks how it was a bad idea that we impulsively killed the evil dude bro, yes wow thank you for the help

Eventually everything’s fine. After a few round of shouting “NO ONE TOUCH MY FUCKING NIECE OR YOU DIE” after said demonic niece is kinda mindlessly attacking everyone, we eventually do some good ol blunt force trauma and a bit of magic and BOOM. Mili’s back. Although they do have permanent black ritual markings on them but its fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinee (its not)

We find a note on necromancer dude bro that his employer was from another island, so that’s a lead yay Find Out Next SessionTM but at this point I really don’t care as I’ve already started tying Mili to my chest and walking back to the village

I go back to Zekk’s house, hand off Mili, explain everything that happened, give a super heart feel apology about how I pretty much killed Mili (even though I really didn’t but also as we all know Illeka is an angsty birb who’s steadfast in the idea that their existence hurts everyone they love so yay <3) and then I leave as fast as I can before anyone can protest sure was nice visiting my family after i’ve been away for a few months sure am glad that my inner thoughts about staying away weren’t justified whatsoever hmmmmmm

A session or two passes. We try to assassinate and elf’s evil parents and fail, we get into a Fake Dating Being Someone’s Children Au with a dragon. The selkie keeps trying to date everyone, even thought they’re already married to a necromancer princess and a boat (long story) and inbetween we head to that island that note i got was talking about and turns out it was to a place where all your inner demons and anxieties manifest into reality and taunt you, until youre slowly broken down to the point where the evil dictator on the island can “magic” away your problems with puppet strings. fun for the whole family!

Anyways, after our party fights out evil neon-blue clones, I get a lead from dictator dude that the employer I’m looking for is a Rito that’s good with magic, and was last seen headed east, in the same direction we just came from. fun.a

So I’m kinda low on leads, other than the fact that theres a magic school in the east, but in between we have to deal with the fact that husboat (again, the boat that is married to the selkie who is also our entire party’s form of transportation across the ocean. wait a sec did I mention that we weren’t in Hyrule? We’re not in Hyrule, this is a flooded land with a bunch of islands. Think wind waker) was being chased by pirates. also these pirates were the ones that raised the selkie, and also they kinda also slaughtered an entire island of halffoots in their time with the pirates, and also that island was the one that the halffoot in our party grew up in. So basically that’s some cool tension and drama. Anyhow, back to moi

One talk about how “no we cannot kidnap aNOTHER priest” to the selkie and elf later... magic school! Magic school is pretentious and I hate it. Everythings glowy, they don’t allow you to fly over the gates. There’s puffy noble middle aged men and children in bedazzled cloaks. There’s magic in the air and I swear I would choke and die on the glitter and rainbows of it all. 

Half the party is off getting into cloak fashion, I head off with my dragonborn friend Ness because highfive! We’re the only one’s with morals in this party! Morality pals! (This is saying something considering I am true neutral and she’s chaotic good but we might as well be clerics in this party...)

My morality pal and I and hanging around, then we catch word that there’s this transfer student that no one has seen in a while and “oh I wonder where she could be” and all that jazz from other students. Mortality pals are like “ok let’s go look for her” so we drag the rest of the party off of their larceny spree and look around.

Eventually, after I spot a tattered cloak roaming the halls that matches the description of the gossip, we find the transfer student.

TURNS OUT (unsurprisingly honestly given the way the dm framed stuff) this transfer student is someone I know. She’s standing there, in the middle of the room, preparing to do some ritual or something. She’s standing there, my life purpose, my one and only goal, literally the only reason I’m still going in life, my arch nemesis, my target, my mortal fucking enemy. It’s Kala.

Ness sees a demon dog in the background and says hi, ruining our element of surprise, but to be fair, she doesn’t know it’s Kala. 

Kala whips around from her table thing. We make eye contact. Her face suddenly shift from confusion to surprise to bewilderment to shock to happiness. 

Happiness.

“Illeka I thought you were dead!” Kala runs towards me, but I’m too shocked to move.

She’s smiling. It’s not sadistic, it’s not...harmful, it’s just genuine joy. For a moment I thought I saw a tear in her eye. 

Kala hugs me for a long moment, before letting go. “So how did you survive?”

...

In my head I’m thinking, “oh you fuck face”

THE. AUDACITY. OF. THIS. BITCH. 

“HOWD I SURVIVE” UH NO THANKS TO YOU FOR ALMOST KILLING ME FOR YOUR STUPID RITUAL WHATEVER THAT KILLED TALAKO WTFFF

ARE YOU REALLY TRYING TO PULL THE SAME TRICK AGAIN??? GONNA PRETEND TO BE ALL SENTIMENTAL AND NICE JUST TO TRY AND KILL ME LATER ON? HA OK OK

how about instead, I do the one good thing, the one worthwhile thing I can do in my entire life...just one simple course of action that might hope to make up for the mountain of regret that is my entire existence. 

I am finally going to kill you.

Kala’s staring at me, eyes curious, head tilted as if all she ever did was ask what I had for brunch. 

I blink once, and my neutral expression, faintly coated with shock morphs into determination.

I roll for initiative. 

- - - - - - 

It’s 1am. 

So have a cliffhanger, kinda. 

If anyone bothers to read this far, congrats! Your reward is me being lazy. I’ll tell you what happened sometime tomorrow if anyone really wants to know :P Long story short, it doesn’t end how I, and therefore probably you, would except. 

[clairecrive]

"Insecurities" - Eames x reader (Part 2) [Requested]

I'm sorry for the long wait. I made it super long to make up for it. Anon and @kingarthurscat I hope this is what you had in mind when you made the request or that at least you like it. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

requests are always open!

Tag list: @mollybegger-blog (let me know if you wanna be added)

A/n: Prompts are in bold.

The very reason you had been picked to be a part of the group was your ability to became whoever they needed you to be. It wasn't quite like Eames who could really become that person, it was more like an interpretation of a character. Like an actor would do, only you wouldn't be performing in a movie or a theatre. Usually very shy and stubborn you weren't so keen on putting yourself out there the way they had asked you to. But the need for money and your acting skills collected through the high school years as a way of getting more credits did the trick and with a little convincing on Dom's part, you were one of them.

Tonight was no different, you left your shy and awkward self in your hotel room, ready to be Sandy, a confident outspoken entrepreneur, for the rest of the night. The job was very easy to be honest, even though you usually hated when they used you just for your "womanly weapons" as Dom called them. However, being the only woman on the team, your input was required and there wasn't much you could do.

The plan was very simple: distract the wealthy, sneaky Arabian entrepreneur while Eames took whatever information he needed and then make your exit quickly and smoothly when Eames would give you the signal that it all went according to plan.

Flirting with wealthy men was quite the same every time. If you asked them about their job or a thing they have that makes them proud you could have them talking for hours on end. You would just have to throw a smile or a small laugh at the right time and that would be it. Easy job right? The fact that sometimes the men would be smoking hot it's just a bonus. They were boring but at least they were pretty to look at.

Much to your delight, this night, Azir was not only very handsome but he had a few interesting ideas too. Maybe you had been enjoying yourself too much, really engaged in a conversation with him, that you didn't notice Eames trying to catch your attention at first.

Over the years, you had come up with a complex sign language that would allow you to communicate in tricky situations without making a sound. Just a movement of an eye or a finger and the message or warning had come across. So when you noticed the English lad walking towards you while scrunching his nose, you knew that he needed a diversion.

"What is happening here?" He approached you and Azir that was quite startled by Eames' appearance. Thinking he was going for an angry/jealous boyfriend you played along.

"What are you doing here?" You asked feigning a shocked expression.

"I told you that I had a business meeting tonight, but you failed to mention that you'd also be here flirting with a stranger." He explained getting worked up.

"First of all, this is not a stranger, his name is Azir. Second, I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd have cared."

"In what twisted universe I would not care about my fucking fiancée flirting with a man that's not me?!"

"Wait, what? What are you talking about mate? She doesn't have a ring." Azir chimes in, apparently disturbed by the idea of being accused to flirt with an engaged woman. Nice to see you have morals Azir, not just a pretty face uh.

"Where is your ring Y/N?" Eames inquired staring intently at your naked ring finger

"Funny you should ask, still keeping up with this game I see. It's not endearing anymore, cut it."

"What the hell are you on about?" He looked at you as if you had suddenly grown three heads, glancing towards Azir for support.

"I was so thrilled that after eight years you had finally found the guts to propose to me, that I couldn't wait to share the news with everyone I have ever shared a word with. Also to let them see the beautiful ring you gave me. Imagine my surprise when Karen comes up to me and say: "Do you know that the diamond in your engagement ring is fake?" Of course, I didn't believe her, she had always been jealous of me. But she insisted so to prove her wrong, I stepped on it. Diamonds, real diamonds, are unbreakable. But the one you gave me fell apart like a bread crumble." For added emphasis you turned to Azir, "can you believe it? A fake engagement ring!"

The poor lad had been swapped in this mess and was so lost that if someone had asked him his name right now, he probably couldn't be able to answer right.

"So what if the diamond was fake? My intentions behind the gesture were not."

"Do you even still love me?" You asked scoffing at his words. Noticing three bulky men storming into the hall you were in, you gather your things and without glancing towards both men, you stormed off into a hallway on your right knowing that Eames was hot on your trail. You turn around to see if you were safe but before you could check his hand wraps around your arm and drags you into a dark room to your left. The door closed behind you leaving you standing in the dark catching your breaths.

"Were they still behind us?" You whisper just in case they were close. You couldn't see him in the dark but even if you felt him close to you, when he put his hand on your mouth to shush you it still caught you off guard. Well then, I'll take that as a yes. Even if you couldn't see his face, being this close to him that you could feel his breath on your cheek, made your mind wander and suddenly you were thankful for the dark otherwise your reddening cheeks would sorely stand out and Eames would tease you endlessly.

Turns out that you spoke too soon seeing as, while you were lost in your daydream, he must have drawn out his phone, because a light suddenly shone in the room. It was a janitor closet because at your feet there were cloths and buckets. It was indeed a small space as you've presumed, your chests were touching and if he wasn't taller than you, your noses or worse mouths would too. This realisation certainly didn't help your blushing situation.

"Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?" He asked and really, you knew it was coming.

"Can we get out, please? I think we're safe." You said trying to play it cool. The twinkle in his eyes made his amusement very clear to you, nevertheless he spared you and moved his hand to the door handle. Much to your dismay, it wouldn't budge, even when he tried with more force. Eventually, he had to stop and admit defeat. He turned to you and almost as if you had rehearsed it you exclaim at the same time:

"Well shit."

Groaning you lower yourself to the ground while he wrote something on the phone, probably asking for some help but you know that you'd be here for a while if you had to wait for one of the guys to rescue you. Sensing your discomfort he sat beside you and you knew that he was going to confront you about your weird behaviour. Being observant was part of his job, nothing went past him unnoticed, he was the best in his field for a reason after all.

"So, since we have a lot of time to spare, will you tell me what's wrong darling?" As you predicted he asked softly. Having worked alongside one another for quite some time together with his observant self, made Eames one of the person who knew you best. It wasn't something you were happy about but it was a fact.

"Oh that was Sandy, Eames. Don't need to worry about a fuss over a fake ring." You joked trying to deflect. Classic textbook move and he knew it.

"That was a good stunt out there, not going to lie, but you know I wasn't talking about that. You've been acting weird since we've come out of the room." He insisted. You knew Eames so you were conscious that if you told him to let it go he wouldn't press you but for some reason, you needed to know if he saw you. I mean even if he did, it wasn't a big deal right? No one was perfect and as you were painfully aware of his annoying habits now he knew that you hadn't a perfect body. You could live with that. Conforming to the standard norms of beauty wasn't something you had to do. Besides, nothing was ever going to happen between you. So even if you had a crush on the man and your constant bickering was more subtle flirting, why do you care so much about what he thinks of you? Yes, he probably has been with a lot of breathtaking women but that didn't mean anything. You couldn't compare yourself to other, imaginary in this case, women. It's not a healthy thing to do and besides everyone is beautiful in their own way. You knew that it's just that most of the times you have trouble applying that way of thinking to yourself.

Well then, here goes nothing. This pep talk is pointless if you don't address the elephant in the room. And so gathering all your courage, you did. But wait- how exactly am I going to go about this?

"So, you know that I'm usually very quiet and reserved right?"

"Yes, I know how important your private space is to you. I promised I've not touched anything." He said reminiscing that time when you literally went ballistic when you saw him entering into your room without your permission.

"I know you've learned your lesson don't worry, I wasn't referring to that."

"Then what's the matter?" 

"I'm not saying you did it on purpose but have you, by any chance, stumbled upon a very naked me early today in the bathroom?" I finally let out not meeting his eyes. I think it's a fair question to make, sure the answer won't change the fact that he saw me if he did but at least I'll stop wondering about it. However, Eames was known to be very unpredictable so you hoped that he wouldn't feel offended about it nor that he'd tease you for it. For a little while, he didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you. Knowing him he was probably studying you and thinking about what to say.

"Will you go mad hatter crazy on me if I tell you that I accidentally took a peak? I honestly thought that you were done and telling me that I could enter when you opened the door. However, I didn't do it maliciously or anything. It just happened, I'm sorry." He explained confirming your assumptions. So he did see you. Now what? However stupid it may sound, you believed him when he said that it was an accident. How different could my body from others anyway? Pretending to not be affected by his confession you just shrugged your shoulders muttering a quiet "it's okay". Needless to say, it was not okay. How were you going to look at him now that you knew he's seen you in your most vulnerable state? Ugh, why did you have to be so complexed? Couldn't you be just as easy going as Sandy? Life would surely be easier.

"If it's okay, then why won't you look at me, darling?" He insisted. Gosh, why won't he let this go?

"There's literally no light in here, how do you know if I'm not looking at you?"

"Because I know you and apparently this held a deeper meaning to you than you want me to know. You should know by now though, that I notice everything. Besides, how can we still work together if you refuse to look at me?"

"I can pretend to be a different person then so there's no problem." you mutter jokingly

"There's no need to pretend with me. We're room buddies!" He said making you laugh. He could be so silly sometimes.

"You can always be yourself with me you know. To be honest, you should never be afraid to be you but I know that that's a tough thing to do. However, I thought I was part of the gang now. That you trusted me and all."

"I do trust you, Eames. I wouldn't be working with you if I didn't. And yes you're part of the gang but neither of them has seen me naked you naked."

"And that changes things how?"

"You have seen me in my most vulnerable and truest form. No filter, no pretending no anything. I can't imagine I was a very pleasant view. I'm just ashamed, that's all."

"You shouldn't be. I didn't think you'd be so insecure about yourself, that only proves how good at your job you are, honestly, but if it makes you feel better, I really like what I saw." 

"Yeah sure. Don't need to flatter me to make me feel better. I'm not delusional."

"No, but it seems that you're blind. I thought that my scandalous and obvious flirting was a dead giveaway of me liking you."

"Oh shut up, you flirt with every living thing. It does not make me special." You sassed because it was true. You actually thought he was into Arthur before realizing that he was like that, flirting seemed to be the only way of communication he knew.

"You don't need my validation to consider yourself special. You are no matter what I or any other guy says. Although, you shouldn't really question me. You know I'm always right."

"Could your ego be bigger?"

"Hey, I'm trying to help you here. No need to insult my ego. But it's not the only big thing I have if you know what I mean."

"You know what? I really appreciate your wise words but I think it's best if we wait for whoever you called in silence. Your ego is already sucking up all the air in this cubicle." you said nudging his shoulder letting him know that you were joking. Who would have guessed that he could manage to make your doubts disappear just with a few silly words?

He seemed to have understood because he wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder, getting comfortable beside him. The silence between you now wasn't uncomfortable but very welcomed, you knew he wouldn't be quiet for long so you enjoyed it while it lasted, your insecurities long forgotten.

[crqstalite]

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

What does your character think about their future? Are they more optimistic or pessimistic about the future? What would their ideal future be?

Every character of mine lands on a sliding scale from optimism to pessimism and I genuinely think it’s interesting. Wonder if it’s a stroke of genius or means nothing.

It got long because it’s *every* character in my current ME continuity, so under a cut :D

Kodelyn is pretty optimistic. She tends to see the better side of things and people, often enough so that it can come off as toxic positivity to the people around her or naivety at worst. It’s not intentional, but it’s one of the few ways she thinks she has control over a situation. It means she knows what the real goal is, and will always strive for that goal with the least damage done to the people around her. Her ideal future would be finding a home -- somewhere. Home was (and will always be) people for her, as a spacer kid she didn’t really have solid ground under her feet. Maybe not Earth, but somewhere where she isn’t moving as often anymore, somewhere permanent to put down roots with Kaidan.

Lyssa is relatively optimistic. Andromeda? Huge! New opportunities are popping up everywhere, and this is a new home she barely knows anything about. Her excitement towards it all is nearly physical to the point of being stifling, but she thinks it looks relatively bright. Her ideal future is really up in the air right now considering where she’s been left off, but it’s whenever she can keep adventuring and keep pushing towards a happier existence in a new galaxy. That, and wherever she can keep adventuring with the crew of the Tempest.

Danny is usually looking on the brighter side of things. He takes a lot in stride, maybe a little too much, but he’s usually pretty happy regardless of what happens. Probably because he always has a way out of situations, or at least is consistently thinking on his feet. He doesn’t think too much beyond the here and now because that’s all he has control over, but his ideal future is finding a new home. Raina has been one of the few constants in his life since Mindoir, so finding somewhere close to live by her would be ideal.

Annika is relatively neutral on her thoughts about the future. On one hand, she’s excited to see what’s next for her. What lays beyond the events of the war and where life will sweep her next. She’s still alive, and she’s still capable of changing the world. There are new people that care about her, and more that remain by her side. On the other, she’s lost family, friends, and Ash in the end. It’s been a constant revolving door of people in her life, and she doesn’t know if she can keep taking it year after year, person after person. Her ideal future is to return to Mindoir, and while she knows it isn’t the same, it still pleases her to be on planet.

Anders is similar to Annika, but he just doesn’t know what’s coming next. He likes being in Andromeda, he doesn’t have to be around people that side eye him all the time anymore, and he’s far happier with new friends and a new purpose. However, he left a lot behind in the Milky Way, and their arrival only marked the loss of Alec. Did he mean a lot to the twins? Maybe not. It still hurt to hear he was dead when he woke up though. His ideal future is rather fuzzy these days. There is no ideal because he doesn’t know what could happen, and that scares a part of him. It means he doesn’t have a grasp on those changes, and it means he can’t do anything about what’s coming.

Nia is the first on the sliding scale into pessimistic. There isn’t a whole lot for him to lose other than his reputation after Elysium. He knows what it’s like to not have anything at all after growing up on Earth, and he knows he could probably end up just like that all over again. It doesn’t quite scare him, but he does his best to avoid it. That usually means going in thinking the worst, but he tends to try and plan around it. Does it always work? No, but at least he’s prepared for failure. His ideal future is to live somewhere quiet, and hopefully spend the rest of his days with Ashley and Kaidan.

Citlali is pessimistic only for the sole reason that she doesn’t want to start sliding backwards into the same scared, broken girl that she was only a few years ago. She can not go back to being like that, and that means going into most situations thinking the worst. If she does, that means her expectations are on the floor and she literally could not actually fail those expectations unless everything goes to shit. A pretty win-win situation, helps with morale. Her ideal future is to get involved somewhere she can do what she pleases and help out whenever needed. Jeff might be in there somewhere, who knows.

AJ is pessimistic because she was always told ‘do you want to fail?’ and things that are pretty similar to ‘you won’t amount to anything’. She carries those words around like tattoos sometimes, and it puts a perpetual rain cloud over her head because of it. A lot of her worth was consistently tied to Hannah and her opinion of her daughter, and even twenty years after their last bad spat, she still falls back on those lines whenever she’s planning or trying to do something. It’s unfortunate, because it holds her back unless he’s able to press forward beyond that. Her ideal future is getting up to a healthy amount of trouble, and whisking Miranda away somewhere where they can both be free of their parents’ influences.

Brione is by far the worst on the list because her pessimism also stems from a similar place as Nia’s. She grew up on Earth, and was pretty sure she was going to end up dead in a ditch by twenty and be in the Reds for most of that time. Ending up with the Alliance gave her a new purpose, but it didn’t change her mindset. If anything it made her more withdrawn and more likely to do the ‘whatever necessary’ option. Her goals have shifted more towards staying alive though, which, as a sniper, only means that she often has to scope out an entire situation before going in and doing anything. That unfortunately goes for social situations as well, and she will always think the worst of both so that she has some sort of a bubble wrap against bad situations. A good future would be living through tomorrow, and if they get that far, she can start thinking about living off the royalty vids with Garrus.

[selohtun20]

you can’t choose what stays and what fades away

When she says sorry to her son, it’s got a double meaning. 

”I’m so sorry, Izuku!”

She loved her brother, she loved him, wanted to protect him after their parents died and left them alone in an unstable world. But her brother loved heroes, grew up on the comics she’d find in dumpsters, forgotten, or cheap ones she’d grab when they had the money. Her brother read all day, comics keeping him entertained while she went out and got money any way she could. But a love of heroes meant a hatred of villains. Her brother always tended to see things in black and white. 

So when he finally caught wind of what she was doing, he confronted her, tried to fight her. It was laughably easy, of course, because he was Quirkless. Or, at least, she thought he was. 

Giving him a Quirk kept him safe, made it so when he left her alone, her brother wouldn’t instantly die, even with his frail state. She didn’t account for it merging with the one he already had, didn’t account for the thieves that would carry her brother’s Quirk long past his death. To kill them was her form of mourning him, when they refused to hand over their stolen Quirk. Fools, all of them. She would’ve made their deaths much quicker if they had. 

Instead, Shimura Nana fights her and loses, the overconfidence that lead to her downfall passed onto her protégé. She has no desire to fight a teenager. Not while he’s so weak, not while he’s angry and foolish. She doesn’t claim to fight fair, but the boy is too stubborn to pass One for All to her. She’ll have to wait. 

~

Hisashi is the bravest damn underling she’s ever had. Both in fighting and his dealings with her. Most of them wilt in fear, keep their heads down. Hisashi looks her in the eye, isn’t rude by any means but clearly isn’t nearly as afraid. She figured it was foolishness for a while, but the man isn’t an idiot. She wouldn’t have kept him around for so long if he were. She gave him a Quirk, yes, but he paid his dues. He had no reason to stick around, but stick around he did. Luck for her. 

Falling for him wasn’t in the plans. It hardly ever was. The amount of men who’ve gone past a one-night stand is small, even after all these years. But Hisashi is charming, not all that nervous around her. Sure, he’s cautious, but she’s not about to off him over something small. He’s too useful for that, and eventually, she loves him too much for that. She’s hesitant to call it that, love, but she didn’t get this far by lying to herself. She loves him. He loves her. That, somehow, is enough. 

Izuku… well, he’s not an accident, per say. Were they completely ready? No. Was she overjoyed to have a child? Absolutely. Izuku is beautiful, a tiny bundle of joy. Perhaps she’s biased, but it’s true. He’s healthy and strong, and that’s what she cares about, in the moment. Her empire and those who work for her can wait, even if it’s been radio silence for some time now. Hisashi is high enough in her ranks to guide them while she’s gone without getting too many questions. Her son is here, and she can’t bring herself to think about the world he’ll face when he gets older. But for now, she’ll raise him, protect him, keep him safe. 

~

Raising Tomura is a petty thing, really. Shimura Nana was a hero. It’s only appropriate her grandson is a villain. Besides, it would make All Might weep, and she’s long since accepted that she tends to be petty. All Might’s attachment to his master would make him weak, would make him think twice before killing Tomura. The boy is a puppet, nothing more, nothing less. He calls her ‘Sensei’, is told that she’s a man. It works well for her cover. Hisashi helps to oversee his training, and she lets her husband borrow the voice changing Quirk she uses to talk to Tomura, makes the boy think her and Hisashi one and the same. 

It’s worth it, to watch Tomura grow into a monster. The perfect little tool for her plans. 

~

Her son can’t be a hero. He can’t be, she refuses to let him. To destroy his dreams so blatantly isn’t an option, however. He’s smart, clever like she is. He’d notice that something was wrong, perhaps not while he’s so young, but when he looks back, gets older. Her greatest enemy’s face is on her son’s walls, bedsheets, shirts, everything. Izuku adores All Might, but she swallows down the bile she feels looking at the man’s face. It doesn’t matter. Even if she thought he might grow out of his heroic desires, he can’t keep his Quirk. It’s far too much like her own. 

Her son is Quirkless, because she told Ujiko as such. Not that Izuku has one anymore, but it’s not like he was born that way. The x-ray had to be modified. She refuses to hurt Izuku any further with false hope. His destruction of her son’s dreams are a little more heavy handed, but it plays into her plans. She lets it slide, gives the doctor a harsh look before she walks out the door. The man wilts slightly, but the fact that she lets him live should indicate her respect for the man. Or his usefulness, really. If he weren’t the perfect combination of intelligence and moral failings, she would’ve gotten rid of him decades ago. 

~

All Might gets back up, even as she bleeds out. She’s got enough healing Quirks to keep her alive, and Hisashi and the doctor are by her side in an instant. It’s not pretty, the scaring she’s gained. Her eyes are gone, and the knowledge that she won’t be able to see her son anymore except in her mind stings more than she thought it might. 

At least Hisashi wasn’t hurt in the battle. Someone needs to raise Izuku. He’d come back from overseas, even though she’d told him not to. He was right to do so, she can admit now. If she can scout enough illusion Quirks, she might be able to visit them. Making a story for Izuku is going to be the hard part. 

Her son still wants to be a hero. Despite all the power she’s lost, how far back her plans have been pushed, perhaps that’s the biggest reason she still hates All Might. 

~

Hisashi keeps her updated. Izuku is growing. Izuku is being pushed around and treated like shit by other kids, and she makes those kids go missing. No one hurts her baby. Katsuki stays around only because Izuku is too attached to him. If he went missing, Izuku would investigate, no matter his age. Izuku is still too smart for his own good, still patches himself up and she hates it, hates that she’s not there to kiss his wounds and see him off in the mornings and be there for him. She heals him, when she can. Sneaks into his room at night and does her best to make the scars fade, even if it’s only a little. She can’t stay forever. If Izuku wakes up, there would be far too much to explain. 

But her son pushes through it, still wanting to be a hero, still wanting to save people and help them. Hisashi toes the line, he tells her, because he doesn’t want Izuku to realize what he’s trying to do, and she’s always been better with subtle manipulations. He writes in his notebooks, mumbles ideas and strengths and weaknesses and analysis and she’s proud of him. It runs in the family, because Hisashi’s never been quite that good. It’s a skill he encourages, a skill she encourages when they talk on the phone, even if Izuku seems determined to use his knowledge to become a hero. 

Hisashi tells her that he came home beaming, once, his notebook clutched tightly to his chest, slightly damp, and she vows to find a way to kill Katsuki and his little gang as soon as Izuku loses his attachment to the boy. But still, he was delighted, and for once, she lets herself not look too much into it. Izuku is happy, instead of the fake smile Hisashi tells her he plasters on sometimes. There’s only so much prying either of them can do before Izuku closes off again. Her son is happy, and she’s going to let him stay that way. With any luck, it’ll stop his heroic ambitions. 

~

The USJ fails, because she knew it would. Tomura is too angry, too impulsive to plan anything like that out fully. Heroes tend to find a way to pull through, and when they target children that’s even more true. If Katsuki had died or been injured in the attack, she might’ve considered it a success, but sadly he didn’t. A shame, truly. 

Her blood runs cold at Tomura’s ranting about a green haired boy with freckles and a Quirk he should not have.

Hisashi calls that night, asking her if the attack was her own. She asks if he knew Izuku had applied to the hero course. Apparently, he had not. The only reason he’d even known was because of the attack, and the ensuing paperwork he’d filled out. Izuku had gotten injured the day before, but must’ve forged Hisashi’s signature. 

Her son has a Quirk. Her son has a Quirk. This is her worst nightmare. The only Quirk that can be passed on that doesn’t come from her is One for All. It shatters his bones, apparently, and she almost screams at the idea of it. Out of all the children in the world, why Izuku? Why did All Might have to corrupt her son so far, take him away from her? 

She can’t warn Tomura to stay away from a certain child. He’s unaware of her family, and she would like to keep it that way. She can’t pull her son from U.A., not when she hasn’t been there for so long, and Hisashi can’t really either. If they do now, there will be suspicion on them both, and that’s the last thing either of them needs. She’s not known, but Hisashi sadly is. His face is different, but the Quirk is the same. If records get pulled, they’ll be caught in an instant. 

She’s stuck, and it’s horrifying to her. 

~

Search isn’t perfect, but it lets her see her son again. He’s unhappy at Katsuki’s kidnapping, but she’s delighted. When Tomura inevitably cannot push the child to his side, he’ll go to her. He can join his lackeys once again. It’s a wonderful thing, even though she can’t help but feel burning hate towards the villains that harmed her son. Muscular is perhaps lucky that he’s in jail. If she had her way, he’d be screaming for a long time, before being shoved towards the doctor to be made into something actually useful. 

Izuku, of course, decides to save his childhood bully. The wall stays intact, because she refuses to harm her son. Losing the brat is worth her son’s continued life, even as she gets shoved into Tartarus, even as she’s powerless to stop Izuku from hurting himself over and over and over again. She’s forced to see him break his body, die repeatedly to save a single child, only brought back from the edge by the volatile Rewind Quirk the child possesses. 

Rewind, huh? That could be useful to her. 

[quakerjoe]

Biden, #MeToo, and why I can’t support him.

Anyone who supports Biden, by my reckoning, is fine with putting their name to yet another sexual predator in the White House

Where’s the outrage, people? All you #MeToo supporters out there are fantastically quiet about the accusation leveled against Biden. Where are all of you who were appalled at the recording of trump bragging how the rich and powerful can just walk up and grab a woman by the pussy? That’s what Biden actually DID (allegedly). If you’re fine with Biden, hand in your #MeToo card and strike the word ‘feminist’ or ‘humanist’ from your personal bios. 

If you don’t know a woman who’s a survivor, then you don’t know women. That means that none of them have trusted you enough to tell you their stories. I’ve heard many. Once upon a time, I was in a relationship with one and I heard her horror story. She felt that her freaking out when we tried to get intimate with me was unfair so she left. Then she killed herself.

Is Biden REALLY better than trump? Really? Really? Of trump, whom I loathe more than anyone else on Earth, I can say, with all honesty, this much: I KNOW where I stand with him and his band of fuckwits. ALL of his fuckery has been mostly done out in the open. While everyone’s freaking out over it, they’re all huddling behind Biden; many out of such sheer desperation to remove trump that they’ve literally allowed the Democratic party to compromise them and their morals and core beliefs. IF you’re supporting Biden, you’re not compromising, YOU’VE BEEN COMPROMISED. You ALLOWED the Democratic party to lower their own standards SO low they’re practically as filthy as the GOP only there’s one sad, horrible difference between them and just one- While the GOP is openly vile, reprehensible, and are more than willing to fuck you all to your face; fuck you and fuck yours and go fuck yourself... Democrats smile, say nice things, then stab you in the back. Democrats now only pay lip service, make half-baked and half ass attempts to try to convince you that they’re Left in some way, all while being far right of where they were years ago. There IS no Left anymore, and you’ve been dragged along with them. When is enough, enough, people?

There’s clearly only ONE person the Democrats hated more than trump- Bernie Sanders. Between mainstream media ignoring him and Dems ganging up to defeat him, clearly the party doesn’t give a flying fuck about YOU. They’re just not into you, baby; it’d interrupt the cash flow from their donors, most of them being the same rich twats buying GOPers. Look how fast Bloomberg bought Dems!

Now you’re all acting like trump supporters for the BlueMAGA. Seriously? Really? The rapist? The guy whose motto is essentially “Don’t worry, I won’t change shit; I’ll just bring us back to normal (meaning back to the era that brought us trump in the fucking FIRST place).

How many of you BOTHERED reviewing Biden’s super-shitty policies and actions over his career? (crickets) How many of you have any spine enough to see just how fucking useless he is at this stage? Fuck me, man; this asshole can’t even speak! We already have that. He’s already got various degrees of sexual assault on the books. We already have that. He’s all to eager to work with the GOP and cater to the rich. We already have that! He’s boring as fuck, abrasive and he does NOT inspire voters to come charging out this November.

Trump does, though. His fanatics are breaking down the gates during a pandemic; you can bet your privileged asses that they’ll be out come November assuming they did’t keel over dead from COVID-19. That may be the only edge that Biden gets as he does and says fuck-all nothing except hope that trump screws up enough to get his base to stay home and enough of his own Biden Bros to show up. That’s his big plan, kids.

Kiss your $15/hr good-bye. You don’t seriously thing team biden will really pull that off, do you? For fuck sake, according to Liz Warren, if the min. wage  kept up with cost of living and inflation, it should be at $23/hr NOW. According to Robert Reich, it’s even higher. $15/hr was what we needed well over a decade ago. If biden does pull it off, it’s a token fist in your ass at best, you puppet.

Kiss M4A good-bye. It’s evident that you’d rather dump your cash into the overpriced, empty promises of insurance companies, big pharma, and stoke the fires of endless war with financing the Military Industrial Complex than live a safe, healthy life.

Kiss any sort of Green New Deal good-bye while Pelosi and the others sneer at it and look down their noses at you.

I certainly don’t WANT more of trump...

...but thinking biden will make things better is foolish. Trump will happily stab you through the chest, but the likes of biden prefer to smile while they stab you through the back using the blade forged out of empty promises and lip service. Fuck, if you’re keeping track of the Dem. pundits, they’re already lining up to blame biden’s apparent loss on Sanders and people like me. They’re ALREADY gearing up for him to LOSE. What does THAT tell you? His popularity is utter shit compared to HRC back in 2016.

Let’s not forget that most of Bernie’s supporters backed HRC in 2016 and voted for her. Before that, let’s not forget HER followers’ loyalty when MOST of them bailed on Obama to support McCain. 

I won’t put my name to a vote for Biden. I won’t. I’ve heard too many tales of horror from Survivors and given that Al Franken’s career was burned for much less, I don’t appreciate the HYPOCRISY of the #MeTooExceptBiden rhetoric. MY moral compass, my values, my principles will no longer be something I give the DNC permission to shit on and compromise. If the US needs another 4 of trump burning the house down to wake the fuck up and LEARN that the Dems are a band of feckless twats on the take and actually start voting for PROGRESSIVES and those who are actually LEFT, then so be it. Let the children learn by touching the hot fucking stove; I’ve warned them enough, for years and years now. It’s time to grow a pair of whatever inspires you and wake the fuck up and stop fronting rich, white guys who are all for helping the rich scam us into tax breaks and socialism for them and their corporations while fucking us all in the ass without a kiss first, a grease up, or so much as a reach-around.

Year after year we do this shit and it’s getting worse. Yay, we won the House. So fucking what? What have they ACHIEVED? Pelosi scoffs at saving lives with M4A and we, as a party and a nation failed to get the Senate. The GOP is still cock-blocking everything, good or bad, passed by the House, so really, no big “blue wave” there to brag about.

These people are not stupid. They know the general population is complicit and disinterested in change. Look at all the anti-gun protest after every school shooting? Has much been done since? Technically, trump’s been more hard-ass over gun control than Obama! Holy shit, guys! The “Pussy Hat” march. What’s changed? Meh. Not much. To the GOP and corporate/establishment Dems, women are cheap and nobody cares. Point gone like a fart in the wind. The GOP and the Dems alike know that they can keep you all punching DOWN instead of taking a moment to glance up and see who’d really punching YOU. So long as they let you march, protest, bitch and scream now and then, you’ll get it all out of your system and then it’ll settle down and go back to “normal”.

“Normal” didn’t used to be finding it acceptable to have a documented sexual predator in the White House.

IF you have no problem with Biden, then you must also have no problem with Weinstein, right? Cosby? Judge Kavenaugh?

Uh huh.

I don’t want trump. I want him gone. I refuse to do it with biden taking his place because seriously, the guy wanted to shitcan SS and Medicare/Medicaid. He was gung-ho for Iraq and Afghanistan. He’s a bucket of charred turds.

Look all the women you love, if you have the courage to do so, and you tell them “Hey, I’m fine with electing another rapist for president!” because that’s literally what you’ll be doing. Why don’t you beat and slap her around for a bit before you go out to vote while you’re at it. Backing biden only continues giving permission to the Dems to offer you the worst possible candidate so they can keep their cash flow going.

Have some courage. Have some dignity. Have some fucking empathy and compassion, for fuck sake. Then, maybe, a woman might trust you enough to tell you HER horror story of survival.

[ramblingguy54]

Amphibia’s Season 1 Finale: An Emotionally Charged Climax Of Brilliance

For those who haven’t watched Amphibia yet, or are only halfway through the series, I’d highly recommend not reading this post on the events of Season 1′s finale. This is an episode that should be experienced blind, rather than having it spoiled for yourself, unless you really don’t mind at all whatsoever.

No matter how many times I’ve re-watched Amphibia Season 1 on Disney+, I gotta say its finale was easily up on my list of top moments from animation back in the 2010′s. Amphibia starts off with some pretty simple straightforward slice of life stuff throwing in a nice mix of drama and comedy. Although, as the series has progressed, Amphibia’s storytelling makes it clear we’re in for a bigger shift with dramatic writing once Season 2 rolls around in the future. This last episode of Season 1, Reunion, gives me the impression it could very likely be transitioning into heavier stuff, like Gravity Falls did, when it’s second outing steps up to the plate eventually. Season 1′s finale has seriously impressed me with what it managed to accomplish in its themes that were set up as early as its first episode. We finally get more insight into what Anne’s daily routine with Sasha must’ve been like before she was suddenly dropped into this crazy lovable world of anthropomorphic frogs. What I really appreciate about this backstory is it reels us in just enough with seeing Anne and Sasha’s chemistry. It doesn’t do a big exposition dump about what good friends they are, rather Amphibia just simply shows us first hand. From the get go it’s made crystal clear that Anne and Sasha are very close, seeing how Sasha stands up for Anne when someone tries to steal her food on a special day no less.

Or else you can forget about coming to my awesome house party next week.

Happy Birthday, girl!

Like, extremely close given how happy these two are to see each other. Anne & Sasha’s interaction here is safe to say they go way back before their current school year. Almost as if, they’ve known each other since they were younger.

“Sasha’s been my friend since Kindergarten. If she says it’s fine. It’s fine.”

Anne’s piece of dialogue here makes it evident how much she cares/trusts about Sasha as an individual. Even enough to allow her in doing morally questionable stuff highlighted with this brief montage spotlighting Anne’s passive behavior towards Sasha’s dangerously impulsive attitude. Time and time again Anne willingly goes along with Sasha’s mentality of, “Do whatever we want.”,  because in her eyes that’s what being best friends is all about. Giving the other what they want regardless of the moral implications around whatever their actions are. Not to mention, when you take that into account that Anne has been around Sasha since preschool, it’s equivalent to putting your foot down on a family member. Anne doesn’t want to hurt Sasha, considering she’s like the sister Anne never had, being an only child and all. That further establishes emotional weight for something Anne fears to lose out on, which Sasha takes advantage of greatly.

Anne, this isn’t cute anymore. We’re meeting up with Marcy right now! End of discussion...

“Heh! She’s persuasive, right?”

Look, if a friend likes a pencil case, you get it for them. If your friend likes your new shoes, you give them to her. And if her friend wants you to steal a crazy music box from a thrift store, even if you really don’t want to, you do it okay? Because if you don’t, they might not want to be your friend anymore...

Sasha’s serious verbal abuse has made Anne completely twist around the very concept of what a healthy friendship basically is, overall. For whatever the reason at some point, be it the very school environment they both grew up in or personal family issues, Sasha has become an extremely toxic influence on Anne’s important decision making and it painfully shows here in her self-esteem. This kid has made it second nature for herself to never be honest when a friend is doing something that she internally deems highly questionable in moral terms, since she’s so afraid of permanently losing those who claim to care about her own well being. Anne believes it to be a “golden rule” that if you’re openly honest with your close friends, it will only lead to failure in a nutshell. This is honestly one of the strongest elements of Amphibia’s storytelling on how it explores the human condition of real friendship. It’s not sunshine and rainbows, but an honest reflection of who you are as a person. Those you choose to let into your life for better influencing yourself, also reveal your true nature as an individual. These particular lines from the episode, Flood, Sweat, and Tears, sets the mood into motion that vital theme its story centers itself around.

Sharing a room doesn’t make you best friends. Being honest with each other does! 

In fact, if you ask me, you’re better friends now than you were before.

Seeing how greatly Amphibia explored this statement means a lot to me, since I myself have struggled with passive aggressive behavior plenty with my own friends. There were social experiences I went through in my childhood that made me bottle up how I genuinely feel a lot, so being honest with my own circle of close friends was a serious challenge for me. While I have come a long way in the improvements of being more honest with my pals whenever something is bothering me, it’s still a never ending struggle I deal with on a daily basis, considering it’s much like second nature to me. This significant moment hit all the right chords for me in showing that beauty of human connections, by taking the good and bad people can experience in dealing with their own differences.  Anne’s journey to better understand what real friends are and stand up for herself is a very empowering one to see occur, as she continues to come out of her shell, while putting her foot down when more immoral shit starts to hit the fan. Another giant step forward for her own independence comes to light in the tenth episode, Toad Tax, when Anne wanted nothing more than to be respected by the towns folk, instead of being openly called a monster and getting severely alienated for it, too. Which, again, it really shows just how much Sasha’s manipulation has had a grip on Anne, given she first thought that by joining the Toad force that she’d garner their respect. However, that idea was nothing more than a deeply shallow belief, which would’ve made the town more afraid of her rather than love and accept her. 

All I wanted was this town’s respect, but just because these people treated me crumby, doesn’t mean I’m gonna do the same to them. I’m done with this. I don’t care if they’ve broken the law, you can’t treat people like this!

In a very jarring contrast to Anne, Sasha is a more two faced individual with her own motive for getting herself, Anne, and Marcy back home by any means necessary. To put it bluntly and harshly, Sasha is a real bitch hilariously to the point where she is the sole reason why Grimes minions become more competent, due to throwing out fake compliments to help their lack of motivation, since his intensity as their ruthless leader was backfiring greatly. It’s priceless to see a villain’s cold blooded behavior ironically be a big detriment to their rule of power, as other works of fiction have shown it to a “positive” influence on their minions, where a teenage cheerleader blonde archetype has to patch things up.

You lot are without a doubt the most useless group of toads I have ever seen!

Just try saying nice things for a change. Get them to love you and they’ll do anything for you.

That actually works?

Ooooh, it works alright. Trust me.

Sasha’s already cold and calculating manipulation is influenced in return by Grimes heartless nature. Sasha & Grimes combined make for a deadly combination for one Hell of antagonistic duo, but that’s not to say this series doesn’t add layers to this complicated girl. While she is a very toxic verbally abusive person, Sasha isn’t without her own humanity either. Besides lying about being the only human in the world of Amphibia, Sasha genuinely is concerned about reuniting with each of her friends and not just for keeping them underneath her thumb in a controlling fashion. The voice acting here from Sasha’s VA really helps elevate that idea there’s more to her than how she acts.

Hold on for a little longer girls. I’m coming for you and when I find you we’re gonna get home, but first I think we’re gonna have some fun with this place.

By the time Anne and Sasha reunite by the finale, both have changed. Anne for the better and Sasha for much worse. Anne has become more selfless and free to make her own choices that she feels morally comfortable with doing, while Sasha is out to kill Hop Pop, due to his vital actions in earlier episodes, for encouraging more Frogs to rebel against the Toad’s rule of power through fear and violence. Sasha doesn’t view Hop Pop as as an equal living thing, but another obstacle that’s keeping herself, Anne, and Marcy from their one way ticket home. She strongly believes that killing Hop Pop, to keep the other Frogs back in line from having a voice of their own, will allow them a better chance to get back home with help from Grimes. Sasha knows to an extent the terrible thing she’s trying to help Grimes commit, however she still only views Hop Pop as not an equivalent human being, but an already figurative dead frog for them to dissect in their biology class. 

So you’ve probably already noticed the Toads in this valley have one job. To rule over the Frogs. And lately those Frogs have been stepping out of line.

Sasha is a serious fucking jerk, but a well intent extremist on wanting to get everyone back home, who doesn’t fully grasp the full context of what horrible atrocities she’s helping Grimes commit through doing this attempted murder.

Anne, what are you doing? Are you really gonna risk your life for these...talking frogs? We don’t even belong here. Don’t you wanna get back home? See your family?

Yeah, but...

Then put your sword down, now!

END OF DISCUSSION...

There we go, that’s my girl.

There that wasn’t so hard was i-

WHAT THE HECK!?

For someone who’s Anne’s best friend, you sure don’t know her very well! She brave, she’s smart, and most of all she’s not gonna be pushed around by a bully like you!

I think I’ve had enough of you, squeaky toy.

Anne, what are you doing!?

Something I should’ve done a long time ago. Standing up to you!

Thanks for believing in me, Sprig.

Can I just say that I love how they don’t try to pin blame on Anne for being consistently manipulated by Sasha? While Anne most certainly needs to stand up and not allow Sasha to abuse her like this anymore, Sasha is the sole person responsible for making Anne feel so insecure, who needed to be put in her place. It was very important for them to make that clear who is at fault here in this situation more than anyone and Sprig was perfect for telling off Anne’s abusive friend. Can’t begin to describe how cathartic it was for seeing that bitch get hit in the face for trying to once again pull on Anne’s emotional baggage. That highly noteworthy moment aside, there is a really interesting exchange between Sasha and Grimes showing how warped Sasha’s definition of friendship has become over the years she’s grown up with Anne in school.

You’ve given me plenty of advice, now let me give you some. Stamp this out. Make her yield. Fail and nothing will ever be the same.

Not gonna happen...

So, taking into account everything that I’ve covered at this point, this makes for a wonderful climatic finale to a slow burn where previous episodes have emotionally prepared Anne for facing down the very person who’s been hurting her most of all. One of her closest friends, who’s been like a symbolic sister in the past to Anne, but has turned into this very hurtful person with a seriously warped idea of an “affectionate” friendship based on similar ideas of control as seen with Grimes. While Amphibia has plenty of comedic shenanigans in its storytelling, there’s always been this dramatic undertone centered around Anne and Sasha’s views of what relationships are all about for what each one has based their ideals on. This Disney series is centered around gaining new bonds, while looking at old ones in a much different perspective, as seen with Anne and Sasha’s falling out.

Anne, you don’t have to do this.

Yes I do...

Anne vs Sasha is an important key moment that the finale nails on every possible level, given each side here has something lose, if the other one wins this duel. These are old friends, or rather family in a sense, standing up for what they think is the right moral thing to do and you can feel this high stakes tension every second as its building up to their swords finally clashing again against one another. Reminds me a lot of the Star Wars battles where it’s not necessarily remembered so much for the fights themselves, but the emotional weight that is carried in every moment which is happening between its characters and I applaud Amphibia for taking inspiration in utilizing that trope of writing.

Much like how DuckTales (2017) handled its amazing Season 1 finale, Amphibia’s writers know the most crucial element to focus more than anything are the characters themselves and what they’re feeling, rather than making it a big flashy battle of epic proportions. Granted, that’s a nice icing on the cake and all, but the real meat should always be in how you’re executing the important themes you’ve introduced from the start. In Amphibia’s case, it’s the tragedy of friendship turning into something nasty with Sasha treating Anne poorly and breaking apart their once stable lives, due to that very nature which dropped them into this world where they have to now fend for themselves.

There’s so much powerful heartbreak emitting from this one pic here and hoo boi we haven’t even gotten to best part, yet. It’s delightfully angsty and shocked the Hell outta me when first watching this episode. Fuck, it still does quite frankly knowing the people behind this show had the guts to go that far dramatically.

They’re just slimy little frogs, Anne.

They don’t matter!

They’re not just Frogs. They’re my friends!

After Anne finally beats Sasha the entire castle starts exploding, due to Wally misinterpreting her on not blowing up Grimes base. Here’s where the most heart wrenching scene comes in as the cherry on top of this intense finale to Amphibia’s first season. As the castle is falling to pieces, Sasha almost falls to her death but Anne catches her in time, despite just fighting her tooth and nail seconds ago to save the family she was trying to kill for her selfish reasons. There’s a crap ton of symbolism here in this poignant moment of characterization for Anne & Sasha’s current state of friendship now. All of this is topped off by the music piece, Lean On Me, being poetically woven into it.

The Plantar family is doing everything in their power to hold Anne up equivalent to how they’ve made her into a better individual than she ever was around Sasha. While Sasha is putting all of them in danger as a figurative ball and chain that, besides holding them back from staying alive, is also keeping Anne from becoming the best version of herself she can be. In these last moments, I’d like to believe Sasha finally put it together in her mind just how much she’s royally screwed everything up. Not just what she attempted to do with Hop Pop and most likely the rest of his family, but how seriously disrespectful she was to Anne for who knows how many years of their friendship when Sasha started abusing her. Sasha was most likely feeling a ton of self-loathing and terrible guilt before making this shocking pivotal decision next in saving Anne and the Plantars’.

Hey Anne...

Maybe you’re better off without me...

Like, on one hand it can be simply viewed as Sasha simply saving these people from dying, too. However, I’d prefer to make it darker for the sake of heavy angst and say she was committing suicide, as well. Sasha realized in these last moments, before thinking that she was going to die a painful death, how shitty she was to Anne. Sasha’s abusive behavior is what started this whole story in the first place. If it wasn’t for Sasha, none of them would of ended up in the world Amphibia to begin with, but it needed to happen for Anne to become better about who her real friends are and maybe this rough experience would even help Sasha, too. We’ll just have to see what awaits for Sasha’s character arc in Season 2′s future. As it stands now, Anne may have a lost a dear friend, who was basically like a sister to her years back, but gained something even better.

A family and terrific friends who care deeply for her.

Hop Pop, you three are my family. I’d never let anyone hurt you.

Thanks for taking the time read this very lengthy post of me gushing about this powerfully bittersweet finale. Can’t wait for Season 2!