#i will not lie. there has been a split second recently where i actually considered choosing nate for her bc like. THEY'RE CUTE OK

[leirsulien-archive]

the adexis brainrot has been so so bad since i replayed the lt i want to rip something apart with my teeth

[bluecookies02]

When they make you cry

pairings: Hawks x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Bakugou x Reader, Aizawa x Reader, Izuku x Reader, Tamaki x Reader

Tamaki, Bakugou and Hawks are in a female!reader perspective, the rest of them are Gender Neutral

warnings: angst to fluff

masterlist

Hawks will get cocky, laughing in your face when he sees your shocked expression.

Both of you were going at each others throats, spitting insults to one another, just your recent daily routine.

Now Hawks knew you were a tough gal, which in his head made it alright for him to strike a really painful nerve into your chest.

As you remained speechless he turned around, a winning smirk plastered on his lips.

Just as he took a few steps forward, sobs wrecked your body as you hid your face in your hands.

"I d-don't think I can take this anymore Keigo" your broken voice reached his ears.

A pang of guilt pierced his chest once he turned around to face you.

He did this. He made you cry. He completely drained your happiness out. He hurt you.

His teeth dug into his lip, his eyes stinging as tears picked at them.

At that point, he didn't give two shits about who's right and who's wrong, his arms reaching for you and wrapping themselves around your shaking form.

He held you there for a while, listening to your cries that gradually turned into soft sniffles against his chest.

"I-" He opens his mouth but his words remained stuck at his throat.

"I don't want us to end..." you mumbled, your own words throwing you into another sobbing fit.

"We won't end here kid, I've got you...shit...I'm a fucking idiot...of course we won't end sweetheart...c'mon look at me" he raised your chin up gently, looking into your red eyes.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry...not just for today, for every day before this, I-, God... don't leave kid, p-please"

You stared at his face, tears now streaming down his cheeks as his grip on you tightened.

You swallow the lump in your throat, grabbing his hands in yours.

"Something has to change Keigo...I miss you...we've been distant for months. Sometimes you don't even come home to me, do you know how that feels?"

"I know, I know, I swear... I miss you too. I'll tell you about everything I promise. Let's go home please."

You hesitantly nod, putting your heart on the line for the last time.

And now looking back, you're glad you did.

//quirk: flesh manipulation (the reader can manipulate the molecules in a person's flesh just by touching it, making them useful mid-battle to make the other heroes ready to fight again in a matter of seconds, but also making them a threat to their enemies )

If there was one thing he despised about you, it was your guts.

Hell curse him for falling in love with someone so stubborn.

To live through a relationship with Dabi meant that you had to have though skin. You had to be strong enough to bite your cheeks and endure the issues that people in regular relationships never face.

He enters your home, covered in bruises and cuts, asking for your first aid kit.

You sigh to yourself, your usual nagging and yelling never reaching his ears.

You place the first aid kit onto your bedside table, turning your back to him, tiredly walking out of the room.

"Hey-" his voice calls out to you, quiet and confused.

You close the door behind you, making your way to your couch.

One of these days it'll be the last time he walks into your home, the last time you help him clean his cuts and the last time you hear his voice.

The weight of uncertainty pulls at your chest harder with every passing day.

He chose to continue living like this, he is the one that keeps ruining his own life, it's his ambitions that are making you this miserable.

Once he patches himself up, he sits on your bed for a while. Your silance meaning one thing and one thing only. You finally realized how pointless being with him is, you finally got it through your thick skull that he's nothing special to dwell about.

Time passes by quickly, a few hours already gone yet he's still glued to the same spot, not having the strength to leave your room, too scared to face your rejection once he gets out.

He should be happy for you, you won't be hurting anymore, you'll be able to find someone better.

He slowly twists the knob, taking slow steps through your living room.

You are laying on your couch, tear stains on your face and a tissue crumbled in your hand.

His chest tightenes at the sight. You cried yourself to sleep. He wonders... how many times did you cry over him? How many times would you just lay here as he carelessly roamed the streets?

He should leave...he should spare you the pain he brings. You were the only good thing in his life and by continuing this he'll ruin you, piece by piece.

You showed nothing but kindness to him, you made him realize that some people are worth getting close to, you being a hero also making his resolves shake under his feet.

He stretched his arm out to your cheek, careful not to wake you up.

He left a soft kiss to your temple before leaving your house.

-----

You woke up to a persistent ring of your doorbell.

You felt terrible...your hair was a mess, your nose was all clogged up and your eyes burned from all the crying.

You opened your door with annoyance, mad at whoever decided to burst your sadness bubble.

"Hey doll, I would've let myself in but my hands are kinda busy"

Your boyfriend stood there with a backpack on his shoulder and a carton box in his hands.

"So...do you happen to have a room to spare for a year or two...maybe three?"

You stare in disbelief your hand covering your mouth.

"I know that me being a villain might be a setback but...I got some hair dye? I might even consider letting you fix my jigsaw face."

Your body crashed into his, the box dropping to the ground as you squeezed your arms around him.

Maybe he can make you as happy as you make him.

You knew he was rough around the edges, but you never even imagined that you would be the one his rage would be directed at.

As soon as insults came crashing your way you left the room.

You were just trying to calm him down, placing your hand on his shoulder as you urged him to stop shouting and just let it go.

His rough hands grabbed yours, throwing your hand away like you were a mere fly, his quirk burning your skin.

You tried calling out to him just for him to snap around and scream at you.

Once you reached your dorm tears freely rolled down your cheeks.

You yearned for a normal relationship, longed for some peace and quiet just for a week or two.

Yet you just couldn't let the blonde go, always hoping for some miracle to come your way and take ahold of his ego.

--------

It's around 2 am and he can't fall asleep for the hell of it.

You're not picking up his calls nor answering his texts and you've been inactive on social media for hours.

Kirishima has been urging him to go to your dorm for two hours already, spamming him massages about him not being manly enough to win you back.

It's not like he doesn't want to, he just has no idea how to. Should he get you something? Get you some food and flowers? Where the fuck can he find all these things at 2 am? Isn't that how people in movies apologize or something...

He hates when you're mad at him, he is scared shitless of actually scaring you off and pushing you away.

A knock at your door snaps you out of your thoughts and a small flame of hope warms your heart for a split second as you make your way to your door.

He's holding a gray hoodie and a pair of bento boxes.

"That's not gonna fix it Katsuki."

"I know shitty woman you didn't even give me a chance to speak!"

You're sure that that's the first time Bakugou said the word "sorry" in his whole life.

The way it rolled off his tongue was shaky but somewhat determined, his hand grabbing ahold of yours gently.

Guilt was evident on his face as he stroked the bandages covering your hands.

"It's not that bad Katsu, and I understand that it was an accident." you mumbled trying to pull from his grip so he can focus on something else.

He grabbed ahold of your wrists, bringing your palms to his lips.

"I'll work on it, I promise. It'll never happen again. I mean it." you just give a soft nod, leading him to the table.

"Good. Now let's eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" you cheered, opening the bentos and stuffing your mouth with rice.

"Y/N...it's 4 am."

"Exactly, now eat, you're not gonna let me eat all of this by myself?!"

For this man, it was close to impossible to make his s/o cry.

He cherishes the relationship he has with you, making you feel special every single day at a time.

So when he sees you crying, he's confused and alarmed.

He reaches for you, trying his best to give you the comfort he thinks you need.

When you push his hands away and scream at him...Oh boy...

He's terrified.

Did he do something? Did he forget your anniversary? Your birthday? Did he eat your snack from the fridge??

You're pulling at the strands of your hair, your head buried into your knees as you sob.

He looks around, eyes widening when he sees a photo of himself and some girl kissing on the screen of your phone.

He wasn't there? He has proof! He was in a meeting! All of his colleagues could confirm that, he just needs you to listen! Please listen to him.

He's talking...blabbering...begging for you to just look at him.

As soon as you look up for a split second, he's hugging you, smothering your face in kisses as you weakly try to push him away.

Finally he leans his forehead against yours, letting out a long sigh of relief when he realizes that you're not crying anymore.

"Please Shouta, please, if you even have any respect for me, don't lie to me." you mumble out coldly, turning your head from him.

"Y/N, I would never, ever do that to you! Never! I love you so much, please, you have to know that, you do know that!"

You're too stubborn, but he calls all of his colleges one by one, putting them on speaker for you, asking about the time of the meeting or details of the meeting and they all have the same answer.

So now, your throat is dry and there's a lump in your throat, guilt eating at you as you try to apologize.

He couldn't give two shits about any of that, all he has to know is that you're okay and that you're still his.

He's not letting you go for the rest of the day, you're wrapped under the blankets with him as he makes sure you never believe the bullshit you see online.

"Sweetheart if I ever cheat on you, that's the day I cut my own dick off and bleed to death."

It makes you giggle and then laugh hysterically and he's just looking at you with the biggest heart eyes 🥺

Izuku would never do anything to make you cry.

He pays attention to every single detail in your relationship and he especially pays attention to your feelings.

What he is really bad at, is taking care of himself.

He doesn't take in consideration how you feel when he comes home all stitched up and tired, or how he stays up late to train and push himself further than his body can take.

However one day, he is exhausted from his training and he barely has any strength left. His phone rings and he is rushing out the door, already panting.

You don't reach him in time to stop him, so here you are, hours later next to his hospital bed.

The villain wasn't too powerful, but his state caused him to pass out in the middle of the bettle field.

As soon as he wakes up, you're yelling at him, but at the same time sobbing against his chest.

"I can't just stand here and watch you hurt yourself Zuku... I can't, I can't, I can't....O-one of these days you're just gonna slip away from my hands, I can't. Please" You're grip on him softens as you loose the strength in your hands.

His arms wrap themselves around you, trying his best not to flinch as you rub against his bandages.

His eyes are watering, realization dawning on him as he holds your tired body against him.

You're right...He sees the state of himself after a lowlife villain with a pathetic quirk sent him into the hospital. He doesn't even want to think about what would've happened if there was someone much stronger out there.

"Hey Y/N...I-...I might take a week off, to rest yeah? Does that sound good?"

You nod, wiping away the tears as you sniffle.

"And you won't be training at night anymore. And you won't be staying up late!" you scold as he rubs your cheeks.

"I won't. I promise." he places a kiss at your temple, pulling you onto the hospital bed next to him.

"Let's sleep for a bit yeah? I might owe you a few hours..."

You're crying, he's crying.

He's down on one knee and he's stuttering, his hands shaking as he hears you cry out a happy "Yes".

He barely gets the ring on your finger, burying his head into your neck as soon as he gets to his feet.

You always thought that he was going to propose to you at home, maybe some homecooked dinner with roses and candles. You didn't mind that option either.

You were surprised that he even suggested a walk in the park.

I mean, it was a really small park with little to no people in the area but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You're all giddy and happy as he takes your hand in his, his eyes always glancing at the ring on your finger.

Once you spot an ice cream stand you leap in happiness, rushing to get ice cream for the both of you.

The lady selling it smiles brightly at you.

"Is that the lucky guy?" you nod grabbing your icecream as Tamaki hides behind you.

"Good job sweetheart, you're making this lady very happy, I can feel it in my old bones" you laugh at her remark as you nudge Tamaki forward.

She hands him his ice cream and winks at him.

He's blushing and thanking the lady before running off to an empty bench.

”He’s a lil’ shy but he's got the spirit” you say to the lady as you rush off to get him.

You take the time to really study the ring, the beautiful blue crystal shining in the sun.

”I...I hope you l-like it...Nejire helped me out. Uhm I probably shouldn't have said that...S-she-"

"I like it Tama...I love it actually" you place a gentle kiss just at the corner of his lips, his hands grabbing your cheeks and kissing you deeply in return.

His cheeks are warm and his lips are slow against yours but you melt against him, letting him place you in his lap.

"Oh my God, I have a fiancé, oh my God, I have to call Mirio and tell him you said yes. You said yes, right?"

You laugh as you shake your head at him, playing with his hair as he fumbles with his phone.

All of the pictures are from the original anime/manga (please do correct me if I'm wrong in the comments below)

The Tamaki one has no angst in it because I had to heal from all of the emotional rollercosters.

___________

requests:closed

commissions:open

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[songmingisthighs]

[9.55] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ good thing you're smart, if not Wooyoung wouldn't have a whole attitude change

⇁ tw : violence, torture, kindapping, mafia life

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

You don't remember how long it has been since they captured you. Being stuck in a basement would do that apparently.

Whoever was behind your capture had been torturing you beyond your own imagination. They had starved you, hit you, kicked you, attempted to drown you, tied you in an uncomfortable position every night, and sent in someone to make sure you don't get an ounce of sleep.

All that just to get information on Wooyoung.

Currently, you're being tied to a chair, being once again interrogated for informations you had no clue about, "things would be much easier if you'd just give us what we want," the buff man in front of you said, he held a knife to your cheek but at this point you couldn't even flinch, "where is Jung Wooyoung's headquarters?"

Your cold outfit was clinging onto you like second skin, it's uncomfortable and it's dirty, the cold had definitely impacted your health.

Recently all you've been able to feel is just the headache and the burn from inside your body. Not even the abuse given to you was able to inflict you pain.

Everything's just numb.

You look up at the man, almost with a challenging look as you press your face daringly to the blade, "I. Don't. Know." you spat each word like venom.

The man laughed, pretty amused at how daring you are being, "you're his wife, there is no way you wouldn't have known," you rolled your eyes at him, bitter that he used the word 'wife' because you know fully well that Wooyoung would never treat you as such, "then I must've not been his wife now, am I?" You retorted back at him, slightly shocking him because this is the first time within the (apparently) 7 days you've been captured that you had said something else other than 'I don't know' or 'fuck you'.

Everyone was startled at the revelation, they probably hadn't concidered that you might not be Wooyoung's wife. No one really know about Wooyoung's personal life, it seems.

Seeing their hesitance, you take this as your chance of escaping.

The buff man grab your hair harshly, his eyes narrowing at you in suspicion, "don't lie to me, whore, if you're not his wife, then why'd you have a wedding ring on?" "Stole it from my mistress before I ran away, needed the money," you lied easily, surprising yourself.

"And why are you wearing it?" He asked again, "to make it less inconspicuous, people need to believe that this belongs to me or else they'll alert the cops that I'm a thief,"

He seemed to be having an inner turmoil on whether or not he should believe you.

With how you've been acting and the lack of evidence that you are Wooyoung's wife, you could really have been the wrong target.

"That means Handong lied to us," he said as he push your head away, talking to one of the men next to him, "bring him in and get this bitch out," he said simply before turning back to leave.

But before he walked out of the room, he looked back once more at you with a bitter smirk, "make sure to... deal... with her first, insurance for your silence,"

When the doors closed, 5 men approach your figure, still tied on the chair.

One of them crouch down in front of you, he brush your hair out of your face with a sad smile, "I'm sorry that we have to do this, pretty girl," confused at what he said, you just stared at him. But then he suddenly slap you so hard that you fell down along with the chair you're tied to.

And thus began one of the longest night of your life.

Meanwhile Wooyoung was getting antsy. His men couldn't find you anywhere and there isn't a second when he didn't regret turning his abundance of cctv off

He spent his days either in meetings or trying to track your whereabouts. San had to step in and actually force him to eat, going as far as cuffing him to his chair and spoon-fed him, even throwing a cheesy "would (Y/N) be happy to see you in this state?" At him to which he replied, "considering how I treat her, I wouldn't be surprised if she is,"

So far, neither yours nor his parents were aware of your disappearance. His dad only asked about you once to ensure he still has leverage, which of course Wooyoung lied, he's already stressed over your disappearance the last thing he need is for his dad to bit his head off.

Each night he spent sleeping in his bedroom, moping to the fact that he genuinely misses and worried about you. He regret taking you for granted, taking your presence for granted. Now, he could only imagine your sleeping form next to him using the memories of when he actually slept in bed with you. He used to be able to feel your warmth next to him, now it's just cold and he dislike it.

Tonight was no different. Before he got into bed, he went to the walk-in closet and look at all the dresses he had brought you to events that you went to (re : events he was forced brought you because his parents would be there). He remembered every how you looked in every single one of them.

It's pathetic of him, to be pining over the woman he claimed to have no care about.

Just as he turned the walk-in closet's lights off, there were commotions from downstairs, then a huge bang like his front doors had been barged open.

Diving into his instincts, Wooyoung grabbed the nearest gun he had hid all around the room and ran out, thinking that it was a raid by his rivals.

But when he looked down from the second floor to the living room, his heart wrenched and he froze.

San had you in his arms, you looked sickly pale with bruises all over your exposed arms and legs, clothes had chunks of them torn, and you weren't moving. One would assume that you're dead.

Wooyoung dropped his gun and ran to his friend who had just put you on the couch.

The sight of you looking so broken panicked him. He wanted to hold you and be glad that you're home, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. He wanted to tell you how sorry he is and that he'll make up to you but he's not sure whether or not you're still alive.

He snapped his head towards his staff, "call the doctor! Call Kang Yeosang in!" He barked to which his staffs immediately obeyed, scrambling to do as he ordered.

"God, baby, who did this to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching forward to brush your hair out of your face.

You stirred a bit when you heard his voice ans managed to open your eyes despite the splitting headache and the soreness all over your body.

When your eyes met his, you smiled, "hey, what are you doing in my dreams?" You croaked out, throat obviously sore and beyond parched from having been denied fluids for so long. It was your turn to brush his bangs from his eyes, something you've always wanted to do but know never could considering his dislike that turned out to be hatred towards you.

You suddenly frown at him, making his gaze on you softer, "I'm sorry," you muttered, not able to speak louder. At that, he tilted his head, "for what?" "Not being able to stay gone, I had to had the will to live, I should've let them kill me," you said before you slip into unconsciousness, rendering Wooyoung speechless at your words.

Before he was able to retaliate, San had swoop you back into his arms to take you to an empty room so Yeosang could come in and treat you.

"No," Wooyoung called, stopping San in his tracks, "bring her to my- our room, she should feel comfortable," to which San just nodded and obey, knowing how important it is to have you next to him as much as him next to you.

Yeosang came in not long after and spent 3 hours cleaning and stitching your wounds, checking for possible internal injuries, all the while making sure he's handling you with the utmost care as Wooyoung had been glaring daggers at him. Whether it serve to be a warning to not harm you or a sign of jealousy as Yeosang had a perfectly valid reason to cut your shirt and shorts off for handling.

"I can't make a clear diagnosis without checking for internal injuries, we have to take her to the hospital," Yeosang said. But Wooyoung just snap at him, "then freaking bring the machines here! She's not leaving this mansion and she's not leaving my side!"

Both men just stared at each other for a few minutes, Yeosang holding onto his ground on wanting simplicity, and Wooyoung being afraid of losing you from his sight again.

Knowing how stubborn his friend can be, Yeosang was first to crack, sighing and nodding at Wooyoung, "I'll see what I can do," he said simply before going out to talk to San about possibly transporting some of his machines.

The rest of the night, Wooyoung took care of you. He had put you in one of his large, white button up because it's the easiest to put on you. He stayed by your side in a chair, afraid that he might hurt you (than he already necessary does with his words) if he were to slip in bed with you.

As he watch you, his hands moved to held yours in his. His thumbs were rubbing the back of your hand when it suddenly caught on something.

Looking down, he noticed that it's your wedding ring, matching his own which he's wearing.

It brought a smile to his face seeing you're still holding onto it so dearly. You could've left it for him to find and throw away the day you left, but you had decided to take it with you.

Could it be that despite everything he's done to you, you don't want to completely erase him from your mind?

And that's what made Wooyoung broke down and cried.

He didn't deserve you, not one bit. But despite that, he knows that he's the only one capable enough of taking care of you, to provide for whatever it is that you need.

So at that moment, with you back in hia arms, he decided to step up and assume his responsibilities and treat you as how you deserve to be treated.

[vermillioncrown]

i think it'd be fun for the lwh au if they approched the arranged marriage with lets be platonic partners cause romance is stupid look what is happening with your siblings! and then they are boo boo the fool when they actually catch * gasp * feelings. Like, i feel like when JC figures out that LWJ is in love with WXX he laughs a lot, cause like what an idiot, and then he realizes i fell in love with a gremlin, I AM lwj!

of course we approach it as platonic partners in crime, that's the only way to start

but i will propose a twist i consider more powerful

=

jiang cheng wishes he could let his younger self know what he knows now. it would have made the entire first three months of the cloud recesses audits bearable.

lan wangji, the venerable hanguang-jun, was stupid in love. willing to roll in the dirt if wei wuxian merely suggests the notion, dirtying those pristine robes and betraying his sword's namesake, even.

"what an idiot," he says with relish, unafraid that the woman by his side would take offense. through their schemes and successful maneuverings, it has become an understanding: lan wenhui will use jiang cheng as she needs to aggravate her brothers, no less loved for it. and wei wuxian is fair game for his future sister-in-law.

"wangji-ge has abysmal spice tolerance... it was the only way shufu could outplay any pretense we upheld as children," lan wenhui muses.

jiang cheng laughs at the thought of lan qiren resorting to trickery to overcome the lan twins. while his betrothed is infinitely more tolerable than her dour mirror, he will not lie and say he cannot see the trouble that two quietly, slyly obstinate children could cause.

the two of them met at the junction leading out to the courtyard, where they were to dine under the escort of their siblings. instead, wei wuxian was nowhere to be found before this, and lan wangji as well. it turned out their wayward siblings were already at the courtyard, perhaps to preempt any attempts at early rendezvous but ended up falling victim themselves.

jiang cheng and lan wenhui look out into the courtyard, where wei wuxian is attempting to feed his favorite dishes to a seemingly-impervious lan wangji. lan wenhui's mouth splits open in the way that is more leering with teeth, reveling in some hidden victory to herself. "the back of his ears will be damp with sweat at this point, ha!" when she smiles like that, it feels like a secret being shared between them and only them.

"never mind him - look at wei wuxian," jiang cheng directs. his jaw clenches, trying not to let loose laughter at the disaster about to strike.

wei wuxian finally catches onto lan wangji's dwindling constitution, and eagerly offers a cup of wine to dull the spice. normally, it would not be a terrible idea.

lan wangji, equally as eager for any gold or dirt off his beloved's fingers, takes the cup and drinks without another thought. his head hits the table a second later.

"lan zhan! still?! aiyo, i... i need to get you out of here - um... a-cheng and hui-mei aren't here yet... i can make it back -" and he does his best to lug lan wangji's dead-weight out of the courtyard.

he hasn't noticed that the entire time, their nonsense has been witnessed by the very two people that they were supposed to chaperone. the two people that they have now left... unsupervised. to some extent.

the maidservant following lan wenhui leans in to whisper to her mistress, and instead of turning away like the girl undoubtedly suggested, lan wenhui's eyes meet jiang cheng's and swing over at the recently vacated dining table. "let us not waste the efforts of your kitchen, jiang-zongzhu."

the two of them, accompanied by a pair of man- and maidservants, settle at the table. to jiang cheng's dismay, wei wuxian has already made a mess of most of the dishes, and lan wangji's ballistic application of his forehead to the table has done the rest of the damage.

lan wenhui pays it no mind. she is about to salvage bits of the meal, demurring to serve jiang cheng first -

"lan-guniang, we cannot let you do that -" the servants, while reluctant to leave the two betrothed alone, were more reluctant to let them partake in sloppy seconds. "xiaoren will go call for something fresh!" and they both rush off to usher forth a meal posthaste.

jiang cheng rolls his eyes, but he only feels fondness. "do you ever get tired of playing around?"

"this wenhui can still serve her betrothed some tea," she responds without a hitch, only the smirk on her face giving up the ruse. she sets up the tea service from the remnants of the previous meal.

"what a mess." his shixiong is never going to be orderly, by any means. "for two 'peerless' young masters of the realm... tch. a pair of well-matched fools in love!"

"would you say idiocy is hereditary?" lan wenhui leans in to pour the tea.

he lets out a short laugh. "luckily for them, that won't matter for whatever children they eventually choose to adopt. wei wuxian is bad enough - if combined with your brother's mulishness that child would have no hope." he turns and catches the moment her mouth breaks into that same toothy grin.

"it is indeed a lan trait to be stupid in face of love," she agrees with mirth. she places the teapot down, still leaning towards him. "wenhui will not be as arrogant to deny its truth for all lans."

"i don't think i've ever seen you do anything stupid," jiang cheng meant it as a dry comment, but the fact that they were alone, the setting sun warm and golden, the signs of life around lotus pier muted and far away -

his voice comes out quieter, more heavy than intended.

"jiang-zongzhu, jiang wanyin..." the amusement fades from lan wenhui's face. her expression can match lan wangji's for intensity, but something about how it's her makes it more lively, more imploring. not as creepy.

he would never mistake her for her twin.

"... let me prove you wrong, and do something stupid, then," he feels her words ghost his face as she leans in.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 10 May ‘21

LOUIS NEWS-- label and tour!! First, Louis has announced (or, well, Simon Jones PR has anyway, no word from Louis direct and yes, SJPR is still in the picture) that Louis is “partnering with BMG to release his second album globally”, an interestingly specific/ limited reveal. Fans are eyeing the wording and questioning whether he actually signed with them as a label (which they are) or just for publishing rights or distribution (which they also do, unlike most other labels)- the mention only of a ‘partnership’ supports the possibility that it’s something other than his new label, but it isn’t definitive and the simplest explanation of the press release is that BMG will be his label for LT2, as well as distributor and publishing company. The fact that they are small (relatively speaking; not one of the “Big Four” record labels but they’re hardly tiny) and somewhat new as a label does not to me seem like a reason why Louis wouldn’t have chosen them, as some are suggesting; there’s something to be said for being the big focus of a label rather than just another act, and Louis already chose that route once before when he signed with Arista (who are umbrella-ed by Sony but themselves not one of the big four) just after their relaunch, making him their biggest act by far. Also vague: “global” in this context doesn’t necessarily mean BMG has replaced Arista (his U.S. only label), it just for sure means UK plus the ‘international’ market, ie most of the rest of the world. It could mean U.S. too! Or not. We have reason to believe Louis was still with Arista as recently as a few months ago, and no evidence to suggest otherwise. The official press release says “recording is already underway” on LT2, and quotes Louis as saying: “I’m very excited to start the next part of my journey with BMG”. BMG- a new company founded after splitting from older label SonyBMG in 2008- claim to be “a new kind of music company” who are “not just a music publisher or a label” (they instead combine both of those things) in which “service to artists and writers is key,” and as part of that combine label services with holding publishing rights for their clients, often handled by separate companies and an area where songwriters tend to get screwed. BMG’s press also mentions their involvement with new technology a lot, and they represent Kings of Leon who have been at the forefront of the music industry use of NFTs (including releasing their next album as an NFT on a special NFT label despite being BMG artists). BMG’s twitter following more than doubled [edit: tripled now] in the hours after the announcement, and they followed Louis and tweeted to welcome him aboard from three different twitter accounts, including the U.S. one.

Slightly more commentary from Louis about the updated tour dates though mostly still press release style-- “Let's try this one last time!” he said, “All shows on my world tour will be moving back to 2022 and I’m excited to announce the first wave of new dates. I can't wait to see you all soon, it's going to be special!” and what should be the final dates for tour dropped, all in Spring ‘22- including a London show at Wembley, holy shit! Not every rescheduled date has been announced but those that are mostly have one thing in common-- much bigger venues than they were originally booked into. At at least one show so far fans will have to buy tickets again which sucks, but they are offering a pre-sale for previous ticket holders so at least those buyers only have to fight each other and not all the fans that joined the scrum in the time since the tour sold out. “After all this time and years of waiting this tour is going to be incredible, I can't wait!” said Louis and he’s not wrong!

And that’s all for serious news, over in Harry land things are...a lot sillier. A “bardcore” version of Watermelon Sugar was added to Harry’s official Spotify, LOL, and it is even more ridiculous to listen to than it is to imagine! I don’t picture it topping the charts anytime soon but it’s certainly an entertaining twist I was NOT expecting over the quiet weekend. The idea of Harry and friends deciding that needed to be legitimized on the official 36 million follower page is PRICELESS, and I would love to see Harry in a Gucci doublet and hose (or a nice laced bodice), but sadly it seems that the addition of the 2020 cover song to Harry’s account is a fuck up on Spotify’s end, as acknowledged by the Bard himself (no not Harry or Shakespeare, the person who did the weird cover- they do lots of covers in this style, it’s like a whole Thing. Medieval style covers of hits.) Meantime OUR bard was seen on the My Policeman set in a t-shirt reading “don’t ruin my fantasy”. New merch? I’ve never seen something more perfect for harries, they should consider it! This shirt though is from a designer with a focus on gender neutrality who donates to queer youth charities. And Kid Harpoon said, about WS (modern version) “at first, and I get this quite a lot with his lyrics, I thought, that’s kind of weird. Then you’re like, man, it’s brilliant. I remember thinking that with this. Harry’s so good at lyrics, he’s really growing into his own thing.”

Meanwhile Niall reposted (to insta AND facebook) the same outfit of the day video post he posted and deleted yesterday but left it up this time. It is clearly NOT today’s outift- damn Niall is my whole life a lie?! What can we trust in this treacherous world?? NOT YOU I GUESS. He also popped up on twitter to claim “no idea what you’re talking about” wrt him and Anne Marie teasing their collab without offering any actual clues about WHEN-- mhmm, like I said...

[cryptiql]

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

[imjeralee]

can you maybe write for Childe, Zhongli, Link, and Human!Revali where theyre immortal or live for a very long time, and one day their s/o gets hurt and dies in their arms? then years later they stumble across them again, theyre a different person but they have the same soul. yet.. they dont remember them right away...but then they fall in love again? im feeling angsty, apologies

Hi anon! thanks for the ask and sorry for the delay!! I’m afraid I wasn’t able to write a Link and Human!Revali headcanon for the time being (I will write and post Link and Revali HCs later, sorry!!!!!) but I was able to write something for Childe and Zhongli for now so here goes.

PS they’re really long so it’s below the cut. I might as well have written some fanfics on this since they’re pretty much stories XD

Childe: 

WARNINGS for violence/blood here -

When he’s dispatched the last of your attackers, he rushes back to your side and finds you lying on the ground. At first he thinks you’re playing as you usually tease each other, and so he drops beside you with a hefty sigh before he scoops you up and into his arms.

“Hey, you good? Don’t tell me those guys gave you a run for your money,” he says, grinning. He’s out of breath, sweating slightly.

When you don’t reply, however, at first he thinks you’re still teasing but it’s quickly replaced with concern. He knows something is wrong. You let out a pained moan and close your eyes, murmuring his name weakly. His playful, jovial attitude dissolves into panic. Childe sits up properly with you in his arms, giving you a little shake and asking what’s wrong.

As he turns you round in his arms, he notices you’re bleeding profusely from a grievous wound. No longer smiling, panic takes ahold of him. “What happened? No, no, no, this can’t be. This can’t be happening. Stay with me Y/N, stay with me.” Planting his hands on the sides of your face, making you look at him. “Look at me. That’s it. Just keep looking at me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” He keeps chanting that over and over again as he glances around the area frantically before he attempts to lift you off the ground but you stop him. It’s too late.

Instead, you merely hold his hand firmly and he entwines your fingers together and you see the fear and despair in his eyes. You tell him you’re not going to make it but he shakes his head. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear? Teucer’s waiting for you to take him to the seaside, remember? We were…we were meant to go to the seaside together.” 

As he speaks, he holds you tightly and he feels your laborious breathing against his chest and he keeps talking until you go still and quiet in his arms and he stops. At first, he can’t bear to bring himself to look at you and holds you firmly against his chest, resting his chin atop your head, closing his eyes. 

Then he begins to weep.

A broken man, Childe vows revenge, swearing vengeance on your killers. In a blind rage, he spends countless of years hunting them down one by one. It’s not hard to achieve considering he has all the time in the world. His most recent excursion leads him to the final ringleader who lives in a citadel. Childe kills all the guards and everyone else who stands in his way until he reaches his target. At first, the man fights him but Childe overpowers him easily.

“Who the hell are you?” the man screams.

Childe rips off his mask to reveal his face. “Remember me?” He snarls.

The man goes wide-eyed and tries to run away with Childe in pursuit, but before Childe can reach him, the man has grabbed a random person in his way and thrown them onto Childe’s path as a human shield.

“Father!?” Childe hears the person exclaiming in shock as they’re roughly shoved towards Childe’s direction. Childe realises the man has grabbed their kid to use as the human shield. 

Disgusted, Childe is about to deal the finishing blow until he catches them mid fall and their gazes meet; those eyes. They remind him of….you

And something deep inside him screams STOP! And Childe is briefly brought to a halt in his rampage. He doesn’t recognise them, but he feels your soul within.

What the frick? You had reincarnated into this bastard’s kid??? He’s shocked for a brief moment and a few guards who are still alive manage to sneak up on him. Childe returns to action mode and fights off his attackers, grabs you, and whilst he doesn’t get the chance to kill his target, he escapes the citadel with you in his clutches and you’re left screaming for help.

You’ve been abducted by Childe and he’s taken you to the forest where he pins you against the tree and forces you to look at him, left and right, up and down. Whilst you plead and beg for mercy with your eyes squeezed shut and knees quaking, he lets go of you harshly. He doesn’t want to believe it’s you, but there’s no doubt about it. He senses your soul within. He recognises your eyes. You’ve reincarnated. 

“Show me.” He demands.

“…What?”

“Your birthmark. The one on your shoulder?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

He turns you round and pulls on your shirt to expose the back of your shoulder where your birthmark is. Whilst you wonder how the hell he knows you have a mark, he lets go of you then and you quickly pull your clothes back on properly, face red. What the hell!!! 

Childe just staring at you in brief shock. 

“It’s you. It’s really you.”

A lot of emotions are going through him right now; he’s relived and so damn happy, at the same time he’s like confused and angry by the whole situation

But the first thing he does is hug you tightly.

And the first thing you do is grab the nearest rock and bludgeon his head with it.

He’s taken aback and lets go of you, stumbling backwards with a bleeding head but he easily shakes off your assault and throws the rock to the side and you’re terrified, inching away as he goes, “Did you think that would kill me? I’ll let you in a little secret; I’m immortal.” 

Not really sure who/what you’re dealing with, you flee but you hear him yelling, “You can run but you can’t hide!”

And as you toss a glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there for a split second before he promptly vanishes from his spot. This weird cat and mouse game ensues with Childe stalking you through the forest and you’re either trying to run or hide until he finally catches you and pins you against the ground. You can’t escape.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmurs, but you don’t believe him. “Just…stay with me for a few days, okay?”

It doesn’t matter; over the next few days, you’re effectively Childe’s prisoner and he seems to enjoy teasing you; he tried to talk to you but you refused and ignored him. It was quite difficult to do so especially when its time for dinner and he’s cooking grilled tiger fish - which is actually your favourite food - and although you’re salivating, he looks at you and grins and waves the grilled tiger fish on a stick in front of you, going, “Hungry?”

You turn away with a frown and he shrugs, “Suit yourself. But I know it’s your favourite.”

You’re confused and about to ask him, but you hear him eating and throw a glance at him to see he’s chomping down and your stomach rumbles. You choose to sleep instead to ignore the hunger but you wake up during the night, starving.

“Eat this,” says a voice, and a grilled tiger fish is plopped down in front of you and Childe is there, crouching by your side. He leaves you alone so you can eat.

You’re surprised by your captor’s behaviour and you initially hate him for what he’s done however he doesn’t harm you in any way. He doesn’t keep you tied up or anything and he’s quite entertained should you ever try to run away because he’ll always just catch up to you and just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder or something and carry you back. 

Your travels with Childe continues but you don’t get the feeling that he hates you or wants to hurt you in anyway. In fact, he keeps surprising you by providing you with your favourite food, favourite drinks and other stuff. It confuses you and though you want to ask him, you’re a little too afraid as to what he might just tell you. Some days you even come across him looking at you a little forlornly but just when you notice, he changes in a split second and will grin at you. Even when it’s nighttime and you’re meant to take a bath, he won’t perv on you. When you arrive at the next village, he asks for a nice room for the two of you and allows you to take the bed, eat as much as you want etc etc. In fact, he’s….taking care of you. He even starts buying you things and whilst you turn down everything he offers, you see his expression crumble and you don’t know what he’s trying to do.

One night he sleeps in the open and you grab a knife, about to drive it in his throat although you’re not sure how much good that’ll do but then you hear him murmur, “You don’t know it…but I’ve been looking for you forever…and I’ve been waiting for you for such a long time… and you end up being the kid of that bastard…the one who killed you, the one who took you away from me….the one who started all this in the first place…”

Confused by what you had just heard, you watch him in steely silence before you slowly lower your hand and put away the knife. The next day he goes “I know what you were trying to do last night. Why didn’t you do it?” 

“I didn’t want to. I’m not a killer like you.” You quip back, but he merely laughs. 

The days continue but the dynamic seems to have changed; when Childe gets you something, you start thanking him and he goes red in the face and you also begin to feel weird around him. Before long, you’re both having food together, having some conversations and you’re accustomed to travelling around with him. He’ll always keep you safe and make sure you have a warm bed each night too. Sometimes when he looks at you, you don’t look away either.

Before long, your father’s men finally catches up; they begin to hunt you and Childe down and you’re stunned when you realised you’re about to get rescued. Something terrible flickers in your mind - maybe you don’t want to be rescued and you want to stay with Childe? After all, he’s taken you to so many places and you’ve seen so many things. Your father kept you cooped up in the citadel for years and this is really the first time you’ve experienced freedom.

Also, you don’t want Childe to get caught. You want him to run away. But he won’t run away without you. And when you question this, he goes, “I can’t afford to lose you again!!”

During the chase, a bunch of arrows are fired towards your direction and you’re worried about Childe, but when the arrows are about to hit you, you squeeze your eyes shut but nothing happens. Reopening your eyes, you see Childe has shield you with his body.

You’re surrounded and as Childe falls, collapsing into your arms, he’s quickly captured and you are returned home. But everything feels boring and dull now, and your father seems more occupied in torturing Childe than checking to see if you’re alright. You ask your father what happened between him and Childe and he tells you he killed his lover many years ago and now Childe has been seeking revenge. When you ask him why he killed Childe’s lover, your father just laughs and says there was no reason.

You’re conflicted. What is this? Why do you feel pity for Childe, and anger towards your father? Why do you feel you are more on Childe’s side now?

I’m in love with him, you realise -- much to your shock. 

Your father announces Childe will be executed by dawn and you hastily rush to where they’re holding him, hoping not to be seen. When you find Childe, he’s badly beaten but still alive and you quickly unshackle him and as he sees you freeing him, he smiles at you; when the last of his shackle is unlocked, he falls forwards but you catch him and your gazes meet.

“Go,” you whisper.

“Not without you. Come with me.” He murmurs, placing a hand to your cheek. “I can’t lose you again.”

You don’t even need to think twice, nodding.

Zhongli

He didn’t think you would ever die... and in his arms no less. He found you after the battle and when he saw that you were grievously wounded, he could not believe his eyes. He was too late and unable to save you, so he merely held you in his arms as you told him with weak breaths that this was the end. He promises that he’ll find you again and holds you tightly as he feels your warmth slowly disappearing, the life escaping from your eyes and then you were simply…gone

For a while, he merely sat with you in the ashen field, cradling you tightly to his chest before he picked you up and retreated silently. No one would see him for several centuries following that but it was rumoured he went to the mountains to bury you. He was in mourning.

Zhongli never forgot you and his love for you never went away so he’s comforted by the fact that your soul will be reincarnated albeit into a different vessel and as he promised, begins to search for your whereabouts when it’s finally time.

He roams the world to no end and many decades pass. Eventually he gets tired and one day he even passes out from exhaustion, reverting to a dragon form to recuperate.

And you’re walking home from the mountains and you come across this huge dragon resting on a rock and you’re like oh my archon. But it looks like he’s sick so as you approach nervously and poke at his body gently with a stick (no response), and also press your ear against his scaly belly (he’s breathing and you can hear a heartbeat), you’re aware the dragon is still alive. You quickly rush home to grab some makeshift medicine made from herbs and return to the sick dragon

Zhongli too weary to open his eyes or lift his head, and as he drifts in and out of consciousness, he thinks he hears your voice and he’s comforted by the familiarity and as you sit with him, stroking his horns and mane, he kind of inches towards you and into your arms. As the day progresses, the sun is particularly harsh so you set up little parasols and pull huge leaves over his head to provide as much shade as possible. Occasionally the dragon has nightmares but you’re able to calm him down by petting him 

When it gets dark, you need to head home but you’re a little reluctant, so you leave behind some food for him and drape a blanket over his body (though this doesn’t cover him much). However, during the night, it’s thunder and lightning and you get worried for the dragon so you rush back out and you find the dragon being battered by the rain whilst curled up into a tight ball and shivering under the blanket so you quickly try to move him but oh lawd he heavy and suddenly the blanket gets blown away by the wind when he lifts a claw so you race after it and end up almost falling off a cliff - to your surprise, the dragon swoops down to save you and you faint but before you black out, you think you see a young man in the dragon’s place, staring at you with much intrigue

He has the same eyes as the dragon

That night, you have strange dreams of that man. He acts as if he knows you, calls you by a different name and you are also his lover. The dream is long, but ends with your demise - which forces you to wake up in a panic

You’re surrounded by the coiled up dragon who has gotten better from your care but when he wakes up, he’s cautious and observes you for a few moments. 

You and this dragon staring at each other until you slowly reach a hand to touch him 

Your hand lands over his snout and you’re surprised he’s allowing you to pat him, but whatever, you’re super happy at his recovery and you can go home now. It’s time to part ways and as you head towards the direction of your home, you throw glances over your shoulder to see the dragon watching you silently

On the way, you think about the dragon and the strange dreams and attract the attention of a group of treasure hoarders who are wandering around the wilderness. However, to your surprise, you are saved by a young man - and it’s the very man from your dreams! He manages to defeat the bandits but you see he’s hurt and he almost collapses if you weren’t there to catch him. The moment he landed in your arms and that same sense of familiarity swept over you. You’re quick enough to react and sweep those thoughts away and bring the poor man home, lugging his polearm over your back along with your basket

You look after this young man and nurse him back to health. During this time, he looks at you strangely and when he’s sleeping, his calls out the name you were called in the dream. When you think he’s having a nightmare and you go over to check if he’s ok, giving him a little shake on the arm, he throws his arms around you and holds you close, begging you not to leave him and that he had spent eons looking for you. When you tell him he’s got the wrong person…it’s as though he comes to his senses and he quickly releases you, apologising for his behaviour and thanking you for his hospitality

He tells you his name is Zhongli and because he’s injured, you give him the spare room in the back and take care of him. During this period of interaction, at first it’s quite strange and maybe a little awkward, because hell he is an insanely attractive man (he can’t be single, no way) and you’re bustling around the house, doing chores/cleaning up or tending to your garden and he watches you the entire time and this goes on for a few days before he joins in to help when you’re hanging up the laundry though you don’t want him to help because he’s injured but he assures you he wants to do his part. 

So Zhongli becomes a part of your everyday life where during the day and you both have breakfast together before you head to the market together to buy groceries and later, he accompanies you to pick herbs in the mountain. 

One day you’re tired so he sits with you and massages your leg and you’re so embarrassed but at the same time, your heart is beating like crazy. He even carries you down the steep path all the way home. 

At night time and you sit together on the front porch watching fireflies and chatting idly for hours. 

He ends up staying for a long time and one day, when it’s time to redress his wound, you notice he’s completely healed - and it looks like he actually healed up a while ago. You blink in confusion before turning to him and he looks at you before he reaches for your hand and holds it firmly, smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand

A distant memory, more like deja vu, flickers through your mind and you realise Zhongli has held your hand like this before and you run out of the room, confused. Zhongli worried he scared you off so he doesn’t pursue you

When it’s night, you dream again but it’s becoming so vivid you end up confused the next morning, waking up in an unfamiliar house and in an unfamiliar body and screaming for Zhongli. As you calm down, he holds you in his arms and it reminds you of the dream you had when you died in his embrace. You briefly forget yourself for a moment before murmuring Zhongli’s name - and it reminds him of how you used to say his name eons ago and he gets sentimental, giving in because he knows you are the reincarnation of his lover and when you kiss, that’s when everything floods back and you remember everything 

Finally reunited with your lover, you share an embrace, determined not to be separated ever again

[spade-riddles]

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes. 

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.  

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming. 

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable. 

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships. 

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night. 

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet. 

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case. 

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch. 

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first. 

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it. 

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised. 

Just my two cents. 

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

[backhurtyy]

9, 16, or 51, whichever you want to do/haven’t done yet 🥰!

9. “You really thought I was dead?”

16. “I want you to be happy…even if its not with me.”

i guess warning for jealousy?? not possessive or anything, more nervous i-really-love-you-and-this-person-unexpectedly-came-back-into-our-life-please-don’t-leave-me jealousy

Returning to Ba Sing Se after the war always felt distinctly like coming home to Zuko. He loved the Fire Nation, he really did, but there were so many bad memories locked away inside empty rooms and shadows decorating blank walls to ever allow it to feel like home. But in Ba Sing Se, strolling into his uncle’s teashop with Sokka’s hand clasped in his and his crown tossed into the bottom of the bag on his shoulder, those memories and shadows slipped away. Instead, there were warm memories of lazy afternoons serving tea to his uncle and friends and the sounds of bright laughter filling the shop, and he felt like he was home.

“You’re awfully smiley,” Sokka laughed as they approached the Jasmine Dragon. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Just that it feels like I’m home, is all. We haven’t been here in a long time, and it’s... It’s really nice. I don’t know if that sounds crazy, but-“

“No, it doesn’t. I feel it too,” he said warmly. “It’s easier here, somehow.”

Zuko nodded, pressing a kiss to Sokka’s forehead as they crossed the threshold of the shop. His uncle was standing behind the counter, and when he saw them come in his face split into a wide grin.

“Zuko! Sokka!” he exclaimed, rushing towards them. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He dropped Sokka’s hand to meet his uncle’s embrace, sighing at the familiar smell of jasmine tea that hung around him. “Hi Uncle. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too. It’s been too long.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just got so busy with work and it was hard to find the time to come visit.”

“It’s okay to take breaks, Zuko. You don’t have to be Fire Lord all the time.”

Zuko wanted to say that wasn’t true- that the Fire Nation still had so far to go and that work couldn’t always wait, and also point out that he was the one to insist Zuko take this job- but before he could Sokka was hugging his uncle and proclaiming, “Yeah, that’s why he has me. To make sure he’s talking a whole bunch of breaks.”

His uncle laughed. “I knew he’d be in good hands.”

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered, though he smiled at Sokka fondly and began walking toward the kitchen, where the stairs leading to his uncle’s apartment were. “Can we just drop our bags off, the come back down?”

“Of course. Although this reminds me I have a new employee, and I think it’s someone you’ll be relieved to see! He’s in the back.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, wondering who he could possibly be talking about considering all the people he would want to see were very much not in Ba Sing Se. Well, except Sokka, but it wasn’t like he was his new employe. Still, he just shrugged and pushed aside the curtain to go into the kitchen- only to stop when he saw a tall figure with shaggy black hair, a persistent stalk of wheat sticking out of his mouth. Suddenly, he felt like he was on the ferry to Ba Sing Se all over again.

Sokka, not noticing that Zuko had stopped, crashed into him. “Zuko, wha-“ He stopped too, staring at Jet with his jaw hanging open. “Jet?”

He looked up them, one eyebrow raised and smirking. “Hey Sokka,” he greeted coolly. “And if it isn’t Lee... Or I guess Fire Lord Zuko, I should say.”

“I- What?” he stuttered, not entirely understanding how, much less why, Jet was in his uncle’s tea shop. The first because last he’d heard Jet was dead, and the second because last he’d checked Jet hated him and his uncle. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I work here? I’m the new hire,” he said, crossing his arms and cocking his hip out.

“You- How?” Sokka asked, his face wrinkled in confusion. “At Lake Laogai you died. I mean, you got crushed under the rock and you-“

“Wait,” Jet laughed. “You really thought I was dead?”

Sokka and Zuko shared a confused glance, then looked back to him. “Yes?” Zuko asked. “I mean, we’ve seen Smellerbee and Longshot since then and they never said anything so...”

“Yeah, I told them not too. I needed time after I recovered to figure myself out, and wasn’t sure I could handle seeing any old flames- no pun intended- or enemies,” he said, pointedly sliding his eyes from Zuko to Sokka. “But I didn’t think you’d actually think I was dead… I told Katara I’d be fine. That wasn’t a lie.”

Zuko... Zuko didn’t know what to do. He had spent the past five years feeling so guilty for being the reason Jet ended up in Lake Laogai and blaming himself for his death, that seeing him in front of him brought on an overwhelming onslaught of memories and emotions and confusion. But with it was also a huge sense of relief, and he smiled at him softly.

“I’m really happy to see you, Jet,” he said honestly. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Don’t think I’m not still pissed at the fact that you lied to me, or for the pain the Fire Nation has caused me and my friends,” he said evenly, though his mouth ticked up in a smile, the wheat jumping as it did. “But I’m glad to see you too. You look good.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but smiled and leaned into Sokka, who had shifted to stand at his side rather than behind him. Sokka grabbed his hand immediately. “Thanks. There’s a lot that’s happened, recently, and if you were willing to, I’d like to catch up and... Well, I know there’s a lot of history, but maybe we could try to be friends?”

There was a slight twinkle in Jet’s eye as he watched Zuko and Sokka, one that reminded him of sneaking around the ferry and running down the streets of Ba Sing Se, and Zuko knew he’d realized they were together. He didn’t say anything though, just smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that. And you too, Sokka. I think I owe you a few apologies.”

Sokka snorted, though Zuko recognized it as one of begrudging amusement rather than actual anger. “Yeah, whatever man.”

Jet nodded and turned away, apparently satisfied with that, and Zuko tugged on Sokka’s hand to lead him up the stairs.

“So…” Sokka said nonchalantly when they had shut the door to the apartment. “Jet. Your ex. He’s downstairs.”

“Yeah…” he hummed, setting down his bag and turning to grab Sokka’s. “That was not at all what I was expecting, gotta be honest.”

“How do you feel about it?” There was something odd to his tone, something curious but also apprehensive, as if he didn’t really want to know.

He shrugged, stepping into Sokka’s space to pull him into a hug- although Sokka would never say it, he knew his boyfriend. After what happened with the village during the war and then later seeing him die- so they thought- that Jet’s presence had to have shaken him. He wondered if that was why his tone of voice was so odd.

“I don’t know yet. But he seems… He seems alright. Happier than he ever was when we had our thing, at least. And I think maybe… Maybe I’d like to try to be friends with him.”

Sokka hugged him back tightly, nodding thoughtfully. When he spoke, it was careful and deliberate. “If you ever decide you want to date him again, I need you to just tell me, okay?”

He pulled back, staring at him in confusion. “Sokka, what?”

“I mean it! I want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me. So… If you ever decide you’re into him-“

“For spirits sake,” he rolled his eyes lightly, realizing what was up with his tone of voice- he was nervous that now Jet was back, Zuko wouldn’t want to be with him anymore. “Sokka, that’s not going to happen. I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of time. I already know that you’re it for me, love. Plus,” he dropped his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “when I kiss you it doesn’t taste like wheat.”

Sokka laughed, shoulders relaxing. “I love you. And you’re it me, too. I’m sorry for being weird about him, it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. Seeing him and remembering you had a thing and just... I got jealous, I guess.”

“It’s okay, love, I understand,” he said as he smoothed his palm over Sokka’s cheek, before kissing him softly. “Now, come on. I’m sure Uncle is dying to make us some tea.”

[mrvltwimagines]

Thinking Thin

SPENCER REID X READER

SUMMARY: You knew you couldn’t hide your habits forever, you just hoped you could’ve hid them a bit longer.

WARNINGS: Eating Disorders, Low Self-Esteem, Self Degradation 

WORD COUNT: 4k

I knew that what I was thinking was just my mental illness talking. While looking at my body in the mirror, I knew that the words I was thinking about what I saw were words only I thought about myself, but it didn’t stop me from thinking them and believing them.

Pulling my t-shirt up a little higher, I felt a sense of dread come over myself when I take in my overall form. My stomach still hung a bit, and from a side view even tight pants couldn’t stop the protruding shape of it. I wanted to cry. I wanted to physically cut the fat off of myself. How humiliating it felt to be fat when I worked in the field that I do, surrounded by beautiful people. How did the team not look at me and doubt my work? How did they feel so comfortable trusting me with their life when I don’t even have my own put together? I sighed as I pulled my shirt back down and tucked it back into my slacks. After throwing a cardigan on to help me cover up a bit more, I was out the door and on my way to work.

The second I walked out of the elevator and towards the bullpen, I could feel my anxiety rising. I had joined the BAU team close to a year ago. I was close with them all, comfortable on an emotional level with each of them, but when it came to my insecurities and every day struggles to just stay alive or even just eat a meal, they were oblivious. So when I was having a bad day like today, my anxiety sat a little higher on my scale and I could only hope that I could keep it low key.

“Good morning, y/n,” JJ sweetly greeted me as I set my bag down. She was sitting on Reid’s desk, him in his chair and Derek standing next to them. I blushed at the attention I got as they followed JJ’s eye-line, and offered back a similar greeting before taking a seat and letting out a sigh.

“Rough morning, princess?” Derek chuckled. I wanted to say yes, but I knew the question was generic and made more for the purpose of humor.

“Just feel like I’m always tired nowadays. As much as I hate to say it, it’s like I need cases to keep me alert and busy,” I offered back. It wasn’t a lie, I was tired. It might have to do with the little food intake, or the restless sleep, but what they don’t know doesn’t hurt. I did feel more alert when working a case, but that’s to be understood since every case is dealing with murderers. If I wasn’t alert, it’d be a bit questionable.

“Well you are in luck then, missy. Hotch wants us all in the conference room, we have a new case,” Garcia chimed in, speed walking past the four of us and towards the conference room. I watched the others stand up and begin to follow her, but the second I stood up I felt the dizziness set in and stopped myself from moving for a second, needing the support of my desk to not topple over. The dizziness subsided and I cleared my eyesight before standing up straight and trying to blow off what just happened. I looked around to see if anyone caught that, my heartbeat picking up a bit when I made direct eye contact with Spencer right before he disappeared into the conference room. The panicked feeling in my chest grew as I walked towards the room. I could only hope he either saw the end of what just happened, or that he was just curiously looking around and looked at me the same time I looked at him. I didn’t have much time to think before entering the room where everyone was already seated, quickly making my way to my own seat in between Emily and Derek.

“Alright team, last night in Washington, a third hiker was found with a limb missing,” Garcia started, flashing pictures of the newest and previous other victims with different body parts missing from each of them. Beginning to brainstorm with the team, my thought process was somewhere else. I really tried to stay with them, and to throw in my own insights, but it was hard when trying to avoid eye contact with Spencer when I could feel his gaze on me a lot of the time. What was he thinking? 

Soon enough Hotch announced that we’ll be flying out in thirty minutes, and everyone started to separate to go grab their to-go bags and finish up any last minute tasks. As I walked out of the conference room, I jumped a bit at Reid standing up straight and pushing off of the railing right outside the door.

“Jesus Spence, are you trying to kill me?” I chuckled, throwing a hand over my heart to be dramatic. My heart was actually beating fast, only continuing its pace once I made direct eye contact with him. He offered a shy smile, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry, I truly didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled, “I just wanted to check in with you, see if you were feeling alright?”

“Oh yeah, like I said earlier, just a bit tired.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of passing out right before we went into the conference room. Are you sure you’re alright? Are you feeling sick?” He pushed on. My cheeks went red knowing he had witnessed my dizziness spell earlier. My mind whirled with all my potential answers, but I just couldn’t think of a good one.

“Oh no, I’m not sick. I’m fine, I promise,” I tried to sound confident in my answer, waving him off while beginning to walk by him. I jumped a bit at the feeling of his hand gently wrapping around my forearm, stopping me from walking away.

“I’ve noticed you have moments like what I saw earlier a lot recently. You know you can talk to me about anything, what’s going on?” My eyes widened a bit at how observant he’s been. Of course he wouldn’t forget what he’s seen considering his ability to memorize literally everything, but I didn’t expect him to notice me as much as he has.

“I-“ my mouth clamped shut at the sound of Hotch calling everyone to start to head out. I took the distraction to pull my arm away from Spencer and speed walk to my desk, grabbing my bag and following the others to the elevator. I begged myself not to turn around and look at Spencer, but it was inevitable when hopping into the elevator and facing the doors to see him joining the rest of us. He wasn’t looking at me, and I let out a deep breath. I knew the conversation wasn’t over. I knew he was not making a scene for the sake of my privacy, which I’m thankful for, but I just never wanted this conversation to pick back up.

* * *

The second we got to Washington and split up, any previous thoughts were thrown to the curb and our attention was fully on the case. Hotch, Reid and I made our way into the police station, and the chief of police was quick to fill us in on everything he knew about the case. Thanking him, we were quick to be left on our own to try and figure things out.

The day went by quickly, everyone joining back at the station around 8pm with more and more information, getting us closer to figuring out the unsub. Spencer’s been watching me a bit, and I could tell he had something to say every time I declined wanting anything to eat and instead settling with drinking more coffee. To settle his mind a bit, I made sure to eat a small vending machine granola bar within his eyesight hoping he would be satisfied seeing me eat something. Before we knew it, it was 11pm and we were all exhausted, ready to head to the hotel for the night and pick back up in the morning.

“Alright, we have four rooms. Who wants to board with who?” Hotch asks as we’re packing up our things. This happens every time, and most of the time Spencer and I would share a room, but sometimes Derek and him would go with each other and I’d get a room by myself considering Rossi and Hotch usually go in one and JJ and Emily would share another.

“I’ll board with y/n,” Spencer called out quickly. Everyone else figured their situation after that, but my mind was racing and my stomach was sinking.

I knew there would be a day where hiding my habits would become a bit harder, I just didn’t want to believe that today might be the day that they may become exposed to someone else. I haven’t lost nearly enough weight for the team to notice, and I’ve been doing extremely well at keeping this personal matter at bay. I’ve never had to talk about any of this with everyone, so it’s a dreadful thought that in just under ten minutes there’s the potential that i’m going to have to try an figure out how to hide what’s going on to the extreme or end up telling Spencer what’s truly going on.

The thought of him knowing sent a buzz throughout my body. My mind told me it’s pathetic that I restrict so heavily, and to still be as fat as I am. Would he even believe me if I told him I have an eating disorder while looking like I do? Most days I want to laugh at myself for having an eating disorder and still being so heavy, and I know that Spencer is nowhere near as cruel as my own mind, but what if he doesn’t take it seriously? Would that hurt more than the constant nagging in my brain and pain throughout my body?

The car came to a stop and we all began to go our separate ways. Spencer grabbed our key from Hotch, and I slowly followed behind his tensed form. He didn’t say anything to me the entire elevator ride up. I could feel him side eyeing me and my cheeks burned red. 

I was expecting him to say something the second we got into our room, but he didn’t. Instead he simply announced that he was going to shower, and left me alone in the room. A sigh of relief left my lips before my mind went straight to overthinking. What if he just genuinely doesn’t care and he was simply “checking” on me earlier to at least acknowledge what he saw? What if he’s simply going to ignore it? Isn’t that what I want? Why do I feel so upset that he’s not asking me more questions, when i’ve been pushing so hard for him not to?

My mind felt like mush. I didn’t struggle like this everyday. Most days went on like normal. I’d wake up, drink coffee, head to work and just immerse myself into whatever project is going on so I didn’t have to think about food. Most days I’d eat at least one meal, two if I got a considerate amount of exercise in. I won’t deny that i’ve lost weight, but it just wasn’t enough, and that was proven by the fact that no one else seemed to notice either. No one on the team ever judged me for my weight, and I know they all loved me for who I am and not what I look like, but it’s hard not to compare myself when on the same team as women that look like JJ and Emily. They were skinny and pretty, men loved to stare at them, while I was always overlooked and ignored. I thought maybe, just maybe, if I lost some weight and tried a little harder, I might feel a bit more loved. And that’s where I felt conflicted. What I’m doing is unhealthy. I know that much, but I couldn’t just stop. It’s become an addiction of mine to really push myself and see how low of a calorie intake I can have each day while still feeling normal. It’s addicting to have control over this when everything else in my life feels so out of reach. 

“y/n?” my head snapped towards the bathroom door, seeing Spencer leaning against the frame. I didn’t realize I had sat down on the end of one of the beds, or that I had just been staring at the wall the entire time. His hair was wet, and he was dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. He looked so beautiful, too beautiful to want to be around someone like me. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. I’d be stupid to assume that he can’t read me like a book, but I knew that saying anything along the lines of “nothing” wouldn’t be a suitable answer for him. 

“I’m just tired.”

“Don’t give me that again, y/n,” he sighed frustratingly and I could feel my heart wrench. Was I annoying him? 

“You’ve changed in the past few months. I never see you eat, you’re experiencing dizzy spells, and don’t think I don’t notice how you either avoid your reflection in any reflecting surface or you simply grimace at what you’re seeing. Tell me what’s going on, and don’t lie to me.” 

I shook my head, willing myself to stop the tears that were forming and so badly wanted to stream down my face. I quickly turned my head to the opposite side of the room from him, feeling as if I might implode if I made eye contact with him.

“I’m just tired, Spence. Can we please just leave it at that?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound so weak, I wanted to sound confident as to not add to his suspicions, but I messed that up too. 

“I’m not going to leave it at that. Do you think i’m stupid, y/n?” this time I couldn’t help but look at him. His voice carried anger and frustration, and it made a ball of guilt and shame expand in my chest. He held eye contact with me before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Of course I don’t think your stu-”

“You must if you don’t think i’ve caught on to what you’re doing to yourself. You’ve lost a good amount of weight within the past few months, you’re not eating, you keep getting dizzy, your moods are constantly changing, and again - I see the way you look at yourself. Now are you going to talk to me or am I just stuck here keeping these assumptions to myself and letting you hurt yourself?”

My eyes widened at hearing all the things he’s noticed. I was definitely the stupid one for assuming he wouldn’t notice. He was staring me down. I tried to hold eye contact but couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I spit out. I don’t know what exactly I was apologizing for, but I know I felt guilty. I felt defeated and sad that while I was hurting myself, I was also making Spencer experience it along side with me unknowingly. 

“I don’t want you to apologize to me!” His exclamation was the final straw to get the tears running down my face. Could I possibly make this any worse? He clearly knows what going on, and I’m only making him more frustrated the longer I continue to not talk about it, but it was still so embarrassing. I didn’t want to talk out loud about this issue, almost like I felt I didn’t deserve to. 

“I want you to tell me you have an eating disorder. I want you to confide in me like I do with you all the time for my problems! I want to hear whats going on in your big, stubborn brain to make you think what you’re doing to yourself is okay!” he approached continued while approaching me. I still sat on the edge of the bed, and he stood right in front of me. I couldn’t help the slight jump at the feeling of his hands gently caressing each side of my face, tilting my head up, forcing me to make eye contact with him.

“I hate how I look,” I softly spoke through tears, “I’m surrounded by beautiful people and I can’t help the embarrassment that floods through me on the daily because I will never be worthy of anyones time. I have rolls and a stomach that hangs over, and I can’t wear shorts or skirts without my thighs chafing and sometimes even my jeans grow holes because they can’t take the tension of having so much fat rub together,” I could feel my regret bubble up with every word I was saying, knowing that whether it be tonight or tomorrow or the day after that, I will regret having talked about any of this out loud, but I can’t stop myself now. It’s been bubbling up in my system for too long.

“I can’t imagine being in a relationship with anyone looking the way I do. I can’t imagine anyone would find me attractive, let alone sexy. I can’t look at myself in the mirror, especially naked, how could I expect anyone else to want to? So i’m trying to lose weight. It might not be the best way, but it’s working. It’s working and it might have some negative side affects, but i need it to work, Spence. I can’t keep looking like this,” now I was frustrated crying. So frustrated that I look the way I do. Frustrated that i’ve never been skinny in my entire life, and that even as a kid I was ridiculed for my weight. Frustrated that what i’m saying won’t make sense to a lot of people, but for me it’s my entire existence. My days revolve around this happening to me, and to others they still just see a fat person. 

Spencers grip tightened a bit when I tried to pull away. His thumbs had been slowly helping wipe away the tears that didn’t seem to want to stop. For someone who claims so much that they didn’t want anyone to find out, I sure did feel all too relieved that the secret was out. I didn’t know what I wanted out of this, but by the look on Spencers’ face, at least I knew I have someone that loves and cares for me even while dealing with such a difficult thing. 

Without saying anything, he pulls me into his chest. My tears were beginning to subside, but the ache in my chest was still persistent.

“I hate to see you treating yourself like this,” he gently started, each word creating a small vibration on my cheek from the rumbling of his chest as he spoke, “You are so strong. You’ve been dealing with this without talking to anyone? How- how you even began to form these opinions and see yourself like this is a mystery to me, but y/n, you are so so beautiful. I don’t know how else to say that. You are so bright and warm, and you help bring everyone to a better place just by being present. It fucking kills me to hear you say these things about yourself, but I get me just calling you beautiful isn’t going to magically fix things.” I could tell he was thinking as he paused after that last second, “I want to help you. I miss your smiles, i miss going out to grab food with you as a small escape from cases. I miss joking around with you, and not constantly being afraid of watching you to make sure you don’t pass out. I know there’s a certain control factor in what you’re doing, but i want to help you get control on things in a healthier way. I don’t know what else to say other than i want to help you. I don’t want to watch you hurt anymore.” 

Silence fell over the room after that. My thoughts were all over the place, and I know his were too. He slowly pulled away from me, bringing his hands back up to my face, forcing me to make eye contact with him again.

“I like the control. I can’t let myself go back to before if i still look like this,” I whispered out. 

“I can’t let you continue this, y/n. I can’t sit around knowing you’ve gone hours without eating and that you’re constantly having inner turmoil telling you you’re worth so little. You’re so important. No matter what you look like, you are and always will be so important. You’re beautiful, and smart, and you are just... so important,” he responded, “you don’t deserve all the bad you’re putting yourself through. There’s so many other things that you can gain control over, but hurting yourself like this should not be one of them. I don’t know what or how to help you, that’s what i need you to tell me. What can i do for you? What do you need from me? because you’d be stupid to think that tomorrow once we wake up and get back to working the case that i’m just going to forget all of this. This will be on my mind until you get your life back.”

I couldn’t stop myself from crying again. A warmth spread throughout my body, hearing him being so supportive and the furthest from annoyed or frustrated like i thought anyone would’ve been was soothing my heart and mind. There’s clearly no coming back from this. Spencer knew my darkest secret and he’s here telling me he wants to help. This is my chance to help myself, and i’d be more than stupid not to do it.

“I just need support. I need help. I still so badly want to lose weight, but i need help working through my disordered eating mindset and i don’t know if i can do that on my own. I just... need help,” I couldn’t think of what else i could say, but i could tell by the slow nodding and the small smile that was forming on his face that he knew what i was implying. 

“I’m so proud of you, just know that. I’m proud that you talked to me and let me know what’s going on your mind. I���m all yours, y/n. I’ll always be by your side and willing to help, you just have to let me.”

I nodded to which he slowly bent down a bit and kissed my forehead. I was beyond relieved that the conversation had died down. I was relieved that someone else knew what was going on in my mind and that i wasn’t alone anymore.

“Now go get your pajamas on. We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and I don’t want you to be too sleep deprived.” he smiled. 

Even though there were two beds, it was figured by the both of us that only one was going to be used. Once I got out of the bathroom dressed in my pajamas, Spencer was quick to pull the blankets back next to where he was laying and indicate for me to hop in next to him. I settled down, his arms gently pulling me closer to him, and i rested my head on his chest.

“Thank you Spence, for everything. I don’t know what i would do without you,” I admitted after he turned out the lights and we were both settled and about to fall asleep.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. I lifted my body enough to look at him to ensure he was meaning it the way i thought he was, and the look on his face solidified that it was.

“I love you more, Spence.” 

[loversamongus]

Lovers Among Us - atla smau

masterlist / part 17 / part 18 / part 19

a/n: Zuko and Y/n’s conversation under the cut!

With both crutches under your arms, you made your way to the door and opened it. Sure enough, Zuko was standing there just as he said. You caught a quick glimpse of him leaning against the hallway wall with his arms folded, but he immediately straightened up when his eyes met yours. You felt your stomach drop a little and you had the sudden inclination to worm your way back inside the room where your friends sat still watching the movie. Surely, a man with razor hands and a decaying face who kills you in your nightmares is less frightening than this leap you’re about to take. Zuko must have felt your apprehension though because he held the door wide to help you through it and rested his hand on your shoulder to guide you across the threshold.

“You know, once I get a boot instead of these crutches, this will be a lot easier,” you said, more of an attempt to calm the hurricane of butterflies boarding up in your gut. “I could probably kick Sokka pretty hard with the boot, now that I think about it.”

Zuko didn’t respond; he only smiled. You would not have thought much about such a small smile, but recently everything about Zuko seemed to become a permanent fixture in your mind.

For the first time, you noticed just how small Zuko’s smiles actually were. So small, in fact, that if someone were not looking close enough, they may just assume his face was resting in his typical trademark scowl. How wrong they’d be though, you thought. They’d just be searching for his smiles in the wrong place. His real smile was in his eyes. There was a glow and warmth in his eyes. It was both inviting and comforting like a steady fire on a cold winter day. Zuko quirked an eyebrow, which you noticed immediately as you had just then registered that you had been staring at him through that entire internal monologue. Suddenly the carpeted hallway became very interesting. And the heat on your cheeks? Definitely from the temperature in the hallway. Or the strain of crutching around. Yep. That’s it completely.

You were quiet the rest of the walk to the car. You were quiet for the car ride to the Jasmine Dragon. While you said nothing, your decided to be quite the chatterbox. In addition to noticing and now appreciating all of Zuko’s little quirks, you also began to reflect on memories of your friendship with Zuko. You remembered when you first became friends with him and almost pulling an all nighter just texting each other. You remembered going to the farmer’s market with the gang, and splitting up to cover more group. Zuko stayed with you and carried all the fresh produce you picked out. For months the two of you kept up an inside joke about the man at the cabbage stand. You remembered how much you missed him when he went home to the Fire Nation one summer. You remembered the instant joy you felt when he came back early and being stricken with concern when he said he won’t be going back home for awhile. You remembered when Iroh was sick and had to be hospitalized for some time and Zuko called you at 3 in the morning just so completely lost. You remembered how you did the same thing when your grandmother was died. He rushed over to your room immediately and just hugged you until you felt something again. And you did feel something back then. But what, you didn’t know. So you pushed it aside and carried on.

The car door opened, jolting you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Zuko offering his hand. “We’re here,” he said, and you took his hand which guided you out of the car. He had already taken your crutches out from the backseat and handed them to you.

Silently, you thanked the heavens for giving you a best friend who has his own set of keys to his uncle’s tea shop. It was late and the Jasmine Dragon had closed hours ago. While you still wished Freddy Krueger would just come and kill you now, you were glad that you and Zuko would at least have some privacy. He gestured for you to take a table while he flipped on a few lights and shuffled to the back to brew up some tea. Of course, he returned after some agonizing, nervous foot-tapping moments later with your favorite blend.

“So,” he said.

“So,” you echoed.

“I’m sorry for walking out earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

It was quiet for a moment and you desperately sought to find something interesting to fixate on other than Zuko thrumming his fingers on the table. The tea. The tea is nice. Good, although Zuko definitely added too much honey. You smiled though, knowing that despite his subpar tea making skills, he always remembers what you like. You could have been happy just sitting there, but Zuko broke the silence.

“What are we doing?”

“Well, I’m trying to stomach this overly sweetened tea. What are you doing?”

“Y/N…” This time Zuko’s eye did not smile at your attempt for lightheartedness. Try as you might, this was going to be a serious conversation.

“I don’t know, Zuko.”

“You have to know something,” he scoffed. Looking up, you caught him rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair so that he could cross his arms again.

“Don’t you scoff at me. You got us into this mess.”

“Me?” he asked incredulously. You could practically hear the yell he was biting back. An opening. He was frustrated. You could convince him that this wouldn’t work. That you’re better off as friends because your friendship has already survived fights and your stupidity. But anything more? What kind of stress could that put on the both of you? What if it created cracks in the foundation?

“Yes, you. If you hadn’t walked out and caused a scene, we’d be enjoying a movie night or killing Sokka again.”

“I just apologized for walking out!”

“And I said you have nothing to apologize for!”

“YOU JUST SAID I CAUSED A SCENE!” His voice rose and his hands fisted through his hair. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he tried again. This time his voice was much softer, gentler.

“Why are you pushing me away?”

A worthy counterattack. You could feel his tugging on your heart strings. But you are a fortress, you will not crumble. This is for the best of your friendship, you reminded yourself.

But then he looked up and you looked away quickly. He moved his head to try to recapture your attention.

“Y/N,” your name on his lips was almost a whisper, a prayer really. You hesitantly looked back at him. “Ask me when.”

“When what?”

“When I knew that I love you.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline and your jaw slackened in shock. Immediately, that hurricane of butterflies roared again. In your stomach. In your heart. In your throat. Can a fortress withstand an army of thousands of butterflies?

“When?” Your voice was faint, but you heard the simple question fall from your lips.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“Zuko!” you groaned and facepalmed. “Why would you have me ask you that then?!”

“Because it wasn’t just one moment,” his voice had not changed from that soft tone. “There were so many moments that made me realize I love you.”

You could only gulp down a couple butterflies before he continued in a passion of communication.

“The first time I heard you laugh. When I see you hug my uncle. When you cried snot on my shoulder after watching Coco. I can’t narrow it down to one moment. All I know is when I’m with you, since I’ve met you, I’ve been genuinely happy. Hell, I look forward to just sitting next to you in class—“

“Why?” you interrupted.

“Why do I like sitting next to you in class?”

“No. Why do you love me?” Your voice was so quiet that a pin dropping to the floor would make more noise.

“I don’t think I could pick one reason either.”

“Try. Please.”

He paused for a moment to think, to choose the right words. All through his thinking, his eyes never left yours.

“You know me,” he said finally. “You listen to me and… you care about what I have to say. You know what will make me smile or what to say when I’m upset, even if I don’t want to talk. You know what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. I love the way you lo—“ he caught himself and looked down at the table. “I love the way you care about me.”

Silence invaded the Jasmine Dragon again. It settled for a while between the two of you and you digested Zuko’s words. He said you know him but you have absolutely no idea what to say next.

“Okay,” Zuko the silence breaker spoke again. “I did all my talking. It’s your turn now.”

“My turn?” It was your turn to ask incredulously.

“Yes, your turn.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” Zuko’s words may have collapsed an area of the fortress but you began rebuilding brick by brick.

“Bullshit,” he almost laughed, but there was no mirth in his voice. “You wouldn’t have come to the door if you didn’t have anything to say.”

“Zuko, I--” you began, only to get cut off again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said seriously. “Actually, I still have my fifth rule to use. Rule #5 is Y/n has to be honest with me.”

“Really?” you deadpanned. “Of all the possibilities, that’s what you come up with?”

“If it gets us to have this conversation, then yes.”

It was quiet again. Avoiding his gaze again, you look down at the table. Now you were most definitely pushed up against your last wall. A white flag would have to be raised. You were only tried to think up the words for your declaration of love surrender.

“Zuko, I--” you tried again. “I’m afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No,” you had to laugh. “No, of course not. I’m afraid of losing you.” Your honesty suddenly gave you a second wind, quiet and shaken voice be gone. Now you were animated in your best attempt to express yourself. “What if, what if we don’t work out?” you pleaded for him to understand. “What if it doesn’t work and you stop loving me and we start to hate each other and then we don’t want to even be in the same room as each other and then our friends will have to take sides and then the whole group falls apart?”

Zuko took a moment to take in your plea. You could tell her was considering what would be the best response. “Do you think that would happen if Sokka and Suki break up?”

“I already told Suki I’m taking her side no matter what so....”

You both laughed, and seeing Zuko smile again relieved some of your nervousness. It was so easy to talk to him. So easy to be honest with him. 

“I guess it depends then,” Zuko started up the conversation again. “If you maybe... felt the same way about me.” A small smile formed on his lips again but this time there was hesitancy in his eyes. You felt the urge to start rebuilding the fortress again but you promised to follow Zuko’s fifth rule of honesty. There was no turning back.

“I do,” you replied surely and you made it a point to make eye contact with him. You noticed the hesitancy slip away and the warmth and glow of his eyes returned. 

“Then you’re not going to lose me. If it doesn’t work, then fine. I’m your best friend first and foremost and you are mine. But I love you. And I want to see where that takes us.”

It wasn’t the first time he said he loved you during this conversation but for the first time, you felt complete ease overwhelm you. As if this was exactly where you were meant to be. With the person you were meant to be with. Fear and insecurity had washed away.

“Okay,” you smiled. “I love you, too.”

a/n: lol more to come, but back to screenshots for part 19 :) hope you enjoyed!

taglist (open, just send me an ask!):

@astroninaaa @danny-devitowo @kangaroobunny @softt-shoto @theblueslytherin @aphrodites-perfume @duh-dobrik @hotgirlazula @royahllty @strayadotcom @someoneovertherainboww @goddessathenaofwar @grim-fantasia @oof-imsorry @fiantomartell @simpinforsukka @lozzybowe @bombardia @xbarrjallenx @moon-spirit-yue @kneecoal29 @akiris @ray-ofmoonlight @xxoperatexx @eyelash-curler @wh0re4zuko @rainyy-nights @avatarkorraswife @prplmps @stfukie @spiritvines @expelliamus @protect-remus @emeraldpotato @adorablepandasuniverse @missmorosis @mpolarisblack @strangeinternetwasteland @appa-gaangnam-style @paige-j13 @anywhore-life-is-a-mess @the-paintedlady @shortmexicangirl @sadnessrehab

[amethystpath-writes]

I loved your recent drabble Dragged by the Ankle! Do we maybe get to see some of Villain's training in the woods? ~tears-and-lillies

Aw shucks! Thank you; glad you liked it! It was a little less training and a little more surviving ;) Very long, but I think it's appropriate to be so. Slight gore warning: animal attack, can see the bones, mention of blood, survival (in the woods) situation- whump of minors

Continuation of this

******

"I'm thirstyyyyyy," one boy complained as the group continued walking.

Villain wondered how long it'd been since they'd been outcasted. He recalled the way Hero's face changed; from worried and scared to...to stone cold, emotionless. He didn't think he'd ever forget that face, the face of indifference, as if Hero didn't even care about him anymore.

How could that happen? How could they have been so close, been so happy being brothers, all for Hero to just...abandon him? Walk him out in the woods with a group of other kids and say 'Fend for yourselves. And if you live through two weeks, you can come back'?

Villain couldn't understand why his older brother suddenly didn't care at all. He knew Villain wouldn't survive out here in the woods like this. He'd been housebound for several months, taking care of their deteriorating mother. Any muscle Villain once had was nearly gone. He wasn't skin and bones per say, but he couldn't wrestle a bear, that was for sure.

"Quiet, now. I'm going to teach you all something." It was an older boy, maybe sixteen, whereas Villain was fourteen. This boy had been a captain's son. Guess he wasn't living up to the Captain's standards. "Sh, sh. Listen, alright?"

The boys went silent. Most of them were under the age of ten. It was ridiculously unfair they had been sent to the woods. It was unfair that any of them had been, but who could send a child to fend for itself in the woods, somewhere far away from civilization, far away from help? 'Strength in numbers' Hero had said before setting them off. 'Stick together and more of you will live as opposed to if you split up'. A true soldier's lesson. These boys weren't soldiers though. They were just boys.

"You hear that flow of water?" A collective nod of heads. Villain stood nearby, but also a little separated from the group, leaning against a tree. "Which direction do you think we need to walk to find the water?"

One kid began humming in question, but the eldest put a finger to his lips, whispering again, "Listen. You have to be quiet in order to listen."

Another boy raised a hand.

"Not yet. Let the others think of an answer themselves." The oldest hummed himself, and the boy from before nearly corrected him before the former finished, "When everyone has thought of an answer, put a thumb up, alright? Then we'll all point where we think."

***

"You're really good with them," Villain said. "The younger boys."

The sixteen year old shrugged. "Thanks, I guess." He gave a small laugh. "I'm not used to interacting with them in that way. I guess it's just the way I always wanted to be treated."

"In any way, you're good at it."

He nodded, muttered another small 'Thanks'.

***

They were on their fourth day. Villain considered the sixteen year old a friend. He was closer to his own age than anyone else. He was kind and he was a good leader. Villain aspired to be him in some fashion. Not entirely, because Villain liked his own identity, but he wished he was stronger, more capable like Friend.

It was night now, and Villain couldn't sleep as everyone else did. He kept thinking about Hero, about how much he missed his older brother.

They had always been so close. When Father returned home, Hero would always take Villain out to the cliff edge. There, they would forget about the day's stress and aggravations. Sometimes they'd throw what little sand they could find at one another. Villain smiled at this memory, smiled at remembering the way they laughed together and the way, when he began to tire, Hero would lie down and Villain used him as a pillow. They'd watch the sun set over the waters then walk home.

There was a groan, and Villain looked over at the group of boys with raised brows. Friend sat up and Villain nodded, having figured out who it was.

Friend stretched before asking, "Have you slept at all?"

Villain shook his head. "Restless mind, restless body."

"You haven't been sleeping very much. It's going to catch up with you." He stood, stretched, and walked over to Villain before slinking beside him against the trunk of a tree. "What would help you sleep, huh?"

Villain shrugged at Friend. "Nothing that can actually happen."

"What is it?"

"I want my brother to be here with me."

Friend hummed. He did that a lot. "I could be your brother. Wouldn't be quite the same, I know, but if you think it would help..."

Villain huffed. "Don't force a relationship on my behalf. I'll get over it."

"You're angry," Friend observed aloud. "Your brother let them take you away, didn't they?"

Now Villain laughed. It was an ironic laugh, one that presented his anger further. Really, he didn't know he was angry until Friend said it. But it was true. He was angry with Hero, not just saddened by him. "My brother is the one who led us out here."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

***

Several more days passed and Villain was struggling. His thirst was quenched; the boys traveled upstream, always having water on hand as long as they could make a fire, and they could. The lands were dry, though not so dry as to start a forest fire. A general campfire was easy. It was the hunger, though, that dug at Villain.

There were seven boys in the group, including Villain and Friend, and it was only those two that were successful in capturing rabbits, squirrels, and fish, but it happened so seldom that Villain hadn't even had anything to eat. He gave it all to the younger children. Friend did the same, except he had one fish for himself, in the middle of the night once, to maintain his strength.

***

Another day. Another night.

The boys were walking, all of them a bit tired from the journey, but persevering nonetheless. They were going to settle in a bend of the river, a 'comfy spot' the younglings said. Villain knew it was because it reminded them of the hugs they missed from their mothers.

Friend held a hand up, shushing the group. There was a howl somewhere in the distance, but if they could hear it, it meant it was too close. They'd never had to fight a predator before, even after a full week.

"Wolves," Friend said. "They don't travel alone; they travel in packs, like us." Villain liked this comparison. They weren't boys, were they? They were all wolves, too. But which pack was stronger?

The boys scrambled about, crying with worry of death. Friend did his best to calm them down, but ultimately it was Villain who succeeded in doing so.

"You don't want to be wolves, do you?"

Some still crying, the majority shook their heads. Others just listened.

"Did you ever hear about these creatures called monkeys?" They nodded. "They don't live around here, but we can make them exist. You want to?" Again, they nodded. "Good," Villain smiled. "Good. Monkeys climb in trees, alright? So that's what we have to do."

One boy, the youngest, asked, "What noise do they make?" He was one of the few who hadn't been crying. He seemed to not understand what was going on around him. He played with a twig in his chubby hands.

"Noise? Oh no. They don't make any sounds. That's a myth."

The boy squinted, but accepted it.

More howls sounded. They were getting closer. Villain looked to Friend. He felt very terrified all of a sudden.

Friend said, "Up you go, in the trees." The boys began jumping for branches, but weren't able to reach. Before helping them, Friend said to Villain, "Genius thinking, brother." He clapped Villain on the back before helping the smallest up a tree first.

That hollowness Villain felt as his fear increased settled just the tiniest bit. He smiled at Friend. Not a forced relationship, after all. They were brothers and they would continue to be after this second week was over.

Villain moved to help some of the others as well. They'd nearly all gotten up, except for the middle child in the group of five younglings. And, of course, Villain and Friend were left as well.

Helping the last up, Villain heard a low rumble. At first he thought it came from his stomach, but then the rolling continued, and a quick snarl made itself heard. Slowly, he turned his head, and as he did so, his eyes stung. There, between the trees crouched a beast of grey and brown fur. Villain froze. He wasn't even sure that he was breathing. Could he breathe? Would it trigger a fight response in the wolf?

Friend, having already finished with his group of kids, tiptoed as slowly as he could manage to Villain. He whispered, and it made the pit in Villain's stomach double in size and despair, "Get him up there, slowly, quietly. No sudden movements, you hear me?"

Villain said nothing, but began to nerve strikingly push the child up through the air. The wolf howled and Villain's shoulders and arms tightened. He felt tears building up in his eyes before they slid down his cheeks. He didn't bother wiping them away, afraid- again- that the action would cause the wolf to attack. I don't want to die. Please don't let me die.

Another howl. The wolf was calling the rest of the pack, telling them that it found food. A shudder traveled through Villain and he flinched. I thought wolves stuck together at all times.

"Go up the tree, Villain. You're going to be okay. We'll get out of this."

Villain's watched the wolf's ear twitch as it heard. It began taking slow, cautious, and predatory steps closer to them. Every time Friend spoke, it would approach faster. Their voices were a taunt to the beast.

Nodding, Villain reached up, grasping a thick branch before pulling himself up, but he wasn't strong enough. His body jerked down as his arms gave. The wolf let out a startling bark, pounced forward a bit.

"Shit," Friend spat out, grabbing Villain under each arm. "Grab it," he said, panicked. "Grab the branch!" Villain did as he was instructed, and this time Friend helped push him up.

Several howls followed Villain as he climbed up. He spotted the boy he helped up as he tried looking for whatever wolves were approaching. He'd forgotten it wasn't just him and Friend who were facing death.

Villain looked down just as the first wolf lunged at Friend. "No!" Thankfully, Friend had rolled out of the way before the wolf's teeth could sink in.

"Come on! I'll pull you up! I'll pull you-" Friend's hands grasped one of Villain's while the other held the branch he jumped up to grab. Not in time, though. The wolf clenched its jaws on Friend's calf, yanking him with one vicious pull to the ground.

"Friend!" Villain could hear the grunts, the hollers, the snarls, and the rips. Villain couldn't watch. He couldn't watch. There was blood and- and no. No, that's not a bone. Friend screamed again and again, sometimes at the wolf, sometimes at Villain.

"Stay in-" Scream. Punch. Thrash. "Stay in the trees!"

Don't die. Don't die. Don't die, don't die,don't die-don'tdiedon'tdie. Please don't die. Villain couldn't handle both of his brothers disappearing from his life. And not like this. Not like this.

A massive wave of fury struck Villain in the next moment. If it weren't for Hero- he let out a holler of frustration. If it weren't for Hero, he wouldn't be in these woods. Friend wouldn't be in these woods. None of these kids would be in the woods, hiding in trees to avoid being eaten by wolves. Villain was willing to bet Hero had never seen a wolf before, much less fought one.

The screams stopped. Villain screamed, cried, punched the branch he sat on with both fists until they felt swollen and bruised. And then he fell asleep, exhausted, and not willing to think of the horror he just witnessed.

***

The boys slept in the trees. The wolves left. After Villain had fallen asleep, the other wolves arrived, scratching at the trees, whimpering that they couldn't reach the delectable bags of flesh and meat stowed away, hidden behind leaves.

When Villain woke, he saw two piles of clothing, each stained with blood, both containing hard and thin objects called bones. Two piles- so one of the children had fallen prey, too.

Villain threw up in the stream over and over, pouring himself out, tears and stomach acid alike. "I can't do this," he gasped. "I can't do this."

But he could. And he would. Because Hero needed to pay, and Villain would be the one to collect.

******

Part 3 here

[the-sunshine-dims]

amnesia rewrite! (chapter 3)

it took a bit but here's chapter 3!

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7

original fic

words: 3,457

ao3

contents and warnings: angst (past and present), hurt/comfort, amnesia,  mentally a child!janus, patton has too much guilt to be healthy, flower crowns, food mention,

________

Roman slowly approached the open inviting door of Patton's room, which considering the circumstances that he was there for, didn't seem that inviting. After a moment or so he knocked on the wall to warn Patton he was there.

And Patton, who had been on the floor possibly scrapbooking, definitely making a mess, turned around quickly at the noise before he smiled at him

“Hey Ro!” He greeted with a grin, waving roman over to him.

Roman offered him a small, slightly strained smile in return  “hey Padre,” he greeted in return before going “pat you might wanna sit down because something... kind of happened.”

Pattons happy smile shifted into a concerned one as he started talking again “okay I’m already sitting, but what happened?” 

Roman nervously rubbed his neck, while he had volunteered to go tell Patton the night earlier he had not accounted for how awkward it would be to tell people something he didn’t fully know about, actually he was pretty sure he would still feel awkward even if he knew every single detail. “okay, so, apparently Janus.. went into the imagination, and something happened, we- logan and me, think he got attacked or hit his head or something, and umm well logan kind of confirmed he has amnesia..” he chewed the inside of his lip nervously, a bad habit he had picked up from Virgil a long while back.

Patton opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to process that and trying to find the right words before simply going “is he okay?”

Roman nodded “yeah, well he’s the best he can be. When I left, him and Logan were competing on who could complete a rubix cube the fastest, I’m pretty sure Logan was even letting him win,” he smiled to himself, and Patton couldn't help the small smile at that mental image either “it's kind of adorable actually.” Roman trailed off, eventually he remembered that there’s still one, very important last thing he should tell Patton “okay also, specs said Janus is mentally a child of some verity, we still don’t know exactly how mentally old he is but we know he doesn’t remember king splitting and anything more recent than that.”

Patton made a sympathetic noise “poor thing…” he trailed off, it would be bad enough if Janus had to deal with amnesia but Janus in the mindset of a child.. children shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath of amnesia or loss (especially twice in the loss subject.) 

Roman nodded crestfallen as the image of Janus sobbing into his chest burned itself into his memory “yeah..” he agreed, Roman may have been kind of upset at Janus for the POF disaster but.. he didn’t deserve anything that happened in the last 24 hours.

After a bit it was clear Patton wasn’t going back to his scrapbooking so Roman sat down on the floor with him, doing what he and Logan did with Janus and just not leaving him alone after unleashing a bunch of stuff he had to process.

After another long stretch of silence Patton looked over to Roman “hey, ro.. do you think I’d be able check up on him?” He asked, he wanted Janus to know he cared enough to go and see him when something bad happened.

Roman hummed “probably, I mean it’s not really my decision but I’m sure he’d be happy to see you from what Logan told me, so yeah we can go see!” He told him before continuing “oh also if he wants to hang out or is just fine with hanging out you can go to bring him somewhere else if you want, because i’m pretty it'll be kinda boring otherwise.”

Patton smiled fondly, and with a nod he got up and helped Roman up with him, and after a moment of just standing there Roman realized Patton didn’t know where Janus even was because he accidentally excluded that information, even when it would make sense to share it, the closest thing he said to a location was that logan knew about Janus as well, and that was why he was awkwardly standing around so he just took Patton's hand in his own and pulled them into the hallway and headed to logan's room.

Once they had passed the kitchen Patton paused though, stopping them both dead in their tracks, before simply asking “have you guys eaten yet?” 

Roman laughed awkwardly and nervously rubbed his neck again, trying his best to avoid eye contact,

That was enough of an answer for Patton so he just sighed fondly before popping into the kitchen and beginning to cook food for everyone, once he was done he made sure to leave an extra two plates in the fridge, though it would be a wonder if Remus actually ended up eating his and didn’t just use it for an ‘art project.’

_____

Janus looked up from where he was sitting on the floor watching tv almost the very second the door opened, Expecting Roman since he disappeared a bit before, so the moment he did catch a glance he gave the smallest, happy little smile as he began waving, and received a wave from Roman in return,

Morality entering right behind Roman was a surprise though.

He offered another wave, because he liked Morality, He was nice, Morality once gave him one of his stuffies when Janus was sick, so he liked him.

After a moment Janus just settled back into his spot as Patton came over to him and handed him breakfast, Janus offered him a brief thankful smile to be polite because that's what Thomas's parents said to do before beginning to turn his attention back to the tv.

Patton was happy Janus seemed relatively content but he didn’t know how to ask to hang out with him, if he ever had a plan he had forgotten it the second he stepped into the room.

After a couple awkward moments he just took a breath and settled down before turning his attention to Janus and asking “hey would I be able to hang out with you for a little bit?” 

Janus turned to him and nodded, simply going “‘Kay” and continuing to do as he did prior, now just with the acknowledgment of Patton's presence, Patton couldn't help but smile as he settled fully onto the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce against the bedside, passively waiting for Janus to be done with his food and initiate a conversation, Patton knew sometimes there were days where people were less talkative so he didn’t wanna force him to talk if he wasn’t in the mood. 

After a while passed and everyone had eaten, Janus did end up speaking up, asking simply “how are you?” 

Patton smiled at him “I’m doing fine kiddo, how are you?” He asked in response, honestly he wasn’t the finest. He was nervous and still feeling guilty from everything that went down because of the wedding and the fact he had treated Janus so badly, hell he’d treated Remus badly too! He had been so mean to everyone.

Janus hummed in thought before simply going “‘m fine too,” which was only partially a lie, and he had a very tiring day the day before so he got to lie about how mentally drained he was, and hey he was fine for the most part, Roman and logic were being very nice and he had been able to just hang out watching tv while Logic worked and he liked doing that, it was some much needed calm,

Patton offered another smile as he tried thinking of what to say; after another awkward silence he decided To just warmly go “hey kiddo would you want to go explore? And if so do you have any specific places you wanna hang out at?”

Janus pinched his chin in a very exaggerated thinking pose that would make logan proud before just going “sure! and i don’t really mind anywhere really! Well- as long as there aren't horses there, they’re mean,” he told him, before continuing “they hate me and I hate them, it’s a mutually understood hatred.”

Patton didn’t have Time to unpack all of that so he just chuckled and nodded like he understood and didn’t have a million questions on why Janus hated every Horse in existence and just how they all hated him back- so instead of thinking about that he took a moment to think on where he should go with janus, not really knowing where janus would genuinely want to go, before remembering a certain interest Janus used to have that Patton distinctly remembered king showing off whenever he could, so after not much of a second thought he just smiled and asked “would you wanna hang out with me in Roman’s meadow? It’s really pretty there and hey we could even make flower crowns-“ 

The moment the words left his mouth Janus practically had stars in his eyes, he looked like a steven universe character as he excitedly gasped before nodding vigorously “yes please!” He chirped excitedly.

Patton once again smiled, and contained a soft chuckle at how happy Janus looked, he looked like when you tell a child ‘actually yeah why don't you pick out a candy’ when going to the store, he looked.. childish, and Patton thinks that’s good, if he’s in the mindset of younger Janus, Patton doesn’t think it would be good if Janus started acting like normal Janus right now.

After a bit of Janus just being excited it finally crossed his mind that the reason Patton’s not getting up to go is because he’s waiting for him to say he’s ready, so he bounces up and after a short confused look that’s quickly replaced with a smile Janus helps Patton up to the best of his ability and then it’s Janus’s turn to wait because he doesn’t know where anything is, he doesn't  even know how he got to Logan's room, all he remembers is crying a bit and then waking up under a soft blanket on Logan’s bed.

Luckily for Janus, Patton took no time to shoot a wave to Roman and Logan before going “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry I’ll keep him safe” and then presenting his hand for Janus and once their hands are linked Patton headed to the nearest imagination entrance.

_____

The moment Janus could see the archway with the absolutely beautiful meadow covered with all kinds of wildflowers and overgrown green grass just beyond it he ran out into it without a moment's hesitation.

Patton followed him with a smile playing on his lip, and a chuckle following in suit as Janus twirled himself around into a soft patch of grass and promptly fell face first into the blanketed earth, after a moment Janus just smiled hugely and began happily laughing as he turned over so he could face the sky. 

(And Patton tried his best to not think about how he had kind of outcasted this side, this side who with just the mention of flowers or flower crowns was almost bouncing with excitement, this side who viewed him as a friend, this side who really did want the best for Thomas. And instead he tried to focus on the fact he was trying to repair it, and the fact that Janus was practically elated as he began his best attempt at rolling around in the grass and flowers, which counted for something, at least it meant he chose a good place to hang out with Janus,) so he just smiled and sat down next to Janus, 

And after a moment he picked a small yellow flower and offered it to Janus, cuasing Janus to beam at him as he took it before he began picking others around him and weaving them into a crown with it.

And After a moment Patton just slowly went “I have to admit, I have no idea how to make flower crowns,”

Janus looked over at him with a reassuring smile before he replied “that’s okay, don’t worry! That just means I can teach you!” he said as he grabbed more flowers and started a new crown and while making sure Patton was paying attention, weaving them together slowly to see if that was all Patton needed to learn or if he needed actual instructions like he did when creativity was trying to teach him to crochet.

Patton tried his hand at it after he grabbed a handful of flowers and slowly tried to replicate what Janus did, and after a bit and some trial and error he was successful, Which caused both Janus and Patton to cheer because he Did it!

“You did it!! You did super super well too!” Janus congratulated him excitedly, and he decided he liked teaching, he felt super proud, he understood now why Logic liked it so much now (despite not really actually teaching.)

“Thanks!” Patton grinned, and after a minute they both started doing their own things, Patton trying to make another flower crown to get the gist of it down to memory, and Janus.. Doing something, he wasn't entirely sure what.

Though soon the peaceful happy mood shifted for Patton, it wasn't that anything really happened, actually it might've been because nothing happened, because it was quiet enough to allow Patton to begin thinking, and normally thinking was a good thing, but recently every time he began thinking all he could think about was how wrong he'd been and how much he'd failed- so the more time went on the more sorrowful he became and the more the small smile that had been left from the little mini celebration dwindled.

After awhile of the two just sitting in silence the thoughts got louder and louder, them all just echoing in his head until they got loud enough to voice themselves, much to the chagrin of Patton, who would prefer having a choice of whether his insecurities and regrets got out, and if they did get out he would prefer to tell them to someone who hasn't literally just been through a traumatic experience, “I’m sorry- I’m sorry I misjudged you and was mean- I’m so sorry I was so awful to you- I’m so so sorry” he practically word-vomited. the words coming out a mile a minute, and because of that he was able to make it become more mumbly a little after the second ‘sorry’, which was lucky for him as he wanted it to be as inaudible as possible so Janus didn't have to actually understand his little guilt-ridden ramble, which didn't work completely but he tried, because he didn’t want to let his guilt get in the way of hanging out with Janus, Janus quite honestly should not have to deal with that at the moment, he should get to have a happy fun day, since he was already dealing with so much, if he did even tell him he wanted to tell him after his memory returned.

Janus was silent for a couple moments, quite honestly he was so confused, he didn’t know what Patton meant and even if he did it was so abrupt it left Janus quite literally stunned, but after an uncomfortably silent minute or so he tried to defend Patton “I don’t know what your talking about.. but I’m sure you weren’t mean! And if you were you probably had a good reason for it, I know you! You wouldn’t be mean if you didn’t have a good reason!” He told him insistently. 

Patton.. really wished that were true, he had a good reason on paper but in reality not so much, he wanted to keep Thomas safe, and somehow his view of Janus had changed throughout the years to view him as a danger, despite him knowing Janus, well he didn’t know his name till recently but he knew Janus. but regardless of that somehow he started thinking Janus was evil, and then he had mistreated him, not hearing him out even when Janus was probably the expert on the situation. “dee.. I know you don’t remember it but I really was super super mean! and I misjudged you and I most definitely ended up hurting you and you didn’t deserve any of it! and I’m so sorry I’m just.. so so sor-“ Patton was cut off abruptly as Janus hugged him, 

“You probably had your reasons,” he said once again, much more insistent, and patton couldn't help but wonder, had Janus always seen the best in people? And when did he stop? “-and whatever they were I’ll probably forgive you for them! I mean I honestly don’t remember what you're talking about so it might be... a bit before I fully forgive you when I got all the memories and stuff back but-  no matter what,” he pulled out of the hug just to be able to look into Morality’s eyes, trying to look stern, which for once, didn't really work. “you deserve a second chance.” He told him firmly, and after another moment he continued “and I’m certain we’ll be friends! I promise I’ll stand by you when I’m all memory-y again, promise!” He grinned and plopped his now suddenly and magically finished flower crown onto Morality’s head.

Patton smiled sadly at him, “okay, and.. Thank you,” he said, leaving what he was thanking him for blank, and honestly he was still feeling extremely guilty because despite everything and Janus not really knowing what he meant he still comforted him to the best of his abilities, and really how could he think Janus was evil, how could he, roman and Logan dismiss him so easily? never inviting him to the table, and pretty much just ignoring his existence to Thomas. later when everything was normaller Patton needed to have a sit down discussion with Janus and Remus because he needed to make sure they were starting to be listened too, and that they knew they would be, however though currently he needed to focus on Janus, because Patton brought him here to have a good day and while he thinks since it's been maybe a bit more than a hour, and eventually it'll get boring, he still wants him to have a good day.

So he adjusted the flower crown to be more comfortable on his head before he slipped right into his happy façade which luckily Janus, who was trying to make a little cave out of the tall overgrown grass, didn't seem to question “so kiddo! After maybe a half hour more out here would you wanna go inside and watch a show or movie? I can make popcorn!” (-and now that Patton was paying attention did Janus look that young before?)

Janus perked up like a sunflower and nodded “mhmm! sure! What would you wanna watch?”

Patton Smiled “I don't really care, i'll be fine with whatever you wanna watch kiddo,”

Janus seemed to think about it before going “can we watch kiki’s delivery service..? Oh! And can we have skittles too?”

Patton smiled once again. “of course! When we get inside I’ll set it all up!” 

Janus’s eyes lit up brightly before he murmured an excited thank you and tried to hurry and begin distracting himself so he wouldn’t feel like he was waiting and time would pass quicker and a minute wouldn't feel like an hour also he needed to focus on making that last crown anyway since he had already made one for Logic and he needed to make one for Roman.

_____

A couple hours later Logan and Roman got curious as to where the two went and discovered Patton and Janus dead asleep, Janus pretty much curled up into a ball against Patton's side, Janus’s normally small form somehow slightly smaller, as Patton's arm snaked around his side almost protectively, with the Tv asleep from no use, Logan and Roman just shared a soft fond look before silently agreeing to not wake them and summoning a blanket for the two before leaving. Logan and Roman could see something had changed, they could see the tension eased from Patton's shoulders ever so slightly, not gone for sure but he was clearly content and that was breathing room, because while Patton had always left the door to his room open as an invitation to anyone and everyone that they could come in and that had persisted, Patton had still been coming out of his room less and less, and aside from that there was other things that just made it clear something was wrong, but Patton and Janus were content, right there, taking a nap, and for now that's all they needed to know. 

[awhitehead17]

Universal Signs

Chapter 18 / Previous Chapter 

A/N:  WARNINGS this chapter contains descriptions of torture, injuries and violence. It's not overly graphic but is more so than previous chapters. The descriptions are scattered throughout the chapter, especially at the start so please be aware!

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Every time the leather rope connects with his skin a gut-wrenching scream escapes past his lips. The pain it leaves behind sets his body on fire, making every muscle recoil in tension, it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe, it’s practically impossible to focus on anything else other than the stinging sensation blossoming across his back.

This has been happening for quite some time now. He has no idea for how long but he just wants it to be over. No matter how much he pleads for it to stop, it never does.

Everything hurts. He’s been in pain before, has endured so much in the past, but none of that compares to what he’s experiencing now. There’s a very brief moment in between each strike that gives him a chance to suck in a shaky breath, however it’s shorted lived because the rope collides with his skin seconds later, making him cry out again.

A very distant part of his brain is thankful that the worst of the pain is centred across his back and shoulders because then at least it wasn’t somewhere like his face. In spite of those thoughts, they do nothing to help ease anything that’s actually happening in that moment.

The rope strikes again causing a new level of pain to blossom. He could feel the rawness of his skin, he could feel how wetness drips down his back, causing the wounds to sting more than what they already were. Whether that wetness was sweat or blood, Tim has no idea.

There’s several long moments and Tim just waits for the next strike to occur. When it doesn’t happen he refuses to let himself relax. The last time he relaxed his muscles when there had been an irregular pause between the strikes Tim had foolishly thought his torture was over, he was certainly proven wrong because the moment Tim let his muscles relax the strikes started back up and were relentless.

Even with his pain addled brain, Tim wasn’t falling for the same thing twice. The moment drags on but nothing happens. Tim could hear his raspy breaths as he struggles to get oxygen back into his body, he could feel the way his muscles were trembling with exhaustion. Much to his displeasure there wasn’t a lot he could do about it except accept it.

The next touch on his skin didn’t come from the leather rope like he had been expecting but rather from who had been torturing him the entire time. A hand roughly grabs his chin and yanks his head up. Tim’s barely able to open his eyes, his vision is blurred and the bright lights make his head pound but somehow he makes out the figure in front of him to be Ra’s Al Ghul.

“Well Timothy, it looks like this session is being cut short much to my displeasure. It is fairly fascinating to hear what kinds of sounds you make. There is some urgent business that I need to take care of. We’ll continue this soon.”

With no more words Ra’s drops his face and moves away from Tim. It’s only when he disappears from his sight that Tim finally lets himself relax, well as much as he could considering how much agony his muscles are currently in.

He becomes alert and automatically clenches his abused muscles when he detects another presence nearby. They don’t touch him, which Tim is thankful for, though he soon changes his mind when he’s suddenly colliding with the ground. He’s knocked breathless as he lands on his stomach and whimpers when pain shoots through his body, making every nerve feel like it’s on fire.

It takes a moment but he works out that the unknown presence had cut him down from where he had been hanging from the ceiling. The rope is still wrapped around his wrists, with his fingers clenching it as if it’s a lifeline and he feels his legs being manhandled around. They must be unlocking the chains that had strapped down his ankles.

There's more movement behind him and Tim finds it difficult to focus on it. He presses his head into the floor, clenching his eyes shut as the pain pulses throughout his body, it’s very distracting and makes it hard to focus on his surroundings.

The next thing he becomes aware of is the wind being knocked out of him for a second time. Tim lands against something solid but hardly has the energy left in him to work out what happened. The best he could do is simply lie on the ground helplessly as he tries to find the energy within himself in order to do something.

After taking a few deep breaths he lifts his head up off the ground and groggily looks around. It takes a lot longer than it should have but he eventually recognises the room as the cell that he’s been  recently staying in. He’s on the floor in the middle of it, in god knows what condition.

Once he worked out his location, Tim drops his head back down and lets his mind drift. He doesn’t have the energy to do much else and the headache raging through his skull makes it difficult to focus on anything. His body feels like it’s made of lead, he probably wouldn’t be able to move a limb no matter how hard he tries.

Tim’s roused from his pitiful sleep as a sharp stinging sensation spreads across his back. He lets out a hiss and tries to jerk away from it. He doesn’t want more pain. What are they doing to him now? Haven’t they done enough?

A heavy weight settles across his shoulders which keeps him in place along with a voice snapping at him sharply. “Don’t move.”

Tim stops moving, only letting out a whimper in protest. He turns his head enough to see who it is and finds the female from before who has previously patched up his wounds after Ra’s previous torture sessions.

“Wha – what are you doing?” He asks openly wincing as he does so, his throat feels raw and dry. When was the last time he had something to drink?

“You know what they say about humans? That humans are a high maintenance species.” She says conversationally, though she clearly wasn’t expecting a response from him because she continues to talk. “You really are proving those sayings correct. You’re so weak and fragile. You have no special abilities, you get wounded easily, you have to rest and sleep so often, be fed and hydrated so your bodies don’t give out.”

Tim feels something cold be put on his back and he flinches at the touch and then hisses when it suddenly starts stinging again. He lifts his hand to try and smack her away from him but she simply grabs his arm and forces down to the ground.

“Stop it. It’s an agent that’ll help with the healing. Your wounds cover majority of your back, some of the slashes have split your skin and are bleeding. I had to clean your back first before applying this, it’ll help close the wounds quicker.”

While he understands the reason behind the stinging, it doesn’t mean he has to like it. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists as he bares it. At least, he reasons with himself, she isn’t making it any worse

“He fucking whipped me.” Tim mumbles into the ground. He’s still lying on the floor while she continues treating his back.

“You’re fortunate that’s all you got. Being whipped like that is in fact a mild punishment, especially from the Demon’s Head.”

Tim frowns, he wants to question on how it could be any worse but stops himself from doing so. He doesn’t think he wants to know the answer.

They fall silent and Tim goes back to assessing his body. The healing cream must already be working because while his body still feels like it’s made of lead and his head is still pounding, the stinging has now dulled down leaving behind only achiness.

His back and shoulders, the main source of the pain, had been abused by a whip. His wrists and ankles were sore from where they had been tightly restrained by ropes and chains. His face is bruised and swollen from where he had been roughed up before the whipping. Then there’s his chest which feels tight, his lungs having overworked during the torture to help Tim breathe through it.

An overall summary would be is that he feels like shit.

He realises that he’s starting to get cold now too. He’s lying on the floor practically naked except for a pair of boxers which covers his modesty. He had been stripped down just before getting restrained and hung up for the whipping. Of course whipping bare skin had more of an effect than whipping fabric.

“That’s all I can do for you for now. You’re lucky he’s even letting you be treated.” She says behind him, getting his attention.

Tim snorts. “He doesn’t want his pet to too damaged then.” He sighs and looks over his shoulders as much as he could. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

She stares at him for a moment and Tim can’t work out what she’s thinking through her unreadable expression. After a moment, she shakes her head and stands up. “I’ll grab you some new clothing, do not move around too much. I will not re-cover your wounds if you dislodge any of the bandages while I’m gone.”

She starts heading for the door but it’s then that Tim remembers something. “Hey, wait,” she turns around at his call, “what’s your name? You’ve treated me a few times and I don’t know what you’re called.”

She knocks on the cell’s door. “It’s Pru.” When the door opens up she slides out like she had never been there at all. The door slams shut and once again Tim is left alone in the silence of his cell.

While on his own Tim doesn’t do much. He shifts around carefully on the ground until he’s somewhat more comfortable. He did try sitting up at one point but the strain the position had put on his back had proved to be too much so Tim settled for staying in a horizontal position finding it the least painful.

Gradually the pain recedes from his body and Tim believes that’s the healing cream’s doing. That or he just become numb to everything. It reminds him of the time when the others had used the same thing after he had been attacked by one of those Galavent monkey things. Jesus that feels like it was such long time ago.

With that in mind, and with nothing else to occupy himself, Tim’s reoccurring thoughts make an appearance. How long has it been since he’s been in space? How long has it been since he was taken away from his brothers?

He wishes he knew but not once has he been able to keep track of any sort of time since being away from Earth. Has it been years? Months? Days? He’s terrified to find out. Tim doesn’t feel any older but that means very little. Will he ever get back to Earth and if he does return will things still be the same?

He just wants this nightmare to be over.

Tim contemplates in his thoughts for a long time, he may have also drifted off to sleep but he doesn’t know for certain. How ever long it has been, Tim’s never-ending train of thoughts finally come to an end when the door to his cell cranks open. He watches it with interest, wondering who may enter through the gap, whether that be Pru or Ra’s. It really wasn’t in question which one he hopes it would be.

To his delight it’s Pru who steps into his cell, however in the most unexpected way. With her back to him, Pru’s dragging something that appears to be heavy into the cell. Tim watches with disbelief as she settles it half in and half out of the door, almost like using it as a door stop. When she steps away Tim finds that it’s body. A dead body. Which is heavily bleeding from the neck and is now leaving a large size puddle of blood on the floor.

Instant panic washes over Tim, had he been wrong this entire time? Will she just straight up kill him? Why go through all the trouble of treating him only to off him in the end anyway?

As Pru steps towards him Tim couldn’t help but flinch. He has no idea what she’s up to, how can he even trust her?

Not noticing his reaction Pru continues forward and crouches down in front of him. It doesn’t escape Tim’s notices that her dark uniform is painted with splatters of blood, and now that she’s close enough he gets a hint of a rustic iron smell.

“We need to go.” She tells him with no room for questions. “Get changed and we need to leave, now.”

She dumps a bag on the floor and throws out different bits of fabric at him. Tim lets out a sigh of relief and marginally relaxes. At least she wasn’t going to kill him. Now that’s out the way, her words come to the front of his mind and the pressing way she said them.

“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he starts to push himself up into a sitting position. His body protests at the action but Tim forces himself through it, whatever is happening it’s big and he needs to not be any weaker than what he already is.

Apparently he’s taking too long to get his ass in gear because Pru huffs in annoyance and reaches forward to grab him by the under arms and jerks him upright, taking no care whatsoever. Tim lets out a hiss but it goes ignored.

Clearly deciding that he was no longer capable of getting himself ready Pru grabs one of the fabric pieces she threw at him and yanks it over his head and his arms through the holes. His legs get a similar experience as she forcibly dresses him in some sweatpants.

“Now that’s done, we have to go.” She urges him.

Tim watches in bafflement as she makes her way to the door, avoiding the dead body as she goes and leaves the cell.

“Tim!”

“Okay, okay,” Tim mutters to himself feeling like a child. Using the wall as a guide Tim gets himself up to his feet and begins to take unsteady steps towards the door. From where his body is still weak and recovering, his legs almost buckle underneath him but he keeps going.

He cautiously steps over the body holding the door open and into the corridor outside of his cell. As he leaves he’s greeted with another two lifeless bodies sprawled out on the floor, each with their throats slit and blood pooling underneath them. The sight and smell makes Tim want to gag. It’s not his first time seeing dead bodies but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Slightly ahead of him, Pru stands surveying the surroundings completely unperturbed by the scene. Tim staggers down the corridor towards her, precisely avoiding the blood as he goes because he’s currently bare foot and really doesn’t want it touching his skin.

Once he reaches her he has to stop and take a deep breath. “Wait there.” Pru orders him as she wonders back down the corridor. Tim wasn’t going anywhere, he’s already knackered and he hasn’t even gone that far yet. He watches as she moves the body that’s acting as a door stop out of the way so the door could finally shut. Once that’s done she comes back over to him.

“Did you kill them?” He asks breathlessly. She shoots him a look which Tim deciphers as ‘are you fucking stupid? Unimpressed, Tim huffs, “You can’t just go around killing people!”

“Things die all the time. If I hadn’t of killed them they would report back to the Demon’s Head. If they’re dead they can’t talk. Simple. If anyone comes across them then they would think it was a challenge gone wrong. It really isn’t unusual to come across a dead body onboard. Now come on.”

With that disturbing thought, Tim stumbles along behind Pru as they make their way through the corridors of the ship. While Tim found it odd, he was grateful that they don’t come across anyone as they travel.

After many twists and turns Tim’s feeling even more tired than before and his body is more than ready to give out. He heaves in a deep breath and slumps against the wall. “What’s going on Pru?”

“We’re almost there.” The assassin replies without answering his question.

With great effort Tim pushes himself and continues to stumble along, using the wall for his balance. They come up to another corner and Pru waits at the edge. She holds out a finger to him and Tim gets the message, he’s more than happy to wait and catch his breath.

She darts around the corner and Tim listens as a shout could be heard followed by a loud gasp then a thud. It didn’t take much brain power to work out that Pru just killed someone. Tim couldn’t believe this is his life now, something that’s so inhumane becoming normal.

“Tim.”

Tim’s broken out of his thought at the sound of his name, figuring it’s safe to do so, he makes his way around the corner and isn’t surprised to see Pru standing over a dead body. As he walks towards her she opens up a door in front of her and waits for Tim to get there before ushering him inside. He’s too busy trying to avoid the blood to really pay attention to what he’s walking into.

“Rao, Tim. What happened to you?”

Forgetting about the blood and the dead bodies, Tim’s head snaps up at the sound of that voice. He stares in disbelief when he finds a group of mostly familiar people in front of him. He blinks again, wondering if he really had lost his mind back in the cell and that he’s now hallucinating all of this up.

“Kon?” He questions quietly. His eyes gaze over the familiar figure before moving to the others other’s. “Cassie? Bart? What are you… how are you… what?”

He looks back at Pru to find her guarding the door, keeping it open slightly with her foot but otherwise not moving.

Kon steps forwards, his eyes raking up and down Tim’s body obviously taking in his beaten form. He stops when he’s in front of Tim, looking at him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

Tim couldn’t believe it. How are they here? Why are they here? He’s happy to see them of course but there are so many emotions and thoughts running through his mind that he really couldn’t comprehend them all.

Last time he saw them, Kon had been dying from being stabbed and Bart had been unconscious. Ra’s made it clear that this team weren’t supposed to live but yet here they were. And they’ve come all this way, risking themselves even further for him. Tim’s stunned by their commitment, he really couldn’t believe it.

Unable to help himself, Tim lunges forward and wraps his arms around Kon’s shoulders in a hug. He’s so grateful that he’s alive. Kon seems surprised by the action and even stumbles against the additional weight but he gets his footing. After a moment he hugs Tim back, but it’s that action that has Tim hissing and arching away.

“Tim!”

Tim steps back and offers a weak smile, trying to get past the pain throbbing throughout his body. “Just a little sore Kon. It’s not exactly been a pleasant stay here.”

He turns towards Bart and Cassie to also greet them in a similar manner but Pru’s voice cutting through the room stops him from doing so.

“Yeah that’s great and all, but the happy reunion is going to have to wait. You need to get going now if you want any chance of getting off this ship alive.”

Right of course, despite his friends sudden appearance, they’re still aboard a ship full of assassins. Without waiting Pru leaves the room and is immediately followed by the two figures that Tim doesn’t recognise.

Bart grins at him, offering him a salute before reaching up to the collar of the uniform he’s wearing. Tim watches mystified by the way his face changes as it shifts to become someone else. He doesn’t recognise Bart at all, he now looks like another assassin on the ship.

Bart leaves the cell next and Tim slowly follows after him. His body is still sore but he thinks with the knowledge that his friends are there with him and how there’s a possible chance he could get away from this ship, he can push himself through the pain. Cassie and Kon follow behind him.

Pru leads the group down various of corridors. A quick chat amongst themselves informs them all that there’s a ship waiting for them, which Bart and the unknown’s arrived on, in the docking bay of the spaceship. It’s located at the far back, away from the more populated areas of the location. The assassin nods her head and tells them she can guide them all that way using the less populated corridors, therefore narrowing down the chance of being discovered.

Tim knows that they’ll be found at some point. It’s inevitable and it’s simply a matter of when. Hopefully they’ll safely be on the ship by the time that happens.

It nearly happens straight away. After turning around a corner, they bump into a cluster of assassins standing around doing who knows what when they aren’t busy killing things. Thankfully they seemed to be too shocked to even consider doing anything before Pru was there mowing them down with a sword.

Tim, even though he doesn’t agree with it, is used to this. If the others have opinions on the matter, they don’t voice them.

As they continue onwards, Tim could feel the adrenaline starting to wear off. His body was aching again and the wounds on his back are beginning to throb. He would really love to collapse down onto a bed in that moment and pass out. Just to leave everything behind and enter the land of the unconscious.

He knows he can’t do that, however. There’s too much at stake and he needs to keep pushing himself forwards. Tim knows he can endure a lot but how much is too much? When he accidently stumbles hands were there to catch him and keep him upright. He sends a worried looking Kon the best reassuring smile he could muster up, though he doesn’t think it achieves a lot because Kon only becomes looking more concerned.

They eventually make it to the back of the docking bay. They’re grateful to find that this section of the bay is practically empty and according to Pru, since there isn’t any operations currently running, less bodies are needed on the bay meaning it’s emptier than usual.

When one of the unknown’s point to a black spaceship parked off to the side, stating that’s the one, they all immediately head towards it. As they get closer to it, Tim feels a spark of hope flicker inside of him. This is what he’s been waiting for, something he’s wished for since the moment he had been captured again; an opportunity to get off this ship and away from Ra’s.

Unfortunately the spark is short lived and dies when two figures appear in front of the ship. Both of them wearing black League of Assassins uniforms without any masks over their heads. From what Tim could see, they were both male, one taller and broader than the other, one had short dark hair while the other had wild blonde hair.

For some strange reason there’s something familiar about them but Tim couldn’t place what it is. He doesn’t recognise them and knows he hasn’t met them before but there’s something about them. It wasn’t until shocked gasps coming from three of their group that it all clicks.

He was looking at twin versions of Kon and Bart.

Tim whips his gaze from the pair in front of him to the pair standing at his side. Bart and Kon had shocked expressions plastered on their faces as they stare at the other two. A whispered “oh no” from Cassie has him feeling like he’s missing something.

“Kon, Bart, do you know them?” Tim questions eventually.

Kon swallows thickly, his eyes flicking towards Tim then at the others again. “Something like that.”

Tim doesn’t get the chance to question him further because another voice cuts him off.

“Well this is certainly unexpected but certainly not unwelcomed.” Kon’s look alike says with a smirk.

“I would say it’s nice to see you again but it really isn’t.” Bart’s twin sarcastically comments afterwards. “Kon-el, Bartholomew, you have something that belongs to the Demon’s Head and he wants it back. So hand over the human and we’ll take it easy on you.”

Tim tenses up, unsure of what’s about to transpire. He glances at Kon to find the Kryptonian now looking furious and determined. Next to him Bart is wearing the same expression.

“Match, Thad, it’s been a long time.” Kon says in a strained voice.

“Hand over the human Kon-el. I won’t ask again.”

Bart speaks up before Kon could reply. “That’s not happening, Tim is coming with us.”

The pair in front of them share a sinister smile and drop down into defensive positions. “We were hoping you’d say that.”

Beside him, Kon, Cassie and Bart all get into fighting positions. With his fists raised Kon stares at them defiantly. “Don’t get so full of yourselves, you couldn’t beat us last time and this time will be no different.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that won’t we?”

[mentalisttraceur-long]

So a Karen had a crying breakdown, after (not?) trying to hit black woman.

Ideally I just wouldn't have to experience this discourse, let alone ever need to talk about it, but if this preempts even on unpleasant-for-me take on this recent event, it's worth it. So here's why (almost) everyone is wrong somehow about this latest thing:

Your immediate reaction, in every situation ever, should be to consider the possibility that before the start of the footage, the seemingly obviously in-the-right party was doing something awful which justified what the seemingly obviously in-the-wrong party did. Ideally you readily think of at least one such situation, put yourself in the shoes of the superficially in-the-wrong party, and go on in alert for evidence of that possibility.

Similarly, you do not get to instead jump to the conclusion that the party most superficially in-the-right, was just looking to game how it looked and turn social outrage against the person. Same requirement: you should be able to think of at least one scenario where the party actually is really in-the-right, but for some reason feels legitimately worried and looking for evidence, put yourself in their shoes, and go in alert for evidence of that possibility.

In almost every situation where something bad happens, more than one person can be at fault or bad in some way, and that is almost always the case. Finding one person in the wrong in a situation is for immature children - you should be expecting that each person did something that was bad in itself, or made the situation worse than it should have been.

In this specific situation, the facial expression at the start of the footage is clearly pleading, possibly escalating to panicky, not one of the looks people tend to have on their faces when deliberately assaulting someone.

In this specific situation, the movements at the start of the footage look most like a reflexive panicky movement of instinctively wanting to grab or push down the recording phone. Given the facial features in the split second prior, this is the more likely interpretation. Given everything that happens after, this is the even more likely interpretation. Less likely in the unfavorable direction, the hand was being raised in a wind-up for hitting. Less likely in the favorable direction, the hand was being raised as emphasis/communication. More than one of of these could have been true, either at various moments, or even at the same time if the person was conflicted or still figuring out what they wanted to do.

In this specific situation, the recording person maybe had very good reason to want to record the interaction for their own safety, and the good reason may have included race-related stuff.

In general in the current social reality, a person in a confrontation often enough has good reason to want to record the interaction for their own safety, and a black person confronting a white person often enough has extra good reason on top of the race-independent good reasons.

We do not have good enough resolution on the face in a lot of frames to easily judge facial expressions, and this increases the danger of people reading in whatever they want into her facial expressions. I already see this. People seeing smiles in pixelated frames where I would say a more experienced gaze sees no likely smile, and where even if there is a smile there is not enough detail to distinguish a nervous or supplicating or reassurance-seeking smile from the smiles that would suggest malice or duplicity.

The person being recorded exhibits what is both entirely consistent with a genuine meltdown of an emotionally sensitive person being severely upset and panicking because they don't know how to handle the situation they are in, and which is consistent with a deliberately played-up reaction.

The repeated insistence of "no I didn't" with no elaboration could be true and the person is having a hard time figuring out how to say what they actually were doing, or could be false and the person is having a hard time coming up with a cover. Personally I find it much easier to come up with a believable lie which fits people's impressions on the spot, than to come up with a believable way of getting the truth around people's already-formed/forming wrong impressions.

The slow sink to the floor, especially with a sudden reduction in crying volume around the same time, is extremely consistent with people having a really bad upset. People freak out while crying badly enough, until they get light-headed and weak and it's like a half-involuntary thing which looks exactly like that - the involuntary part being that the person recognized that if they don't do a controlled descent, they're gonna have a worse uncontrolled collapse instead. On the other hand, any emotion is consistent with this - it's the crying and degree of physical activation that does it, not the nature or legitimacy of the emotion. But of course a skilled-enough faker can probably either fake it or work themselves up to a real one.

The person recording the interaction repeatedly exhibits signs of callousness, and a couple of instances of what sounds like cruel glee. If you have a person who's having a crying fit or is lying on the ground, what the fuck compels you to make snide comments or laughs at or about them, especially within hearing range? I understand that you might want to keep the camera on just in case something bad or new suddenly happens, but I'm sure if you tried to think really hard you could find a way to maybe not keep your camera persistently trained on a person actively begging you not to record their breakdown, or to least be less of an agitating, escalating dick about it.

But if we're being maximally charitable, the person recording it was probably in a very confrontational state, the kind where all sorts of social monkey politics instincts and emotions sway how we act. She might have also been trying to communicate with her TicTok friends live, giving them an update, and maybe her friends were genuinely worried.

The person doing the recording is also persistently managing to interpret and spin everything towards the bad-faith interpretation. I think this should be understandable and sympathetic and ideally you find a way to relate, but it also should be recognized as uncritically presenting some possible explanations as certain while omitting roughly-as-likely less-bad explanations.

We should also consider that as a black woman, the person recording was almost certainly acting from substantial pain history - who knows how many other experiences with people, and with white people or white women in particular, she was really cumulatively reacting to in that moment? Like when I finally physically fought back and won against my dad in my teens, in that situation I was needlessly escalating and if you looked at that situation by itself I was overly vicious, but I was lashing out against my entire history of his physical discipline and growing up in fear of angering him, and it felt very righteous at the time. (Of course, white people and Karens are not all one entity the way my dad is, so one overkill victory doesn't cash out the same way, but our brains and instincts aren't really built to handle that - in a small tribe where everyone knows each other, if you were routinely abused or oppressed or coerced by tribe members, one over-retaliation against one person would be very adaptive.)

Anyway, when the person being recorded eventually gets up and starts actively charing the person still recording them, that's obviously the same kind of thing psychologically going on as when you have a cornered animal in pain and you keep poking it with a fucking stick. If the recording person had been less of a persistent ass after basically "winning" the whole interaction, that would not have happened. It is not proof of violent or hostile nature, and it does not suggest any greater odds that the person had violent or hostile intent in any prior situation unless they were already persistently and severely harassed by then as well.

In fact, that was still communication - it was physical bodily communication implying that the recording person was hurting the recorded person enough that it's getting desperate enough for physical retaliation to be tempting, but actually attempted violence is usually silent. When people get serious about doing bodily harm, they tend to shut up. If she wanted that to get violent she wouldn't have been yelling "get her away from me" the entire time. That was a plea for help to the other humans so that the situation could still be resolved non-violently.

When the cops and security finally got there, the recording woman has some legitimate critiques/complaints/grievances. For example, if the two women's races were reversed, there is a real chance that the cops would've handled the situation very differently.

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How they act around their crush: GD edition

[This one’s for @glass-grapes​. I saw your submission and am completely psyched that you love my blog! I know that I’ve only recently had it kick-off with a few posts, but I have been wanting to start one of these since January. Hope this is to your liking! (p.s I didn’t know if I should do pre or post time skip, so I did a little dabbling into both]

Claude:

We all know Claude here is both a go-getter and a tease 

If he finds you interesting then there’s no reason for him to hide it. A  battle of wits never hurt anyone, and boy do you two fight well

He is s a s s y. If you’re chatting with some other students he might stick his nose into the conversation to toy with you. It’s all in good fun, right? Just a little mini-game on his way to achieving bigger things  

That’s what he tells himself 

Some days he finds you a bit too alluring, and can’t help being self conscious of the other people around

Fiddles with his braid when you throw him for a loop

Will pay extra special attention to you in battle, and makes excuses to the prof. for why you should be near him. He really is a snake 

Post-Timeskip he hides his bias even more. Not enough to fool his close comrades, but enough to avoid you receiving any extra attention from the enemy  

Sometimes slips items in your room to distract from the stress. Tea, a new blanket, etc.

During the five year gap he keeps track of your whereabouts. After Garreg Mache fell he decided that his dream would take priority as planned, but also believed that one day you would be at his side 

Wasn’t surprised at all to see you at the reunion, but that familiar urge to tug his hair returned too  

Judith and Nader have already heard about you prior to your meeting. Much to his dismay they view his buried feelings as open range comedy

Lorenz: 

We all know how Lorenz acts when he finds someone of interest. The guy is a huge flirt which causes the professor wayyy too much stress 

He’s not as in-tune with his sense of romance as you would think. In the early stages he’ll treat you the same as all the other ladies: a potential partner for house Gloucester.

Date offerings, frilly words, gifts, acts of kindness. Ah tis but the duty of a noble, yes? 

No. 

One day he lets that stubborn side of his personality slip out, and you come back at him with just as much fire. He becomes so angered after it, but somehow hearing the words from you hurt more than if someone else were to say them

That’s when he knows that he’s in deep, and from then on he treats you more gently. He’ll watch his tongue around other women, and sets his sights on only you. His mannerisms are the same as before, but now he tries to learn more about you as a person vs. just the cold hard statistics

He’s a blusher. He has a naturally light pigmentation so it shows. 

After the time-skip he’ll watch you like a hawke. Do you like his new hair cut? Surly it’s an improvement from before sorry bro it’s not

Sets his dignity aside to request that you be given a hexlock shield during battle, or placed near him. Claude won’t let him live it down

Ignatz: 

He m i g h t avoid you, but please don’t take it the wrong way. That’s just how he is, you know?

Young Ignatz isn’t that confident in himself. You’re...well ‘you’. And he’s...well, ‘him’

Oddly enough he confides in HIlda of all people. It originally began with wanting to see if she was still on stable duty with him, but ended up with him working and her talking

When you’re nearby he chooses not to speak unless spoken to. If you didn’t know his tells he’d come off cold, but one look at his hands wringing together just proves he was nervous 

Byleth puts you two on cooking duty together: que panic. He legit grovels at their feet to pick someone else. They don’t, and that evening he sketches a wonderful picture of you sifting through different seasonings 

On your birthday he struggles to give you the gift he prepared. It ends up with Lionie giving you it while he watches from afar. 

When you’re older he is much more verbal with his opinions 

More often than not he lets those honey-coated words slip out, which usually end up with him excusing himself quickly 

Invites you to join him during downtime at least once a week. Every day could be his last, and goddess forbid yours. He wants to spend time with you even if he isn’t the most graceful companion never mind that he’s a smooth-talking mofo

Raphael: 

If there’s one thing Raphael is good at, it’s showing that he cares 

The boy is a giant muscular teddybear. He will carry your things, he will spar with you, he will eat anything you cook without complaint, and he will hug you; hard. 

Unlike everyone else he’s pretty open with his feelings. Life is short, you know? 

If you make him particularly bashful he’ll laugh loudly. More so to cover up his own embarrassment than because he finds the situation actually humorous

Adopts this habit of constantly asking if you need anything. The guy loves to dote on people, and lookie here you’re the perfect target 

Remembers all important dates like a pro. On your birthday he drops a gift right on your desk first thing in the morning 

Goddess forbid anyone gives you trouble. Without the smile on his face he looks the murder type, and the guy uses it to his advantage. He will happily escort you anywhere you need to go 

Once his sister is settled he might honestly stick with you during that five year gap. He’s made his feelings painfully obvious, and you haven’t chased him off. Why not stick around? 

Hilda: 

Yo she’s clingy 

She knows you have to be a catch and a half to steal her heart, so who knows who else that you’ve smooth talked 

Just like everyone else she’ll still get you to do her bidding...but, maybe a smidge less 

She feels guilty, but won’t show it 

Hilda will do all in her power to not let the news reach her family. The last thing she needs is Holst sending her more letters, or worse: showing up at the monastery

Y’all she will don her best perfume for you. She will push all her work onto Cyril and drag you to have lunch with her. This is normal Hilda behavior so she has no reason to be shy 

Will flirt openly and proudly. If you recuperate she’ll go gossip to Marianne about how you’re ‘totally smitten’ with her

Post-skip she’s not much different. Most of her time is spent doing what she can for the cause, but when you see each other she’s more bold. 

Like always she doesn’t like to have expectations pushed onto her. She does have one for herself though, and it’s to stay by your side. 

Marianne: 

During the academy years she tends to admire from afar 

Her favorite memories are of when the professor signed you both up for choir practice. She loves your voice, and it was a time where there wasn’t any pressure for conversation 

As time passes she’ll become less adverse to talking. Quiet greetings will be whispered when you cross paths, and occasionally you two have lunch together 

Marianne is not as reserved as people assume her to be. She’s just had a rough time, and if you take things slow with her then she’ll gradually have a stronger presence in your life. She hopes that this comes true for you two 

Eye contact hasn’t always been her forte. She does try to maintain it with you though 

Her feelings remain at a stalemate through most of the academy days. Only when she bypass’ some more personal-issues does she let her emotions go free

About halfway through the war period she changes. Her stance is more vertical, and she becomes the one to take initiative in your relationship 

She’ll still blush upon any physical contact, and in some cases she’ll lose her breath when you talk. Don’t take the momentary silence as a bad thing, she’s okay. 

Occasionally she’ll be restless and unable to sleep, worrying about the future she now has in her grasp. You might find her scouring for a cup of chamomile late in the night 

Lysithea: 

She’ll deny herself immediately. For Lysithea the future is an anomaly. One of which that no amount of studying or research can uncover.

It’s painfully obvious that there’s a spark between you two. Anyone can see it, and Hilda has pestered her many times regarding confessing 

If the situation was a bit different, she would. Lysithea is no push over, but she also doesn’t want to invest time into something that will bear no fruition 

She keeps her cool around you for the most part...or at least until you’re out of hearing distance 

Then she completely loses composure. Did someone say clammy hands? Because hers get slicker than lorenz’s hair gel 

Leads to stress eating, not gonna lie. There are many late night trips to the mess hall, and many angry cooks over the missing sweets  

Times are different post-timeskip though. She’s a bit more reluctant to let these feelings go 

Occasionally there’s some open flirting on her part. If you recuperate then it becomes more frequent and less forced. The sassy banter between you two becomes the deer’s free entertainment

Leonie: 

She’s commonly been viewed as ‘one of the guys,’ for her personality. So she’s very insecure about getting friend zoned 

It’s not like she was actively searching for romance. It just happened, you know? One day something just struck a chord 

She never took the time to picture sharing a life with someone. Most of her life has been spent worrying about her village, or working hard to attain some kind of recognition from the Captian 

For a split second she considers going to Byleth for some advice. Now isn’t the time for school-girl crushes. Now is the time to be forging a path to the future

Decides to completely ignore the ache she feels when you’re nearby. Just...lets it go. 

She’ll put hella distance between you two. The only time she’ll initiate contact is during sparring 

After the timeskip she stays this way too. Well, until HIlda calls her out on her bullsh*t (if you haven’t noticed from all these. Hilda is a perceptive little cookie)

Just like anyone she’ll go through the moral dilemma of deciding to confess or not. She instead chooses to just let her feelings do as they please, and if something happens then it happens