#i try very hard to be Hopeful but darn it all i keep getting kicked in the shins every time i stand up

[thebirdandhersong]

:')))))

[hajihiko]

I love the way you drew that izuru doodle! I always thought Izuru in the anime looked too... not like he was a science experiment, but your Izuru just looks so much more realistic and it's heartbreaking but Izuru's existence is heartbreaking so. Well done you've outdone the danganronpa creators again

Question: What are your thoughts on Izuru? Like just him as a character? Do you have any headcanons about him? You might've been asked this before if so apologies ;-;

Thank you! Ive only seen that one sprite of him but it looked so....person with a wig, not very menacing

Anyway

I don't rly know anything about him, BUT i thought a lot about the deets of the whole talent thing, even talked to my rly smart friend about it

So like. We know he's constantly bored because he's so insanely capable and smart that nothing is any kind of challenge and therefore illicits no reaction. Also it's very possible that his brain just got messed with way too hard and it ruined the emotions part, one way or another (like hyper-dysthemic depression, idk if that's the word they still use but let's say I'm familiar with it).

I figure that, since nothing is a challenge, he doesn't even need to focus his talents, meaning it's either constantly running like a million computer programmes, or he just falls into the appropriate talent without needing to think about it- instinct basically, or rather, forcefully carved brain-paths.

Now bear with me I'm not a native english speaker. So when you do something often, and it works for you somehow, it opens a pathway in your brain to make it easier to access this action or thought, like sheep walking the path path over and over until it's a little grooved road. This is something people with talents of action (fighter, runner, programmer etc) definitely made in themselves, but it got artificially pressed into Izuru. So, he has these deep brain grooves that he effortlessly falls into when appropriate, because it's what all his brains are used to doing. It's extra effortless because he doesn't really care what it is, how it works, as long as it just does. His reactions might therefore be, creepily accurate in every situation, or completely inappropriate. Someone hugs him and he gives a great hug back because that's just what his body does, even if there's no emotion in it, because he's an Ultimate Babysitter or something. Or, someone hugs him and he breaks their arms, because his Ultimate Assassin talent kicked in and he just didn't care / try / have time to get out of that brain groove. And like, why would he? It worked then, it works now.

This is also, I want to interpret, somewhat why hes so GOSH darn bored. He got so good at protecting himself from all the pain and confusion that he just cut it all off entirely; VERY common trauma response. Some of it is definitely also the surgeries and the absolutely cacophony in his brain and his hyper-understanding- that's what keeps it up- but what started it might've just been a plain and simple coping mechanism. Also feels like that's why Hajime can come back fully; a) he decided to and he's a very wilful guy and his power is being human and I love him so he just did it, b) he was able to get out of that deep deep groove, feel his entire spectrum of emotions again and activate those pathways, and is once again able to kind of access them. It'll take time and effort to get to where he was, but it's happening! There's... dare I say.... hope?

Sidenote this is all based on / inspired by my experiences with depression (as a symptom or the whole thing idk) of the active-but-emotionally-dead variant, not nearly as serious as brain surgery fuckups but nonetheless sth I can connect. Just now realized I might be more invested in this than I thought.

This one is moreso Haji-zuru, but I imagine that he'd be both very easily bored and would often just peace out in his head bc nothing is fun (should not be left alone for too long bc he'll get too deep into his blank stasis), while ALSO chasing any real emotion ferociously, just like, honing in on anything that catches his feels. Which can be nice! Feelings are somehow novel and familiar to him. But also not nice because sometimes, the feeling is a bad one. Just because it makes you feel something doesn't mean that it's good for you and others.

Also the reflexes and such. Might be a hard habit to break.

Sidenote I generally err on the nurture side of philosophy and do not understand the talent thing. Everyone is memories, memories and thoughts are basically ALL we are, how can Izuru have the active parts of the memories only and nothing else. How can he be The Ultimate Babysitter without actually taking any of that in?? He can do the actions but not access anything that shapes them and that's honestly an interesting concept. Boggles the mind. No wonder he's fucked up he's fucking me up.

[redrobin-detective]

sleep like the dead

“And now, I, Technus, shall finally have my electronic vengeance on you, ghost child and conquer this puny human world!” Technus shrieked, exiting the portal in a suitably dramatic fashion. The various weapons around the lab shook and trembled from his power and static from his core crackled, raring for a fight with his favorite enemy. Only the Phantom didn’t appear.

“Hmm, maybe I wasn’t loud enough,” Technus mused before starting up again. “Pathetic Phantom! You can only hope your miniscule half human strength will be enough to take on my squiggling mess of the tangled wires of terror!” He threw back his head and cackled loudly, waiting for his nemesis to show and the battle to begin. His laughter petered out after a bit and the lab became silent once more.

“Well, now he’s just being rude,” Technus fumed, floating up through the ceiling. “Don’t ignore my threats, child. I know you’re here, I can feel your cold core.” He stopped once he reached the ghost boy’s human lair, hovering a few feet from the bed where his rival was sprawled out, sound asleep.

“Come ghost boy, it’s time for fisticuffs! I have some new moves and some great catchphrases I’m ready to try out on you!” The technology ghost exclaimed in excitement, miming some punches. Phantom didn’t answer, just kept laying there barely moving save for his soft, shallow breaths. Technus watched as his breath fogged with each exhale, his core’s ghost sense but it still didn’t awaken him. “Child? Have you expired?”

He leaned forward and gently poked the boy’s cheek. It was squishy but firm unlike a ghost’s exterior and he could feel the dense bone underneath. Phantom didn’t so much as twitch. Technus drew back his hand, unsure of what to do. He’d surprised the child while he was in bed before but he always woke up and they fell into the usual routine. But now he’d changed the script and if there was something ghosts didn’t like, it was change. He flew back down to the portal and sped into the Ghost Zone at top speed, searching for someone who would be able to help him understand. 

“Wow, baby pop whooped your butt that fast? Either he’s getting better or you’re getting more pathetic, my bet is the latter,” Ember teased as she strummed to herself from a floating rock near her lair.

“The ghost child won’t wake up and fight,” Technus said in a rush. “I went to the human world but no one answered my challenge. I went to his human lair and he was just lying on his bed thing and he wouldn’t move, even when I touched him.”

“That’s not like him, he’s usually more hopped up and ready to fight than a groupie on coke,” Ember frowned, setting aside her guitar. “Well come on, sparky, lets go check the kid out.” 

They developed something of an entourage making their way back to the human portal. A few of the locals had heard that the infamous half ghost child was behaving differently and well, curiosity didn’t stop when the cat was killed. Skulker chuckled menacingly under his breath, Youngblood bounced around the adults. Johnny and Kitty had been going to the real world anyway and decided to tag along. 

“Were his folks or Jazz home?" Johnny asked, riding his cycle slow enough to keep pace with the group. 

“Who?” Technus questioned, “er no, the annoying children always with him were not around for once.”

“Annoying yes but they don’t live- uh occupy the same lair as the brat,” Johnny explained. As a younger ghost who’d held onto his humanity more than some, he had a better grasp of human culture. “His parents, the crazy ghost hunters in the blue and orange jumpsuits. Or his sister, Jazz. She has red hair and is kind of a know it all. They’re his family, they live with him.”

“Oh those weirdos,” Youngblood said wrinkling his nose. “Always loud and shouting about ripping apart ghosts. They’re not even good hunters.”

“Obviously, they haven’t noticed they got a ghost living with ‘em,” Ember added with an eyeroll.

“It’s a very stressful situation, Danny was worried about what they’d do if they found out,” Kitty frowned before sticking her tongue out at Johnny. “Danny’s a good guy, at least he talked to me about things that mattered.”

“Good target practice, you mean,” Skulker declared as they entered through the portal. Instinctively they all looked up to where the ghost boy’s core was humming but sensed no movement. “Alright, I will admit that is weird. Let’s see what the whelp’s up to.”

It was a bit cramped, the five of them crammed into the small room especially when they were keeping their distance from the room’s only living occupant. He had not moved since Technus had last been in here. At their entrance, his breath fogged again and he shivered for a second before settling back down. 

“Well, he’s alive at least,” Johnny shrugged before leaning in close to examine him. “Kid looks wiped though.” He picked up the boy’s bony wrist which had been dangling off the bed, his fingers brushing the floor and held it up before dropping it. His knuckles rapped against the ground but he didn’t stir.

“Johnny, leave him alone, he’s trying to sleep,” Kitty hissed, yanking her boyfriend back by his ear. 

“Come on, I’m not doing anything bad,” Johnny defended. “But, come on, how often are we gonna get a chance like this?”

“Hmm is human sleep that interesting that the ghost child would ignore all of us?” Technus asked, floating over and laying himself down on the bed. He laid there on the bed next to the boy for a few moments. “I do not believe I’m doing this correctly.”

“Nah you gotta close your eyes and go off to dreamland,” Youngblood said, grabbing a sock off the floor and then some papers from the desk and began stacking them on the half ghost’s head. The boy still didn’t react in the slightest. 

“Is dreamland close? Another pocket dimension like the Zone?” Technus, ever the scientist, asked curiously.

“No, you idiot,” Ember sighed before tentatively reaching out and laying a hand on Phantom’s chest. “Yow, man that’s weird.”

“What?” Skulker asked, having been mostly content to watch until now. Youngblood had now piled several more items on the ghost boy’s head but he slept on, unawares.

“It’s just,” she scrunched up her face as she looked for the words, “I know what ghost cores feel like and I’ve been around enough humans to know the signs of life but he’s got both at once. His core flares and fades opposite his heart beat. It shouldn’t work but it does, somehow.”

“He is a most curious specimen, I rarely see Plasmius in his human skin so it’s hard to compare,” Skulker commented. “Of course Plasmius I can understand. He acts like a ghost, thinks like one. But the child, he’s certainly a ghost but he’s also decidingly... human.”

“That’s why we should be leaving him alone,” Kitty frowned, plucking Youngblood out of the air and moving him away from the sleeping teen. “If Danny isn’t waking up with all of us causing a racket then clearly he’s exhausted. We bother him enough, let him rest and fight him some other time.”

“But I wanted to fight now,” Technus whined, rolling over on the bed and resting one arm over the ghost boy’s body. “The Phantom surely wants to hear my latest monologue on how I’m the supreme ruler of everything electronic and beeping.”

“I know I don’t,” Youngblood shrugged.

“Me neither,” Johnny scoffed.

“Or me,” Ember muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Just let him rest,” Kitty said shooing the others back and gently brushing some of the kid’s hair out of his face revealing sallow features and dark marks under his eyes. “It’s hard enough being human much less a ghost on top of that; between fighting us and trying to have a normal life I bet he hardly gets any sleep. The least we can do is give him a break before he breaks.”

“I suppose it’s not sporting to kill a sleeping prey,” Skulker pouted. “And it’ll make his defeat more meaningful if he’s well rested and not uh,” he gestured to the Phantom’s general state of disarray. 

“Better appreciate it,” Ember sulked for a second, kicking away some pajama pants from the floor. “His stupid human life. I’d give anything to sleep again, just for a minute.” 

The ghosts sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, the dead looking enviously and curiously on the silent, sleeping boy, on a world they could only watch but not engage in. The moment was shattered by the front door slamming open.

“DANNO WE’RE HOME AND WE BROUGHT CHINESE!” Resonated through the house. Startled awake, the ghost child leapt out of the bed and hovered about a foot above it for a moment before sinking back down.

“Darn it Dad, I was napping,” Danny grumbled before he opened his eyes and saw several of his ghostly enemies standing awkwardly in his room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Technus lounging on his bed. “What the-”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Technus tittered happily, leaning into his personal space. “Ready to hear my spiel?” The temperature in the room dropped rapidly as his core ramped up and spilled over into his eyes which were no doubt glowing a fierce green.

“Get out of my room!” He shouted, reaching over to grab his emergency under the bed thermos but a sock falling from his hair into his face distracted him.

“Hey, just stopping by but we were just on our way out, sleep well, Danny sweetie!” Kitty said dragging the whole group through the floor. His core thrummed in agitation until he felt them cross the portal into the Ghost Zone. He sat there for a moment, shaking and panting from the adrenaline rush before he decided he really didn’t want to know. He flopped back onto the bed and reached over on his nightstand for the bottle Jazz had given him the other day.

“The heck is in this stupid sleep aid?”

[where-dreamers-go]

Heyo! May I have Eragon's reaction to reader saying "I've loved you from the very start! I love you, but you don't love me! So why am I even confessing?" because I love drama and I do need a lot of fluff rn.

“The Many Questions And A Confession” Eragon x Modern!Reader

(A/N: How about a continuation to the one Modern!Reader slipping and telling Eragon how they know about him telling Arya about his true name?? I shall give the drama this day. It shall be a journey towards the fluff. Looks like this turned into an insert reader type deal. Needs a title now? Oops?

Drama time! Because Reader is really frustrated with Eragon in this one. Woo! How’s Eragon handle it? Spoiler: He doesn’t stop talking.

Continuation of this one: https://where-dreamers-go.tumblr.com/post/647030131496534016/if-modernreader-has-read-the-books-and-knows

Warnings: Angst! Fluff. Mild language.

Word Count: 1,703 words)

Hiding in your room’s bathroom, you remained silent. It was not so much that Eragon could not find you, it was that you did not want to be seen at least. So what if you had locked doors and were sitting in a dry tub? The worst that could happen would be if he decided to invade your mind.

“(Y/N)?” Eragon’s voice echoed throughout the chamber as the door to your room opened.

Of course he opened it. At least I didn’t barricade it, you thought. Can’t have thirty seconds to myself.

“Are you going to talk to me?” He asked quietly from the other side of the bathroom door. Apparently locating you was not an issue.

You narrowed your eyes at the door as you sunk further into the empty tub.

A barely audible sigh reached your ears.

“I’m not angry with you for knowing,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you’re running off.”

You glanced up to the ceiling. Did you forget your last guess?

“Then…you do have feelings for me?” Eragon asked. “Or you think I’m foolish for having feelings for Arya.” His voice softened, more speaking to himself than asking you another question.

You sighed and muttered, “Not so much that your feelings were foolish….just some of your actions.”

“You still haven’t answered my questions.”

“Because…wait for it….I don’t have to.”

“(Y/N),” Eragon’s tone lowered. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and it could not be for you knowing what I’ve done. If that were true…then you would have avoided me much sooner.”

“Brave of you to assume that I wasn’t avoiding you then.”

“We spoke more often then.”

“You asked me at least twenty questions a day. It’s hard to avoid that kind of persistence.” Kind of like now.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I had just met you! I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I would never do that.”

“So please stop avoiding me. I promise to be less foolish if that will help.”

“It won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Stop asking so many darn questions.”

“No. Just tell me.”

“No.”

“Why—?”

“I’ve loved you from the very start! I love you, but you don’t love me! So why am I even confessing?” You threw your hands out in a wide gesture. “Why do I bother? What does it even matter? …why am I even still talking?” You huffed. “Are we finished now?”

Silence.

You heard nothing else. Nothing in the bathroom you were hiding in nor anything out in the bedroom.

He has to be still out there. You thought. But I swear to all that is good, if he so much as tries to enter my mind, I will loose it. I’ll probably scream, cry, or…whatever. You crossed your arms and tried to ignore the uncomfortable position you were in. Physically, emotionally, and mentally.

The lock on the door clicked and the door opened. Walking in with an unreadable expression, Eragon made his way to you.

“No.” You said shortly, but he made no move of stopping. “What are you—?”

Eragon stepped into the dry tub.

“What are you doing?” You sat up straight as he sat down in front of you.

Settling in, Eragon folded his hands in his lap.

You shook your head at him.

What in the world? If someone thought he couldn’t get stranger…he did.

“What the blazes are you doing?” You asked, too bewildered to kick him as the opportunity was brought up in your mind.

“I’m sitting.”

You rolled your eyes so far that you were staring at the ceiling. If there was one place you did not want to look, it was straight ahead.

Wanting to hit someone upside the head and still wanting to kiss their face can not be good right now, you thought.

“Why are you even in here?” You asked through clenched teeth.

“You have been avoiding me and I haven’t seen you,” Eragon said simply before his voice softened. “I’ve missed you.”

Keeping your gaze up or up to the side, you avoided eye contact.

“Can we skip to the part where you say ‘I’m sorry, but you’re right, I don’t feel the same way about you’?” You asked. “Not going to lie…right now…you’re kind of making this worse.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was a murmur that tore through your heart.

“Alright.” Finally tearing your sights away from the ceiling, you hoisted yourself up and out of the tub.

“Where—I wasn’t finished.”

“Save your pity. I want to be alone.” You walked out of the bathroom and headed straight for your bed. There was an extremely low probability that he would follow you there too. Some lines weren’t crossed.

“I know you want to be alone.” Eragon was trailing after you.

I’m going to die from being not surprised, you thought of a quote.

“Please let me speak.”

“You’ve been speaking this whole time.” You yanked off your shoes. “What possibly could you have to say now?”

“I never said that I still loved Arya.”

You paused for a moment before saying, “Well…you don’t really need to. I’d be really surprised if you didn’t.” Tossing a pillow towards the middle of the bed, you kept your back to him.

“I don’t love her.”

Face scrunched up in confusion, you took a glance over your shoulder.

“Bull crap.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m calling you out for lying.” You explained and crossed your arms under your chest.

“I’m not lying.” A smile slowly spread across the Rider’s face.

You rose your eyebrows, challenging him.

“Sure. And what changed your strong feelings for Arya? Cold soup?”

“You.”

“What?” The word hardly reached your own ears.

Eragon walked up to you, albeit cautiously, with a full smile on his lips. His brown eyes were lit with a happiness you were not comprehending.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered. “Why are you smiling like that?”

A chuckle rang out into the room as he stopped to stand in front of you. “How am I suppose to keep a stoic face after you confessed that you love me?” His smile only stayed on his lips when he did not receive any verbal response from you, locked into his happy moment. “I know you would never lie about your feelings. Not something as strong as love.”

You watched on, cautious.

What is he trying to say, that he likes the idea of me loving him? Uh. Is this normal? You thought.

“Perhaps I should have stated my feelings for you much earlier. Clearly you have been worn down with your heart and for that I apologize.”

“Feelings?”

“Yes,” he wet his lips briefly and straightened his posture. “I do care for you deeply, (Y/N). My feelings were already growing before I even recognized them.” His smile turned sheepish, but he persisted onwards. “I didn’t think I could have those feelings for anyone else, but….it’s different somehow. I’m not sure how to explain it. I feel better when I’m around you. We’re honest with each other and you’ve taught me so much already. I’ll make this as much like home as I can for you. I really want you in my life.”

It took a moment before you breathed in a small breath.

You knew that you were probably looking at him as if he had lost his ever-loving mind. Who could blame you at that point? You were in a completely different world. And one you knew of, mind you. It was bound time for a round of unpredictability.

Eyes the color of enriched soil underneath the blooming flowers in light of a summer sky watched you with surging hope.

Were you hallucinating? Lucid dreaming? No, you couldn’t be. There were far too many moments that would have had a timeskip or objects from back home. The only way you would have this much time with Eragon would be if it was real.

He’s serious? He’s serious.

Your chest tightened and somewhere inside all of your tension released. In its place there was a warmth that brought tears to your eyes.

Frustration rapidly melting away, you carefully turned to sit on the edge of the bed to compose yourself.

“Are you alright?” Eragon asked, kneeling down to look upon your face.

“I’m…,” you swallowed. “I’m still processing what you said.”

“Processing?”

“Just…uh… Can you give me a second?” You waved a gentle hand in his direction.

“Take as much time as you need,” Eragon said as he delicately took your hand in his own.

You internally groaned at how sweet he was even after you verbally rampaged him about leaving you alone.

Seeing as you did not retract your hand, the Rider held your hand against his chest. The position allowed you the rare opportunity to feel his heartbeat. A rapid beating of his heart as he awaited any sort of verbal response from you. Anything that would tell him if he should indeed pursue the strong feelings he had.

You snuck a peek at his face; clear of any imperfections of the sun and brown eyes lit up in hope.

“You’ve been interested in me this whole time?” You asked. “And I didn’t know it?”

After reviewing your choice in words, Eragon nodded.

“What the actually hell?” You laughed. “You develop feelings quick, sir.”

A lopsided smile appeared on his face. Your light teasing of his actions always did surprise him in the most satisfying ways.

“You’re not upset with me?” He asked. “About earlier.”

“A little.”

His smile dropped a fraction.

“But I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” You smirked.

“Then I should be grateful.” Eragon held his head high. “I would rather face your affections than your wrath.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes. “That was smooth, but cutting it close.” You tugged on his hands. “Get over here.”

Before Eragon could stand, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

“You’re a bit of an odd one, you know that?”

Eragon nudged his head against your own. “I will gladly be odd if it means I can be with you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[starrysamu]

reciprocity. 

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader. 

wc: 6.1k, fluff. 

warnings: alcohol mention, cursing, suggestive content 

a big thank you for supporting me and watching me grow. i hope this token of appreciation brings a good start to your year. happy new year everyone! 

healthy competition always does some good for you. 

it keeps you on your toes, inspires you to strive for the best position you possibly can. it helps you move up the ladder at work. it’s supposed to spur teamwork and creativity and help you build bonds with your coworkers, bringing you together in trying times to boost productivity. it keeps your blandest days exciting and your most exciting days absolutely invigorating. 

healthy competition is not iwaizumi hajime. 

no, healthy competition is not debating every company issue brought to the table at conferences. it is not fighting over who gets what project when you’ll be forced to work on it together anyways. it is not squabbling over the coffee machine in the break room, and down to the very last minute of your days sitting opposite to iwaizumi hajime, it is not testing each other every breathing minute to see who can tick first. 

and when you hear him say, “do you need something?” you think about what awful fate has landed you the unhealthiest competition you’ve ever faced in your life. 

you want to mimic him like an annoying fourth grader would. ‘do you need something?’

instead, you clear your throat and you wave a file under his nose. “can you please take a look at this?” 

iwaizumi looks up at you and you fight the shiver down your spine. did the air conditioning kick in or something? 

he leans back in his seat and laces his fingers over his flat abdomen, his stiff shoulders relaxing against the mesh back of his chair. even while towering over him you feel more humbled than authoritative, like he’s just put you in your place without even saying a single thing. 

his eyes are especially suffocating today. unbridled fury threatens to consume you for absolutely no reason, because that’s just how iwaizumi hajime makes you feel.  

“wasn’t it assigned to you?” 

you clench your jaw. “both of us. did you already forget the meeting from this morning?” 

“yes, but,” iwaizumi inhales sharply, looking you up and down, “i’m busy handling the other project.” he tilts his head to the side. ‘you should know better.’ 

you’re not sure if it’s possible to roll your eyes any further back into your head. 

you tap your finger incessantly on the edge of his desk - a tried and tested tactic, because this hasn’t been the first time he’s made your life dreadfully difficult. when he sighs, almost a full minute later, you know you’ve got him. 

“i’ll take a look at it when i can,” he huffs, learning forward on his chair. he rests his elbows on his desk and you watch his biceps flex through his baby blue dress shirt as he puts his hands together under his chin. 

and despite his noncommittal agreement, there’s a string of curses flying through your head - and you’re having trouble settling on just one. you walk around to your side of the cubicle and swallow down your sigh as you reach for your seat. you can’t believe you had to physically get up for all of that. 

when he doesn’t reach for the file you left behind, your brows pinch together and glare at him. 

“i can see you.” 

“oh darn, i was trying so hard to hide.” 

no, healthy competition would not inspire you to the point of praying for the downfall of your enemies - especially in the form of blue light strain. except this wasn’t healthy competition, and you’d want nothing less for iwaizumi hajime. 

the whoosh! in your inbox sends your heart racing. there’s always something unsettling about emails at work.  

your eyes flit to your desk mate when his inbox gets the same tone at the same time. there’s always something even more unsettling about that. 

you frown, double clicking on the email. 

‘before we take off for the holidays, don’t forget our christmas party on wednesday the 23rd!’

ah, fuck. you reach for the planner sitting at the corner of your desk, flipping all the way to the back of the book. sure enough, past you was ambitious and always took initiative. in bold red letters, you read the scribbles: work party. 

your frown grows deeper when you watch iwaizumi write something down. the timing is just too convenient and uncanny. you lift yourself off your chair slightly, peering over the tiny barrier between your desks. your thighs begin to burn, and you wonder how much longer you’ll be able to last mid-air like this. all you know is that you haven’t done a wall-sit in years.  

he’s still scribbling when you can faintly see the same words in his own desk calendar. your brows furrow. is he planning on going? he never shows up to these things. what’s new about this year? 

“what’re you doing?” 

you freeze, three inches off your chair. your eyes narrow when you glance at him, but when he matches your gaze, you lower yourself back to your seat.

his eyes are the boss battle you’ll always face and never win against.  

“nothing,” you lilt.   

his eyebrows twitch. you squint at him and your eyes lock again, but he’s testing you this time, his gaze steady and unwavering against your own. 

you aren’t sure whether you feel more ‘naked and afraid’ or ‘the notebook,’ but he’s set a match to your innermost workings, gently fanning a flame you’ve done everything in your power to put out since you set your eyes on him.

he tilts his head slightly. the longer he keeps your eyes captured, the more vulnerable you feel. you’re an open book and he’s threatening to read the lines aloud, for the entire office to hear. 

you mirror him as you purse your lips. give it up. 

his brows arch. i don’t think i will. 

just as you feel your resolve cracking, he breaks the invisible string that’s binding you together. you hold onto the tightness in your chest and sink back in your seat, coming down from whatever adrenaline rush this gave you. exhaustion escapes you with a tiny sigh and you rub your dry eyes tiredly. 

you’re vaguely aware of the pounding of your heart against your ribs but swallow it down with a swish of water. you sigh one last time to calm your beating heart, before smiling to yourself. 

you mentally jot this one down as a victory. 

he looks at you one last time, the corners of his lips threatening to curve. 

“you look constipated, by the way.” 

iwaizumi sticks out like rudolph the red nosed reindeer. 

even with how plainly dressed he is, in his maroon dress shirt and work slacks, he sticks out so much it’s infuriating. you’re not even sure how it’s possible - for someone to look like he doesn’t belong yet also look like a god amongst humans. he probably washes his face with bar soap and water for all you know. 

your eyes meet his across the room for a split second, and you feel the heat flare on your cheeks. you set your glass against your lips, down the largest gulp you possibly can, and look back at your friend in front of you. 

you’ve always had curious eyes, though. they find iwaizumi again in no time, with his hands in pockets, gruffly standing by your direct supervisor, maybe even convincing the old guy to give him a promotion when the new year begins. 

iwaizumi hajime, 27, your coworker. iwaizumi hajime, the one person that wouldn’t ever indulge you in this god-awful company. iwaizumi hajime, ridiculously attractive and punchable all at once. iwaizumi hajime, iwaizumi hajime, iwaizumi - 

“don’t tell me you’re already drunk.” 

your eyes snap to your friend. “absolutely not,” you huff, taking another sip of your wine. “this is like diet coke to me.” 

she hums, swirling her glass. “did you think it was coke last year too?” 

“stop,” you plead. repressed memories of last year’s party jog through your mind. they’re stopping for a bagel post-run as you’re reminded of throwing up on the ride home. 

you glance back at iwaizumi as if you’re talking trade secrets with your friend. his eyes catch yours and you can see him look at you curiously, the apples of his cheeks beginning to blossom in the lowlights of the apartment. 

you start to wonder if it’s the drink in his hands that makes him compelled to start walking over to you, but you know for a fact that it's your drink that makes your heart race and stomach coil as the footsteps near. 

do you run? do you hide? is this the showdown you’ve been waiting for? 

your friend shoots you a pointed look before heaving a sigh and trailing your line of vision. “i’m going to go grab another drink.” 

you only hum as you shuffle in your spot, figuring out what to do. by the time you consider ditching that corner with your friend, it’s too late - she’s gone, and in her place is a guy that makes you want to ram your head into a wall. 

“hi,” he says curtly, standing next to you. 

something’s off. 

he doesn’t dare look you in the eye as he takes another sip from his wine glass. he widens his stance a little and slips his hand in his pocket as he surveys the party from where you’re standing, as if the view’s that much different from where he was originally was. 

“hi,” you rasp embarrassingly. “what brings you all the way across the living room?”    

“you looked like you could use the company.” 

you don’t bother pointing out the fact that your friend left only after she saw him make his way to you. you mentally pat yourself on the back for being so generous and allowing him to preserve the last shreds of dignity he must have. it really must've taken a lot for him to even come up to you - you know you wouldn’t ever do it willingly. 

“i saw you kissing up to the boss,” you mull instead, “i’m surprised you left the company of that for me.” 

he clears his throat and you do a double take - is he blushing? you can never seem to get a reaction out of him, but all of a sudden he wants to blush?

“are you drunk?” you scoff, peering at him. 

from where you’re standing, it’s too dim to tell. 

“no.”

that’s enough of a sign for you. maybe you yourself have a little too much wine coursing through your veins when you pinch his sleeve and tug on it, forcing him to face you. 

you’re met with furrowed brows and red cheeks. the former you’re used to, but the latter? stop the presses, this is breaking news. 

“wow,” you say in awe. “looks like even mr. perfect gets carried away.” 

“don’t call me that,” he huffs, shrugging out of your hold. you realize you’re still pinching onto the maroon fabric like it’s a tissue you just blew your nose into and drop your hand quickly. 

there’s an uncomfortable pause until he clears his throat. “have you been to one of these before?” 

“yeah,” you mumble, averting your eyes from him. “i haven’t missed one since we started working here.” 

he hums, staring at the bottom of his glass. “i’ve usually had a family event i’ve needed to fly back for,” he says, swirling the wine slowly. “otherwise, i think i would’ve come.” 

pffft. “you think?” 

he breathes out a laugh that mirrors yours. “parties aren’t exactly my cup of tea.” 

“yeah, you look like a two-beers-only during a football game on friday night kinda guy.” 

he blinks at you like a deer caught in the headlights. cute. you swallow down a grin at how defenseless he seems with a little alcohol on a holiday night. maybe you’ll start spiking his morning coffees and see how it goes from there. 

“i’m just kidding,” you tease, “but showing up to these things gets you a few brownie points with the boss.” 

he only hums and leans back on the wall, glancing over at the dinner table. you stand next to him, your arm a magazine width away from his. 

“maybe i’ll start showing up more often.” 

“you know where he lives, right? can you call him a cab or something?” 

you blink at your boss. excuse me? 

there’s a part of you that wants to scream, ‘no! i absolutely do not know where he lives!’ but unfortunately for you, you’re in charge of sending out the company christmas cards each year. 

and everyone knows that. 

he looks at you expectantly, like he’s ‘counting on you’ or something ridiculous like that. you figure he’s got his own things to take care of when you take a good look around the apartment, with everyone gone and only their messes left behind. 

“fine, yeah, i got him.” 

if anything, you can use this as leverage against iwaizumi as soon as you head back to work on monday. you sigh again as you sling iwaizumi’s arm around your neck, stumbling when he leans against you. 

he’s so warm. he’s so warm against you it feels like sunshine on a july morning. he’s so warm it feels like you’re rolled up in a blanket on a cold december day. he’s so warm like he’s just joined you under the blanket and handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

for a fleeting moment, you can’t help but wonder what it’s actually like sharing a blanket with him. you imagine it to be just as warm, to feel like a home you crave for in this chilly weather.  

and just as quickly as it came, you toss that thought right back out because it’s absolutely ridiculous, and there’s no way in hell that would ever happen in this lifetime. 

a grunt escapes your lips as the two of you stagger down the hall. when you turn the corner, you whisper, “are you alright?” 

he hums against your neck and something blossoms in your chest, heat running up your spine to your cheeks. his fingers run along the wall on the other side of him as if it’s giving him any support. it’s still awfully adorable for him to try and balance himself, and you give him a participation award for putting some effort in.  

“just hold on,” you mumble. “we’re almost to the elevator.” 

his arm tightens around you and there’s some sort of garbled squeak that escapes your throat. he laughs right then, as if you’re the funniest person alive and you’re doing a skit on saturday night live. for a second you want to laugh too - both with him and at him. 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him laugh in the three years you’ve known each other. you’re trying to recall the last real reaction he’s given you - not just his usual bad cop routine at work - and you think that maybe the dull ache in your chest is actually a result of a lack thereof. 

it’s pure ecstasy when you can finally catch a breather in front of the elevator. your fingers are still clasped around his side and now you’ve even looped your other arm around his abdomen. are his legs jelly or something? 

while you’re digging your shoulder under his arm to balance yourselves, you catch him watching you with hooded eyes. 

“do you need something?” you ask quietly, stilling in your spot. 

he shakes his head quickly before letting it hang again. for a moment you could’ve sworn he was finally sobering up, maybe even come to his senses enough to walk, but when he says, “i need … to find the purpose of my life,” you backtrack. 

you’re just thankful he thinks he’s socrates and not usain bolt. 

“your purpose is to sober up right now,” you respond, rolling your lips under your teeth. 

“and then what?” 

“and then i’ll call you a cab, and you’ll go home, drink some water, and then go to bed.” 

“but then i won’t be able to talk to you.” 

your heart stutters until it stills. while your brain is busy processing this unknown stimulus, you inhale sharply. “you can talk to me on monday.”

“that’s …” he holds his hand out, slowly folding his fingers as he counts. “today’s the 25th - ”

“23rd,” you interject.

he hums and counts through the dates under his breath, but loses track somewhere along the way. you’re too tired to correct him so you let him keep going, until he turns up to say, “9 days from now.” 

“it’s most definitely only 6,” you laugh. “besides, a break is always nice.” 

he hums, as if he’s thinking about something. “it’s nice when i see you across my desk.” 

a laugh catches in your throat. you turn to look at him with a grin. “if you’re trying to put the moves on me, you’re terrible at it.” 

a lie. 

he holds your gaze, your noses barely a millimeter away from each other. is he testing you again? your eyes grow wide as your pulse picks up, your stomach knotting in ways you didn’t think were possible. your skin is feverish, like you’re the wasted one instead of him.  

you’re jolted back to reality when the elevators ding!, but there’s not a single atom in you that wants to look away.   

you’re tiptoeing a dangerous line, fraternizing with the enemy like this. iwaizumi somehow took the flame you tried to put out years ago and doused it in gasoline, sending your heart ablaze.

when you look at him, there’s a tiny nagging in the back. drunk actions are sober thoughts or something like that? you’re never one to quote proverbs but you won’t lie and say you’re not using it to justify what you’re feeling, completely bothered in more ways than one by the man that’s consumed you for well over three years now.

“alright,” you sigh gently, looking ahead, “just … come on.” 

his head hangs as he leans against you, and with a final heave, you drag the both of you into the elevator. you set him against the back wall like he’s a mannequin and he characteristically leans against you with his arm around your shoulders, as if it’s his rightful place. 

it’s almost 12 am and you’re wondering why you’re mentally justifying everything to yourself. you’re justifying the both of you standing here, this late at night, alone in an elevator. you’re justifying the tightness in your chest as he keeps you warm instead of sending shivers down your spine. you’re justifying how looking at him at this very moment would send your nerves haywire, in very different ways than a normal morning at the office would. 

you swallow hard, hoping it releases the butterflies swimming in your stomach. his head hangs and he’s drawing you in so close that you can feel his breath against your cheeks. you’re a second away from completely short circuiting, torn between the sheer embarrassment of wanting to press your lips against his and the pure guilt of your thoughts, knowing full well that your relationship is nothing like this. 

you never deny the tiny voice in the back of your mind, that maybe he wants to cross this imaginary line between the two of you, but it’s especially loud tonight with his body pressed against yours in this suffocating elevator.   

“you know,” he finally murmurs, drawing you away from your own thoughts, “you look really pretty today.” 

your heart catches in your throat and you’re sent coughing violently. it only intensifies when he continues, “i mean, you look pretty every day.” 

his words are a flurry, slurred together like he’s confessing to a crime. and honestly, it may as well be. the two of you are like romeo and juliet - fatally attracted to each other and at what cost? who knows what would happen if you get carried away too? 

you’re starting to think you should’ve just stayed in your own damn head, just because you might explode if he continues. because any more and you may melt in his arms when he’s the one that can’t keep himself upright, not you. any more and you just might cross the line you’re both hell-bent on maintaining every single time. 

“alcohol makes you a lot more bearable,” you simply whisper. 

you make the grave mistake of peering at him as you catch him looking back at you for the millionth time that night. his eyes are soft and the redness has drained from his cheeks, leaving only the slightest tint of rose behind. you think about how much of a crime it would be to move in just a little closer. 

when he lifts his head, his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, thumb slowly drawing circles at your temple. he looks at you like he’s been waiting to do this all this time, like he’s finally reached the finish line. he’s there, he’s got the home run, he’s got the gold medal.   

he leans into you slowly, gently, like he’s testing out the waters. is it too cold? is it too hot? your skin is practically burning with need, practically itching for him. you’re not even sure if you’re still breathing.   

his eyes flit to yours. “can i?” he whispers against you. 

your body responds before your brain can when you nod delicately, your nose brushing against his. you can … and should.  

and finally he crashes into you, lips colliding with yours. if you had known years of strange eye contact would lead up to this, you would’ve done something about it much, much sooner.   

shivers travel down your spine as you press yourself against him, hands finding their way to the nape of his neck. your fingers tangle in his thick hair and you pull him closer to you, greedy for more.

he’s no longer tentative - he’s hungry. it’s like he skipped the absolutely delightful dinner your boss catered for this absolutely magnificent party. it’s like he’s been starved for days, for weeks, when his hands find their way to your waist, fingers digging into your sides. they don’t stay there for long, as his hands impatiently find the backs of your knees next. 

you yelp against him, lips still attached to his, as he hikes your legs up. you prop yourself against the railing on the back of the elevator wall as your elbows find their way to his shoulders. he’s steady as he hoists you against him, thumbs drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your legs. 

and just like that, he pulls away as quickly as it happened. a tiny, strangled, “hm?” leaves your lips as your eyes snap open, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath.  

your eyes widen when you catch sight of his top buttons popped and his hair disheveled. 

iwaizumi’s eyes mirror yours when his grip on you loosens. the elevator doors open behind him, but you’re too shell-shocked to even move, let alone check to see if anyone’s waiting to use it. 

it’s not until someone says, “excuse me?” that the two of you are drawn out of your reverie. maybe it was actually a nightmare. you weren’t entirely sure, because every fiber of your being feels absolutely numb. 

he grabs your hand to pull you out of the elevator, but as soon as the doors close and the stranger’s gone, he lets go. a sigh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. 

ah, fuck. 

there’s not enough concealer in the world to hide your dark circles. you silently curse as you pad the rest of your face, hoping a coffee will exterminate your headache and low morale like insect repellent would with ants. 

you’re flooded with overwhelming urge to call in sick as soon as you step into the building. not even the largest latte can prepare you for today, not when you’re still supposed to be sitting across from iwaizumi. and with not a single word from him in the past five days, you’re not exactly sure what to expect.  

there’s a tiny cup already placed at the corner of your desk. your eyes flit to iwaizumi’s desk to see a matching cup. 

“good morning,” iwaizumi mumbles, keeping his eyes locked on his screen. the tips of his ears are as red as maraschino cherries and you write it off to the weather, because not even your scarf was enough to cover the wind from nipping at your skin. 

you gauge him for a moment and when he glances at you confusedly, your mild irritation is quick to leave you. as soon as you meet his eyes, the fight or flight response threatening to take over dissolves.  

all it takes is a breath of fresh winter air and you’re as cool as a clam. calm, cool, collected - that’s you. easy, breezy, covergirl. if he wants to ignore it, then you can ignore it too. there’s no elephant in the room; there’s just a tiny cat. maybe a frog. something small and tiny - the actual opposite of an elephant. 

“good morning,” you say quietly, steeling your resolve. you reorganize your desk as your desktop reboots, and you still over the paper cup, debating on whether you should say something. 

you decide against it and the familiar whoosh! rings through as your screen lights up. your eyes flit to iwaizumi, trained on his computer like he’s taking the SAT and he’s running out of time. 

the smallest of sighs escape your lips. you turn back to your computer, staring at your document blankly. you wonder if he regrets it, but your imagination doesn’t stop there - you think about what it would be like to reopen that book, to get a sequel that’s better than the original itself. 

iwaizumi clears his throat as you continue to stare at your screen. it’s not until he clears his throat again when you finally look up at him. 

“what is it?” 

“i, uh,” he looks down at his file, “i finished up part of the project you left on my desk the other day. if you could just check it over, that would be great.” 

you’re consumed with ambivalence when he skirts around you. embarrassment starts to seep into you like the slowest burn of all.  

you blink at him before nodding slowly, downing half of the coffee you brought in with you. “thanks,” is all you say, reverting your attention back to your computer. 

it’s not a game, it’s not a test, and deep down, you know that. you can’t help but treat it as such, though, not when it’s all you’ve known. reciprocity, as the professionals would call it, just without the favors.  

a soft sigh escapes your lips as you down the last of your coffee, reaching for the other coffee at the corner of your desk. it’s lukewarm now, and any longer it’d just go stale. you click your tongue as down it all in another go, tossing the empty cup in the trash can under your desk. 

iwaizumi pauses, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. 

“have you had anything to eat?” his voice is quiet, much softer than when he’s breathing down your neck about work. 

“no.” 

“would you like to go to the cafe downstairs?” 

you still. “no.” 

“i was planning on going, do you want - ”

“no, i’m okay. thank you.” 

he blinks at you, visibly startled by your refusal. could he blame you? you let yourself get your hopes up one night and then were met with radio silence. this is as far as your limits stretch.  

you swallow thickly and consider making a joke about taking this to HR, but even you know when to stay behind the line. the nagging in the back of your mind tells you that you’d much prefer to take it back to how it used to be, though. 

after all, a little healthy competition always got you going. 

the silence is agonizing. the suffocating air, the occasional typing, the soft breathing. you and iwaizumi aren’t the only ones on your floor, but sometimes it feels like it, especially now that you’ve quieted down. 

a few days later and you’ve been reduced to polite ‘good morning’s and ‘see you tomorrow’s, along with a, “can you take a look at this?” every now and then.

it’s the 30th, and without a single word about what happened 7 days ago, you’re sure he regrets it. there’s no way he doesn’t. 

you’re embarrassed that things have turned out like this, and embarrassed that you can’t ask him about it because you’ve still got to see him every day. you can’t afford to make this any more uncomfortable than it already is. and with the way it’s been going, you haven’t got a single green light that would indicate even an inkling of what’s on his mind. 

is this how you’re going to ring in the new year? 

you curse to yourself, reaching for your mug and heading to the break room. you look at iwaizumi’s desk for a moment, with its owner nowhere to be found. 

you find him not long after in the break room, preparing his own mug of coffee. you fight the sudden urge to flee and casually open the fridge, pretending to look for something as iwaizumi towers over the coffee pot. 

“are you here for some coffee?” 

you turn to your right and see him leaning against the counter, hands slipped in his pockets as he looks at you. 

“yeah,” you mumble, turning back to the fridge. you shut it, hoping he doesn’t notice that you were faking it. maybe you should’ve just fled after all. 

“there’s enough for two,” he mutters, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“ah.” should you thank him for his services or something? 

you look away and shift uncomfortably on your feet, with only the trickle of the coffee playing the soundtrack of your melodrama. where’s mr. krabs to play the world’s tiniest violin?  

he shifts slightly until he’s facing you fully. “do you wanna grab lunch together today?” 

you swear your mouth’s gone as dry as the sahara desert. “uh - ”

“i think … we should talk.” 

and now you’re sinking in quicksand, with only iwaizumi’s hand to pull you out. 

you twirl your fork tentatively, odd squishing noises of the pasta sauce filling the space. there’s gentle elevator music that plays in the back but it’s nowhere near enough to calm you down. 

“so,” you mumble, looking up from your plate. “you were saying?” 

three hours in between your run-in at the break room and lunch was absolute agony. he didn’t even say anything to you on the way to the restaurant, and you walked together. 

“i just wanted to talk to you,” he says slowly, trailing off. “just in person. for the other night.” 

you choke on your spaghetti. you look at him as you wash down your pain with water, and all you can think is that this absolutely cannot be real. 

once you can finally breathe, you say, “what about it?” 

wasn’t he ignoring it literally three hours ago? what made him change his mind all of a sudden? 

he inhales sharply and curls his fingers around his fork. to any outsider, he looks like he’s going to war. 

“it wasn’t a mistake and i don’t regret it.” 

your brows shoot up as you find yourself choking on your food again. he’s finally read you for the open book that you are, airing your dirty laundry in the suffocating space between the two of you. 

part of you wants to ask how he can read your mind, but you decide against it. you’re not sure what he wants to hear, other than that it would’ve been nice to hear that much earlier. 

“okay,” you finally say, looking at him. his eyes are searching you for context clues, inferences he missed the first time. “i … also don’t regret it,” you tack on quickly. “but you were drunk, so i get it. it happens - ”

“i was pretty sober by the time we got to the elevators.” 

you should’ve chosen a different cuisine for the number of times you’ve choked on your food. 

“excuse me?” 

“that’s why it wasn’t a mistake,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears burning. “it was just an excuse to loosen up around you, otherwise there would’ve been no way - ”

“you made me carry you,” you say irritatedly. you’re already annoyed that he waited this long to talk about it, but to make you carry him? you want to throw a punch at him and then at yourself. 

maybe this is romeo and juliet. 

iwaizumi sets his fork down. “that’s what you’re mad about?” 

“is there something else i should be mad about?” 

“i just mean, like, kissing you - ”

“you asked me first. i already said i didn’t regret it, but do you know how sore i was? do you know how heavy you are?” 

he reaches for his glass of water and you stop him. “you owe me, buddy. pay for the cab too. oh wait, also,” your fingers clasp around his wrist, “i’m so irritated you made my life a living hell for the past three years.” 

“wait,” he says lowly, “hold on just a minute. who’s fault was that?” 

“yours.” your response is visceral, spitting out of you like a nerf gun. “it’s definitely not mine at all.” 

“you didn’t have to be so cold on my first day,” he says. “not only that, you were so inefficient - ”

“you say that as if you haven’t been cold to me for the past three years.” your voice rises. “inefficient? i’m sorry not everyone’s superhuman, mr. iwaizumi hajime, but you need to loosen up. and to fact check, it was our first day!” 

he blinks at you and you slowly backtrack in your mind, thinking you’ve crossed the line in a way you didn’t want to ever again. you look back at him sheepishly as he continues to look at you, before he laughs. 

your brows raise. your arm’s starting to grow numb because you’re still holding onto his wrist, but you think about how this is nothing after everything you’ve gone through together. 

“what’s so funny?” you ask quietly. 

he bends his elbow and rests it on the table. you have to follow in suit, otherwise you’d be holding your arm up pretty much over your head. when you move, he wriggles out of your hold to lace his fingers through yours. 

“what if i offer to take you out again instead?” 

you slowly intertwine your fingers with his. long before your lunch, you had already been considering all of the options, all of the possibilities, whether he wanted to make this work or not. you were considering a different proposition altogether - starting over completely - but it seems he already knows even the smallest details about you. 

maybe you’ll be just fine without the reintroductions. 

you’ve always thought competition is ridiculous. you can get overworked, tired, exhausted from trying to best not only yourself but those around you. having someone or something to constantly beat is exhausting. 

“can you pop the champagne?” 

you watch the back of his head stare at the television. “you wanna pop it early?” 

“yeah, it makes sense to drink it right when it’s midnight, right?” 

“don’t you normally pop it after midnight?” 

“when you would drink it then?” 

“after midnight,” you deadpan, as if it’s supposed to be the most obvious thing in the world. and to you, it doesn’t get any more obvious. 

he turns to look at you. “don’t you … go to sleep after midnight?” 

you frown at him. “are you a 50 year old or something? don’t tell me you go straight to bed after the ball drops.” 

“i just think it makes a lot more sense to drink the champagne before.” 

you sigh heavily and turn your back to him. you’ve brought two bottles just in case something ridiculous like this happens. you shake it slightly and hover it over the sink, before bringing the bottle to the coffee table. 

when you hand iwaizumi his flute, you think maybe he’s the healthiest competition you’ve ever had. you drape a blanket over to two of you, and much to your pleasure, he’s just as warm as you imagined. 

and when he says, “happy new year, i love you,” and kisses you fully on the lips, you realize that you’ve won.

[eebbapanda1]

Meeting La Squadra pt. 1 (Only Risotto, for now)  La Squadra x College!Neigbor!Reader

a/n: As a previous post mentioned I have severe La Squadra brain rot at the moment so this will be heavily self-indulgent. I have not written reader insert anything since the height of SuperWhoLock, so we’ll see how this goes. Also, please know that the reader in these stories is afab although I’ll try to keep things as gn as possible, they will also be short and chubby because again self/indulgence. Even so, I hope everyone likes it. 

genre/warnings: Fluff so no warnings. Reader is a new neighbor of La Squadra, also they are in college. All of the meetings are platonic for now. This one will only have Risotto because finals are kicking my butt, and I feel guilty about hyping this up a little and not delivering quickly. Don´t worry, I am working on everyone else. 

Risotto 

- A small known fact about Risotto, he tends to use Metallica to take walks outside of the apartment. Honestly, he loves his team like a family but they can all get be way too loud. Especially, when most of them are staying together.

 - Another small known fact, although this applies to everyone in his team, is that he knows about pretty much everyone who lives in the neighborhood. Not in a stalker way, more in a ‘we don’t trust any of you people’ way. It’s better to know who is Passione, who is in another gang, and who is a civilian that lives around you than not having any clue at all. 

- This is why, one sunny Italian afternoon, when he sees someone he had never seen around before trying to push a large box into an apartment two doors down from his own he definitely gets curious. And since Metallica has him cloaked and they can’t see him anyway…. well, it makes sense to stay and observe the situation. 

- It is honestly kind of amusing to see you try and fail so hard so many times. 

- “Ok, ok we have got this” he heard you mutter at least twice “We are strong, we are independent, and if we are gonna make it all alone in a new country we better move this goddammed box already”. 

- ‘They would get along with Proscuitto pretty well.’ he thought. 

 - This went on for some good fifteen more minutes in which Risotto learned some important things: you were not native to Italy at all, you talk to yourself out loud, whatever is in that box is way too heavy for you, and most importantly you’re not a threat to him or his team. 

- He thought about just going home until he heard your next idea “Maybe if I get a running head start it will finally move” 

- Ok, now he had to step in. Because that is a terrible idea for someone as short as you, there were more chances of you getting hurt than actually moving the darn thing, and after amusing himself with your misfortune for a good twenty minutes it felt wrong to leave you to it. 

- Thankfully, you sensed his presence right before starting to run. Not thankfully, he startled you so much you almost Jumped a foot into the air. “Oh God, sorry about that.” you chirped after calming down “I really did not see you there.” Unlike most of the neighbor civilians, you did not seem afraid of his appearance. That was definitely nice. 

- After some short introductions, Risotto helped you move the box which he found out was a bed frame that came in later than originally planned. 

- He also learned that you had already been living next to them for three weeks, which was a tiny bit disconcerting since he had no idea that whole time. He´d have to talk with Illuso about it. 

- Once the box was already inside, he was ready to leave. 

- You were very grateful for your tall neighbor who had recently been your savior and promised to pay him back once you got all of your stuff fully settled since that last of it had arrived that day. 

- If he was honest, he couldn’t wait to see how exactly you expected to pay him back. 

[gaysimpsstuff]

Fatgum As a Dad

This was inspired by a conversation I had on a discord server, we all have daddy issues and want Fatgum to adopt us so here’s all the shit we collected.

There are some serious themes in here, mostly regarding the biological parents of the kid, but it’s vague as possible. If anyone wants me to add a trigger warning please let me know.

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It all started when he was a kid, when he learned what an orphanage was. One of the kids in his class mentioned being from one, so when he got home he asked his parents about it. 

“Mom, what’s an orphanage?”

“Well, Taishiro, it’s where children that don’t have parents go. Then people can come and adopt the children. Why do you ask.”

“A kid at school said he’s from one, when d’you think he’s gonna get adopted?”

“He might, not all children get adopted. Some of them stay in the orphanage until they’re adults.”

“BUT THAT’S NOT FAIR!” he shouted. “EVERYONE DESERVES A HAPPY CHILDHOOD!”

“Well, honey, life’s not fair. And not everyone gets a happy life. It’s how most villains are made, actually. They were hurt more than everyone else and couldn’t handle it anymore. Not all villains are like that but many are. I think you should stay away from that kid, Taishiro. He might turn out a villain.”

But he didn’t stay away. And he made it his mission to become a pro hero so he could make a ton of money and help as many people as he could. He’d help even villains, keep them from doing something dangerous and inspire hope in them.

Then, he’d adopt any kid who needed a father. All the orphanages and foster programs would be empty. Homeless children off the street and in his house, being fed and clothed. He’d care for each and every one of them, not wanting a single person to feel like they didn’t belong. 

He finds most of his kids at pride parades. He walks around with a shirt that says ‘FREE DAD HUGS’ and a box full of candy. He remembered one of the kids walking up to him slowly.

“Um.. are you Fatgum?” 

“Yes I am!”

“Can I have a hug?”

“Yes you can, Kiddo!” he got down, and the kid put his arms on his stomach (Fatgum’s too big for anyone to fully hug, the dude’s taller than Allmight!) he wrapped his arms around the kid before he heard sniffles. He looked down and saw that the kid was crying.

“M-my parents never hug me like this!” they exclaimed. “They haven’t since I came out. They want to kick me out when I turn thirteen!” 

“Can I have their number? I’m going to... talk to them.”

He ended up taking the kid’s family to court, and since the parents were going to just kick the kid out anyways, they let Fatgum adopt them, but they kept nagging him about how he was ‘going to be raising a little demon.’

“Then call me Lucifer.” he spat right back. Now, that kid’s grown up, has pride flags all around their walls, and doesn’t ever doubt that they’re loved.

Fatgum probably bakes with his kids. Helping them up onto the counter to mix ingredients and play with the dough. If they mess something up or break a glass, it’s fine. He doesn’t yell at them or sigh and shake his head, he just kissed the kid on the forehead and helps them clean up the mess. 

The food always turns out amazing, and Fatgum always tells the kids that. All of his kids are now Gordon Ramsay level chefs and have probably met Gordon Ramsay. 

No matter what their body type is, Fatgum tells his kids their handsome/beautiful and are model worthy. If anyone comments of one of his kid’s body, whether it be negative or... ‘positive’ in a creepy way, you can expect that they’re getting slammed into the ground. No questions asked.

One of Fatgum’s kids is really good at make-up. Like, really good. So Fatgum did the only thing a rational father would do. 

Ask for a make-up job.

It didn’t end all that well...

“Hold still.. I gotta get the eyeliner on.”

“Gosh, Kiddo it’s making my eyes water.” 

“I know, just hold still... aaaand...... done! Now don’t touch it or it’ll smear!”

“Wow, that looks great! You’re really good at this!”

“Thanks, dad- you smeared it already didn’t you?”

“....Nope.”

Fatgum: I'm not gonna do it, it just seemed like a good option. 

Fatgum not even two seconds later after seeing a trans kid crying: now carrying said child on his shoulders while his spouse is chuckling in a corner after signing adoption papers I did it.

This man would get his kids almost anything they wanted. Especially kids with ADD/ADHD/Autism/Tourettes/Anxiety who need stim toys.

Kid: chewing on their nails.

Fatgum: here take this stim toy, and this one, you chew this one so that might help-

Kid ends up with more stim toys than they can count.

Fatgum: just doing his job 

The Daddy Issues Gang: Hi dad- oh shit wait- Hi- I- fuck- trauma ensues. crying

Fatgum: grabs the daddy issues gang we're going to the nearest courtroom say hello to your new father its me im the father ok lets go.

Kid: um, dad can I talk to you? 

 Fatgum, turning around quickly: yes? 

 Me: ‘he moved so quick, he's mad at me, I'm gonna get yelled at’ Sorry, sorry! 

Fatgum: uh, no. I'm getting you ice cream and a new stuffed animal no questions asked

He'd just know when something's wrong, and he’d be great at comforting.

His usual style of comfort is to let the kid sit on his stomach and tell him what’s wrong. His body is one giant pillow for his kids to lay on, he can fit at least eight of them if they cuddle in closely.

Once filmed a commercial dressed as the Cool-Aid man, and all of his kids were in the commercial.

Fatgum: Busts down wall  “OH YEAH!”

Director: “And CUT! Okay, try a little more aggressive-”

Fatgum, in tears: “I don’t wanna scare my kids.”

As stated before, if anyone makes his kids feel bad he’s punching them to the ground, but sometimes he’s not in a position where he can do that. Like if a Karen mom ever comes over.

"Linda stop bringing lemon squares if you're going to talk about my son that way because they're just as sour as your attitude."

Fatgum but he slaps the toxic members of your family and tells them to do better or he's taking you.

Then takes you anyway because you prefer him.

Fatgum with a sweater that says ‘mr dad guy on it’

Fatgum definitely watches ATLA, and quotes Uncle Iroh daily. When his kids are minding their own business they suddenly hear

“Leaves from the vine... falling so slow...” 

INAUDIBLE CHAOS AND PANIC

Fatgum agency cosplayed ATLA characters on Halloween.

Fatgum was Iroh.

Kirishima was Sokka.

Tamaki was either Momo or Appa.

Maybe get a couple others in on it too, Mirio could be Aang and if Kirishima convinces Todoroki to join for a while he’d totally be Zuko.

Fatgum lets his kids squish his face.

Fatgum used to work with a hero who was hard of hearing, so he learned sign language to help them, and he’s got the skill saved in case one of his kids might be deaf.

So one day, Kirishima invites Bakugou on patrol with him, and we all love that headcanon of Bakugou going deaf, so when he gets pissed at something, he starts insulting everyone around him in SL.

Fatgum notices and starts signing back to him.

YOU’RE ALL MOTHERFUCKERS AND I HATE YOU ALL!

Hey, now, let’s calm down and not call everyone motherfuckers.

FUCK YOU TOO

Bakugou...

Everyone thinks that they’re doing magic, because they’re making all these shapes with their hands and keep looking offended at each other.

Now, Fatgum tries his gosh darn hardest to keep up with the memes, so when his kids come home with good grades, he says “That’s so pog, Kiddo!”

All of his kids are embarrassed.

In the middle of a battle, he throws Kirishima at a villain and they both scream “YEET!” the villain afterwords forever lives in fear of the word ‘yeet’ because he thinks it’ll result in a human rock being thrown at his face.

Fatgum can’t text very well, because his fingers are just too damn big-

sonhsisntextsblooklikehthis'

Translation: so his texts look like this

you learn to understand his texts

Someone better get him a large tablet instead of a phone

If he gets married after he adopts the kids, there’s going to be a huge competition over who does the rings and who does the flowers etc.

If any of his kid’s ever bring home a romantic partner, you can bet your ass he’ll be all over them.

“What’s your average grade?”

“E-eighty percent sir!”

“And do you take sports?”

“No sir, I wish to be a biologist.”

“I see, I see...”

“DAD, YOU AREN”T INTERVIEWING MY PARTNER, ARE YOU? YOU SCARED OFF THE LAST THREE I DON’T WANNA DEAL WITH THAT AGAIN!”

“SORRY, KIDDO! I’LL LET THEM GO NOW! I’ve got my fucking eyes on you. Don’t screw this up.”

Hope y’all enjoy this, if y’all want I can write some headcanons for if Fatgum’s kid becomes a villain-

[z-1-wolfe]

Parhelion Headcanons (sir this is all for you) @greenbeany

Putting 'em under the cut because they got very long O.O

I- the gnome is Neon I take no criticism. They are often good-natured souls with a more mischievous side, and if that doesn’t describe Neon I’m not sure what does. Playful, funny, good intentions, that my good Bean is our lovable cat personified. Okay Parhelion dnd au with gnome Neon please /j.

I AM SMACKING THE GUN OUT OF YOUR HANDS [runs into a glass wall] dammit,, guess I gotta talk now

I- oh no,, time to fail the exam I guess (turns all your head canons upside down)

Okay they do sleep yes they do. Actually that’s a lie only Ciel sleeps, the other two are insomniacs. Ciel has all of her day to day life planned out to the minute, so she heads to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time, the other two are more of a “we’ll sleep when we’re tired” kinda duo. Unfortunately due to Ilia’s night terrors and Neon’s ADHD they almost never rest. No they do not sleep in a SANE bed, ha why would they have a bed? They sleep in a hammock all tangled up with each other. It’s hard to tell what order they sleep in when they kinda curl into each other. They do not use a duvet, why have a duvet when Neon is a space heater? There are no pillows on the hammock X). OKAY THEIR ROOM, THIS I GOT, it’s a funky mess that is somehow organized thanks to Ciel. Ilia doesn’t own a lot in general but it was her life’s dream to paint her bedroom rainbow so guess what they have now. The other two are too soft and they supported her efforts and they love her despite her poor design sense XD.

I- why closet ASDFG I mean— No they do not share a closet they all have completely different fashion sense and if that was all in one place people would be genuinely terrified. But since they’re broke they had to make do with one walk in closet that they partitioned off into sections. YES THEY DO HAVE MATCHING OUTFITS THEY ARE SO CUTE LIKE THAT. They tend to be like those cute couple outfits with a few variations to match their own personal style. But their favorite matching outfit are these duck hoodies they own courtesy of once again Ilia living out her childhood dreams. No they don’t own many outfits because like I mentioned earlier they are broke x). Hmm thinking about each other’s styles… Ilia think both of her girlfriends have great taste, she loves the well, neon of Neon, and the prim and properness of Ciel. Neon just doesn’t care XD. And Ciel is just, she’s just standing there wishing she could help their fashion sense, but she holds back because “It does suit them in an odd way.” Ciel gets the most compliments on her style hands down, she looks organized and you can bet she saves money to buy outfits that actually accentuate her cuteness. They don’t wear makeup no time for that (in which you learn Z has little to no knowledge in how to apply makeup and doesn’t know how to answer that question)

OH OKAY I LOVE VIDDY GAMES. Ciel likes real-time strategy games because she’s insane and that’s literally all she knows in life thanks to being raised in an upper class family in Atlas. Neon likes open world games, something something she likes the chance for adventure and determining one’s fate for themself. Ilia has never once played a video game until after she defected from the White Fang but I can see her playing something light like Stardew Valley, low stakes kinda games. Hmm, they might play Animal Crossing together? Since it has aspects they all enjoy. They each have an individual switch (Ilia has a coral switch lite) and one shared PC. Okay game with most hours, maybe Minecraft? They still haven’t beat the enderdragon because Neon keeps getting distracted XD. Neon is the bomb at party games though, you can bet she has a perfect score on all the songs in Just Dance. Ciel is a sharpshooter, god knows who taught her how to shoot like that. The biggest splatoon fan is unfortunately not Neon it is Ilia, she loves all the colors in the game ^^. But she and Neon have wracked up quite a few hours in co-op.

Uhhh books!! Ilia likes fanfics :) it’s unfortunately one of the only ways for her to see positive representation of herself. Neon for some reason reads Epics?? Like her favorite is the Epic of Gilgamesh what is up with that?? Ciel reads webtoons :), she reads enough serious stuff for school work and such, she likes to just kick back and relax after all that. Yes they have schedules reading time courtesy of Ciel :). Uhh, they relax by baking together. None of them had many chances to indulge in sweets while growing up so they make full use of their time now. ?? SPOON?? Cuddle hours happen on a whim, the one thing that Ciel can never schedule because she never knows when it’ll occur. They relax the most in the kitchen x) because that’s where they bake, it’s not unusual to find Neon asleep on the counter while she waits for their sweets to rise. They read in the light, Neon is afraid that by reading in the dark that they’ll all ruin their eyesight. Ciel likes the sunrise because she’s up the earliest and is the only one to see it, the other two prefer sunset because that’s usually when their day is about to begin XD.

Favorite spot for dates! The park ^^, they like to go on picnic dates with all their baked goods. There is no plan, usually one of them will randomly pull the other two out of the house because they haven’t touched grass in a while XD. There are no ideas, they share one braincell and they spend too much time doting on each other to use it. Uhm favorite movie genre,,, they like comedy movies :). Their favorite place to eat is this tiny store on the corner of their street that makes mean gyros, they heccin’ love them. Coping with horror, Ilia is desensitized to horror because of the things she’s seen in life, Neon treats it like a game because she knows it’s not real, Ciel, is okay with it, but she gets shook more easily than the other two and they often have to reassure her. No they do not like theme parks, there are too many people around for Ilia and Ciel and Neon respects their boundaries so they tend to go to more quiet places. Uhm heights, Ciel is used to heights because she’s friends with Penny and woah can that girl toss her in the air like she’s a couple of grapes. Ilia doesn’t mind heights but she would prefer to have her feet on the ground. Neon loves the ground so damn much if it leaves her she will cry because man she can’t roller-skate in the air can she, what will she do if the ground is suddenly gone? They like evening dates because it’s normally the only time all three of them are awake enough for it XD. They end a night by sleeping I am not quite sure if there are other ways to end it lmao. They absolutely despise Neon’s roller skating dates but they love how excited she gets about them so they end up becoming as good as professional roller skaters because the smile on Neon’s face when they join her is dazzling.

I am slowly going insane. Yes each girl has a hobby I sure hope they do. Ilia knits, Ciel paints, and Neon writes. I would like to imagine that Ciel would try to schedule time for their hobbies she ends up giving up because all their sleep schedules are wack. Designated chef is Neon (probably made food for FNKI back in atlas), designated driver is Ilia (I mean I like to imagine she stole cars and stuff in the White Fang XD), designated decorator for stuff is normally Ciel though Neon does try to hijack a few of her plans occasionally, designated shopper is Ciel because the other two have no concept of Saving money, and they all work together to clean :). They don’t work together, they believe in keeping their work life and home life separate to prevent their feelings from getting in the way. They do not have pets, none of them have the energy or responsibility to do that, but Ilia did once bring a moose home one day for some reason.

I am nomming on your arm sir. Ilia and Neon get along with Penny surprisingly well, though I do think Ilia would get along with Weiss better? Ruby and Weiss look at Ciel and see a beacon arc Weiss and more or less adopt her despite Ciel being older than the two of them. They might like.. play board games together? Like some of those more team based board games I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, may the best polycule win. I cannot see them in a cuddle puddle to be honest ajcnjsanjs I am so sorry— hmm Ruby and Neon do not know the meaning of formal, as far as they are concerned these are their girlfriend’s friends and that means that by extension these are their friends. Weiss would like nothing to do with Neon after Neon insults Yang during the Vytal festival but she begrudgingly goes on outings with her and hey, now they’re make up buddies for some reason. The parhelion gals take the fs gals to the gyro place they like :). Parhelion gang Is a lot more vocal on their dates because their love language happens to be words of affirmation while the fs gang’s happen to be physical touch. Both polycules are very very affectionate though I will die on this hill.

DARN IT TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME HAVE 10 IMAGES PER POST THIS IS FINE IT WAS JUST ONE MORE PROMPT DARN IT

(Parhelion angst! How do Neon and Ciel react to the news about the dust mine? How do they find out about Ilia getting expelled? Do they find out about the white fang? Is there any faunus stigma afterwards? How does Ciel react to people bullying her Faunus GFS? Does Neon talk to Ciel much after? Do they ever reunite? Does Neon attempt to help Ciel while she grieves Penny? Where the fuck is Ciel now? Is Neon still alive? Does Ilia ever think about them? Does Blake know about them from Ilia?)

BUDDY I CAME TO THE LAST ASK AND NOW ONLY DID I REALIZE YOU MEANT PARHELION BACK WHEN THEY WHERE IN BEACON THIS WHOLE TIME I’M CRYING. (This ask is answered under the assumption that they are already dating back in Atlas Academy) Ciel is fiercely protective of her girlfriends, though people only know that Neon is a Faunus because Ilia masks her traits during her time at the academy. Neon and Ciel are horrified about the news about the dust mines. They know that Ilia is a Faunus and that her parents were working there so they rush to see her as soon as possible. But they’re too late,,, Ilia’s already been expelled for attacking her fellow students. They don’t hear from Ilia for a few years after that and the two slowly drift apart, each blaming the other for not getting to Ilia soon enough. They don’t find out about the White Fang until they reunite with Ilia unfortunately, but they feel sad that Ilia had felt that they only way for her to get revenge for her parents was by joining a militant group (I’m working under the assumption that Sienna only took control of the White Fang shortly before Ilia joined). When Neon learns that Penny didn’t make it after the Fall of Beacon she hesitantly reaches out to Ciel for the first time in a year, and she does try to help. But for Ciel it’s blow after heccin’ blow and she pushes Neon away in a rage. Ciel leaves the Academy after that and goes rogue, working as a huntsman without a license for the poorer parts of remnant. Ilia is unaware of all this drama during the Beacon arc. The next time she hears of any news is during the Fall of Atlas, and she’s scared, scared because she’s still recovering and she just heard Ruby announce to the world that Remnant is under attack, and oh my gosh her ex girlfriends live in Atlas. Neon makes it out alive, though not entirely in one piece, she now has a prosthetic leg. Ilia is the first person to see her, it’s a tearful reunion and they haven’t fully made up yet, but hey it’s a work in progress, now they just have to find out where Ciel is, but when they do they’ll BOTH be there to greet her. Blake has no idea who the fuck Ciel and Neon are lmao, Ilia never told her anything about her past romances when she was in the White Fang.

Oh gosh I think that's it-- And that is it thank you for listening to me ramble about Parhelion you get a juice box for making it this far. Sir I am sincerely sorry for turning your ship upside down please forgive me.

[demigoddreamer]

Addressing Batman’s Abuse

Damian: I killed someone

Bruce(and the rest of the batfamily but mostly bruce): It’s ok it’s because of your childhood, you were raised to be an assassin as long as you didn’t murder anyone innocent and do better next time

Dick: I killed someone

Bruce: well i saved them didn’t count bye

Tim: I killed someone

Bruce: Seriously Tim? ok I’m kinda disappointed but i’ll be ok in a little bit(actually idk cause I can’t recall if tim ever killed someone)

Jason: I killed someone

Bruce: HOW DARE YOU BREAK THE NO KILL RULE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF **** WE HAVE MORALS YOU’RE JUST ANOTHER CRIMINAL, A MURDERER, A MONSTER YOU LET THEM WIN IF YOU KILL

Alright enough with the jokes let’s get serious, let’s talk about the abuse. I have a lot to unpack and if you’re like me who doesn’t have the patience to read long things if they don’t matter then i’m sorry . I can read school stuff but fanfiction more than like 30 chapters irritates me which is stupid because I love to read but the human brain is A FUCKING ANNOYING HYPOCRITE. I love the batbros with all my heart and we hate to see bad stuff happen to them. but Bruce...he can get away with hurting the people who he should see as sons and who in turn consider him a father figure. He is essentially taking advantage of their love for his cause. Because the most important thing is batman and the mission which he will hold above his own children, the people in his life who care about him and support him in his insane crusade. Batman is someone who is consumed by this darkness that causes him to sacrifice everything for the mission. It is stated multiple times that his Robins are supposed to be better than him, they’re not needed as assistants in the battlefield but rather emotional support as they bring a little light to Bruce's pain and vengeful darkness. The Robins become better people than Bruce. 

There are obvious examples of Bruce’s abuse such as his second Robin now Red Hood Jason Todd. Now I may be biased as he is my favorite but I love all the robins dearly so FREAKING much. Jason is constantly remembered as Batman’s greatest failure. Why is that? we are led to believe it’s because Bruce didn’t save him but really it’s because Jason didn’t fall in line with Batman’s code which is where we see the flaws in Batman’s philosophy. Why doesn’t Batman just kill the Joker? Jason makes some very valid points saying that all Joker does is cause pain and he keeps breaking out of prison and causing more pain and it’s a vicious cycle, a revolving door that Batman refuses to end. Joker and Batman are almost obsessed with each other. But Batman refuses to kill Joker saying if he does he can’t come back and Joker will win. It’s a war between numbers and moral high ground. But in reality who cares if Joker wins? It’s vague what does it even mean? Joker keeps on killing and if he was gone the world would be safer? It doesn’t matter if he wins as long as people live. Jason Todd is someone who is constantly hurt by the people who are supposed to love him. An example of this is Batman choosing to save Joker rather than his own son in the Under the Red Hood storyline. Jason is clearly heartbroken over the fact that Bruce refuses to kill the person who MURDERED HIM saying “I thought I’d be the last person you ever let him hurt” Jason obviously has lots of trauma PTSD depression and he probably just wants to feel safe pleading with Bruce to just kill Joker that’s it saying “doing it because he took me away from you” which Batman refuses just saying I can’t. 

Now there’s other instances that make my blood boil such as Batman and Robin #20. Damian died in Batman Inc. and obviously since Bruce can’t ever deal with pain in a healthy constructive way, he goes full dark and rage and sadness. He becomes desperate to bring Damian back, being abusive to Tim even when Batman tried to experiment on Frankenstein to bring Damian back and Tim blew the lab up. But Jason...oh god...Bruce wants Jason on a mission in Ethiopia to bring the people who tried to kill Damian justice . (Talia put a bounty on his head) and then Jason agreed, excited at the chance of working with someone he considers a father again. Jason has ceased his killing he has calmed down from when he tried to hurt them all, his mind was damaged by the lazarus pit and he went insane with pain and rage. From my pseudo psychologist perspective I think he thought hurting them would make his pain cease if he tried to hurt the things that caused his pain it would fix him. Anyway Jason is on kinder terms with them but it’s still rough. They’re not all that kind with him sure he’s made mistakes but they all have and he’s really sorry about it. Anyway after taking those bad guys down they talk about family and trust and faith. Then...Bruce does it and reveals the real reason why they came to Ethiopia. Bruce wanted to bring Jason to the place he DIED. WHERE THERE IS A BUTT TON OF TRAUMA. Jason is just so shocked at first he stands there looking numb. He isn't even angry yet. He stands there feeling the pain of that horrible day saying”You lied to me. this wasn't about taking down those mercenaries. You wanted to bring me here..to the worst place in the world...and here I was starting to believe all your crap about trust and faith” He sounds broken which he is he’s been broken by so many people and now Bruce who isn’t supposed to break him just did by taking advantage of him and bringing him to somewhere of horrible trauma. Bruce reveals that he brought Jason here so he could figure out how to bring Damian back to life explaining “Those killers were the mission but this was something else something I couldn’t ignore I thought bringing you here could jog your memory-maybe retrieve a buried buried deep in your subconscious that could help piece together how you came to life so I” and Jason finishes this saying “-could apply it to getting Damian back. Yeah I get it. Did it ever occur to you I might like keeping whatever the hell happened to me buried deep?”Obviously, Jason doesn’t want to relieve his trauma, he doesn’t want to deal with what happened to him a second time. He just wants to move on but Bruce won’t let him. Bruce doesn’t seem to acknowledge Jason’s trauma nor does he seem to care for his well being. “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t want me to dredge up the one thing I've been trying to forget. I don’t want to remember the most horrific day of my life, all right? You may like wallowing in your tragedies but I’m done looking back” which is true all Batman does is sit in the pain of his parents death and he can’t heal like and he spreads pain to others at this rate the dead parents excuse gets a little old. BUT THEN BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY “If you cared about me and what I’ve lost, you’d want to dredge this up! Don’t you see-there’s a chance you can help me erase one of the worst days of my life. You can give me the greatest gift of all and help me figure out how to bring my son back!” Here he uses a lot of pronouns referring to himself, CARED ABOUT ME, I’VE LOST, HELP ME, MY LIFE, GIVE ME, HELP ME, MY SON. Yes Bruce, make it all about you, cause we definitely want you too. You’re a grown ass man and Jason is the more mature person here, honestly all the Robins learn to process grief and heal and grow and they’re just generally better people. Bruce is basically saying I care more about Damian than I care about you and my needs are greater than yours so screw your feelings, your feelings don’t matter. He really only seems to care about himself and he wants to erase his own pain. He doesn’t even seem to consider what Damian would want and what being brought back to life would do to him. Jason knows what it’s like, the pain of it, he’s probably the only person who would understand why someone wouldn’t want to come back. After All of this Bruce doesn’t even apologize and makes some half assed promise for unconditional truth but Jason still accepts this and helps Bruce get Damian’s body back from Darkseid even though he didn’t have to. 

Also there’s battle of the cowl which I desperately try to ignore but what I can tell Bruce *cough* died *cough* at this rate whenever Bruce dies or some crap I’m like ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT??? But sorry back to the topic. Bruce had a message for Jason for everyone else was just like I hope you’re doing well I love y’all live your life for JASON HOWEVER. He was all like you’re a failure not because I didn’t save you but because I don’t like how you turned out. Also you have problems, you’re mentally ill(I know but don’t have to be so awful about it)and there’s a secret I shouldn’t have kept and bye. And he suggests help but WHY DIDN’T HE GET JASON HELP WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER HMMMMM? It’s so obvious Jason’s childhood is full of abuse of course he has bad mental health and all that jazz. Also he puts Jason in Arkham where the Joker is 5 DOORS DOWN. I don’t think I have to say anything but they could literally put him in ANY OTHER PRISON. Why this one idk?

Bruce beat Jason and was probably about to kill Jason in RHATO #25. All beacuse Jason shot penguin and since Red Hood is a criminal blah blah blah Bruce has to do something. Actually he doesn’t as he just assumes Jason killed him which he didn’t also he didn’t seem to consider mind control or clones or whatever and he thought it was a good idea to beat the crap out of his sons. Jason even points this out”You are a character, I’ve never seen you beat Joker that hard and you hate him”...Bruce is beating him harder than the Joker. BRUCE IS BEATING HIS GODDAMN SON, SO HE HATES HIS SON MORE THAN JOKER??? Here we see how Bruce constantly chooses Joker over Jason.

Let's also talk about Dick his first son (I love my circus boi). After Jason died *sob*(i’m gonna cry) Dick is pretty darn sad and Bruce didn’t tell him shit so he’s obv like hey what’s the deal and BRUCE HAS THE AUDACITY TO BE MAD AT DICK. and he tries to kick Dick out of his life and be like leave your key get outta my face and he punched Dick LIKE BOI YOU DIDN’T TELL HIM ABOUT THE FUNERAL OR THE FACE THAT JASON DIED. We already knew it was bad because Bruce and Dick argued like my parents argue which is pretty bad. Lo and behold Bruce doesn’t apologize.

Also Nightwing #30 after Dick was outed as Nightwing and fake died on telelvision. Bruce used like WAAAAAAY excessive force. They were sparring but it got real violent real fast. And Nightwing wasn’t in the right mindset he was traumatized and Bruce totally took advantage of him by asking him to work for Spyral which Dick obv didn’t want to do but Bruce fucking FORCED that crap onto him after something as awful as that and he probably knew Dick would give in eventually that bastard. No, Bruce doesn’t apologize either.

Most recently Batman #71...now see this is Tim’s turn and I love my big brain boi Tim... and when you love a fictional character you know something bad is gonna happen. Bruce’s abuse, it’s kinda worse cause he’s a fucking KID. now Bruce be like let’s meet and shit so most of them are there and some evil villain is doing their thang and Tim is tryin be nice comforting Bruce, telling him that Tim will always be there and that Tim will help AND BRUCE FUCKING PUNCHED HIM. HE WAS JUST TRYIN BE NICE AND HELP YOU FEEL BETTER YOU POS. Now do we see Bruce apologize? NOOOOO. What did you expect? Honestly it’s not that hard it’s a simple sentences even a dumbass like you can manage it

Now I’m not totally familiar with any abuse on Damian but it’s there. Bruce is allergic to emotions, and it’s hard for him to be emotionally supportive and show any affection whatsoever. Showing any semblance of pride to Damian is like me trying to do pushups it’s FUCKING impossible for Bruce to show any compassion toward his son whatsoever (seriously though push ups are a pain in the ass I’m not athletic whatsoever why do you think I waste my time venting on tumblr the only thing I’m good for is being the smart kid in school and even then some people outshine me in that.)...sad but I’m not here to complain about that. Anyway Dick is a BAMF and openly shows Damian hey i’m proud of you and I love you. IT’S NOT THAT HARD BRUCE.

Bruce can’t ever be happy, he doesn’t let himself be happy because he can’t move on from that tragedy that happened to him. And he doesn’t allow anyone around him to be happy either. Shown as when Dick is like hey I can be in love with someone and we can be long term we can be happy together. BRUCE BE LIKE NUH HUH VIGILANTES CAN’T BE HAPPY WE HAVE TO SACRIFICE FOR THE MISSION. Let your son be FUCKING HAPPY. I know I sound like I hate him and maybe I do a bit but I don’t think he’s like completely Joker evil and irredeemable. I just can’t deal with how DC handles abusers like Bruce and having characters enable this behavior. We need to know that Bruce’s behavior is not ok and his children are completely numb to it, it’s normal to them and it’s disgusting. Bruce needs repercussions and he needs to know that he can’t do that to kids who love and trust him.

LINK TO PART 2:

https://demigoddreamer.tumblr.com/post/639314330465222656/addressing-batmans-abuse-part-2

If a loved one is hurting you reach out and seek help. You deserve the world

[salcreus]

So I'm no writer. I don't mean this in a bad way, I just can't write long texts or keep my attention on the plot that I'm writing.

Having said that, however, I've been thinking a lot about an AU where Impulse and Etho end up teaming up, and things don't seem to work as they should on the 3rd life server.... [AO3 LINK]

Pop. Crack. The taste of muddy, bitter water in your tongue. You’d figure that if you tried hard enough, you could even notice the hints of salt scattered throughout. But focusing on the little details in life are for people that have the time to do so- And you, Impulse, are

“-an absolute idiot.” “Whoah there buddy, all I did was help some people out on their business. Don’tcha think that having more cards at play is gonna help us out in the end?” The redstoner says in such a tone that almost feels acrid in the way that fruits rot, if left forgotten, yet poor phrasings and curses aside, they truly were words of a man that means no malice- a curse of playing so many sides, he’d assume, if he were in another time. What he gets in response is but a boneless sigh, one that is tired of the shapes and turns of life and death, the game that they always play but never win. - “Impulse, you know that I love having you around- I’ll go so far as to say that you are the only one I can truly trust around here. But you are making me have some second thoughts about that.” “About my loyalty? Oh come on, you know that you are my pal til the end of times!” “Do I?” Etho has a way with words, it seems. He doesn’t use expensive expressions, the ones that are far too costly for your own soul or mind- Nor does he try to seem something that he isn’t, that’d be too unnatural, even for someone of his stature. But something in his tone moves rocks and mountains if the man so desires, and oh boy does he desire that a lot. You could say that It’s the type of tone that tugs you relentlessly, even if your conscience is clear- it’s never enough to hurt, of course, Canadian costumes or something of sorts, but it’s enough to make you doubt your own self down to the last cell in your body. And that; is far worse than any heartbreak or ill mouthing. Impulse staggers a bit away from his machinery- a simple system that would cast a rain of arrows down to any intruders from the sidelines - and contemplates the question that had been dropped in the air. Does he? Etho wouldn’t doubt him so much if he did, that’s the logical conclusion to that pinpoint. Now onto figuring out why the sudden suspicion. “You do know that I’ve sworn allegiance to you, right? I’m not saying this to be nice, or to play the part, this is not a master plan to trick you and stab you from the back- Heck, I wouldn’t be fortifying your fancy castle if that were the case! Though I doubt that you’d need my help with the redstone side of things-” A slight frown waves upon the man’s face for a split second, and Etho would have probably told you he hadn’t seen a thing if someone were to ask, for sight can be deceiving, and so can the light, and the mind, and your thoughts. “Agh, just please know that I’m doing my darn best to make sure that we can be the winners! That’s the whole goal of me being buddy-buddy with the other teams, right? So that we can gather intel and be 5 steps ahead of them.” And he meant that so truthfully, so genuine and pure, for someone that was doing so much wrong. There was a moment of silence. Well, not true silence- The sloshing of water against hard wool, the wind kissing the crops good morning, the distant chattering of the sheep, it all played a song to fill the current void in this conversation, which was not halted by the need to come up with something more to speak, or the lack of subject, but yes by the need to figure out if both of them believed in this story. “Why are we doing this?” Impulse is taken aback by the shift in conversation- Etho is no person to bring doubt into the table like that, after all. To question others? That’s a fair game, albeit a bit torturous at worst- But to question his own purpose, just like that, out of the blue? Now that was a heavy rock thrown to the face. Thankfully not in a literal sense, though. “...What do you mean by that?” Is what he managed to blurt out in response. “The betraying, the killing, the alliances- all of that. I mean, fundamentally, we do know that we are doing this for ‘fun’ and to ‘wind-out’ ” - The white-haired figure makes sure to over exaggerate the quotation marks of his sentence, giving it such a grand gesture that it almost breaks the somewhat tense presence filling the air. It was nice to take a step back and to remember that, at the end of the day, Etho is

still just Etho, silly and well-meaning. - “We know it because it’s what Grian told us it is.” “So you’re implying that there’s something more to it..?” “I’m not sure yet. You can just call it a hunch, really. But maybe Hermitcraft just... Wasn’t enough for him.”

Silence lingers for a few moments longer, a bit too thick to be swallowed easily, but accusations like these just weren’t possible to digest with a light heart. Impulse, almost inspired by a feeling very fitting to his name, took a few steps forwards, taking in the comforting feeling that the floor of their castle provided, soon sparing a glance at the lava fortifications surrounding them. If he really tried, he could spot Tango’s killing game by one of the exposed gaps, which earned a small chuckle in response. If it was loving, or nervous, he would decide later. “So” - The (yellow themed) redstoner finally spat out - “Going off your logic there… We’re friends with a guy that runs off bloodshed and sadistic tendencies, a guy who has created, even fought, so many battles on the other server, yet felt the need to kick the violence up a notch- For… entertainment?”

In response, the other (more so blue themed, but does Etho really have a colour of his own?) redstoner walked closer towards the other man, each step carrying a moment of reflection. “Ehm- Maybe? I mean we always knew that’s the main point of what we are doing, I’m more so implying-” “Implying that his goals are beyond a couple of laughs and water guns between friends.” “Mhm.” “We don’t usually take such a long break from Hermitcraft, which might have been why he felt the need to create this game.” “Or maybe he was just tired of the pawns, so he traded them for new pieces…” Impulse coughs out another chuckle, but this time anyone that paid some mind to the man could tell the pain that it was carrying- It was almost a brand image at this point, a coping mechanism he had earned over the years. He would go as far as feeling a certain shame about it, at least in his darker hours- it’s hard to play the part if your true colours can pop out at any moment, after all. At that moment, he had come to the realization that he would be awful at poker. “...Either way, I do think that Grian is taking this too far. I don’t know about you, but I would rather not have to betray and kill my friends like this. In a lighthearted competition? Sure. But this is turning people into monsters, Impulse. It’s turning us into monsters, in fact.” He spares another sigh, his face twisting into a more pained expression - contrasting the usual cool facade that he kept around the server - , taking the chance to keep his words down to a mere whisper, almost as if to share the secrets of the world with Impulse, spells and curses for his ears only. It almost felt a bit special, in a way. “It’s not like I enjoy the idea of our friend being some sort of sadistic megalomaniac- And I promise you that I’ll eat my own words one by one if I’m wrong, cross my heart, hope to die-” - Worth to note that both of them shared their just as secret reactions to the phrasing used by Etho- The man of the minute with a scrunch of his nose, and the person looking at him with an accidental eyebrow twitch. - “...But I really need you to trust me on this one, Impulse. You know that I wouldn’t bring such accusations without a reason.” Pop. Crack. The taste of muddy, bitter water in your tongue. You wished that if you tried hard enough, you could preoccupate yourself with the bits of salt scattered throughout. Moments of self reflection and torturous analysis, little glances, short breaths, holding your head, holding your mind, holding your heart- Correction, your hearts. Holding simultaneously nothing and the idea of Nothing at the exact same time. You stare at Etho. He stares at you back. But, in the end, focusing on the little details in life are for people that can afford to do so. And you, Impulse, are- “-running out of time! So I guess we are going to call it a day here, folks! Please log out of the world as soon as possible.” The communicators scream, rudely buzzing out to all of the members present in the server.

[thefanficmonster]

Oblivious

Valkyrae (Rae) x Reader (Gender Neutral) ft. Corpse Husband

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: In the most desperate of times, we may or may not be used to hearing the phrase ‘Beggers can’t be choosers’ which is exactly why Y/N’s found themself asking the most hopeless of cases when it comes to love and romance - Corpse, for help.

Requested by Xara. Hi darling! Thank you so much for this wonderful request you’ve sent me - I love writing for Rae (excuse my bi excitement, I’m just a HUGE simp) and I can’t thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to do so. Sorry it’s been two months since you requested this but here it finally is and I hope it makes up for the wait. Love, Vy ❤

“Corpse, I’m in desperate need for help.“ I don’t even bother with a friendly or even polite greeting. Being best friends for as long as we have, Corpse and I excluded the politeness that comes with phone calls a long time ago, especially when calling with an emergency. Though, let’s be honest, if I’m calling him on the phone and not on video chat like I usually do, it is an emergency.

“Given that you’re asking me, I can imagine how desperate you are.“ He has the audacity to laugh in response, causing me to roll my eyes. 

Now, don’t get the wrong idea - I love Corpse with all my heart. Him and I have been through A LOT together considering we know each other since we were teenagers. However, there are some instances in life when he simply doesn’t get me. Not that he doesn’t try to, he does and does so very hard, but he rarely succeeds. Trying is what matters, of course. Given that he is my only close friend, I can only ever turn to him with my problems though I try my best not to bother him too much, but when things get REALLY tough, I can’t help but go and vent to him. Luckily, he’s always been very understanding, but it may be because he feels like he owes me for all the times he has turned to me with his problems. I’ve tried to explain that he shouldn’t feel such a way, but that’s rather hypocritical of me cause I feel the same way.

Alright, enough digressing, back on track!

“Desperate doesn’t even begin to summarize how I feel.“ I sigh, plopping down on the couch in my living room, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as I cover my eyes with my hand. “Brutally miserable is, I think, the correct term to use here.“

I hear Corpse let out a quiet ‘oof’, one I think he hoped I wouldn’t hear. “And what led you to finally give in and ask for help, not that I can offer you much?”

I can’t help but snort at that, a snort that serves as a replacement to slapping myself across the face. “Rae texted me yesterday asking if I’d like to play Minecraft with her and I took THREE HOURS to respond! Not on purpose, I just couldn’t think of something good to say!” I know I sound like a whiney kid, but I think I’ve passed that threshold LONG ago. Of course, this whiney kid version of me only surfaces around Corpse and Corpse only. No one else is allowed to see me like this or that would legit be the end of any sort of pride I may have left in me.

“You mean you couldn’t choose between ‘Sure, I’d like that!’ and ‘Of course, I’d love to!’? Please say yes.“ Corpse already sounds disappointed and he hasn’t even heard the worst of it yet.

“No and sit tight, it gets worse. I...“

He cuts me off, “Wait, no, don’t say it. Let me guess - you turned her down? Keep in mind if you say yes I’m hanging up on you.”

I remain silent, pinching the bridge of me nose and cringing as hard as my facial muscles are willing to allow. I can’t say yes, not cause he’ll hang up but because admitting it makes it more real, and the more real it is the more depressed it’ll make me and I will go back to being a self-deprecating mess that refuses to be productive or properly functioning - aka ‘Whiney Kid Maximum’.

“I’m hanging up.“ Corpse says after waiting five seconds for my response that only comes in the form of dead silence which is more than enough of an answer in and of itself.

“No, please don’t!“ I squeak out despite my agony, “I’ll never break the cycle if you don’t help me, Corpse! I’m a hopeless case!“

“You’re a hopeless case with or without me, Y/N.“ He states, angering me ever so slightly. “Not only cause you really are, but because I have nothing useful to offer you. Not even a single advice. Even if I did, giving it to you would by hypocritical when considered how bad I am on this field myself. Hell, the very person you’re head over heels for is my personal matchmaker. If anything, you should be asking her how to swoon her...“ He pauses.

So does my brain.

For a second we’re both quiet, the silence on the line suggesting big plans are being developed - well, not on my end but still.

“Now there’s an idea...“ He mutters more to himself than to me.

“No!“ I shriek fearfully, “Please, if you love me even the tiniest bit, Corpse, don’t put me in a situation where I have to be alone with Rae! Not IRL not in a Discord call - not in ANYTHING. I close up and end up seeming unfriendly and rude because of my inability to talk to her like a normal human being! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just can’t do it! So please don’t make me.“

I maybe can’t read minds, but hell if I can’t at least have a rough guess of what’s on my best friend’s mind - I know he’s already scheming and coming up with odd solutions to my problem - some of which will cause me more problems but let’s not even mention those. That being said, I need to prevent him from actually carrying out any of his absurd schemes, otherwise it’s game over for me.

“Hmm, ok fine, but only cause I wanna spare you your own awkwardness. Consider it charity.“ He sighs, the disappointment even more evident now.

I sigh too, but I do so in defeated relief. It’s bittersweet, to be honest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t.“ He says sharply, “Don’t thank me. It’ll make me feel like I’m encouraging your behavior.“

Well, screw my feelings, I guess. I’m left on this battlefield alone, aren’t I?

Corpse hanging up the call confirms that I am, indeed, alone.

                                                             *  *  *

“Hello?“

“Are you still in bed, for the love of God? It’s noon!“ Not only did he have the audacity to wake me up with his phone call, but now he has the audacity to judge me on my sleeping habits as well. Some darn nerve he has.

“What do you want, Corpse?“ I grumble out, groggy and now grumpy too. The last thing I need is the only person I can turn to turning on me. Especially not now. I don’t need his or anybody else’s judgement of me or my life, it’ll hurt too much.

“I want to know how long you haven’t showered, Y/N.“ He barks back, causing me to roll my eyes. “And when’s the last time you actually ate something healthy and nutritious and not just greasy takeout?”

“I showered last night!“ I straighten up and frown, feeling offended despite his questions being justifiable. I think that’s exactly why I’m pissed off, to be honest - he knows me and my habits too well. “And you’re just being hypocritical on the eating part!“

“Whatever.“ He mutters, allowing me to feel at least a tiny sense of victory for having proven him wrong, “Get your ass up and come play Minecraft with me, you need to be cheered up asap.“ He continues, much to my dismay. “And don’t even think about saying ‘no’. If you do, just remember, I have your address and a strong will to kick your ass into shape.“

“Into shape? We’re going to the gym or something?“ I’m honestly confused and intrigued now. Maybe the gym isn’t such a bad idea, I’m sure I could become really good friends with the punching bag.

Corpse sighs exasperatedly in a way I can basically hear him roll his eyes as well, “Not that kind of shape, Y/N. Just get on Discord, seriously, I’m worried about you.“ 

That sentence strikes a nerve. Something about that genuine concern in his voice reminds me that I still need to move on from focusing so strongly on just my failures, no matter how big or small, and keep pushing forward, if not for myself then for the people who care about me. For Corpse especially, seeing as how he’s sort of been my babysitter ever since my feelings towards Rae started to consume me whole and suffocate me. I don’t know how or when it happened, in fact I can best describe it as the Titanic: I was doing ok and then instead of hitting an iceberg the iceberg of feelings hit me and I started sinking. Corpse was there to offer me a hand to help me keep at least my head above the surface. He can’t pull me out of the water but he’s not willing to let go either. I’m afraid holding on like that will tire him out to the point of letting go of me completely, but I’m afraid of sinking too. You see my dilemma here, no?

“Ok, give me twenty minutes.“

I would have probably continued sleeping or just chilled on social media, refusing to get out of bed for at least another hour, but the debt I feel towards Corpse is stronger than the desire to be a slob so I motivate myself with every power my fragile mind can fish out of the void and push the covers off me, shivering at the drastic change in temperature around my body now that I’m exposed to the rather cool air in my room, my pajamas hopeless at providing me with any warmth.

Twenty minutes later sharp, I’m seated at my desk, in front of my computer with my headphones on, taking one last encouraging breath before entering the call where Corpse is waiting for me.

“Yo.“ I greet him half-heartedly, drawing invisible abstract patterns on my desk with my finger as if I’m avoiding eye contact with him IRL.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of punctuality at least.“ He chuckles, sounding a lot more pleasant and a lot more like my friend Corpse and less like sergeant Corpse Husband who was speaking with me on the phone earlier.

“Very funny.“ I murmur in my now common brooding manner, “Anyway, enough about me, how are you doing? Anything interesting happen since we last spoke?“

“You mean in the past ten hours? No, nothing interesting apart from that I managed to catch a few z’s.“ He replies as I join the Minecraft server, managing to get a smile out of me.

“Hey, that’s nice to hear! Good for you, Corpsie.“ I say, honestly proud and happy for him.

“Yeah, and just so you’re not calling me hypocritical on the topic of eating, I’m currently cooking myself lunch.“ He points out, now just straight up peacocking, “On that note, I got a pot on the stove so you’ll have to excuse me for a sec.“

“Please go. Don’t set your apartment on fire the first time you cook” I snicker, leaning back in my chair and fetch my phone to kill the time while he’s gone to tend to whatever attempt at a meal he has prepping in his kitchen. I feel bad for his stomach, and his kitchen, already.

“Corpse? Hi!“

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no - tell me that was an auditory hallucination and I didn’t actually hear that just now! TELL ME!

“Rae?“ I blurt out, almost falling backwards out of my chair, eyes wide, jaw hanging slightly.

Just then I get a text from Corpse:

Consider me dead and carry the convo. I know you’ve got this, Y/N

Oh that prick is gonna get it!

“Y/N? Hi! Sorry, Corpse didn’t mention you’d be playing with us, but it’s so nice to be hearing from you! It feels like it’s been forever.“ Rae replies, cheery and enthusiastic as ever, just like the absolute sweetheart she is.

With Corpse absent from his position, without his metaphorical hand holding mine, I’m metaphorically sinking and drowning. Maybe the drowning part isn’t so metaphorical after all, considering I actually am drowning in all the thoughts produced by my mind at the moment. A mind that’s going completely haywire, might I add.

“Hehe, well, funny thing, he didn’t tell me you’d be playing with us either.“ I chuckle anxiously, already breaking out in a nervous sweat. I solemnly promise to kill Corpse first chance I get, that way he’ll at least be dead for real.

“He set us up, huh? What’s his game, where even is he?“ Rae asks, properly confused as she should be.

All on-point questions, hun. And I can’t answer any of them logically.

“Um, you know, he’s off doing...something.“ And there go my conversational skills out the window, I hope they send me a postcard one day.

“Whatever, enough about Mr. Ominous. Tell me, what’s been keeping you busy?“ Oh crap, this is the question I’ve been fearing. Mostly cause I’m not prepared for it. “Actually no, let me rephrase: Why have you been avoiding me recently?“

‘Oh crap’ squared. Tripled.

“Whaaat? Avoiding you? Where’d you get that idea?“ I’m aware of my high pitched voice, but it’s not like I can do much to tone it down. Every part of me is in critical panic mode and rationality has accompanied my aforementioned conversational skills out the window.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Ignoring my texts, leaving me on ‘Seen’ and then declining my offer just to accept the same one coming from Corpse - can’t really blame me for finding it shady.“ She replies, her words making me wince and hide my face in the palms of my hands as though it’ll shield me from Rae’s brutal honesty and forthrightness. 

“I’ve been...bad at replying to everyone lately, nothing personal, I swear.“ Yeah, that sounded convincing, good gosh-darn job, Y/N!

“Why’s that?“ Something about her tone suggest she knows I’m lying and is just humoring me and my agony. I don’t know if to thank her for it or wish she’d just rip off the band-aid and confront me head-on. In that case I’d have only one of two options: freeze up or spill my guts. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse. “I thought you’d reach out to me, given you’ve found yourself in a pickle.”

I frown, confused and wary like I’m walking on thin ice over a pool of sharks, “Pickle? What pickle?“

“Corpse mentioned you needed dating advice.“ She replies simply as though it should’ve been obvious and as if it’s the most casual, regular and normal thing. Little does she know...

“Um, yeah, I guess you can call it that.“ I murmur sheepishly, my cheeks reddening.

“Who’s the lucky girl?“ She asks, the excitement now replacing the previous suspicion she was fronting, making me nervous as hell.

My heart skips a beat, “How’d you know I’m crushing on a girl?“

“Uh...“ She stumbles over her words, pausing to collect her thoughts and formulate a response, “Corpse told me!“ When the reply finally arrives it’s as high pitched as mine was earlier, suggesting something ain’t right.

I stay quiet, my mind and heart racing which is quicker. My leg is bouncing, my fingers are tapping the keyboard rhythmically as I rack my brain, pushing it to put the pieces of this enigmatic puzzle together, connect the dots.

When it finally does, I’m left with a horrific end-result, a realization that makes me go pale as a ghost, “He told you who said girl is too, didn’t he?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I keep the tone low so she doesn’t notice how shaky it is.

It takes her a few seconds to reply, but when she does I kinda wish she hadn’t, “Maybe...”

My first instinct is to excuse myself from the call, pack all my kitchen knives and drive to Corpse’s house but with my limbs having lost any and all feeling in them that is practically impossible. So, I settle for my second instinct which is hiding my face in the palms of my hands as though they can shield me from the immense embarrassment Corpse has set me up for.

“Listen...“ I start, not sure where I wanna go with this, “You don’t have to say anything, I get the hint. No need to bother with a gentle reje-“

“I like you too, Y/N!“ Rae cuts off my rambling with a melodic laugh, “I’m sorry, but you can be very oblivious sometimes, and I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine for a bit. Sorry if I freaked you out.“ Judging by her tone, she’s not sorry at all. In fact, she’s one step away from bursting out into laughter.

“Trust me, ‘freaked out’ doesn’t even begin to describe it.“ I sigh, exasperatedly, sinking into my chair alike a deflated balloon. “You and Corpse are gonna pay for that heart attack you led me to the brink of!”

This time, she doesn’t hold back, letting out the laughter she’s been holding back this whole time, “I don’t know how Corpse will do that, but could I pay my dues with a brunch on Friday?”

My eyebrows shoot up, “Miss Valkyrae, is this you asking me out on a date?“ I ask teasingly - aka with more confidence than I feel.

Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes’.

“I don’t know, what do you think, Y/N?“ She asks, tone just as teasing as mine.

“Hey, I’m not as oblivious as you claim I am!“ I argue light-heartedly, “Does 2PM work for you?“

“Any time works for me.“ Rae replies, a smile blatantly evident in her voice. A smile that unleashes a flock of butterflies in my stomach.

And just like that, I have a date with the girl I’ve had a crush on for the longest time. It happened so fast it’s practically a blurred part in my mind, but one thing I’m sure will be crystal-clearly imbedded in my mind forever is that brunch on Friday. Just then, I get yet another text from Mr. Schemer himself.

That wasn’t so hard now, was it?

Some nerve he has, I swear to God.

[221bshrlocked]

okay but if you ever feel like writing fluffy smut of Pedro or any of his characters about reader being stressed and anxious about work and life, PLEASE do

ya gal is at her limit and Pedro looks like he gives good hugs and soothing touches

anon baby sweetheart I hope you’re feeling better and you're absolutely right, Pedro looks like he gives the best fucking hugs out there. And I hope this little drabble makes you feel better. I picked Jack because I haven’t given him enough attention lately and because I think he’s so darn smooth and soft. NSFW writing below the cut so tread with caution my little darlings.’

He noticed your sour mood before you even made it into the car. Tapping softly on the steering wheel, Jack watched as you huffed and muttered something under your breath before slamming the car door. He said nothing, leaning over and leaving a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling out of the parking spot he was in. Neither of you said anything as he navigated the night streets, and you tried your hardest to keep it together but sure enough, tears started rolling down your cheeks as soon as he took your hand in his and raised it to his lips. Jack could tell work has been difficult lately and as much as he wanted to remind you that all of that paperwork and those projects were not worth your sanity, he didn’t, instead keeping quiet and massaging your fingers until he reached his place.

You didn’t bother fighting with Jack when he didn’t stop by your place to pick up some change of clothes, blindly following him through the elevators and into his penthouse while trying not to sniffle like a little kid.

“Come’ere little darling,” Jack threw your bag onto his couch and pulled you into his arms, softly shushing you as cried out your frustrations against his shirt. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead when you started shaking against him, apologizing for not being able to do more.

“I’m sorry baby...it’s goin’ to be alright. I promise it’s just a bad week. Old Jack is goin’ to take care of you okay? Will you let me do that little darling? You gonna let me make you feel better?”

“I- I’m s-sorry Ja-ack. It’s just-”

“You got nothing to apologize for sweetheart. It’s those fuckers at work...ain’t your fault baby. Come on, I know what’ll make you feel better.” Jack wiped the tears away and smiled at you, waiting until you returned his expression before leaning down and swallowing your sighs. You instantly melted against him, holding onto his wrists as he continued to suck on your tongue.

“That’s it baby, forget it all. Focus on me...” He whispered against your jaw as he pushed you towards his room. You trusted him, knowing very well he would never let you fall. Jack smiled when he saw how responsive you were to his touches, pretending it wasn’t turning him on how much power you allowed him to have on you. He walked you to his large bathroom, telling you to start stripping as he prepared the bath for you. You turned away from him and looked at yourself in the mirror, almost frowning when you saw how messy you looked.

“None of that darling...you look fucking gorgeous.” It was always amazing how easily he read you even if he wasn’t even looking at you and you almost laughed when he turned back and told you that you were taking too long. “Come on love,” Jack worked on your pants as you unbuttoned your shirt, and he shook his head when he took your heels off and watched as you almost kicked him in the face as you tried to get rid of them.

Jack looked up at you and maintained eye contact as he slowly rolled your panties down your thighs, not bothering to hold back as he shoved the fabric into his face and breathed in your scent.

“Always so goddamn sweet...”

You rolled your eyes at him and threw your bra into his face, laughing when he stood up immediately and wrapped his arms around you. When you tried to take his shirt off, Jack grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them behind your back.

“Nuh uh, tonight’s bout you honey. Let me touch you, make you feel good...worship you like the goddess you are. Wanna pleasure you sugar, show you how much I’ve missed kissin’ every inch of your skin.” Jack almost laughed when your knees buckled against him but he didn’t want you to misunderstand so he swallowed down his pride and moved you to the bath.

He held your hand as you stepped into the hot water, not bothering to hide his actions as he readjusted himself through his pants. A minute in your arms and he was already as hard as a fucking rock but he wasn’t going to be selfish tonight. No, he was going to focus on your pleasure.

“God Jack the water feels so good.” You moaned as you slowly laid down and rested your head against the edge of the tub. “Relax for me darlin’.” Jack cooed in your ears as he grabbed the bath sponge and dipped it into the hot water before trailing it down the side of your face and your forehead to get you to shut your eyes. Very gradually, Jack watched as your muscles relaxed and sank into the water. He couldn’t help but stare at your heaving chest and the way your nipples pebbled at his touch. He was trying his hardest to keep his touches as innocent as possible, but every time he flicked at your nipples or massaged your neck, you were sighing and moaning his name deeply, almost as if he was touching you like he would each night.

By the time he washed every inch of you and massaged the shampoo out of your hair, he was close to coming in his pants. Jack allowed his eyes to take you in, biting his lower lip when caught a glimpse of your thighs through the milky water. Making sure he wasn’t making too much noise, Jack rolled up his sleeves before dipping his hand into the water, smiling and shushing you as you opened your eyes when you felt his fingers cup your mound.

“J-Jack,” you couldn’t look away from him, holding onto the edge of the tub as he slowly rubbed at your clit.

“Such a sweet little girl aren’t you honey? Always workin’ so hard and givin it your best. Poor baby just wanted someone to take care of her tonight. Didn’t you love?” Jack twisted his other hand beneath your neck, grabbing onto your hair as he inched two fingers inside your cunt.

“Oh fuck, Jack...Jack you- oh god, you feel so good Jack. Love your fingers, so long...big- bigger than mine. Please- please Jack, I- I need your cock. Please. I’ll do anything.” You whined as he pushed his fingers deeper into your pussy, clenching around him when you felt his thumb rub circles on your clit. Jack leaned down and smashed his lips against yours, picking up his pace and ignoring the water sloshing out of the bathtub and soaking the tile floor.

“If you want my dick baby, you’re gonna have to cum for me. My little peach was just on edge...come on darlin’, I really wanna fuck you. Wanna watch you ride my cock till you can’t feel anythin’ else but the way I fill you up. But you need to cum first. You think you could do that for me sweetheart?” Jack knew you were close, could feel your walls already tightening around him, but he couldn’t help but continue to tease you. His knees have been hurting him for god knows how long but he couldn’t lose you, not when he had you right on the edge. You couldn’t look away from his dilated eyes, almost screaming his name when he shoved a third finger into your wet cunt. He was softly trailing his finger down the side of your cheek and as soon as he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you were coming around his fingers, legs shaking violently in the tub as he continued his assault on your pussy, not bothering to slow down even when his clothes started soak as well.

“J-Jack oh god Jack yes yes, Jack I- I love you oh fuck I love you- please...please.” You weren’t sure if you were asking him to stop or continue but Jack seemed to understand what you needed because in the blink of an eye, he was standing up and pulling you to your feet, not bothering to give you a towel to dry as he leaned down and carried you out of the bathroom. You kissed down his jaw and nipped at his neck, giggling when he threw you on his bed and began to strip off his clothes.

“What a treat you are my little peach. I hope you know...ain’t no way you’re leavin’ this bed anytime soon.”

[secret-engima]

This. Has been a perfectly terrible day. Can I beg you for a ficbit or a snippet from one of your works, like Team Gremlin or Noctscar or something ? I just - they’re beautiful, and I just really, really need something beautiful right now.

SURE. I don’t have much in the way of snippets, but lemme see what I can find. I might have to throw in something from BNHA cause that’s the fandom the muses are chewing on this exact second.

...

Team Gremlin:

     It had been … a very bad few weeks for Qrow all told. And that was saying something. Everything had seemed fine one day, business as usual. Tai was back from his requisite number of missions to keep his license and teaching at Signal again —which he genuinely seemed to enjoy for some reason—, his nieces were as adorable as ever, and Summer was sometimes talking his ear off about maybe taking a teaching position somewhere herself after running a few missions to keep her own license active —she’d been busier lately with the girls than running around kicking butt, but it wasn’t like Qrow blamed her for that—.

     Then Leo was found dead in his office. Knifed in the neck, one round discharged from his weapon in the direction of the guest couch, blood pooling all over the chair and low table where the investigators said he’d been dragged from and laid on the floor in some kind of pose. No one unusual had been seen going in or out, there had been nothing on the office cameras —covered by a Semblance of some kind, it was decided, because of the fading, glass-like Aura shards on the floor—. The only warning had been the sound of Leo’s single shot before he died. Qrow had arrived as soon as he could to help investigate, since the primary suspect would … not be one the police even knew to look for. He had helped Dyna —poor woman had been wire tense with rage rather than her usual calm self, and it was no wonder—, search for clues the police would miss, then searched the secret tunnels for good measure.

     They had found a Grimm inside one of the deeper antechambers, far too deep to have gotten there by accident, a strange, jellyfish like beast that had been surprisingly hard to kill for something that small. They’d never seen it’s like before, and the thought of it being under the school, where kids were, where Oz and his inner circle were supposed to hold sway-. He’d never seen the otter Faunus more furious as they stood amid the fading Dark dust, her lips twisted, brow wrinkled in a way that had made the black line and red dots of her old bandit tattoos look more pronounced.

     They’d found no other signs that Salem knew how to get into the school tunnels, but they rechecked them all and trapped several of the ones leading outward as temporary security measures. With Dyna in place as the new —temporary on paper but soon to be permanent— Headmaster, Qrow had gathered up what evidence they could pry loose from their police contacts and gone back to Oz so they could try to sort this out.

     Of course, Qrow’s first impulse was to blame Salem, but Oz had listened to the report of a jellyfish Grimm under the school and his expression had folded into something pained. Knowing. He must have known what kind of Grimm it was, but hadn’t elaborated yet, just told Dyna to investigate all of Leo’s documents, Scroll calls, and communications over the past year, and insisted he would not explain until there was either evidence or not for his theory, for fear of making them biased.

     So, with Salem seemingly not the automatic culprit, they had started hunting for info. Summer had offered to come back and help, but Oz had told her to stay on her chosen mission instead.

     The pen had been an unexpected complication.

...

Always I Dreamed verse

     Summer ducked past her into the shower as Raven left it, pausing to stare at Raven’s tattoos for only a moment before chirping a quiet good morning and asking if she was okay after yesterday. Raven just grunted, because she was combat functional and frankly that was all that mattered. She had already pulled on her clothes from yesterday —all their possessions were in her inventory and she didn’t want questions on where it came from, she’d have to stuff it all in a duffel bag and hide it in the den to explain that away later— by the time Taiyang got up and Raven remembered the uniforms. Raven nudged open the bag while Qrow ducked out of their den and peered over her shoulder, “Everybody has to wear that stuff?” Qrow sneered as Raven pulled out the first button down shirt, “Hardly looks sturdy.”

     “It’s just for the school grounds I think, we have our combat gear for training missions and stuff anyway.” Taiyang said as he pulled out a shirt of his own from a different bag. Raven took a moment to glance at his bare torso. He slept in pants but not a shirt apparently, which was stupid, but better than being entirely naked at night. He had a decent build, which she knew from watching him fight yesterday, and a truly appalling lack of scars. Her life had been saved by somebody who had probably never had a truly decent fight in his life before that day. Wonderful.

     He also had tattoos, and Raven squinted at them for a moment because despite the differing size and placement, they all looked very much like the ones Raven and Qrow had gotten during a rare moment of total drunkenness at fifteen. He was missing the large asian dragon outline that wound up Raven’s own torso, but he had the blue crow perched as if about to take flight that Raven had, the running blue wolf who’s lower half dissolved into petals, and she thought she glimpsed a blue clockwork rabbit under his right arm. When he turned around briefly to put his back to them, she saw that most of his back had been taken up with the stylized outline of a raven in flight.

     She shook her head and looked away. Whatever. Summer possessed a tattoo on her arm similar to the asian dragon winding up Qrow’s arm from elbow to shoulder. Some tattoos were just popular, and blue ink was easier to come by for fill-in tattoos than the black used for outlines.

     Qrow must have remembered Taiyang’s words last night about Raven’s uniform being at the top, because he was already rooting down to the outfit right beneath hers —there was more fabric in the bag than that, but Raven wasn’t going to worry about why just yet—. He yanked out a shirt and jacket that looked his size, then blinked when something short and plaid tumbled out with it. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and made a face, “Is this a skirt? With my uniform?”

     Summer poked her head out of the bathroom, a wash of steam following her —oh right, hot water showers were a thing, darn— while Taiyang looked from Qrow to the skirt and back. Qrow was busy staring at the skirt, so he missed the expression of pure glee that flickered over the other teen’s face before he casually said, “What, that? It’s a kilt, man. Old Vale tradition.” Raven blinked very slowly, because that was a surprisingly good lie even though she knew it was nonsense —her memory on early canon was fuzzy, but she would have remembered the male characters running around in skirts—. She debated calling him on it for a moment, but she was from outside the kingdoms like Qrow, so technically she had no way to know that Taiyang was lying.

     Besides, if Taiyang wanted to poke the bear that was her brother’s temper, better he do it now and get it over with than later when they were training.

     Qrow was still making annoyed noises under his breath as he examined the “kilt”, and a glance at Summer slipping out of the shower in a towel showed she was fighting down laughter. Silver eyes met Raven’s with hopeful amusement and Raven looked away. She was still angry that the Story had forced itself into place in her life. With a shake of her head, Raven finished yanking out her uniform —one of? There was so much fabric in there, did the school really waste money making multiple outfits for each student?— and started pulling off her old clothes to put it on. Taiyang made a noise like someone had knifed him just as she dropped her shirt to the floor and she looked up in alarm. Taiyang had whipped around to put his back to her, and she could see the flush of color crawling up his neck and the backs of his ears. He didn’t look hurt or anything, but when Summer wandered in and dropped her towel onto her bed to put on her uniform —huh, she had the same tattoos as Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang, just with the perched crow as a large outline that went down to her mid back and a large blue raven in flight over her abdomen that looked like the smaller one on Qrow’s back—, Taiyang made the dying noise again, snatched up his bag of clothes, and rushed for the bathroom.

     Raven had the feeling she should understand what that was about, but she didn’t get it, and when she risked a glance at Summer, the other girl actually looked just as baffled. So maybe it wasn’t some social thing she’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a thing with him specifically.

...

Feather-Light and Fire-Bright verse (BNHA)

     Which was why, the next time she spotted a little red feather slinking over to place a trio of shiny buttons on the park bench she liked best, she hastily caught it with one hand. It was very soft, wiggling slightly in her grip, twitching and fluttering almost like a frightened living thing, so much so she shushed it gently on instinct, “It’s okay, I won’t damage you.” Taking out the note she’d spent days agonizing over, she skewered it to the quill of the feather, “I need you to take a message to whoever controls you.” She let it go and the feather wiggled erratically in the air, like a cat trying to wiggle free of an unfamiliar collar before flitting away. Fuyumi resisted the urge to chase it and see where it led. She’d sent her note, now she would wait for a reaction.

     She absently took the three coat buttons and put them in her pocket before going home. It would be stupid to leave them as litter in the park, but it also felt like a bad idea to throw them away and possibly anger whoever was watching her. Besides, she had a collection going now, she almost had enough matching buttons to make a full set for a long coat.

     A week went by with no sign of her shadow before she finally spotted a red feather again. It lurked on the edges of the park, flitting out into view as she walked by before slipping off in the direction of a more sequestered part of the park. Fuyumi hesitated, saw the feather come back and swirl around her a few times like an excited puppy before rushing off again and decided she was either about to meet someone shy or about to be kidnapped and potentially murdered. Slipping her hand into her handbag to grip the small pro-grade taser inside just in case, Fuyumi followed the feather into the copse of trees that shielded that part of the park from the street and the rest of the grassy area.

     The feather slipped away to rejoin … a lot of other feathers, and Fuyumi paused on the edges of the little forested nook to get a good look at her mysterious shadow for the first time. Golden eyes, piercing and almost predatory in intensity, flitted up to meet her gaze as he stood up. He was about her age she would guess, maybe a year older, so lean that if she hadn’t been able to see the muscles of his bare arms she would have called him scrawny. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie that looked like it had lost a few too many rounds with a washing machine, clean but all faded and stretched and worn looking. His hair was all tousled and pale gold, and the red feathers were clustered on his back in huge wings that looked like they belonged on someone about twice his size and weight. He smiled a little, a practiced thing that was too nervous to be real, but if Fuyumi hadn’t lived her entire life around Pro Heroes and the children of other such elites, she would never had known.

     He held up her note between too fingers, not commenting on the wary distance still between them nor making any moves to close it, “Um, I’m not a stalker, just wanna get that out of the way. Sorry if I … came off that way? I’m, uh, not good at introducing myself and I didn’t … really know what else to do.”

[oxnardsart]

New Boxer Beat Chapter’s out!  boxer-beats.com

    Boxer Beats was almost at the finale, again. Foxie and Lesbuni sat together, despite the larger crowd and tight seating, Lesbuni always made sure there was room for Foxie and her guard. However, the bunny could tell Foxie wasn’t feeling her best.     “I’m sorry about the other day... are you still upset?”     Foxie watched the show, looking empty. “It’s not a big deal. There’s just a lot going on right now.”     Lesbuni hugged her arms around her girlfriend, “Well I’m here to make it better!”     After a few more fights, it was Foxie’s turn.     “Are you... dressing up for this match too?” Lesbuni wondered, “I-It’s fine, whatever you want to do...”     Foxie smiled, she was glad to see Lesbuni knew not to control her, and to try accepting her instead! Like anyone else, Foxie just wanted to be herself. Or, in this case, someone else. ...But it still counts as being herself! Right?     Foxie got dressed into her Anomaly outfit, and already she felt so much happier!     The hamster announcered, “Laaaaaadies and women, girls too - welcome to one of the last fights of the nights!” The gals in the audience cheered in excitement.     “And all you guys out there...” The men in the audience looked up, Oxnard smiled and casually said or asked, “Sup?” The guys mumbled in response, also casually.     “And to all my not-guy and not-girl pals in the audience...”     “Are you just going to group us all in one category?” A chameleon under the booth yelled out in response.     “Nope!” Oxnard huffed, “I’m going to read out each type I have listed here and give everyone a semi-interesting starter. And then when I’m done, I’ll listen to whoever tells me that I forgot to include someone.”     “Anomaly, you can start the fight while I read all these.” Oxnard waved his wrist at him to start.

    “Good luck, Anomaly.” Don Badge waved from the audience, his big red nose pointing in the air, and a great big smile shining underneath. “You’re Don’s favorite.”     “Awww...” Anomaly sighed, he loved having fans! “Why don’t you come see me after the show sometime, little buddy?” Anomaly winked in Don’s direction.     “Um. Hey!” From the other side of the audience, Lesbuni growled.     “What? I know you don’t wanna see me after the show... but I’ll show you inside of me after~” The audience got a good laugh out of that, it sounded dirty! But that was Anomaly saying he’d be back to Foxie after... right?     “Don wants. To see you. Always,” the badger rang back.     “You stop that!” Lesbuni yelled, “I’ll come over there and beat you so bad, I’ll wind up in jail too!”     “Hey guys, come on, there’s enough split personality here for everybody’s body.” Anomaly awkwardly grinned, “I’m supposed to be the one fighting up here, not the audience!”     “Oxnard’s taking too long!” A chameleon in the audience spoke up again.     “The audience isn’t being patient!” Oxnard yelled back.     “Don’s hitting on my girlfriend!” Lesbuni cried and started climbing over seats.     “Don has. The fox hots.”     It was chaos. Everyone was fighting, and Anomaly was still without a fight of their own on stage! But finally, the lights dimmed and focused on the entrance, where a chubby, round figure stood unwillingly.     “WELP. THEY FOUND ME. GUESS I GOTTA FIGHT.”     It was Anger Mouse!     It looked like the mouse didn’t want to fight, the Do-Gooder following him kept patting his back, nudging him up on stage, “You can quit the fight if you don’t want to do it.”     “WHO SAID I DON’T WANNA FIGHT?” Anger Mouse yelled up in response.     “Then why were you hidin-”     “I WASN’T HIDING. LET’S FIGHT, ANATOMY.” The fat purple rat hopped into the boxing ring.     Anatomy, er, Anomaly, raised an eyebrow. Did this mouse really want to fight?     “ALRIGHT. IT’S BOXING TIME.” Anger Mouse announced, “WE’RE DOING DODGEBALL.”     Suddenly, a bunch of bouncing rubber balls fell from the ceiling, most bounced out of the ring right after landing in there.     “GAH! GOSH DARN IT. Stupid balls.” Anger Mouse complained. “YUP, WELL, y’know the rules, don’t ya?” He whispered to Anomaly, looking sincere, “You just gotta hit me with balls to win the match. COUGH COUGH. AHEM. SO LET’S FIGHT, WITH OUR BALLS.”     The audience all stopped fighting, they wanted to watch this!     Anomaly picked up a dodgeball, “Um, is the referee going to come out and tell us to start? Or... do we just start?”     Oxnard announced over the speakers, “Aro’s in the bathroom. Just fight!”     Somewhere out there, Aro the referee was quite embarrassed, hearing the speakers from the announcer echo into the restroom. No one needed to know that!     Anomaly shrugged, eyeing Anger Mouse to make sure he was ready, and threw!     ...But he missed.     Anger Mouse waited for Anomaly to find another ball and throw it, but he missed again. “HEY, COME ON, AIM A LITTLE.” The fat rat picked up a ball! And then he, he... rolled it to Anomaly? “TRY AGAIN.”     The fox threw again, but it went right over Anger’s head.     “WHAT’S THE DEAL? YOU CAN’T THROW?”     “You’re too short!”     “WHAT!?”     Anomaly picked up a ball outside the ring, and came back in only to... roll it over to Anger Mouse. “If you’re so good at throwing, prove it.”     Anger Mouse confidently picked up the ball, leaned back to throw, aaaand... dropped it. “HA! YOU CAN’T trick me THAT easily...” his voice started to crack and squeak. At this rate, no one was going to get the other out.     “Come on F- uh, I mean, Anomaly!” Lesbuni cheered, “You went to pie school, or whatever. You should know how to throw balls!”     “Throwing pies and throwing balls are very different, they’re totally different shapes!” Anomaly panicked, things weren’t looking good. “It’s complicated, you wouldn’t understand!”     “TRY USING BOTH HANDS,” Anger Mouse screamed. Anomaly couldn’t handle so many people yelling at him. This wasn’t as fun as his first performance.     “Wait... a performance!” Anomaly grinned, anything was more fun as a show. The fox dashed around the ring, collecting balls all for himself. “Watch this, Angry Pants!” Anomaly started juggling three big dodgeballs in his hands, the audience was mildly curious. But then the fox started walking forward, right onto a dodgeball! But Anomaly didn’t slip - he stood on top of that ball as he juggled the others in his paws. He then raised a leg, balancing on one foot!     “Hey Anger, keep an eye on these balls for me.”     “YOU’RE MISSING A PAIR,” he grumbled as he peeked under the fox’s tutu.     “Hey, it’s a costume! Don’t judge me there.” Anomaly giggled, and suddenly lost their balance. “Oh fudge!”     “GAH!”     As Anomaly landed on his back, the dodgeball under his foot shot forward, right at Anger Mouse! It punted the little guy right off stage - flipping over the ropes and landing on the ground outside the ring.     “Anger Mouse is outta the house!” Oxnard exclaimed, “Anomaly, watch out!”     The fox on his back looked up, the three balls they were juggling were falling right towards him!     “Those balls are coming down on him hard!”     “I wish I was in his boots right now.”     “Happens to me all the time! What’s the big deal?”     With the audience’s eyes all on those balls, Anomaly timed his kicks to knock the first two away. The third was on its way, but the fox reached up and caught it in both his paws. He was safe!     “Whew! He did it folks,” Oxnard yelped over the speakers. “That was almost a draw, but Anomaly is goin’ to the finals! That performance was quite a kick in the balls, fella. Watch it next time.”     The audience cheered, and Anomaly hopped around happily. He did it!     “You’re amazing, Anomaly.” Don cheered from one side.     “You’re gonna win it all, Foxie!” Lesbuni squeaked from the other.     Anomaly was happy, but hearing Foxie’s name brought him back to reality. It was back to being Foxie with the show over. She wished these moments lasted longer. Foxie was left wondering one more thing about the fight...     “HEY!” As Foxie went back to her guard in the hallway, Anger Mouse chased behind her, “WAIT.” The short mouse took her hand as they went through the exit.     “Um, what’s up?” Foxie asked the little guy.     “YOU’RE GOING TO THE FINALE.” Well, that was obvious.     “Yeah... I mean, I won the fight... so, that makes sense.” Foxie nodded.     “I DIDN’T try to win.” Anger Mouse grumbled, looking down at the floor.     “You didn’t? Haha, I didn’t even realize it... you gave me a lot of chances to hit you, huh?” Foxie thought. “And you almost didn’t show up at all!”     “I WAS HIDING. I WAS GONNA GIVE YOU THE MATCH.” Anger Mouse sighed, “I didn’t want everyone to watch me lose. But...”     Anger Mouse rubbed his face, was he sad? What was going on? Foxie pat his head gently, she almost forgot, this loud little guy was just a little kid.     “What’s wrong?” Foxie leaned down to ask.     “DON IS MY FRIEND. I GUESS. SO... Y-YOU GUYS... GET TO BE IN THE FINALS TOGETHER.” Anger Mouse sniffed, “HE WANTED TO SPEND THIS WHOLE COMPETITION WITH YOU. THAT’S THE REASON WHY HE JOINED. THAT, and I asked him. I thought we would be on a team...”     Anger Mouse lost on purpose, so that Don and Foxie could be together in the finale?     “Oh, Anger... you didn’t have to do that.” Foxie smiled sympathetically.     “HE’S GONNA FORGET ALL ABOUT ME.” Anger Mouse shrieked with a high-pitched scream, “HE WANTS TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU INSTEAD. DON’S THE ONLY ONE THAT CARES ABOUT ME. I’LL BE FORGOTTEN BY EVERYBODY.”     “Anger, no... that wouldn’t happen.” Foxie rubbed his back, looking at either of their guards to step in... but no such luck. She felt like she was playing mommy. “If Don and I become friends, we can all be friends together!”     “Y-YOU’LL join us?” Anger asked, sounding hopeful.     Were Anger and Don in a club? Well, whatever made him happy again. Er, wait, was Anger Mouse ever happy?     “Sure, I’ll join you guys. We’re all boxing prisoners here.”     Anger Mouse squeaked and grinned wide, clapping his gloves together. “Heeee!”     You know, when he wasn’t being an angry brat, this rat was kind of cute.     “THANKS LADY.” Anger Mouse went towards to his guard and reached for his hand, “GOOD LUCK WITH DON. KICK HIS BUTT!”     The chubby mouse chuckled and walked off into the hallway. Was Foxie supposed to beat Don? Or... if he was a fan, maybe it was his dream to be on stage with Foxie in the finale?     Foxie felt happier as she left for the night, “For a pair of bad guys, Don and Anger Mouse sure are sweet.”

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Chapter One Title: All I Know

Characters: Negan x Plus Size Reader, The Saviors, The Wives, Eugene

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Gore & Violence.

Word Count: 2,930

Careful to avoid making any noise, you pressed down on the stainless steel lever.As discreetly as you could manage, you peered into the communal living space.Sherri and a few of the other wives sat together on the large sectional speaking in hushed tones. Your prison guard however, was absent. You grinned. Dropping all pretense, you stood up straight and let the door swing shut behind you.

“Good Morning.” You called out cordially.

Her eyes gave you an appraising once over. They paused at the sight of the old flannel you had on over your dress.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Negan’s first wife asked sternly.

“Where ever the wind takes me on this fine day, Miss Sherri.”

The remnants of a southern upbringing scolded you for being rude.You knew well that all of these girls had to put up with the boss man same as you,but you couldn’t risk getting caught just to be polite.

“He’ll be angry.” You heard her call after you, but Negan was always angry. So you didn’t let that stop you.

There was no way of knowing how long you had, but you intended to explore as much of the sanctuary as possible. You had been out of the room before, sure, but you had only seen flashes of the place as you ran past.Then there was the mini-mission you went on two months ago to find out what was making Joey late. Once you figured out what day of the week Pastry day was, it was simple.Third day of every week, Joey headed straight for the bakers and stood in line for a good half hour. You left when they handed him the sweet bread and found you could beat him back to the room.That was the most you had seen of the sanctuary since your arrival and was not the best way, you were convinced, to get to know and appreciate the beauty this place might hold.

The Sunlight felt nice for the first few seconds after you stepped out of your building, but soon enough the humidity ruined the moment.

You stayed on the greenery beside the road to avoid burning your feet, following the gravel path to the market place.Careful to avoid the baker’s side of the warehouse, you walked idly passed stall after stall of goods and services.

Your eyes caught on a table of battered shoes. You recognized the pasty ex-alexandrian running the table.Eugene, he was called.You knew this from the stories Tanya told you at dinner time.He was nothing but a blubbering wuss from the sound of it, so you figured you could handle him.You strode confidently to the front of the line and smiled.

“Excuse me?” You found yourself demanding not two minutes later.You glared at Eugene until he looked away.

“You don’t have credit.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“How many more times do you need me to say it?”Eugene repeated a smirk on his lips.

He leaned back in his chair looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“How fucking dare -” You started to shout, your voice ringing out through the warehouse.

Calling attention to yourself was the last thing you wanted to be doing you reminded yourself anxiously. You scrambled to come up with a different tactic.The corners of your mouth pulled up into a practiced grin that you never thought you would have cause to use again.

“My my,” Injecting sugar into your voice, you leaned across the table until you were nearly close enough to touch him.“Look at you! You’ve been runnin’ with the big dogs long enough to do a halfway decent impression, Eugene.”

Eugene’s shifty eyes widened. “You know my name?”

“Negan only ever talks about one genius with a mullet.”You lowered the volume of your voice conspiratorially, “How fortunate you are that my darling husband hasn’t seen through you yet.” You postured, taking a risk. “Maybe, I ought to help him see you for what you really are?”

“He will never believe you.”

“Why not? It wouldn’t make any sense for me to lie about a man I have never met. All i have to do is call into question your history with the people of Alexandria and make it seem like I feel concerned for his safety.”

Metal chair legs scraped against cement as Eugene pushed his seat back and stood.

“I’m g-going out for a smoke.Them shoes better be the only thing missin’ when I get back.” His trembling lower lip killed any affect his wrathful tone might have had on you.

You snickered at his retreat.

Your white dress fanned out behind you as you hurried away brown leather contraband on your feet, eager to begin your self guided tour.

Building after building of industrial rot, a few rusty tin shacks, and a sad row of herbs and spices later, you found yourself in front of the main building itself.

The Sanctuary’s weather beaten concrete face was made of cruel sharp angles. Her broken windows were yellowing jagged teeth.She stared brutally down at you until you couldn’t bare to meet her eyes anymore and turned, walking brusquely away from her frightening visage.

You turned the next corner only to freeze in your tracks.The wet raspy growling filled your ears before the smell hit you.

Walkers

Your eyes swept from left to right a few times trying to count, to keep track and then you realized, that they weren’t coming for you. There was a chain link fence separating them from you.Your brow knitted.They were tied down.They were, for the most part, stationary.Some chained up, some tied up, some stuck through with pipes. It took a twisted mind to come up with such a gruesome thing.

You wondered if Negan had come up with the idea himself.You shook the thought away. You didn't want to know. You made for the only corner of the god forsaken place you hadn’t yet visited.

The stolen too-big boots kicked up loose bits of gravel behind you as you headed for the backlot. Little did you know that you had an audience.Eyes followed your trek down the road from the loading dock behind you.

The field was inhabitted by broken wood pallets, a rusted up old mercury with bullet holes along the side, some old crates, a busted up head board, ruined tires, and tin sheeting. They lay rotting in the grass.Nearer the chain link fence, lay the final resting place for the few men who managed to stay on good terms with Negan until their last moments. Crude wooden headstones marked with paint stuck out in a bad attempt of making a row.

You slowed down as you reached the end of the pavement and waded into the living green sea of grass hoping not to encounter any snakes.The damp blades were staining the skirt of your dress, but it’d be worth the scolding. A long jagged claw snagged at your dress.You cursed. As you pulled it loose, you realized it was a foot and a half of wood that likely came off of one of the pallets.You tossed it aside and smirked.Now that you’d gone and torn the thing, he would be extra pissed. Hell if you were going to get him good and mad you had better do it well you thought, untieing the bright orange ribbon from around your wrist. Negan's latest gift to you. Each time you saw it, it reminded you of who you belonged to. You frowned as you let it flutter to the ground. It may as well have been a dog collar.

Negan was following you, keeping far enough away not to draw attention.He cursed Fat Joey for letting you out.That idiot was going to pay.He grit his teeth as he watched you wade into the tall grass.Flannel shirt or not you were ruining your dress.Where the fuck was he supposed to find you another dress as nice as the one you had on? The sight of you tugging on your skirt brought his eyes to your wrist. He saw you take off your bracelet and let it fall. Did you have any idea how hard it was to come by anything in bright colors these days?Of fucking course not!You were a spoiled selfish ungrateful untamable thing.He was not going to be taking it easy on you this time.He spotted you staring at the barbed wire topped fence and froze.

He didn’t have to imagine you attempting to clamber over the high fence, face full of determination fueled by spite.He would never forget it.Your last attempt to leave made it clear that you didn’t give a shit about your own well-being anymore.Negan cursed under his breath. God help you if you were stupid enough to pull another stunt like that.Yet he knew way down deep inside, somewhere primal, that you belonged to him.After three years and fifteen failed attempts to leave him, Negan had come to the conclusion that he had to do everything in his power to make you want to stay.

Despite the show and the accusations he had made, alternately burning and bashing some person or another, every time you fucked up Negan went easy on you.The second he’d laid eyes on you, he’d chucked his personal rule book out the window. He was afraid that this made him look soft and that burned his pride like nothing else could.

However, women with your body type had always been his preference and He knew, a figure like yours was a rare find these days. He wanted you. Negan wanted you badly. More than anything, he wanted you to want him to fuck you.It was a frustrating blue balls inducing shit show of a situation.Charming women had always come easy to him. It was his shit luck that you weren’t easily charmed. He followed you into the field. His eye caught the shine of the ribbon easily. As He pocketed the scrap of orange cloth, the memory of your first meeting came to mind.

Your hair pulled back into a braid, a lovely face, enough cleavage showing to catch his eye. Your faded jeans had holes in the thighs and your breathing was heavy from your attempt to out run The Saviors.

You looked so darn pretty kneeling before him.You’d had the audacity to meet his gaze. It pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.Your eyes captivated him.They were burning with resentment, but no tears.Not his Y/n. You didn’t cry, didn’t beg, and didn’t flinch at the sight of Lucille.Not even after he’d dirtied her up a bit.Near the end of his speech,some traitorous switch inside him had flipped.

“Darlin’, You have got a look in your eyes that says you haven’t been fucked right in years.” He drawled smiling his slick easy smile.”Why don’t you come on home with me, I’ll show you how good it can be with a real man.”

“You expect me to believe that a bean pole like you can handle curves like mine? Honey, I would eat you alive.”

He laughed low and long.The genuine mirth startled everyone, but you.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.I just wanna love you right.”

“Well, I am sorry, Mister Real Man, but your pick up lines are bad jokes at best and that mouth of yours...” You shook your head in disapproval. “So dirty.”

You were meant to be his. No doubt about it.

“Mmm, there are plenty of good things I can do with this dirty mouth and you are curious to find out, I can tell.”

Negan’s big strong hand had fisted into the collar of your flannel pulling you toward him. You stumbled onto your feet to keep from being dragged. Before you could catch your balance, his lips were on yours.

Unbeknownst to Negan, unlike his bat and savior show, the heated kiss he gave you impressed you.

He nipped at your lower lip and turned back to what was left of your group.

“We are gonna do just fine, Dollface. As for the rest of you sorry shits, You are going to bring me my stuff and then go out and get me something nice.”

His hazel eyes gleamed down at you. “We’ll consider it a wedding present.”

Your exclamation was drowned out by the saviors’ hearty laughter as you were forcefully led to his truck.

From the moment Negan made you a wife, you vowed that you would get away from him even if you died trying. After three years and fifteen failed escape attempts, you had come to the conclusion that making him hate you was the only way out of the wives club.

You rummaged through the crates and found quite a few empty glass bottles. They would do. You put them all in the same crate and carried it with you as you counted your steps. You waited until you were at least two yards away to throw the first one.

Thunk

Wading further into the tall weeds and grass he frowned at the unfamiliar sound.

“Well I’ll be damned.” You murmured to yourself as you bent to pick up another bottle.

You glared at the Mercury, closed your fist around the neck of the bottle, and swung. It grazed the roof, but landed on the other side of the car.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

Your shoulders tensed at the familiar deep baritone of your husband’s voice. You stood there clenching your teeth, frustrated with the intrusion.You schooled your features before turning to face him.

“Hey there, Sugar. What are you doin’ out here?”

Negan came to stand before you, but he didn’t ask the questions you had expected him to ask.Perhaps, Where in the hell did you get shoes? or How in the hell did you manage to escape a locked room with a savior standing watch?Instead, Negan swallowed his anger and made himself the very picture of patience.

“I could ask you the same question, Darlin’.” He replied.

You stared at him, curiosity battling the wrath within you.

“Well?” Negan prompted after a minute or two of your silence.

Your thoughts raced.

What the fuck?!Why was he being nice?!He should be letting you have it right now! He should be cussing up a storm!

“Just... keepin’ busy.”You said lamely.

“In the junkyard? Playing with glass? That’s a hell of a thing for a Queen to do.” He murmured.”You could have hurt yourself.”

You were disgusted by how genuinely concerned he sounded and cringed at him calling you “Queen”.For weeks now, you had been working on him, from picking fights, to ruining belongings, to giving him the cold shoulder.Until finally you’d been able to break out again.You wanted him good and mad and Negan was not cooperating.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Actually, I haven’t been here long.I walked the whole Sanctuary first then ended up here.”You shrugged and made to pick up another bottle.”It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Who do you think you are?”

You should have known his anger couldn’t stay contained for long.

“Beg your pardon?” You snapped.

“I said,” Negan growled pulling you toward him by your shirt collar, “Just who, in the fuck, do you think you are?” His eyes glowered down at you.

“Y/F/N Fucking Y/L/N.” You declared and kicked him.

The shock on his face turned to fury. Familiar though the expression was, Negan had never turned it on you.Adrenaline spurred you into action.You yanked out of his grasp and tore through the field.

“Y/n!” He bellowed.

You didn’t dare look behind you as you pushed yourself to run.

[yakuzacasual]

I look forward to your updates a little too much lol would you be down to write about daigo encountering a person who he was interested in when he was in his little fuckboy phase that didn't really give him much attention. They don't have to end up together, I just think it would be funny if he felt embarrassed of any advances he made now that he's chairman and realizes his phase was not the best haha (I hope im being clear if not you can ignore<3)

PREFACE

How does it feel to be living with a brain as big and powerful as yours, dear? Because this request is just.......... *smashes little fist against a wall* This is the true perfection. I don’t think I’ve ever heard an idea as maginificent as this one and I can imagine nothing that may top it anytime soon. Getting to write from the perspective of Daigo, especially the emo one, especially with a bit of retrospect, DAMN I AM LIVIN LIVES RN THIS IS WHAT I WAS MADE FOR.

Did I just impulse write the whole thing despite the fact that I was planning to go to bed early? Maybe. Do I regret my choice? *satisfied ape noises* Am I proud of it? Fuck yes.

Now, back to being serious. I sincerely love you for this one. Please, I beg thee, do come back and leave anot!her one some time. For now I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and have a fantastic day!

BABY BOSS DAIGO FACING HIS SHAMEFUL PAST

Back in the days of his brazen youth, Daigo used to catch the eyes of many sorts of people. His broody demeanor attracted mainly women, but he could also recall quite a few men from these times as well. Many of such memories are just a blur for him nowadays, replaced by forever vivid scenes of companions dying for his cause and the Tojo clan slowly but surely crumbling in his hands with each passing year. There is but one recollection that stayed forever clear throughout the years, safely tucked away in the depths of his mind.

It was a rainy night, one of those that he remembers happened way too many times that month, when he found himself piss drunk and mindlessly staggering through the many alleyways of Kamurocho. Bruised knuckles tucked away in the warmth of his absolutely ridiculous, puffy jacket, eyes barely focused on the road ahead of him. He tried to escape the flashing neon lights and unbearable buzz of the entertainment district, seeking solace within the dirty streets forgotten by the normal citizens and gods alike. It’s where the dark deeds take place and maybe that’s what he was looking for. Another fix to keep him amused, something that would wake him up inside again for however fleeting a moment he could get. 

The details of how he ran into you are slightly fuzzy, albeit he likes to think that this slightly bloody visage of himself he still remembers seeing in the puddle was him kicking some asses. Not getting his own handed to him. In this state, he somehow finds you with his blurry eyesight. You sit on a park bench in what feels like the edge of the world, but is just a place slightly farther away from the ever beating heart of Kamurocho, covered by the shade of grandiose buildings falling apart at the seams. Maybe it’s a cig in your hand, maybe a bottle of whisky or maybe nothing at all - whatever it was that drove him to approach you was a suffocating feeling that you’re both somehow in deep shit. The features of your face are so detailed still. The shape of your lower lip, the frown of your brow and the way you looked at him as he took a place on the other side of the bench. He still remembers it all, somehow.

Surprisingly enough, there is not much to this story from that point onwards. Or so he has been trying to convince himself until that one fateful day, a very weird day. It’s just him running the usual Tojo errands when outside of the window of his limo he spots a face so familiar it causes him to instantly get a splitting headache right where he sits. You seem to even lock eyes with him through the darkened glass, as you calmly sip your beverage, enjoying the nice weather in the outside seat of a decent looking cafe. Under the guise of getting himself some well deserved coffee, Daigo slips away from his attendants and right into the other seat right opposite your own. The movement is not quite as smooth though. Just looking at his nervous stare you could tell he is out of his element.

Of course, you recognize him instantly. It would be hard not to, really. He may look better in a suit and the opinions on his slicked back hair may vary, but this is still most certainly him. The same square chin, the same tired lines visible on his face. Daigo Dojima has graced you with his presence. The clothes may make the man, but they won’t change who he was. And you? You know way too well who he was.

For him it does take a longer way to recognize you but he definitely does and, by gods, he immediately regrets it. That’s it. That’s the lost part of the puzzle he never wanted finished. The memories of days long gone, when he used to hit on you mercilessly after that one night in the park, when you showed him nothing beyond what would be expected from human compassion and yet he latched onto that like a poor puppy seeking validation in places, that could never offer what he needed. In retrospect he clearly sees in your eyes, both current and the ones he remembers, what his younger self did not understand at the time. Absolute and complete lack of interest. Which, considering who he is now, is quite impressive of you. Then again if he knew a chairman of a renowned yakuza family back when they were young and relentlessly pestering him for affection he did not have for them? Well, he can kind of guess he’d be much like yourself in this situation.

His blood may run cold, but his cheeks are flaring red as he remembers the god awful pickup lines he tried on you back then and how darn angry he was that not even his award-winning emo style that made ladies swoon at his feet had next to no effect on your, how he used to think about it, stone cold heart. In reality it was just you being reasonable and him being an absolute dumbass. He can even recall Kiryu giving him the biggest tonguelashing ever for how he used his influence in the Tojo clan to keep tabs on you for like a week. Now, he wishes Kiryu would be here to beat his sorry ass right back to the hospital, maybe cause a proper concussion to make him forget all this downright embarrassing stuff he has done as the most shameful person to ever exist on earth.

Daigo Dojima’s redemption arc starts now. He will make absolutely sure to somehow make it up to you, whatever you want of him. He is dead set on showing you the tremendous amount of growth he’s done since the last time you saw him. If it’s a restraining order you want, so be it. But if, by any chance, you do wish to get to know him better and let him redeem himself as the man he is now… Well, who knows. You may just gain the most powerful ally, a trusted friend or maybe even more.