#no one has a childhood that bad and turns out normal in any way

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Megumi’s life in ur “tsumiki and megumi are seperated” AU is super fucked. Does Gojo secretly put him on supervillain watch. Does he try to give him the worst counselling anyone has ever seen.

Worse he keeps trying to become Megumi’s New Dad and Megumi cannot emphasize enough how much he does not want him to do this. Why does Gojo keep asking him to throw a baseball with him. Why does he keep trying to ruffle his hair.

[unoriginal-and-dumb]

I imagine that they were childhood friends and played on the gross play rugs in ikea

Headcanons me and my friend came up with if you guys would like to read… huehuehue.. 👇👇

wiki says lampert was formed in a factory but it doesn’t say he was brought to LIFE in a factory. we hc that kasper “made” lampert as a child because he was lonely in ikea and had no friends. Also being one of those mf kids who draw on the walls and everything else. he drew a face on a lamp and the next day it turned into a boy yippee. they grew up together as best friends

kasper originally named lampert lamper, cause his name is kasper and he just replaced the kasp with lamp. when he came to life lampert was like no i think its lampert, not lamper and kasper was like ok 👍😁

they liked to play cars on the car play rug in ikea. kasper liked to race and crash them and lampert liked to send in the police and ambulance for cleanup. theyd play that over and over again it never got old

when they would play outside, they liked to set up things to look really pretty (like a nice stick and leaf house or dress up a really pretty doll) and then set it on fire with a magnifying glass (lampert liked the first part, kasper liked the second part)

kasper is korean-american and he had slightly lighter hair as a kid (LET ME HAVE THIS HAVE HAVE NOTHING)

both them ace and specifically lampert ace aro and specifically like romance and sex repulsed ace aro like if you stand too close to him he freaks out imagine if someone were to kiss him that would not fly. romance and sex r NASTY to him do not touch him

when lampert would hang out with kasper he would just stand very still in the corner of the room the whole time. not for any bad reason, he is just a lamp and does not see the need to do anything else than stand in the corner while he talks. when they hang out at ikea sometimes kasper starts talking to the wrong lamp because of this

lampert has a set list of facial expressions that show exactly how he feels. this is verging on not ok :) (his normal expression) this is not ok : ) (scawy) or this : ( this is silly :] these are all more fine :( :[ D: :D :o :/

lampert talks with a similar cadence to baymax snd also is politely blunt in the very autistic way. he states his opinion on something even if maybe its not a nice thing to say but he says it very politely (when eating food someone made for him that he really doesnt like: “i dont think i will be finishing this, it does not taste good. thank you! goodbye”)

They are so autism vs adhd to me.

Kasper was probably a sticky iPad leash kid before that was really a thing he’s a real trendsetter what a guy. He would run all over the place nonstop and everyone would just see some freak kid run mach 4 snatch a rug off the ground and then disappear like a gnome

[dinogoofymutated]

First born Headcannons! Multi/Fem!Afab! Reader - Angel, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Gambit OKAY FUCK I don't know what came over me it just happened okay??? This whole thing started thinkin about colossus and a lil baby and then I was thinking about Warren taking the nightshift with his own baby and I spiraled from there. Warren's is like twice as long as everyone elses my bad yall. If there are any typos don't make fun of me ill fix them tomorrow I'm so tired lol TWs: Childbirth mentioned (Not described tho), Babies, wholesome shit. I know that some of these characters have had kids in the comics and that these hcs may be ooc, but I do not care lol. Little bit of anxiety and panic, but everything is okay.

Warren Worthington

Warren is such a dad. I don't even know how to describe it. Like, he's not as effortlessly fatherly like Piotr is, but once he has a kid he's devoted to making sure this kid gets all the emotional, physical, and financial support they would ever need.

He had such a rocky childhood with his own dad, so he hates the idea of his child ever going through the same sort of thing.

He might be a little clueless with the actual baby things, like when to feed, how to dress, and what to feed his little one, but he does take diaper duty as his sole purpose in life. He does adjust for the things he lacks though, and gradually adjusts to be better at them!

He's strangely good with babies, even before he had his own! There's just something about him that makes them stop crying. He's also an expert at nap times.

    It’s an early weekday afternoon. The sun is shining through the blinds in warm golden rays, the sink clean and the dishwasher running. There’s a click once the message on the answering machine stops playing, and you have an uncertain frown on your face as you take it all in.

    The house is silent, brightly decorated with pictures of your close friends lining the walls of the hallway. The sounds of your husband quietly shushing your infant son gradually become easier to hear when you reach the cracked door of the nursery, pushing it open as quietly as you can.

    Warren’s back is facing you, fluffy wings almost glowing where the sunrays touch his feathers. Your newborn is sleeping in his arms, napping after a lunchtime bottle. He’s bouncing the baby just slightly, and you swear you can see his smile without ever having to see his face. It’s a sweet moment you want to crystalize in your memories. You lean against the doorway, smiling just as bright as you’re sure he is.

    "Hi~" You say sweetly after a moment. You were right. Warren’s happy smile is bright and blinding when he turns to look at you.

    "Hey," He says quickly, lifting your sleeping son so that you can see him better. "Hi Mama, say hi Mama!" Warren whispers as he lifts the baby’s pudgy little hand to wave at you. You can’t help but giggle, walking forward to kiss both of them on their cheeks- your little one not stirring from his nap. You take a breath afterward, leaning against his side as you debate telling him.

    “Something wrong?” Warren asks, one of his wings stretching out to wrap around your side and pull you closer to him. Normally you giggle, but today you bite your lip, unsure.

    "Your dad called." Your words are soft when you say it, and Warren immediately laughs in a way that sounds more like a scoff.

    “His secretary, you mean.” Warren attempts to correct, and his joking tone makes you frown a little, rubbing his upper arm in an attempt to be soothing.

    “No, not her, honey.” Warren stays silent after you say it, his brow furrowing as his face turns into a reflection of confusion and sadness. You can see the conflict as he turns the words over in his head, cooing and shushing your son back to sleep when he starts to stir a little, feeling the atmosphere shift. 

    “...what did he want?” He asks, voice low and quiet.

    “He left a message on the answering machine if you want to listen to it.” You tell him. “He, well… He wants to meet his grandson.” Warren scoffs at that, shaking his head as he starts to pace the room a little. You stand there, grounded as you watch him process the sudden contact.

    “He really said that? After all he’s put me through, he wants to meet our son… What a joke.” You grimace when Warren starts to laugh. He finally stops pacing to gently lay your son back in his crib. He leans against the side with one hand as the other rubs his eyes before it slides up to run through his hair.

    “Do you want him to?” You ask after a moment, stepping over to his side. He leans into your touch when you reach out to hold his cheek.

    “I-” Warren stops himself, taking a deep breath as he takes your hand in his own. “What do you want to do?” He asks instead. You shake your head at him, taking hold of his hand in both of yours, tracing the wedding band on his finger.

    “He’s your dad, love. It’s your choice.” You say softly. Warren is still frowning, and he lets out a long breath, deflating a little bit. He turns around to face you, pressing a kiss to your temple and holding you there for a long moment. You wish you had even a fraction of Jean’s or the Professor’s power, if only you could see what was going on in that head of his. He pulls you into a side hug, and the two of you spend a long while looking at your infant in the crib. The perfect mixture of the both of you. Certain to be a mutant in his own right. You can tell Warren spends every second thinking about it.

    When he steps away from you, He’s silent.

    “Warren?” You call out for him as he leaves the room. You’re about to follow when you hear the distinct sound of your son about to wake up, the little whine catching your attention as you coo him back to sleep instead. The door to the nursery is open, and just faintly down the hall, you hear the sound of the landline starting to ring.

    “Hey, Dad, it’s Warren. Is Saturday okay?”

Piotr Rasputin

GOD this man is so good with kids. I mean, have you seen those comic panels with him and his sister??

This man was made, built, forged to be a dad. He's protective but encouraging, and although he may be blunt, he knows when his kiddo needs some comfort.

He takes all the classes with you during the pregnancy, and he knows he'd never hurt his baby, but there's always a lil bit of worry in the back of his mind. He's a little too strong, and he hates the thought of slipping up and accidentally harming this fragile little soul the two of you brought into this world.

He gains confidence with time, and when the baby arrives he's always carrying them securely on one thick arm, belly down as they sleep soundly against him.

    His baby is so small when they hand her to him in the hospital. She's tiny. Smaller than the width of his arm. He looks like a giant as he holds her, sat next to your bedside as you recover from her delivery. He's in awe as he looks at her, a tiny little life, the greatest gift you've ever given him besides your hand in marriage. 

    You and others had always joked that his baby would be huge, big-headed, 99th percentile, and he never minded it. It was no secret that he was a big man, and he didn't mind what size the baby was as long as it was healthy, and looking at the little bundle of joy in his arms, he decides he wouldn't have it any other way.

    It's almost comical, how small she is. Hell, even you might have doubted the paternity of the baby girl if it hadn't been for her head of pitch-black hair, and pretty blue eyes. Almost a carbon copy of himself.

    “She has your eyes.” You say once her cries quiet down, and she begins to fall asleep in her father's arms.

    “No.” Piotr hums, gingerly touching his daughter's face. “They look much more like Illyana's.” You hadn't thought about that before, but now that he mentions it, the resemblance is undeniable. You giggle at that, Scooting closer so that you can lean on his shoulder.

    “The nurse said that she's waiting outside, when you're ready. I'm sure she's beyond excited to meet her niece.” You mumble. Piotr has placed a finger in the palm of your baby's hand, both of you smiling when the little fingers do their best to try and close around his fingertip. Piotr cannot wait to see the face of his sister when she sees your baby, but he'll be the first to admit, he'd like it if this moment could just last a little while longer.

Kurt wagner

Kurt is such a good dad oh my god.

He's always talking about you and the kids, bragging about literally everything you do ever. He's the kind of dad that has endless photos of his kiddos in his wallet, car, locker, everywhere.

And he's so devoted, too. He'll do anything you ask him to do during the newborn stage (and after) and is beyond supportive. His goals are happy Spouse, Happy kids, Happy life.

He's also very sentimental :) he thanks god every day for you and the blessing that is your baby.

    Kurt’s side of the bed was empty when you woke up this morning, and despite the normal amount of anxiety you normally feel when that happens, you feel peaceful. You’re smiling at the empty mattress, rolling over to his side to push your face into his pillow, taking a deep breath. Used to, you would be worried. You would wonder where he was, or if he was safe. If he had gone off on some x-men mission without telling you (which he never did). But today, you know exactly where he is. You’re smiling now as you think about it, pressing a kiss to his pillow before standing up.

    There’s a soft humming in the house, quiet and soothing. It’s not hard to figure out where it’s coming from, the path to the spare room having become second nature to you- although, it really wasn’t much of a spare room anymore. You try not to be too loud when you enter the room through the cracked door.

   Kurt is humming sweetly, your son laid out on the changing table as Kurt finishes worming his pudgy little legs through a new onesie. The baby whines a little, squirming around as Kurt attempts to change his clothes. 

    “Patience, Mein kleiner Schatz. This won’t take long.” Kurt says sweetly. Your son isn’t really having this whole changing business, and it makes Kurt chuckle. His tail is wrapped around a bottle of milk, and he sets it to the side right before he snakes his tail over the crib. He brushes the spaded end lovingly over your baby’s cheek as a distraction, and the infant coos as he finishes getting his arms through the sleeves. His tail takes over from there, buttoning the onesie's clasps as he turns to grab the bottle of milk instead- stopping for a split second when he sees you in the doorway. Kurt smiles.

    “How are my boys?” You ask, voice a little rough from sleep.

    “Gut! And lively, it seems.” He tells you. He passes the bottle off to his tail again when you walk over, taking you into his arms as he shakes the formula up a little more. Kurt kisses you sweetly on the lips, pressing his forehead against your own when you separate. 

    “Guten Morgen, Schatz. How are you feeling?” You swear you fall in love with him all over again each day when he greets you like that. You shrug your shoulders in response, smile dropping just a little bit.

    “I’m okay. Still tired, and definitely still bloated, but I’m okay.” You admit. Kurt frowns a little, brushing some hair from your face.

    “Did you see the medicine I left for you on the nightstand?” Kurt asks, and you immediately make a bit of a silly face, remembering that you didn’t exactly get up on your own side of the bed today. Kurt knows what that looks means and begins to laugh, just as your son begins to whimper and whine to be held and fed. You try to go pick him up, but Kurt stops you as he picks your baby up instead, bottle at the ready.

   “Go take your meds, I’ve got him, Liebchen.”

Remy LeBeau

Remy is a little nervous to be a dad.

Not in a flight way!! He's just a little worried that he'll be a bad influence on the kiddo. and well, I mean sure. If you're worried about the kiddo being a little rager and being into a few to many wild hobbies I guess (usually comes with the cajun territory)- but overall, Gambit is such a sweetheart, and if anything his kiddos would be so respectful and loving towards their parents.

Remy's very protective over your baby. The protectiveness is at it's height around 0-3yrs of age, but it never, ever goes away completely.

He might talk some smack about how a little bit of dirt/germs never hurt anyone, but He's actually the kind of dad that makes everyone put germex on before even thinking about holding the baby.

He's on top of feedings, and never fears a blowout when it comes to changing diapers (no matter how much he might gag). He might not have the diaper back stocked and loaded 24/7, but he's doing the best he can.

    When you wake up, It’s about 3am. Your eyes blink oper wearily, and the light from the alarm clock is practically burning into your eyes. You want nothing more to curl up and go back to sleep, and you almost do, until the time actually registers.

    3am. Its 3am, and you went to bed at 10pm. This is the first time you’ve woken up since then. Your veins feel like ice when you realize that you haven't heard the baby cry once. You rip the cover off of you, breaking out in a panicked run across the hall to check on your newborn. You don’t even realize that Remy isn’t even in bed until you slam the door open and see him standing there, your daughter in his arms as he rocks her to sleep in the rocking chair You breathe a sigh of relief as he looks at you with a tired smile, but your anxiety still remains.

    “Remy? Is she okay?” You whisper, practically leaping over to his side to take the little one out of his arms.

    “She’s Okay, Cher.” Remy replies softly. He stands from the chair, wrapping his hands around your back, the infant snug in between your bodies. You sigh again, taking a moment to look at your daughter carefully, eyeing her chest as it rises and falls, and straining your ears to hear her breathing. Remy gives you a second to get situated, yawning just a bit as he sways the three of you as you stand there. You relax as he holds you both, resting your head against his shoulder.

    “Why don’ you go back to bed.” Remy says after a long minute. “That was the longest I’ve seen you sleep in a while.” You frown. He’s not wrong. Your newborn has been a bit colicky lately, crying for nights on end since you brought her home with very few things to keep her comfortable. She has started to grow out of it, but the effects still remained. She cries a lot at nighttime, and it makes you wonder if that’s why you had slept so long, because of Remy staying up to keep her quiet.

    “And leave you here? Remy, how long have you been awake?” You ask, looking up at his face. He shrugs, smiling still as the three of you sway.

    “I’m fine. I can stay up all night if I need to, as long as you get to catch up on some sleep.” If it were any other circumstance, you might have swooned at the words. As sweet is he is, you can’t let him do that! He begins to step away to place your daughter in her crib, and you hold yourself back from trying to take her from him and commanding him to just go to bed.

    “Remy-”

    “Ah ah ah, Cher, don’t wake ma petit, now.” Remy cuts you off with a whisper, turning around to place a finger against his lips in a shushing motion. He almost makes you giggle, but instead, you simply shake your head at him. He pulls you into a loving kiss when he’s close enough, running his hand through your hair. You know he’s waiting for you to pull back, to retreat into the bedroom to sleep like he asked you to, but you’re still hesitant. He knows your stubbornness firsthand and chuckles when he pulls back a little.

    “Do I need to tuck you in, too?”

[helen-with-an-a]

could you please write some kim little angst/fluff to do with a reader with anger issues and all their walls up and kim/rest of the older members of the team having to go full captain on them?

like maybe reader snaps and lashes out at someone during training over something tiny or they get in trouble and gets worked up over it and end up punching a wall/breaking things? kim and the rest of the girls having to make them know how they’re acting isn’t okay or fair on anyone else and slowly start breaking down their walls and get back to themselves again?

Hiiiii. It's a little sadder than I anticipated but I think it works quite well. I hope you enjoy it <3<3<3

Be The Best

AWFC x Reader (focus on Kim Little)

Description: R needs to be the best. The best don't show emotion

TW: R has bad mental health

Word Count: 2.8k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You were a hot head. No two ways about it. You were an angry girl with even worse anger issues. Some people compared you to Katie on the pitch, but the players knew you were nothing alike. Katie might have been angry on the pitch, throwing as must gusto as possible into every match, but the team knew the moment that whistle went, it was all happy smiles and teasing jokes. But with you, the anger never stopped. There was an intensity behind you that scared most of the girls. You were quick to raise you voice and never backed away from a challenge. Maybe that was why you were the best goalkeeper in the world? At least on a technical level. You read the pitch like no one else could do – you made saves that would’ve slipped past other people’s fingers; you had an aura of ‘fuck around and find out’. You knew that the reason people didn’t acknowledge you as the greatest of your generation was because of your personality. You weren’t goofy like Mary; you weren’t charming or funny. You were deadly serious all of the time with a short fuss that was ready blow at any moment.

You knew exactly why you were like that too. You had grown up in a house where shouting and screaming was the only form of communication. You coaches skreiched obscenities at you from a young age, and eventually you started bellowing back. It was all you had ever known.

Your anger was both your shield and your weapon. On the pitch, it made you fearless. Opponents were intimidated, and even your own teammates tread lightly around you. This intensity was reflected in your play. You were always on high alert, your mind and body ready to react to the smallest movement. Your reflexes were unparalleled, and your ability to predict the opponent's next move was almost uncanny. You could dive and catch a ball that others would have missed by a mile. Every save, every block, every leap was a testament to your raw, unbridled passion for the game.

You didn’t tone it down at training either. It was something a guest trainer had told you years ago. To be the best, you had to train like every moment was like a match. There were no ‘easy’ training sessions. 100% all the time. Nothing less would do.  It didn’t help that you father was a failed professional footballer. He had played in a third-league team, he never earned the big money that most players dream of, but he had made enough to get by. And if it was for that bad tackle. He had showed you the footage repeatedly throughout your childhood – it was a horrific tackle to be fair, the opposing player had his studs up and was nowhere near the ball. It had shattered is leg completely – six surgeries later and he was back to normal, but he would never play football to a high level again. So, he turned his angry energy to you. You had been there at the match that ended his career. You were just 3 years old, but you could remember the screams, the terrifying silence of the crowd and your mother’s palpable fear. You had to be the best. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your emotion may have been a saving grace on the pitch, but off it … your anger isolated you. Friendships were hard to maintain when people were constantly walking on eggshells around you. You often wondered if the trade-off was worth it. Was being the best goalkeeper in the world worth the loneliness that came with it? But then you would step onto the field, and all those doubts would vanish. The roar of the crowd, the adrenaline rush, the sheer thrill of making an impossible save—it all made sense. For those 90 minutes, you were invincible, and nothing else mattered.

You were surprised Arsenal had kept you around for so long. They were always preaching about being a family, so what did that make you? The cousin no one wanted to be around? The strange long-last aunt that everyone was wary of? You weren’t too sure of your place off the pitch, but you knew what it was on it. And that was all that mattered, right?

You had a few teammates in your time at the club try to connect with you. Usually, the newer girls when they first signed. But they were quickly swept away, being pulled along by the more friendly people and they never looked back. Each time they stopped speaking to you, it hurt a little more. But you didn’t have time for pain. Pain was an emotion that stopped you from being the best. And you had to be the best.

This season, you were determined. Last season had been a flop in your eyes. You had crashed out of the Champions League on penalties. And that was entirely your fault. You had lost in the FA cup too. Which was entirely your fault. Yes, you had won the Conti cup – but you had technically let a goal in. Yes, it had technically been discounted but you had let it roll into the back of the net. You let too many goals in during the league and you finished in 3rd by some way. It wasn’t good enough. Not for you.

You had also had a disastrous season (in your eyes) for the Lionesses. You could feel Hampton and Earps’s presence lingering behind you, their breath on your neck as they aimed for the no. 1 shirt. It had been yours for a while now, but you could feel them creeping closer. You had let too many goals in during your short-lived Nations League campaign. You had let Sweden equalise at Wembley, and you had let the goals in against France. It wasn’t good enough. Your father’s words lingered in your mind. Be better. You aren’t good enough.

The summer had been horrific for you. With no friends to speak of, you were either totally alone in your flat – although that was nothing new – or with your family. Your family that constantly berated your every performance. You felt like you weren’t getting a summer. Not with the footage your father made you watch, the analysis of where you had to be better. You were in the gym almost every day. It was unrelenting. But you had to be better. Do better this season. You were fairly sure it would break you if it was a repeat of the last 12 months.

It was one of the last full training sessions before competitive matches began. The girls from the Olympics had returned, the WSL season was rapidly approaching. You had the Champions league qualifications to get through first. You couldn’t lose. Not again. You had to be better.

Although, it seemed like you were the only one feeling that way.

The training session had been … horrific, terrible, awful, horrendous. It was a training game, a full 11-sided match with all the intensity it brought. Your team was losing. Badly. Your defence was not listening to you at all. Lotte was sloppy, Leah was average. Teyah wasn’t listening and Laura wasn’t paying attention. Mariona had capitalised on two mistakes so far, and you could feel another goal would come from Cloe sometime soon.

“Tight on,” you screamed. At least Lotte actually did what you wanted. She stepped forward, engaging in a 1-on-1 battle with Lina. “Watch Frida,” you yelled, readjusting your stance – knowing a cross would come into the box. You saw the play before it happened. Lina would cut to Frida, Frida would push back to Katie and Katie would swing from outside the box, aiming for the top corner. “Cover McCabe,” you shouted to Kyra – who looked absolutely terrified of you. Now was not the time to ponder on her reaction.

You watched the ball bounce to Frida, who tapped it over to Katie, who belted it right towards the top corner. Just like you said it would do. You leapt, your fingers making contact, but it had too much power. It sailed passed your gloved hand, the net rippling behind you.

Usually, in training matches, the winning team would get a few bits of bragging rights, before everyone got on with their lives – forgetting about it by the time they made it home. But this time, you saw red.

“What the fuck, Cooney-Cross?” You rounded on the young midfielder. She paled slightly – impressive with how tanned she was after the summer. “I told you to cover McCabe. Are you deaf or just stupid?” Your voice was like a razor cutting through the tense silence. The other girls stopped, watching the confrontation with wide eyes.

Kyra stammered, "I-I’m sorry, I thought—"

"You thought? You don’t get paid to think, you get paid to listen and execute. Do your job!" You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the familiar pulse of anger pounding in your temples.

"Hey, calm down," Leah stepped in, trying to diffuse the situation. "It’s just training."

"Just training?" you snapped, turning your fury on her. "That’s exactly the problem. You all think this is just training. But every moment on this pitch matters. Every mistake matters. And if we don’t treat it like that, we’re going to keep losing."

Leah's expression hardened. "We’re a team. We win together, we lose together. Yelling at Kyra isn’t going to help."

"Then what will, Leah? Because whatever we’re doing right now clearly isn’t working."

The tension was thick, the air almost crackling with the intensity of your anger. The rest of the team stood in uncomfortable silence, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t the first time you had exploded like this, but it never got any easier for them to witness.

“Enough.” The Scottish accent was plenty to halt to attack. Kim was the only one you would truly listen too at Arsenal. She was your Captain. “Go to the showers. You’re done for the day.” You were being sent home? You pushed down the feeling of you heart splintering a little.

“I’m not the one-” you pressed.

“I said. Enough. Go shower and change. Wait for me in the media room. We will talk after we’ve finished here.” You set your jaw, looking down at the small Scot. She looked back at you, equally unafraid. It was a game of cat and mouse, and you knew it.

You blinked first.

Turning around, you let out a short huff and marching inside. No one said a word. The only sound was you ripping the Velcro strapped from around your wrists. Anger swirled inside you. Hot and red. But the icy pain of hurt started to swell. How could you be so stupid. You had let three goals in. During a training match. If that was what you were like when nothing was at stake, what would you be like when you had actual opponents to play, with points and competitions to play for.

The water was far too hot – leaving a scorching trail of red where it hit your shoulders. You could cry. You didn’t know the last time you actually let your emotions out in anything other way that wasn’t anger. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Your pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes. It wasn’t working. You could fell the tears start. To be the best, you couldn’t feel. You had to be the best. The best didn’t let silly little emotions get in the way. You turn slamming your fist into the cubical wall a few times. It left a slight dent, and your knuckles throbbed in a strange way. It did little to calm your seething thoughts. The sting of being sent off gnawed at you. You replayed the training session over and over in your head, each mistake glaring brighter than the last. It wasn't just frustration at the defence or Kyra's mistake. It was a deep, gnawing disappointment in yourself. You were the last line of defence. If the team couldn’t rely on you to do your job, then what use were you?

After showering and changing, you made your way to the media room, sitting alone in the dim light. Your wet hair dripped onto your shoulders as you stood in silence. You had to get a hold of your emotions before Kim came in. You had to be better. You felt your breath quicken and your heart pound. You bit your lip hard – the inside not the outside. It had become a coping mechanism for you. You used to bite your lip when you were younger, but you dad had seen at shouted at you. Biting your lip was a sign of emotion. Emotion was a weakness. Weaknesses can be exploited. So, you started biting the inside of your lip – where no one could see the scars and cuts. Where no one could see you have emotion.

Finally, the door opened, and Kim walked in. Her presence filled the room with a calm authority. She didn’t sit, choosing instead to stand opposite you, arms crossed.

“Talk to me,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “What’s going on with you?”

You stared at the floor, the words struggling to form in your throat. “I just… I want us to be better,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “We need to be better.”

“We or you?” she asked after a moment. You knew it. You knew that she thought you needed to be better.

“I’m sorry. I know I need to be better. And I’m trying, I …” you voice cracked. Fuck.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Do you think that we as a team need to be better? Or do you think that you as an individual need to be better?”

You paused, “I need to be better. I know everyone thinks it. And they’re right, I need to be better.”

“Sit down,” Kim instructed, her voice softening as she gestured to a nearby chair. You reluctantly complied, feeling the tension in your muscles as you sat. Kim took the seat across from you, her eyes studying your face with concern.

“Listen,” she began, her tone gentle yet firm, “I get it. I understand the pressure you put on yourself. We all do. But you’re not in this alone. We’re a team, and that means we support each other, not tear each other down.”

You looked up, meeting her gaze. “But if I’m not the best, then who am l? I can’t let my guard down.”

Kim nodded thoughtfully. “Pushing yourself and the team is important, but there’s a difference between pushing and breaking. You’re not a machine. None of us are. We have to find balance. You can’t carry the weight of the entire team on your shoulders. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to the rest of us.”

“But I’ve let everyone down,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I’ve let goals in, I’ve made mistakes. I’m supposed to be the best, and I’m failing.”

Kim reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “Making mistakes doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. And being the best isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about how you recover from them, how you learn and grow. We all have bad days, bad matches. It’s part of the game.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by the display of emotion. “I just… I don’t know how to be anything else. I’ve always been the one who’s angry, who pushes harder. I don’t know how to be any different.”

Kim gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay to feel angry. It’s okay to feel frustrated. But you need to find a way to channel that in a positive direction. We’re here to help you with that. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tightness in your chest begin to ease. “I don’t know how to start.”

Kim smiled gently. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time. For now, just know that you’re not alone. We’re a team, and we’ve got your back.” You nodded, the weight of her words sinking in.

Maybe it was possible to find a new way forward, to be both strong and supported. For the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to try. For your team, for yourself. You could be better. You would be better. And with their help, you would find a way to balance your intensity with the support of those around you.

[radiance1]

Killer Croc and Jack Fenton are brothers.

Killer Croc was the first born, just a about 5 years older than Jack. Their father was a large man, much larger than should be possible considering he never had a meta gene.

But oh boy would it have not surprised them if he did. Because that man was strong, 10 feet tall, and shrugged off things that would injure most people.

Like a brick to the head.

Anyways.

Croc was entranced with his younger brother; he was so small so much tinier than he had any right to be, and cuter than a button. He babbled like most babies do, but Croc wouldn't think twice before calling his baby brother the best baby of them all.

His dad could fit him in the palm of his hand easily! Which was just one of Jack's many great qualities in his opinion!

Croc and Jack's parents weren't really on the best of terms, Croc could tell. He didn't know why, really, but he didn't want his baby bro to feel unloved in any sort of way, and it's not like he really had friends to hang out with, plus his parents were busy with jobs.

So he mostly spent his time taking care of and playing with Jack. Changing diapers, feeding him, lifting him up and down with his tail, just the normal sibling stuff.

He feels kind of bad for his dad though, whatever kind of job he had didn't even let him come home most days, and when he did he could barely even walk upright without falling asleep and jolting awake. He still made time for them, however, when he got those rare few off days.

He's honestly surprised that man managed to drive a car properly in the state he was in.

Their mother was often out of the house, Crocc didn't know what she was doing but he just thought it was like his dad. Unlike his dad, however, she didn't really like him. He didn't really know why, nor did he really care either if he was to be honest.

Around a year later the tension between their parents got so thick it could be cut with a butter knife. Then it turned to arguments in the rare times they both were in the house, he didn't even know his parents could make such cutting remarks to each other, and then both of them being in the house less than before.

Then when he turned 10, and Jack 5. They got divorced. Croc was left with his mother and Jack got taken by his father. His mother didn't take the divorce well, really, probably because at the same time she got fired from whatever the hell she was doing and was left jobless.

Then she dropped the bomb on his that his dad wasn't even his actual dad and Jack is only his half-sibling and then promptly abandoned him in the sewers with the rats and what was most likely very poisoned water due to it being the sewers and Gotham.

Well. Fuck.

Croc thinks that Jack doesn't even remember him due to how young he was, nor did he ever see his dad again cause, y'know, being abandoned in the sewers and all.

Then multiple years later he ran into his brother again and got DAMN was he tall. Not taller than him, but it was basically the equivalent of a gut punch to Croc, because he remembers his baby bro being so tiny, so baby.

He blames his father's genes for him being 8 feet taller now. A head shorter than him, sure. But he wants back his small baby bro alright.

Then he finds out his baby bro has a family.

And fuck did he not want to involve himself anymore in fear of being a catalyst for tearing said family apart due to being, well, him and all. Then he was promptly (quite literally) dragged over to meet said family despite his stance on the matter.

Then he finds out he's just treated like a normal person with zero amount of fear. His wife? She had to have a giant in her family too because she was 7 feet tall and was smart enough to kick his ass.

His daughter? 6 feet tall and their first meeting she accidently became his therapist. Also, he was sure she was a meta of some kind, probably something to do with wolves.

Then finally, their son.

It felt like he was thrown back to his childhood when he saw him, he looked so much like Jack did, and he was so, so tiny just like his baby bro was. He had to physically hold himself back from doing anything with the kid because he feared he would accidentally break him or something.

Then he found out that apparently his nephew was half-dead and that his brother and his wife hated ghosts with a passion, built a portal to the other side, had their city attack by the ghost king and then promptly found out about their son's half-dead status and had to do a major revamp of basically everything they knew and acted upon.

Which they're still working on.

Oh and also their daughter is a werewolf, she had a meta gene from someone of his dad's side and only recently activated it.

All of that which was a lot to take in for old Killer Croc, also he knew his niece had something to do with wolves.

So, Killer Croc in all of his life from the point of being abandoned at up to now, decided to go screw the bats and whatever they're attempts of figuring out what the fuck's going on with him (look at you Red Hood.) and decided to try and integrate himself into this family and brother's life again as best he can.

[malaierba]

I kinda do believe that Toshiro IS afraid of being head of his household.

He's barely made any decisions of his own his whole life. Only time he did was to save someone he cared about. He's too used to the comfort of obedience, I think he believes it absolves him of participating in the activities of a household that does things in a way he disagrees with.

What kind of things you ask? Mainly how those bound to it are treated, I think:

He's angry at Maizuru when he learns about the flying hag that chased him as a kid being her doing.

He let's Izutsumi/Asebi go. There's two translations going around of the scene where Maizuru informs him that she's missing. I've seen bilingual Japanese users on twitter say that the one where he goes "She'll find her way back if she wants to" is more appropriate, it carries the intention of him letting her go. Saying "just leave her" is probably what a native English speaker assumed to be the more straightforward intention.

When he tells Laios about how Tade was probably in a very bad situation because she saw his dad (who he doesn't respect at all) as a saviour he says "I wanna speak to her". He doesn't because, passivity man, but, I get the feeling he wanted to tell her "he's still not a good person, Tade". I get the feeling he'd allow her to leave after Izutsumi if they were ever in a situation where he can actually be the decision maker.

He apologises to his party for dragging them down to confront the Faligon. Remember how that was all of those guyses first death in a dungeon? I've said this but. Man saw them get wipped. Childhood friend AND mom figure died in front of his eyes, and I know that's normal in a dungeon, but jeez. His mom-adjacent figure. His "MOM". idk I'd be messed up, unrelated but I think Laios is definitely suppressing how much it affected him to see Falin be eaten, be turned, be stabbed, etc etc. He's definitely an "I'll focus on problem solving to avoid looking at my emotions" type of guy.

During the fight he asks Laios "what about me is strong?". If you'll remember, Laios said that in the original party, Toshiro was in charge of finding an opening and dealing the killing blows. I wonder if he felt burdened, responsible for their failure then?

If he takes failure that hard when he's just following orders, I can see him feeling anxious about the prospect of failure when he's the one issuing them. It's probably why he comes across as so half-hearted with the whole "earn the right to be the next Head of the Clan" thing.

Not to mention, I remember seeing someone on X say, "the big gap between Toshiro and his baby brothers (13 years) is probably because Toshitsugu originally just wanted one (1) heir out of his arranged marriage to Toshiro's mom, since he actually loved Maizuru. But then he decided that Toshiro wasn't made of whatever was necessary to be a leader of their shady ass clan, so he had another two kids as backup".

If Toshiro is aware of that, fuck man, what kind of confidence is he going to have 😵

But, it's also a shame, right? Because he's explicitly empathetic. I think that's the meaning of him being shown playing with bugs as a kid, being coded as kind of softhearted. He empathises with things/beings he "shouldn't". But he's also obedient, he's always masking, so he has a hard time showing it explicitly. Honestly, the fact that he has that discussion about Tade with Laios is impressive imo, he trusts him and feels more comfortable with him than he lets on. He should NOT say the same thing to Maizuru or Hien, even though he respects them and cares for them.

If he had a bit of a spine, he'd be good for the people in the household. Probably bizarre in a way that even his dad can't predict, and maybe wouldn't like (he likes weirdos but only when it means chaos and fun it seems?). Maybe there'd be infighting. He just doesn't agree with the way his dad does too many things.

On the other hand, I also kinda think he should just take Tade and fuck off back to Melini lol. Become a bodyguard for Laios, help a bit with politics. What's for him in Wa anyway? An Estranged family and friends he doesn't fit with anymore. I think he'd be more likely to feel homesick for his friends in Melini than the Nakamoto household.

In any case I hope that Falin encouraging him to be more of an active participant of his own life has an everlasting effect on him. Even if he's afraid of shouldering that responsibility.

[heirloomgem]

In which Jinwoo can be sly in ways he didn’t expect just for her

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot. I’ve taken inspiration from Momo Art's comic.

Warning: Cockro- I’m not even going to say it. Sly Jinwoo😭

Y/n is Jinwoo’s childhood friend. He has met her since they moved right next to their apartment. 

If Jinwoo were asked to describe Y/n, he would describe her as a mountain. Unmoved by anything, steady and strong, mentally and emotionally. 

She has been a mountain for both Jinwoo and Jinah. Despite losing their parents under different circumstances, she has been there for them, in good and bad times.

She’s a strong woman, Jinwoo thought.

She has given him strength when he thought he couldn’t go on and to his sister, a mother figure to lean on.

She’s also kind. 

Growing up with a kind family, who has been kind to them when they needed help, it's no surprise she grew into such a beautiful person.

She has also been a constant in Jinwoo’s life. Even though at one point, Jinwoo thought of her as a stubborn and reckless person. 

He still remembers when he was still called the weakest hunter, the lowest in his rank.

One moment he was being insulted after a raid for getting injured before a blurred figure passed him. The next, he saw Y/n harshly grabbing the hunter’s shirt, snarling and swearing to the point even a sailor would be embarrassed. She almost choked the poor guy as well.

She had come on her own, carrying his lunch which he had forgotten when she saw how Jinwoo was being mistreated. This made her snap and charge recklessly, not even bothering that the guy was a hunter.

Soon, a scream of anguish erupted throughout the area as the man crouched down, holding his family jewels. Y/n kicked the guy in the nuts when he tried to pry and cursed at her.

The surrounding people and Jinwoo instinctually clutch their private area, trembling and paling at the sight. The guy was on his knees, mouth foaming and twitching.

Needless to say, it was chaotic after. Y/n was on the verge of being charged with assault if it weren’t for people stepping out and telling their grievances to the officer about the man. This guy has been insulting and assaulting people, especially female hunters. 

In the end, the case was dismissed and forgotten. The guy, whose balls are still in pain, was fired as a hunter and got charged instead.

It was also the first time Y/n learned that a cute and timid animal can be scary. She trembled when Jinwoo scolded her with a cold close-eyed smile once they got home.

Y/n remembered her auntie being an ice queen with a scary smile whenever she got angry at Jinwoo's father. She guesses blood doesn’t lie, like mother like son.

… 

Y/n is strong however there are times when she’s not. 

Whether to laugh or question the universe, Jinwoo couldn’t help but choose the former when he recall such a moment.

It was a normal day for the three of them and a rare day off for Jinwoo. He had a few days off to rest before he could participate again since he got injured from his last raid.

It might have been because of the summer heat, causing everything to feel humid when that thing came out.

Jinwoo, y/n, and his sister were lounging in the living room, relaxing when Y/n felt something crawling at her legs. Long spiny and hairy legs were felt on her skin.

Y/n breath shallowed and her body turned cold from the foreboding feeling. Lifting her head, two small black beady eyes stared back at her.

A piercing shriek echoed in the living room, shocking both siblings. 

Quickly looking at Y/n, Y/n stood up so fast she stumbled over and started thrashing around, causing it to fly overhead. (y/n refuses to say its name).

Seeing it, Jinah didn’t hesitate and screamed at the top of her lungs, joining her noona. (Jinah refuses to name the thing as well.) Immediately, taking cover.

Jinwoo stood up also when, suddenly, he found it hard to breathe.

Y/n had rammed into him and put her arms around him. If it were any other situation, Jinwoo would have enjoyed it. However, with how hard Y/n is gripping him, he’s sure he would die from this instead of the monsters he always faced.

Y/n called his name and he looked behind. 

With teary eyes, she pleaded, “Jinwoo, please kill it .” 

Jinwoo's lips twitched, feeling his ears burn and his cheeks flush. It’s illegal to look so cute while saying such disturbing words, he thought. Both things don’t match at all.

His sister screamed at him, this time without any reservation as it flew near her. This snapped Jinwoo from his dazed.

Jinwoo complained under his breath at his sister before he got to work but with difficulty as y/n clung to him. Yelling and hugging him tighter, when it got too close to them, his sister was not helping at all as she also screamed the whole time.

Can’t say he didn’t enjoy the whole fiasco though. Just recalling Y/n hugging him made him giddy and energetic for the next few days even if he started working again. The whole time they raid a dungeon, a silly smile stayed on his lips even when he got injured.

The other hunters couldn't help but secretly doubt that he might have finally lost it.

Now as an S-rank, witnessing such a similar event and feeling his darling’s arms around him as she clung for dear life. Jinwoo thoroughly enjoyed this bizarre situation. 

With only his pants on and shirtless, Jinwoo just finished taking a bath when all the chaos occurred and he found himself being tackled.

That thing was flying all over the place, crawling and stopping at a place before flying again.

This time, Jinwoo took his time to kill it.  Completely enjoying having his darling arms around him. 

Immersed with his darling, it didn’t even bother Jinwoo when his sister almost fainted from fright when it got too close to her.

Without his shirt, Jinwoo directly felt her body, Y/n skin is so soft compared to his and so warm. He could even feel his darling's brea-,Jinwoo cough, quickly interrupting his thoughts. He felt his cheeks blushing.

However once Jinwoo finished the job, he felt his darling’s arms swiftly disappear as she ran away from the bug’s corpse that Jinwoo was about to dispose of.

Jinwoo quickly missed his darlings embrace. Unfortunately, he can’t complain since he hasn’t confessed nor are they in a relationship yet.

He could only wait for such a situation again but it's so rare and only when it's summer do these critters come out.

Throwing the bug into the trash can along with the paper he used, that’s when an idea hit Jinwoo.

For a long moment, he eyed the corpse before him.

… 

It wasn’t long before such a situation occurred again and again. Every time, it just so happens that Y/n is in their apartment and it just so happens that Jinwoo is there. It also just so happens that thing appeared even though it's already the beginning of autumn.

Patting his darling's head, Jinwoo comforted and openly hugged her as she trembled in fear.

 Jinwoo thought, it couldn’t be helped since his darling may be strong but there are times when she’s also weak especially when it comes to it. 

He still found it cute no matter what.

Meanwhile, his sister, who has been sitting on the couch, throughout the whole thing, looks at him incredulously. 

Jinah had been suspicious of that accursed thing when it started appearing every time her noona came to visit and, conveniently, her brother was always there.

Her suspicion grew stronger when it never once approached her at all. One time when she decided that it was safe, Jinah observed it and realized that that thing had become her brother’s shadow soldier.

She saw purple highlights on its body similar to her brother's other soldiers. And her brother shamelessly used it to scare her noona nonstop so he could hug her to his heart's content

Jinah had half the mind to shout at her brother when her brother glanced at her.

Smirking before putting a finger in front of his lips, a gesture for her to stay silent before he went back to comforting his darling.

Jinah screamed in her heart in disbelief ‘What a sly sadistic evil man!’

She couldn't decide whether she should pray for her future sister-in-law from that thing or from her brother.

A/n: Thank you for reading. Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of sly Jinwoo.

Extra:

Igris: He felt tormented whether he should praise his liege or feel pity for their Lady's suffering.

Meanwhile the other shadows…

Beru: “As expected of our liege!”

Bellion: "Quite clever, my liege."

Other soldiers: Just happily cheering for their king without a thought.

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter One - Royal Mess

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

Notes: The Monaco royal family has been fabricated for this story! I know nothing about the actual Monaco royal family so I have made it up, turned them into characters

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, hangover

2.1K

Series Masterlist

ROYAL MESS

In the early hours of the Morning on Friday, the 19th of May, Princess Y/N of Monaco was found lying in the street outside of MK Club Monaco after what appears to be a wild night out. Fans of the princess know this is no new occurrence for her.

When asked, employees in the club were quoted as saying: “It is always a delight to serve the princess. She is always polite and kind when ordering from the bar, always offering to pay for the drinks of those around her."

"Princess Y/N is fun to party with, sure. But she takes it too far, gets too drunk, and leaves us all wondering how far is too far?" Said one club patron to our reporters.

It leaves us all wondering how far is too far for the Princess of Monaco? When will her family finally take action against her partying ways?

Pictures such as these are not uncommon for the Princess of Monaco, showing us just how far royal privilege goes. It is at times like these where we thank any higher power above us that she is just the spare.

Having your entire life published for the world to see was incredibly hard. From the minute she was born, Princess Y/N of Monaco had been watched by the public. Her birth had been publicised, with minute by minute updates from the royal family staff to the papers (that was a tabloid problem actually. The staff member that had been feeding this information to the public had been fired as soon as he had been discovered).

Everything she did, from her very first public opinion, had been on television for the principality to see. Monaco loved her, but they mostly loved watching her. At first she was cute, the nation fawning over her. Her first birthday was televised, as was every birthday until she became a teenager.

As a teenager, Princess Y/N of Monaco tried to be withdrawn, to stay away from the public eye. But it was damn near impossible. She was the Princess, everybody wanted to know what she was all about. Her social circle was a pool of sharks, ready to sell her out for a quick bit of cash.

As Princess Y/N got older, she began acting out more and more. She had her first drink at sixteen years old, two years before she had reached the legal drinking age. From that moment, her life changed.

That was the moment she became this wild party girl. Where she’d been pristine and proper for the cameras and the tabloids, Y/N changed. She stopped caring about the cameras that followed her, about what the tabloids were saying about her. She was going to live her life and she wasn’t going to give a damn anymore.

She became this wild party girl. She had appeared in every club in Monaco before she turned eighteen. All of them were her regular spots by the time she turned eighteen. It was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco. She was embarrassing to the Royal family of Monaco.

Embarrassing to the point where her father made her move out. He bought her an apartment, somewhere to go that was just hers. It got her out of the palace, away from the rest of the royal family. She still went to the palace when she was needed, but that was rare.

It was easier to get back to her Monaco apartment after a night of getting black out drunk, but sometimes Y/N ended up at the palace. It was a force of habit by then, getting the taxi to take her back to the palace. She was never turned away, always allowed inside. Normally she stumbled away to her childhood bedroom, falling asleep in her clothes from the night before.

That was what happened this time. She had fallen asleep in the sparkly top and jeans that she had worn during her night out. She stank of alcohol and had a wicked hangover when she woke up.

It was disorienting, waking up in her childhood bedroom. She wasn’t used to it still, even though it was a pretty regular occurrence. After a few seconds of getting used to the blinding light in her bedroom (she was too drunk to close to curtains the night before), she quickly figured out where she was and rushed to the bathroom to throw up.

Fuuuuuck.

Her brother was never happy to see her at the palace after a night of drinking. Actually, he was always pissed, especially when she was drunk.

When she was done throwing up in her en suite, Y/N washed her face, trying to wake herself up. She placed some toothpaste on the toothbrush that had been placed in her bathroom for when she stayed over and began brushing her teeth, trying to get the taste of throw up out of her mouth.

As she brushed her teeth, there was a knock at the door. She shouted something around the toothbrush in her mouth, but it was unintelligible. The knock sounded again, the person refusing to leave her alone.

With a huff and a sigh, Y/N walked out of the bathroom with her toothbrush still in her mouth. “What?” She barked as she pulled open the door.

In front of her was her brother, already dressed in his usual fine suit. “Fuck,” Y/N hissed around her toothbrush, and his expression dropped.

“Language,” he said, striding into the room. He scrunched up his nose, the room already reeking of alcohol. Oh wait, that was just her. “Shower, get dressed, and meet me in my office,” he said and turned on his heel, walking out of the room.

As the door shut, Y/N pulled a face and stuck up her middle finger. She was far too drunk for this shit.

Spitting into the sink, Y/N put her toothbrush back. She stripped off her dirty clothes from the night before and climbed into the shower. The hot water was like heaven against her skin, and she relished in it. The whole shower was a slow process. She was slow to squeeze her shampoo into her hand and run it through her hair. If she remembered rightly from the night before, somebody had accidentally thrown their drink over her.

She took her time getting clean. It didn’t cure her hangover, but it certainly made her feel better.

Once she was done, Y/N got changed into pyjamas. She didn’t bother dressing properly, what was the point? She didn’t care for the people taking tours around the palace, didn’t care for the staff walking through the halls, or the security in every room.

As she walked through the halls, heading towards her brother’s office, she waved to the tourists. They instantly snapped pictures of her in her hello kitty pyjama pants but, again, she didn’t care.

She knew more than anybody else in her family that they were not the most famous thing in Monaco. No, the twenty-six year old Ferrari driver was. Charles Leclerc, Il Predestinato. He was the biggest thing in Monaco, the pride and joy of the nation. Y/N’s brother only helped to fuel this. The Prince of Monaco was maybe the biggest Charles Leclerc fanboy out there.

She knocked on the door before walking into her brother’s office. There were two security guards on the door, keeping the public away. Y/N walked the short distance and threw herself down into the chair opposite her brother, his rather large desk between them.

The first bit of responsibility that Henri, the Prince of Monaco, was given by his father, was to look after Y/N, his little sister. She was his responsibility – Henri knew he was going to be grey by the time he was thirty.

Henri pulled a newspaper out of his desk drawer and threw it down in front of her. It was opened perfectly, showing off the picture of her laying on the grass. “Seriously, Y/N?” He voiced as he sat back in his chair, staring at her.

Y/N picked up the newspaper and read through it. She’d only been back from her night out for maybe six hours; they’d gotten the story printed insanely quickly. But they always did when it came to her, she was a hot topic for journalists.

“I don’t know what you’re upset about, Hen,” she said as she put the newspaper back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “They don’t mention you in the article.”

Henri let out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair. He could have pulled it out from how much she frustrated him, let the bald spots appear. But he couldn’t. He was a prince; he had to be pristine and perfect. On the rare instances that the tabloids were speaking about him instead of his sister, he was often referred to as Prince Charming, and he had women swooning left, right, and centre.

Too bad Henri was more interested in cars than women.

“Do you seriously not understand who articles like this makes our entire family look?” He asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you that fucking thick? This shit makes us all look bad, not just you.”

Y/N let out a dramatic, sarcastic gasp. Her brother didn’t often swear, so she had to take the piss when he did. But Henri’s glare shut her up immediately. Although he tried to always remain composed, Henri was still scary when he was angry.

Well, she stopped with her dramatics, but she wasn’t going to back down. Suddenly, Y/N was standing up, her hands on his desk. “Like the article said, Henri, I’m just the spare,” she spat and sat herself back in the chair.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Henri said as he shook his head. He tried to keep his calm, remain composed, but Y/N made this very, very hard. It had been six years of Henri doing this, and he still wasn’t used to it. “You’re nothing but a spoilt, little brat.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. If Herni wanted to go there, he was going to go there. She let out a dry laugh as her nails dug into the arm of the chair. “I’m the selfish one?” She threw back, feigning surprise. “Was it me who threw a tantrum because I didn’t get a Ferrari 250 GTO for my twenty second birthday? No, wait, I think that was you.”

Henri glared, but he easily hid his surprise. How on earth did she remember the name of the car that he had so desperately wanted seven years ago?

But he dropped his glare and sat back in his seat, once again pinching the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t him that she was annoyed at, it was the article, and she was just lashing out. “Go on,” Henri said, waving her off.

Y/N stood up, marching out of the office as Henri placed the newspaper back into his desk drawer. She stomped her way through the halls, ignoring the tourists as she went to gather her things and head back to her apartment.

She was near impossible to deal with. Twenty-two years old, and jobless. She was living off her family, living fast and living like she wanted to die young. When she turned twenty, her family had tried to force her into getting a job, but that had pushed Y/N into doing even more wild and crazy stuff. She had disappeared for three days, her only respite from drinking being when she was sleeping on a friend’s couch. She was on a full-on bender and her family was incredibly worried for her.

Keeping his eye on Y/N and putting out her fires for her was a full-time job for Henri. It had him so exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. She was going to be the death of him.

He had to do something with her, something to get her on the right track. But he didn’t know what.

There was one thing Y/N could be forced into. It was something fun, something she had done as a child and maybe the one event she looked forward to every year. Her eyes would light up as she watched it happen and she got to excited to hand the winners their trophies.

That was the Monaco Grand Prix.

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @hellowgoodbye @prettiest-at-the-party @hollie911 @darleneslane @minkyungseokie @charizznorizz @rafaaoli @myescapefromthislife @choppedlambshandcowboy @spilled-coffee-cup @janeholt3 @mamako23 @catmouseggy

[merakiui]

Jock floyd who's name has been ran thru the streets ragged, but he's actually a little virgin otaku who needs to keep up his cool persona because otherwise all his 'flirty' actions will be seen as creepy. He doesn't want sports and alcohol, he wants mersex and breeding and keeping you locked up and and and

Can also be turned the vulnerability way where everyone assumes he's a player because he's playful but he's actually yearning and longing and sensitive, using avoidance tactics (Cater kin) and he's down bad in love with reader since childhood because she doesn't treat him based on assumptions and he feels like he can be nerdy ol floyb when he's with her <3

VIRGIN NERD OTAKU FLOYB!!!!!! OMG........ on the outside, he's that loud jock who everyone thinks sleeps around like a sex addict, but the truth is that he's a gross closet pervert who has never even held hands,,,,,, oh, that's so delicious. orz he's got everyone fooled with the persona he puts up. While everyone is spreading rumors about how he definitely fucked that one basketball team cheerleader, he's busy jerking it to hentai and imagining you in those scenes. AAAAA HE'S A LOSER!!!!!! <3

Floyb who normally wears contacts, but he tends to lose those and so he goes out into the world with blurry vision because putting on his glasses would decrease his cool guy aura. T_T he wears his glasses when he's alone, though. One day he overheard you say glasses are cool and since then he's been dying to fuck you with them on so you can tell him he looks cool. orz orz he's so desperate and wants you like you're the air he breathes. He can't talk to you as Floyd. He has to talk to you as the (supposed) fuck-boy jock with the crazy-high libido and flirty tongue. >_<

The "dumb jock" trope, but Floyd's actually super smart and does well in his classes. It's just when lack of motivation or bad mood hits that his grades suffer, but he's a very brilliant student. Hehe nerdy Floyb looking up all the ways to pleasure you and practicing on his onahole how to finger like an expert.

Everyone on the basketball team has their usual locker room talk before and after practice. Some of them brag about the flings they've recently had. Floyd doesn't really care about any of that because last night he came to the thought of knocking you up, and if anyone knew the types of fantasies he's had regarding you,,,, the viewpoint would change. It's not like he truly cares what others think of him, whether it's true or false, but he does want to give you a good impression of himself. He loves you the most, after all. Everyone else might as well be ghosts.

[eunoiaflow3r]

mine - ron weasley x reader

requests open

taglist

warning(s): language, smut

word count: 1.9k

request(ed): fic where you saw ron and Hermione getting too close so you got mad and he was angry at you and gave you a punishment + Can you do anthor ron fic where the reader got jelly because she saw hermione and ron get close so she ignores him and he gets angry and puts her in her palce

summary: Y/N gets jealous and Ron has his way of reassuring her…characters 17+

—————————————————————

You weren’t even the one to notice it at first. Luna was at your side while you two studied on the lawn. There was a quiz in herbology and you desperately needed her help.

“They seem quite close.” Luna comments. You follow her eyes across the way to see Ron leaning against a pillar and Hermione in front of him holding her books and laughing at a joke he undoubtedly told. He smiled brightly and you watched as she leant out her arm to touch his.

Your heart kind of dropped but then you reminded yourself that they were friends. Just friends, and you didn’t need to worry.

At dinner you sat next to him and he pressed a kiss to your cheek and had his hand on your thigh as you two ate. You talked about your day and everything was pretty normal and you forgot what happened earlier - it became irrelevant, until the next day.

You didn’t see Ron at breakfast…or Hermione. Harry told you that they were in the hall studying for his test and normally it wouldn’t bother you except for the visuals you had of them yesterday. You trusted the both of them, sure, but it didn’t stop an insecurity from growing. You aren’t the type to compare yourself to another girl, but you can admit that his recent actions are hitting some kind of nerve.

———

“Hello Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

Fred and George came over so that you were sat in the middle of them. You were on the couch in the Gryffindor common room writing a letter to your parents.

“Hey George, Fred. What are you guys up to?”

“Bored.” Fred answers.

“Are you doing anything interesting ?” George asks.

“Just writing.” You say.

You talk to them for a while until you all looked towards the portrait as it opened. You heard giggling and waited to see who would come out - Ron and Hermione. They both carried snacks and shared a bag of crisps.

“Hmmm.” Fred hummed.

“Hmmm indeed. They look cozy.” George whispered.

They both got up at the same time and rubbed Ron’s head as they left - probably to cause trouble somewhere. Hermione waved to you before going into her room, and Ron sat in the seat next to you, offering his crisps. You decline and feel yourself become stiff.

“Missed you today.” he says, going in to kiss your neck.

You move slightly so he doesn’t get the chance. “Where were you?”

He looks confused for a second at your movement but doesn’t comment. “With Hermione…and Harry. I’m sorry I’ve been distracted today.”

You hum. “Okay. I’m going to bed.”

“Already? It’s not even late yet.”

“I’m tired Ronald. Goodnight.”

You never called him by his full name but you must admit you were irritated. Yes he’s allowed to spend time with his friends, he doesn’t have to be around you 24/7…but them being so close just made you feel weird.

The next morning you woke up late…barely slept - tossing and turning thinking about Ron and Hermione. It made you sick to your stomach how seeing the two of them made you feel. And how could you even say anything? You would seem like a bad girlfriend if you brought it up. So you wouldn’t.

When you arrived at breakfast you saw Hermione next to Ron and Harry across from Ron. Hermione was stealing food off of Ron’s plate and he would pinch her every time she tried causing her to giggle. You couldn’t watch. It just seemed so flirty to you and you couldn’t stand it.

You decided to sit next to Blaise, as you haven’t caught up with him in a while. Yes he was friends with Draco and Pansy, sworn enemies to your friends but Blaise didn’t care about any of that. You two have been close since childhood. You told him what was troubling you (quiet enough so that Draco and Pansy couldn’t hear) and he told you that your feelings were valid. That Ron seemed good enough but his actions can definitely seem off putting.

———

Across the hall Ron watched as you sat next to Blaise and began to talk. He was aware of yours and his relationship but he didn’t understand why you’d rather sit next to Blaise than him. He was also confused as to why you were late to breakfast and short with him last night. It wasn’t until he saw Blaise whisper something into your ear that made you giggle that made him angry.

“Why is Y/N sitting over there?” Ron asked no one in particular.

Harry turned and saw and so did Hermione.

“That’s strange,” she commented. “I haven’t seen her much at all these past few days actually do you think she’s been with him?”

Ron didn’t like that comment. He wasn’t jealous, no, but it did irk him a bit. He’s been with Hermione and Harry…does that mean she’s been with Blaise?

When he saw you in the hall a few hours later he tried coming up and talking to you but you just gave him a quick look and walked away. That pissed him off. Now he realized what you were doing was intentional. He just couldn’t figure out why.

It happened again during your last class which you conveniently had together - you avoided him. Made sure that you always seemed to be busy in conversation with someone else so that he would look like the asshole if he interrupted. You were being coy and he knew it.

———

You had managed to ignore Ron all day. That was Blaise’a advice. Yes, it was petty, but you were mad. Give him a taste of his own medicine. It hurt because you missed him, and you thought about how this might push Ron towards Hermione more but if Ron didn’t notice your absence then you shouldn’t be together.

You sat in the common room, playing a game with Luna when Ron made his way over.

He leans down so that his lips are next to your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You roll your eyes.

“And so what if I have? Didn’t think you’d notice anyway.”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t say anything for a moment. You got nervous but continued your game.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’m playing this -“

“Y/N.”

And that’s all it took. You followed him into his room and watched as he cast a spell to lock the door. You took a seat on his bed and watched as he took his robes off and began loosening his tie.

“So what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“Don’t say that. I know it’s something, don’t lie to me.”

You cross your arms and stare at the floor.

“If you can hang out with your…friend…Then I should be able to hang out with mine, right?”

Ron took a moment to thing as he leaned against his dresser so that he was sitting on it. Then it clicked for him. Hermione. Blaise.

He grinned, but you could tell he wasn’t happy.

“So, you see Hermione and I together, and instead of communicating your feelings, you decide to make me jealous and angry by hanging out and flirting with Blaise?”

“I wasn’t trying to - wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I went to him for advice.”

He shakes his head. “What I’m hearing is you don’t trust me. Don’t trust me enough be loyal and respect your, our, boundaries.

I don’t want anyone but you, and I thought we were on the same page. I love you. Don’t want anyone but you, wouldn’t even dare look at anyone else the way I look at you. You should feel comfortable enough to talk to me when you’re feeling some kind of way.”

You were silent. He was right. You should have just talked to him. He would have understood.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

He nods towards his bed. “Undress please.” he comes closer as you do. “Obviously I have to show you to trust me.”

You have to admit, you were excited, but nervous.

He moves you up so that your head was on his pillows and he was in between your legs. He leans down so that his lips were right above yours and waits until you make the first move. You lift your chin up and he kisses you, hard, and passionately. His hand makes his way up to your neck and squeezes gently which makes you moan into his mouth. When he takes his hand away you whine until he pulls away and pulls your arms so that they’re above your head.

He removes his tie and ties your wrists to the headboard.

“Ron, please…”

He knew you loved to touch. Loved your fingers in his hair or on his back, around his neck. He was taking that privilege away and kissing down your neck. He took a moment to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he massaged the other. When he was done, he switched sides until finally he was ready to leave more wet kisses down your body.

When he got to just below your belly button he took his thumb to rub at your clit. You moaned and tried to pull your arms away from the headboard. You wanted to touch, so bad.

“Ron, oh God.” You whined.

He kept rubbing as he back up so that he was on his stomach, arms positioned under your legs, hands on your breasts, and face near your heat.

He leans down and licks a stripe up until he gets to your clit - there he sucks until your moans turn into pleads.

You try to close your legs or move but he holds them apart as he continues the pressure against your clit. He brings his middle and ring finger to your mouth and tells you to suck while he starts to flick his tongue against you. Once he’s satisfied he brings his fingers down to gently press against your entrance.

Ron puts one finger in and you moan.

“Ron! Please, please, please, more.”

“You think you deserve more baby?” He moans into you. “Think your pussy deserves to cum tonight?”

Your whine is nearly a cry. You’re just wishing and hoping he adds another finger.

“Tell me who I belong to Y/N. Let me hear you say it.”

“Mmmm. You belong to me Ron please, more.”

“I belong to you hmmm? Say it louder, I wanna believe it.”

“Fuck, Ron, You’re mine Ron please, please, please.”

He adds another finger, and continues a steady rhythm while pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“And you belong to me baby. You’re all mine, and you’re gonna gonna cum on my fingers, okay? Want you to cum for me, can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes please Ron I wanna cum for you.”

He brings his tongue back to your pussy and begins licking your clit fast while pushing his fingers in and out of you curving them slightly as to hit your g-spot.

“I’m close Ron, fuck! I’m close, I’m close, I’m close.”

Ron practically grins against your pussy and goes faster.

“You’re close? Cum for me baby. Cum for Daddy, wanna taste you on my tongue.”

He continues and you fight against the restraint as you moan loudly and cum. Your fingernails were dug into your palms and there were nearly tears in your eyes. You felt so good. He made you feel so good.

He got up so that he could untie you.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was anyone’s but yours. No one can ever compare to you. You’re forever mine, and I’m eternally yours.”

——————

The End😭 Goodnight y’all. I suck at endings.

[prettyboykatsuki]

keep me close to you | i. yoichi

✮ tags ; childhood best friends to lovers / idiots to lovers, reader is implied to have grown up a tomboy, stereotypical shoujo manga tropes rip, reader wears makeup, a lot of sexual tension, kissing, confessions 18+

✮ wc ; 3.6k (i don't know. don't ask me.)

✮ a/n ; the worlds most self-indulgent horseshit in the world. sorry! but im not at all actually. this is the very typical 'i didn't see you that way until i realize i did the whole time.' bc i love that trope and i love isagi ok....

reader in this kind of feels awkward in her femininity and that appears in the fic more than once!! please be forewarned.

✮ synopsis ; isagi has never seen you as much more of a friend. so he thought at least.

Isagi is in love with you.

He isn't sure when that happened. He'd love to be know but in all truth - there was never any big eureka moment that made such a thing apparent. If Isagi had to think of all the moments he maybe, sort-of, possibly loved you, they come up to him as bits of nothing-much memories.

That's exactly the problem, really. A long few years of little nothings, accumulated over time, Isagi finds that his whole life has been made up of you. There was no grand gestures of confessions or singular standout moments for him to mull over.

But there was rough-housing with you back when your hair was a little shorter and your chest a little less noticeable. And there was plenty of bike races to the store for ice-cream, and lots of bonding over music you both liked. Isagi remembers sitting on your floor in the 6th grade and watching you play video games much better than he ever could.

A lot that stuff persisted into your teen years, and even into adulthood. Isagi has never thought of it as weird. Play fighting or bike races or being reckless together felt natural - and in some ways, you were the only person who ever brought that out of him.

It was normal. You were friends and you got along as friends. Isagi never thought about it any more than that.

Just a few months ago, you got a boyfriend. Said boyfriend didn't think your friendship with Isagi was entirely appropriate. He had approached Isagi first. You talked to Isagi after, said you'd still hang out but no more rough-housing and that was that.

Isagi had heard about your boyfriend, though you didn't talk about him much. And after meeting him, it was easy enough to conclude that he was genuinely a good guy. Objectively good for you, accepting of your personality, kind and thoughtful. A good stable job There was nothing bad he could say about him. He wished there was.

"Just the being touchy. I know you two don't think anything of it since you've been friends for so long," He leans in, friendly, as he pats Isagis shoulder "But you wouldn't like if your girlfriend was being touchy with another guy right?"

Isagi had nothing to say. He'd never thought about. Never had a proper girlfriend, though he was interested in a few girls. He'd lost his virginity out of the country and had some hook-ups and talking stages. Never a girlfriend.

Would it bother him? He couldn't say. He didn't know who to think of. There was not a hypothetical girl he could conjure to give him a conclusion. Ultimately dazed, Isagi had replied with something along the lines of "Yeah man, I get it," and then left for practice without turning his back.

It bothered him for weeks. He couldn't do anything without pondering that very question. He couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd described you as his girlfriend. You'd always been a friend, and Isagi knows you as a girl. But you're you before that, and he's never quite put both things next to each other.

But he'd never even thought to look at you as a girlfriend. He brushed off such comments and so did you. You were his friend. One of the very best. You'd know each other until you die, and in a way - this is just proof of your next stage of life. You'd settle down with a partner and so would he and everything would be fine.

But, the thing was - he'd never actually conjured up the future. There was never any assured belief that you'd go and find someone to nest with so soon. It felt unnatural. Disorienting. There was an order to this strange and mad world and your relationship went against it.

Even in thinking that, it'd take Isagi weeks to figure out the extent of his feelings. Weeks of practicing, of going on group dates with his team, of drinking. Weeks of missing you. Being conscious of the sudden absence of his very best friend in the world. You still saw him but it was no longer every other day. And you still called and texted, still told him stupid stuff about your life.

But he'd go on Instagram and see pictures of you from someone else's account. You'd be wearing something he'd never seen you in before. It was pretty. You were prettier. He'd never thought about that before, if only to say that you were and always had been. And plenty of guys had noticed in highschool, too. He'd never thought about it then either.

Isagi had never really considered a lot of things. It didn't dawn on him that he loved you until Bachira pried the information out of him one night on the road.

("Yocchan is stupid,"

Isagi leans on the bench in the locker room and frowns, throwing a confused look Bachira's.

"What the hell? For what?"

It's not Bachira who tells him the information - but Rin, who walks towards his own locker with a tired expression and a towel around his shoulder.

"You're in love with her, you stupid jackass.")

Right. It'd been Rin who told it to him straight, and Rin would know a thing about love. Apparently he'd been with the same girl since highschool and he knew a thing or two. For Rin to tell Isagi such a thing made Isagi really think on it, and when Isagi finally sat down and thought about it - it was clear that he was head over heels in love.

Isagi is in love with you. It has been a tremendous pain in the ass trying to live with this information. It made sense - it really did. It made sense that everything suddenly felt so wrong. It made sense that he never new anything about love and that he could never keep a relationship.

When he thought about it, he'd never stop comparing everyone to you. If it were you—you'd be clumsy at fancy restaurants but it'd still be so much fun to go. If it were you—he might've cared much more about valentines day chocolates. It would've been so novel, so lovely - to imagine how hastily you would've made them. Not obligatory friendship chocolates but something just for him.

If it were you, he might've wanted to buy you expensive things. They'd be different. Clothes and shoes but game consoles and concert tickets. If it were you, he'd always take his sports car. He might've liked the way you fawned over them, with that wide-eyed sense of adventure he's spent his whole life getting to know.

Yes if it were you, Isagi might've gotten angry. Now that he knows, the idea you're getting so touchy-feely with another guy makes him sick. He knows he has no right to feel that way, but he can't exactly help the feeling either.

From the start, if Isagi had realized love started and ended with you, then maybe he would know a thing or two about love by now. He might've cared more about everything, had he realized it even a little sooner.

A few months ago would've sufficed.

Isagi is in love with you.

He has no idea if you feel the same, but in a way that doesn't change anything.

He's seated on his couch, alone in his apartment - and thinking wistfully that he probably has been this whole time.

He looks around his apartment, feeling a little sorry for himself. He's drinking. Even this tipsy, his mind is clouded with memories. You looked at this place together and you helped Isagi move in many months ago.

A place with a good view of the city, Isagi stands to his feet and watches near the cool glass of the window.

It takes him a while to hear his phone ring. When he does, he almost feels like he's hallucinating when he sees your name on the other side. He stares, wonders if the kami like playing malicious tricks on him, and then picks up.

He speaks slowly.

"Hello?"

He knows your crying, even though you're trying harder to hide it. That desperate sniffle that you get is an easy tell.

"Yoichi," You mutter, soft and sad "Can you come to the park?"

"At this hour? It's late. Your boyfriend is gonna be pissed."

You hiccup on the other side of the line. Isagi wants to run to you as soon as possible.

"Just come," You sniffle again, a little sadder. You're crying this time forreal "...I want to see you."

"Okay. Are you alone?"

"Mm,"

"Stay on the phone with me. I'll come soon. Stay on the line."

"Okay."

__

Isagi comes to find you at the park like you've asked. He keeps you on the line the entire Uber ride there and then as he comes through the playground to find you.

Somehow, he knows exactly where you'll be. It's the park you two grew up coming to. It's dark out, damp from the night, and Isagi finds you tucked in the same corner you always are.

You still fit there somehow, just beneath the slide. It's a big space, enough for two people. So, wordless, Isagi climbs into the little box and sits next to you. Close but not close enough, he hangs up the phone and turns his head to stare at you.

"I'm here," He says, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

You look up at him, obviously having been crying. You're wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, but your face has some light make-up on it like you were on a date. He forces himself not to frown as you gaze at him - pouting.

"You're here." You repeat, like you don't know what else to say. You lean your head on his shoulder. It's the most natural feeling in the world, but right now - it makes his breath hitch "Thanks for comin'"

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Well I don't want to."

"Can you really say that after crying like a baby, begging for me to come over, huh? All I want to see you—"

You elbow him without mercy.

"Shut up you jackass. Sorry to interrupt your late night jerk-off session with my tears."

It's not said with any malice, a joke - but there's insecurity laced in. Sorry for making you come see me, you want to say he's sure. He shakes his head.

"I could've been hooking up with a girl."

"Yeah? It's a miracle anyone would wanna get your dick wet, you should go back and finish the job,"

"Can't," Isagi mumbles, trying not to look at you closely "Some girl is making my shoulder wet instead though."

"Sorry," You croak, so horrifyingly sincere Isagi doesn't know how he's keeping himself upright "I can move."

"I was kidding," He says, hurriedly "It's fine. It reminds me of when we we're kids."

You huff a laugh.

"You only remember annoying stuff."

He mumbles something in agreement before there's a brief bout of silence. He speaks again first.

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"We broke up," You mumble. Isagi feels his heart race, immediately riddled with guilt afterwards. "He broke up with me."

"I thought things were going well?"

"They were," You sniffle. It's the first time in your lives you've opened up to each other about something like this. You've talked about it, but it was always more him talking and you listening. He'd never heard about your crushes before.

In such a vulnerable, innocent position. Alone with him, confiding in him. He wants to stay with you forever "He was really good to me."

"So what? Why'd you break up?"

"I didn't love him. I liked him. And I thought I'd come to love him, but I didn't...I just couldn't love him. He knew it too, so he broke up with me."

"Was he mean about it?"

You laugh.

"Course not. He's one of the nicest guys I've ever met in my whole life. Told you, he was good to me."

"So then...? Are you sad about hurting his feelings?"

You nod, almost meek.

Isagi loves you more than life itself, he thinks.

"I wanted to love him. I thought I could."

"Why couldn't you?"

A brief pause of silence. You're debating on what to say before you seem to settle on something.

"Already someone else."

"Someone else? You love someone else?"

A whisper of hope. So small Isagi almost can't bear it. You nod.

"And what about them?"

"Doesn't love me back."

"How long?" His voice is shaking. He has no idea if you can tell. You laugh.

"A long time."

"Do I know him?"

You laugh again, a little throatier. More melancholy. Isagi feels like he's looking into an abyss. A dangerous place to fall in if he's not careful. He's already in love, already too deep. But he already steeled himself not to hope too much.

"You do know him, I guess."

"Tell me about him," Isagi almost urges. He has to be sure. He has to be sure this isn't one long dream, and that everything is real. "What he's like."

You look at him surprised.

"I thought you hated when I talked about stuff like this?"

"Changed my mind."

"Weirdo. It's nothin' special. We've known each other a while. We get along well. He likes the stuff I do and I like being around him."

"When'd you realized you loved him?"

"Middle school? Probably."

Ah. You've known each other a little longer than that, haven't you?

"You're being awfully secretive about it. Nothing more specific?"

You frown at him.

"Piss off. Go back to not caring about it. It's a dark part of my past and I already gave up on it forever ago."

"What if..." Isagi swallows. He's really the dumbest guy in the entire world for this. It could always be someone else. He knows that. "If your feelings were returned? What then?"

"I've never thought about it," You say, not even considering it might be the case "I'd be happy but I don't see the point in getting my hopes up. His type in girls is like...cuter I guess."

Isagi wants to knock himself out. Idiot. He's gone and ruined his own chances. He wish he could go back and kick the ass of his highschool self. If he called you cute right now, you'd definitely think he was trying to coddle your feelings. You are cute to him.

He can't get the words out.

"And you don't think you are?"

You shoot him a surprised look then burst out into laughter.

"Well, no. Daisuke used to say it but I don't know. Most guys wouldn't think of me as...cute? Sexy maybe? Apparently some of the guys from department see it that way."

Aah. Isagi hates this. He hates hearing that guys name without honorifics. His first name, at that.

"You should listen to the guy you used to date and not whatever knuckleheads you go to school with."

"Are you saying I'm cute, Yoichi? Started feeling bad?"

"It's not pity, alright? But you're not..not cute."

You pause before breaking out in genuine, unruly laughter. Isagi adores the sound of your voice, adores every inch of you as you giggle yourself into a fit.

"You'll never get a girlfriend like that. You have to at least be able to pretend."

It's not pretending. He wants to tell you that you're cute. The way you laugh is cute and the look you get playing stupid claw machine games is cute and the way you get excited by the 7/11 carrying your favorite things is cute. It's never been different and you still look so delighted. Everything about you is cute. Isagi wants to say all that, and that he finds you sexy too. For different, ordinary reasons those stupid guys in your department could never begin to know.

But words are useless - inconceivably pointless to try and make you understand.

"You're cute," He says first, staring at the place in front of him. Then adds "That's not pity."

"So you know how to smooth talk too?"

"It's not that either."

"Then what is it?" Your voice is wavering.

Now or never.

"A confession."

Isagi feels you tense. Feels you freeze. You start to stutter another joking, lifting your head from his shoulder to turn away but Isagi is quicker. Quick to hold your shoulder, to turn you towards him, to hold your cheek and make you look his face.

"Yoichi?"

"Is it me? Am I the person you like?"

You shake your head trying to look away.

"I don't want to answer that."

"I like you," Isagi grips your shoulder tighter, presses his forehead against yours as he holds on for dear life with hope "I only figured it out recently."

A bout of silence passes before your voice sounds again. It's shaking so hard. Isagi can hear how hard your heart is beating.

"This is fucking mean." You whisper. He frowns at you.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Huh? Does it even kind of seem like that?"

"But since when?" You're arguing. Isagi just confessed his undying love for you and you're arguing with him about it. It's so you. "I'm not even your type."

"No one is my type but you, you idiot." Isagi is exasperated explaining this. It's embarrassing but he's a lot of time to reflect and this is as true as it gets "Every single time I'd ever tried dating someone else or doing things with them - I didn't care. I just did it without thinking. But I always thought if it was you...I'd always want it to be you."

"You're not attracted to me." You assert, maybe trying to compensate.

"Fuck you, I couldn't tell you that you were hot to your face. You kicked my ass every time I mentioned the fact your tits got bigger in highsc—"

You shove him with your shoulder.

"Because you talk about it like that you shitty jock." You hiss.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Isagi mumbles, looking at you "I think you're sexy. What else is there?"

"God this is so embarrassing,"

"I'm being serious," Isagi adds, pouting, face flush with heat "You're just...you've always been attractive I guess."

You give him a small frown. Isagi thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. He wants to kiss you absolutely fucking stupid.

"Are you sure? Like really sure?"

He snorts, laughing humorlessly.

"I've been agonizing about it for weeks. Yes I'm sure."

"What if I told you to kiss me? Could you do it?"

Isagi stares at you in disbelief. He turns himself slightly, staring at you before reaching his hand out towards your cheek. You make a soft noise of surprise as he brushes his thumb underneath your eye. Your face is so hot it's burning against the palm of his hand. He lets his hand settle on the back of your neck before leaning into kiss you.

He kisses you hard but slow. Passion imbued into each tiny movement, drawing as deep as he can go without pushing his tongue between your lips.

You let out a soft moan that makes him pull away, eyes widened. Humiliated you try to shove him away, but Isagi manages to catch you by your wrist.

"Is it starting to click or do you need me to prove it one more time?"

"Ugh. Fuck, you're so,"

He grins wolfishly as he stares at you, watching you shrink so slightly under his gaze. He's not used to winning against you in any capacity with the exception of soccer. It feels good.

"I'm so?"

"Annoying."

"That's it?" He leans in again, lips brushing your cheek and pressing a kiss to it before moving down. He presses kisses down your jaw, relishing in the way you squirm. "Nothing else to add?"

"You're enjoying this too much, Yoichi," You reprimand, though you don't make any effort to move "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"I'm wondering if you find me sexy too, that's all."

You pause before leaning in. He watches the gears turn in your brain before turning your voice low.

"Wanna touch me and find out yourself?"

He pulls away instantly in shock as you blink at him innocently. There's an air of smugness about you. He feels his face burn red immediately, blood rushing up into his brain. He tucks his chin looking away from you. His brain feels like it's full of static.

He's embarrassed. By what you've said but more by how naturally everything falls into place. By how effected he is by something so simple. It usually takes so much more to get him like this.

"What the hell was'at..."

"Karma. Don't be all cocky. I've known about my feelings way longer than you."

"Didn't think you'd know jackshit about stuff like that though."

"Just cause I spare you my sex stories doesn't mean they don't exist."

Isagi feels a pang of irritation as he scoffs.

"I don't want hear about them now either."

"I thought you weren't the jealous type?"

"I just wasn't that into any of those girls."

"But you're into me? Enough that you get jealous?"

Isagi laughs at that.

"Yeah. I'm way more into you than you're ever gonna get through your head anyways."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Means I wanna get all lovey-dovey with you and embarrass you all the time."

You flush and Isagi feels like he's won. Instead of feeling elated or cocky, this time he just feels a little dazed. He stares at you through lidded eyes.

"I'm so into you," Isagi mutters, leaning his head against your shoulder "You're never gonna get it unless you look in my brain,"

You pause momentarily, leaning back enough that Isagi sits up. He looks at you curiously before he feels you tap foreheads. You close your eyes and hum, before peeking just one open.

"I looked," You say softly "I still win,"

Isagi groans internally. God. God you're so fucking cute. It's so you and it's so cute and he loves you.

"Can I please kiss you again?"

"You don't have to ask every time."

"No takebacks."

Isagi leans in again, to kiss you a little softer this time. When he pulls away, the look on your face makes him want to do it all over again. You'll be here all night if he doesn't get a hold of himself.

"You wanna come over to my place?"

"Isn't a little early for that?"

Isagi knocks your foreheads together.

"Not like that. It's late and the trains aren't running. I don't want you taking a cab,"

"I'm a big girl, Yoichi," You say sardonically "If you want me to stay over, just ask. You're still my best friend, dummy." You add the last part a little softer.

He grabs your hand.

"Then stay with me."

You nod.

"Okay. And we can have sex if you want."

"Fuck yeah."

[sanflawoah]

Black Myth: Wukong ramblings because I'M GOING INSANE.

FOUR YEARS. I. DID. MY. WAITING. WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO EXPRESS MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GAME.

(Lengthy words and massive spoilers below!)

First minutes into the game I was all chill expecting the opening to be a long prologue cutscene about JTTW, explaining core things you need to understand, a helpful guide for those unfamiliar with the lore beforehand. But NOOOOO....we jump straight ahead fighting ERLANG SHEN AND THE FOUR HEAVENLY KINGS. We're WIDE AWAKE.

About gameplay, the devs stated repeatedly that it's not a souls-like game, and more like a God of War ish. Yet so many still questions whether it's a souls-like and then went into the game just to say "meh not souls-like". Amazing density of head.

I really don't demand much for whatever mechanic they serve, I'm really just here for the monkey smash experience and the childhood nostalgia and the fresh aesthetics.

The character design?? The environment?? The architecture?? The statues?? Soooo beautiful oh my god you really need to stop and admire these things (when you don't have a boss shredding you) up close. Look up their inspirations and concept arts, some statues and buildings exist in real life and it's really mind boggling how they incorporate it into the story. The part where you fight with Yellowbrow at Thunderclap temple, what a creative choice, the idea of "miniature fight" on the temple altar. I'm farming so many screenshots for art references. 10/10 visuals, graphics will definitely fry your PC.

Again with the character designs. I'm really loving the absurd looking bosses one, really fresh take. Then to the celestials and yaoguais, I just..... OH they're ALL hella gorgeous. I've seen some people going "WOULD" towards Wukong or The Destined One and I don't blame you. I've had my fair share of neuron activation moment.

Erlang yoo, I was stunned at first with the way they present his personality during the opening, but turns out we got the reason for it near the ending :"(((. He was helping us all along ughsjsjsjsksdsd. Also, they know EXACTLY what they're doing by casting Andrew Koji as the english VA.

White Clad Noble? Half snake man hissing at you to get off his lawn. I feel kinda bad for him lmao, dude was just minding his business and we go monkey smash all over his place.

Keeper of Flaming Mountain? Neat hat and cool makeup bro, awesome yin yang palette and battle area design. BANGER THEME I'll get to it.

The Third Prince in Pagoda realm prison, why does he looks so good, you encounter this guy in his cell just suffering, and somehow he's still serving looks.

The girlies damn, the spider sisters are gorgeous, and YES even madam violet spider, come look at spider granny serving fashion and arachnophobia.

At first I was scared that they're going to sexualise the hell out of the spider sisters or any of the female characters, since the book itself tells their trait as luring men with their beauty (to be eaten though). But actually?? They're a lot tamer than I expected? I mentally prepared myself for the worst, like racy sexualised outfit and personality, but turns out they're all very normal. Like how you would see Tang dynasty inspired ladies. I braced for GTA or cyberpunk-like explicitness but thank god it's not the case, not at all.

Rakshasi and Pingping having the relatively "sexy" look, but then both of them had a moment where they're not actually their real selves, but rather a transformation of Zhu Bajie and Red Boy LMAO. Funny boner killer.

Talk about this boi, our Destined One. To be honest I was kinda disappointed when I found out he doesn't speak at all. Banters, insults, cackles, anything you would expect a Wukong-like personality, he doesn't have it.

I tried to think of a reason, and I think the dev's choice of making The Destined One silent kinda has a root to it. Our MC is NOT the Wukong himself, we are literally just some monke, and we're tasked to gather the six relics Wukong had scattered by retracing his journey. Also, I think it's a funny thought that probably it's just their personality difference, Wukong the loud, Destined One the quiet. Wukong sometimes does chaos for shits and giggles, our Destined One does chaos because we have to.

My theory: our Destined One is just non-verbal! Zhu Bajie even acknowledged it. When we first met him after defeating Kang-Jin Loong, he bantered "A furry coat and a pinched face, luck's all you've got", and he looked confused when we don't say anything back because Wukong would've returned the favour, "Great, another mute. Let's not dally". So the game actually acknowledges it, it's not like they intentionally muted us and have the NPCs acting as if we talk back to them all the time.

Non-verbal and asexual coded? I'll take it.

THE ANIMATED CUTSCENES??? OH MY GODDD. Impossible to put ALL the epic frames here. I really don't expect this from a game at all, real time cutscenes are great, but a WHOLE 2D AND STOP MOTION ANIMATED SCENE?? No wonder the full development took SIX years. You could pause the scenes at any frame and it's worthy of analysis.

The stop motion one really surprised me, how are they that dedicated. The plot as well, it started out romantic and escalated into HORROR real quick. Batshit insane, love it.

For many players, the animated cutscenes may be confusing on the first watch. So many references to JTTW, metaphors, mix of Chinese Taoism and Buddhism. I personally encourage people to look around in forums for explanations, plenty of the Chinese words are untranslatable into English, but it's all so worth the knowledge.

Enjoying the JTTW shows and contents as a child is all about the fun and giggles, understanding the lesson of it all as an adult hits me like bricks, especially with the way they're adapted in this game.

I CRIED?? A LOT??? Of all characters I could cry for, ZHU BAJIE?? Man is literally a nasty pervert in the book, living to the pig form indeed, but in this game he's a bit better. Sure he's still his natural pervert self, but since the game took place after JTTW, he surely had some character development. His animated love story cutscene, loorddd they have no business making it so full of freshly diced onions.

Love how each character in animations have different styles. Erlang's design in particular are different in each scenes. Most of the time he has dark hair, in others he has white hair and different armor, same goes for Wukong's design. I'd imagine the devs struggled to choose for one consistent design and decided to just fuck it and put them all in lmao.

And then THE SOUNDTRACKS, THE SOUNDTRACKS YALL. Love love love it when they incorporate buddhist prayer chants flawlessly into the soundrack. The soundtrack during the chapter one ending animation caught my attention with it, I asked around what mantra is it and they say it's probably Cundi Dharani? Please correct me if I'm wrong. The track is called "I See" in the official playlist. The lyrics too, my god, the way they narate the animations.

During the fight with Keeper of Flaming Mountains, IS THE SOUNDTRACK A RENDITION OF "FISHERMAN'S SONG AT DUSK"? IS IT? Losing my mind because it's my favourite chinese traditional piece. Half expected him to pull out a guzheng and blast me with phantom blade from the strings, IYKYK.

And of course, a new rendition of the classic JTTW theme. This will be my neighbour's favourite music for a while.

Some tidbits I like, apparently if you're idle for a while and Zhu Bajie is with you, sometimes he'll start to talk about past stories or lectures you. If you push him around for a few times he'll get annoyed, if you keep pushing him then he'll struck you with his rake lmaoooo. Perhaps we weren't so different from Wukong after all.

Another insane stuff is the headless singing guy. GoW has a talking disembodied head, now BMW has a HEADLESS singing man, literally a reverse Mimir.

The rematch with The Four Heavenly Kings YOOOOO I love their design so much. They look like statues from temples jumping straight to life. The stances! Throwing hands with them is the true Monke of War experience. The East King with his Pipa literally playing the background music, excellent touch.

This has been an insane scroll of yappings, I'll stop here (for now) and take a moment to touch grass. If you've been reading ALL THE WAY to this line, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to harm your braincells.

[cheesus-doodles]

pls i need more yan south scenarios hes underrated 🙏

explored South's personality around his darling a bit more, hope this is alright anon! feel free to send in another ask if you have something more specific in mind!

Masterlist

South Fics: A Time Long Past | The Dawn that A New Day Brings

‎‎

South would definitely be one of the few yanderes who aren’t afraid to expose you to their violent side right from the start - you would have absolutely no question who you were dealing with. This boy has always been rather temperamental and prideful, growing up in a favela and being taught from a young age that violence equaled getting rewards and incentives only helped to stroke his temper and cruelty even further. The only way of life he had ever known is extreme brutality.

And he was still the same cutthroat man when you stumbled across him resting in a side alley, covered in blood. No doubt you were pretty horrified at the sight, not being very used to seeing that much blood on the external of one person, and of course you couldn't have known that it wasn't his blood that was splattered all over him. Which would lead to you starting to panic and offering to call him an ambulance, a normal reaction by any one with the tiniest ounce of sympathy (according to you), but this was all much to South's annoyance. He had already had a long day no matter how much he enjoyed beating others to an inch of their lives, he was tired and he was having a break.

A break that you so rudely interrupted. One very mean look and a loud “huh?!” was enough to have you fleeing in fear from the delinquent, but not before you left him a cold drink for any potential pain.

Yet after South had a chance the turn the situation over in his head after everything died down, the mere fact that you had dared to approach him - a very obvious fierce-looking foreigner with large tattoos (!!) down one side of his face - because you were concerned about him being covered in blood that you didn't even know was his. It was intriguing. And the more he thought about it, the more fascinated he became. Were you not scared of him? No, you definitely were, but then why approach him?

‎‎

You became a mystery that this delinquent couldn't stop thinking about, that he absolutely had to solve, and even if finding you was a right hassle because of how little South had to go on, he was determined to do it. You weren't really given an option to say no when you were dragged out of the canteen by your arm, and even the teachers were too frightened to stop South from straight up kidnapping you from your own school.

The first thing you could bring yourself to ask him wasn't where you were going or what he wanted with you; rather all you wanted to know was if he was feeling better from the previous day. And this tattooed delinquent couldn't help but burst into laughter. You were adorable - a certain innocence to the world that he hasn't experienced since he was but a babe. Sure you knew to be fearful of him, and that he was bad business to be around, yet that still didn't stop you from being concerned.

South decided on the spot that you would be his, though in what capacity he hasn't quite settled on. It would just be nice to have someone who would fawn over him, he supposes, someone who he didn't really have to worry about trying to overpower him.‎

‎‎‎

Even with all his upbringing and bloodthirsty personality, South still does remember the softness and love that he experienced briefly during his childhood from his mother, and that would be enough motivation for him to at least try and win you over without jumping straight to his tried and tested method. Rationalises this as not him going soft, but more so because you clearly were a very fragile person and wasn't built to take blows like he was. Tries his best to show you his good side, bringing you small gifts (mostly stolen from the other delinquents that he beat), taking you on walks and dates in the middle of the school day, attempting to get you to warm up to him.

Though this is not quite entirely out of a good heart, of course. This boy loves more than anything to eat home-cooked meals, and it doesn't quite matter if you can or want to cook - you will be learning how to and you will be cooking for him. Would rather you do it because you wanted to for him (because a hearty meal would come out of willingness and not force, South believes).

South doesn't bother hiding his gang affiliations, his time in juvie or really anything from you; in fact, he is quite proud of his past, doesn't see anything wrong. Drags you to fights so that you can watch him met out beatings right and left, and you were always there at meetings, sitting not far from South but usually doing your own thing, trying to ignore what is being discussed. Fortunately for his poor victims, you usually are able to stop before he kills anyone with his fists, but it's never a pretty sight.

‎‎

The upside is that if you comply and do find a friend in South, you always have someone watching your back. Never having to worry about your safety with South's shadow over you, you can be sure that this boy will always be there when you need him to be. The blond-haired boy is grateful for your food, and he'll be sure to repay that back in kindness towards you.

The downside: he has no qualms in lashing out at you the moment you step out of line. South does try his best to keep it verbal rather than physical; it's like him giving you a chance to correct yourself before he does, keeping in mind that you were a mere civilian. But that hasn't stopped him from following through if you don't and his short temper boils over. Nothing as extreme as a punch or a beatdown like what delinquents get from him, but even a twist of your arm or a slap is enough to shake you to your bones and cause severe pain.

You aren't allowed to run away from him even if you're shaking and crying, forced to stand there next to him tendering to your bruised arm or swelling cheek - he wants to see it all. The fear, the denial, the acceptance that there was no where to run to and that you belonged to him, and finally the submission that settles into your eyes. Of course he'll prefer if you didn't freeze in fear every time you noticed him in the corner of your eyes, but he rather not have to risk trying to find someone as amusing and adorable as you all over again.

You should have known better than to even approach him to begin with, after all.

[highdio]

Pleeease, write your thoughts about the musical lol. I really like your Dio meta posts <3

Just a disclaimer: this is really opinionated but I don't like to drag media for its own sake. There were lots of things to like in the Phantom Blood musical, just ... Dio wasn't one of them. Also, Mamoru Miyano threw himself into the performance he was asked for, so it's hardly his fault. It's just always amazing to me that people feel the need to rewrite Dio into someone else when the way Araki's written him is already perfect, complete and a lot of fun.

So, where to start? Basically, the Phantom Blood musical re-writes Dio, giving him a different personality and different motivations through OOC stage direction along with a bunch of original dialog and scenes. What results is a version of Phantom Blood where "Dio" is just a normal guy without charisma who had a bad childhood and spends most of the story being miserable. Dio as he's written in canon has an uncommon charisma and appeal that's allowed him to remain relevant as one of those 'all-time great' villains. Scene after scene in the musical prove that its creative team either didn't read the manga or just really didn't like Dio.

fwiw Araki wrote Dio as thoroughly fleshed-out, with consistent traits and behaviors and consistent motivations behind his actions. He also left a paper trail of interviews and author's commentaries that develop Dio even more fully beyond the manga. So there's really no excuse for media that treat Dio as some sort of empty vessel waiting to be filled by narrative cliches we already know and expect.

It's annoying too, because, along with its OOC content, the musical is peppered with occasional manga-consistent moments. It's like the musical is camouflaging its Very Bad Take on Dio by having Mamoru Miyano periodically re-enact the canon character's most famous panels. The musical wants simultaneously to take credit for bringing Araki's vision to life on the stage, while at the same time completely undermining its most important element: a capital V "Villain" who, according to Araki, "accepts and embraces his evil nature, and follows his dark path without hesitation." This is the biggest change the musical makes to Dio: musical!Dio has none of the confidence that allows canon Dio him to move so decisively and destructively through the narrative.

Musical Dio is introduced by a scene where he's bullied on his way home, before breaking into a song about how terrible his life is, where "everything is always taken from [him]" ("it's hell …I feel nauseated …[I'm] under a cloudy sky.") The song is alternately tearful and hopeful. "I'm going crazy from being robbed!" he laments and then pollyannaishly muses, "hey, Joestar, can you turn my [cloudy] skies to blue?"

If Dio being introduced as a sad sap and self-described perennial loser hoping for any break sounds attitudinally unfamiliar that's because it is. Araki went in the opposite direction: he started his story by subverting the cliche - wide-eyed poor boy victimized by circumstance leaves his sorrow-filled life hoping for a new start - and instead gave us a kid with surprising, even sinister agency. Dio is not just given a hero's upward narrative arc (something Araki crafted very deliberately), he's introduced improbably in his first scene from a position of control. This fact is important because in the manga it's a position he won't lose until four chapters and nearly 100 pages in, when Jonathan finally fights back. From the time young Dio is introduced - reading a book with his back turned to his bed-ridden father who he's secretly poisoning -

- to the time he's systematically broken down his adoptive brother's spirit by alienating him from his friends, taking Erina's first kiss, and of course kicking his dog, Dio is shown as being in control and on top (Erina drinking the muddy water is the only exception). It's OOC to imagine 12-year old Dio feeling sorry for himself because at the time he's introduced, he's already made a habit of getting what he wants. By the time he sets off for the Joestars after killing his first dad, he's already developed full confidence in his abilities and the inevitability of his rise to riches (something Araki has him explicitly state and then underscores with a panel illustration of a steam train signaling the rise of Modernity).

But the writers and director of the musical don't find this characterization interesting enough or something. So they lose the canon entirely and in its place they invent a version of Dio who's despondent. And they didn't get Araki's steam train memo so they miss the Modernity theme (even though Araki's tied Dio so tightly conceptually to the idea of the Modern that he has him "use a 20th century boxing technique in the 19th century"); instead they double down on class difference being determinative. It never occurs to them that Dio is written specifically by Araki with the freedom to move outside of his social status because he sees it as artificial (the "evil elite" monologue later reveals Dio thinks of the whole social contract thing is arbitrary and voluntary).

Throughout the musical, Dio (although it's not fair to Mamoru Miyano since he isn't responsible for writing this mess, let's use mamoDio from now on because it's easier) seems to idolize the Joestars for what he calls their "beautiful blood." Not "beautiful" because usable calories for the vampire he will become but "beautiful" because noble. The Joestars' noble status and the honor that's apparently behind that status become the shining "star" toward which mud-bound mamoDio flailingly, failingly reaches. I don't need to tell you that in canon Dio doesn't have respect for nobility.

"Mud and stars" is heavy-handedly introduced as a dominant theme of the musical. According to the play, Jonathan, noble and bright, looks to the stars while human Dio, pathetic, conflicted and even confused, can only see life as a mud-soaked prison.

Now, the mud and stars thing was only used in Part 1 as a single text element on a Volume 1 illustration but, in spite of its marginality, it's becomes a liturgical text for some fans looking for an explanation for Dio's actions beyond what Araki gives them in the actual narrative. To this sort of fan, a guy who embraces his inner talent for evil and never had the misfortune of developing a moral compass isn't the right type of villain because he's unapologetic. If the villain doesn't have excuses how can you apologize for him? So they need Dio and by extension Araki to give them a "good enough" reason to accept Dio's ever-escalating atrocities. If the reasons Dio has for doing the things he does lie outside of what's considered good or acceptable, they are simply rejected and new reasons are invented in the hope of making Dio much less objectionable.

Now, like I said earlier, Araki's repeatedly told us in his writings that Dio has an upward narrative trajectory, not a downward, "mud"-bound one. The mud and stars duality fails to describe the narrative journey of the two main characters: both look upward to transcend their circumstances and travel along a shonen manga hero's rising path. (In fact, it's Jonathan who needs a good push to realize his potential, something Dio happily provides). And it's Jonathan, not Dio, who Araki first gives a downward arc, being handed defeat after defeat for those first four chapters before gaining his footing and progressively rising to Dio's challenges. "Mud and stars" isn't just a bad choice of metaphor, it's a misleading one.

Back to the musical, mamoDio is the exact opposite. An air of sadness and insecurity haunts his performance. An original scene where George presents the mud and stars dilemma as a lesson highlights Dio's lack of confidence and the depression that lurks behind it, as Dio bemoans how people doomed to "struggle and die" cannot possibly summon the hope it takes to look up to the stars (he's talking of course about himself).

Likewise, and here's where mamoDio's failure as a character really comes into full relief, seven years after this, when Dio's machinations are revealed and he's about to be arrested, before he uses the stone mask, mamoDio drops to the floor and spends the better part of a musical number in tears, bemoaning his sorry life ("I'm trapped in a prison covered in mud… no matter how hard I struggle I'm crushed…") and his lack of noble blood.

(btw this is after the manga scene where Dio fake cries; here, mamoDio is genuinely distraught).

Contrast this to the actual scene in the manga. His expressions in these panels are memorable because of how assured Araki draws him. Dio's entire world - his poisoning scheme, his grab at what one can assume would have been the entirety of the Joestar estate - is about to end but instead of despairing, he launches into a philosophical soliloquy. His body language is haughty: this isn't mamoDio crawling on the ground and decrying his upbringing and lack of noble blood, instead this is a man who apparently, almost irrationally, perceives himself as noble. When he uses the mask, Dio is smiling widely. Metaphorically speaking, he's looking at the stars.

When mamoDio uses the mask? He's on his knees. He's in tears. On one night he interjects, "Mother…" In short, he's conflicted.

One of these depicts Dio. The other does not.

Now obviously the writers and director of the musical must think making these seismic changes adds something to Dio's character. But (and I feel like this is a theme whenever I write these things) I'd argue it only makes him more basic. It makes him predictable and formulaic, someone we've seen in countless other stories.

(Oh! and did I mention mamoDio repeatedly calls himself "useless"!! Because he does this.)

Now, because mamoDio has no confidence and as a human acts out of desperation, when he becomes a vampire he still isn't Dio. Mamoru tries to make his vampire Dio evil and scary by expending a lot of energy, running about the stage and sticking out his tongue ad nauseum. When you look at how Araki has Dio move physically throughout the manga, it's the opposite of kinetic. Dio is a point of fixity who's charisma draws others toward him (ask me for more on this if you want because there's enough here for its own post).

Now for the worst of the worst: at the very end of the production, after the manga ending that features Jonathan's death and Dio's (presumed) defeat as a head imprisoned in Jonathan's arms, the musical takes an original twist in which, following a finale number featuring most of the cast, mamoDio is lead offstage by Jonathan. You read that right. mamoDio is hunched over, resigned, and Jonathan seems to take on a paternal role. Although the lyrics would have you believe this has something to do with "two fates becoming one," it's clear from the stage direction that any embers of Dio's ambition are being tamed and extinguished as Jonathan takes Dio's grasping hand, subdues him, and leads him docilely into the darkness.

It turns out Dio's vampire arc was just a phase, a hurt and lonely child lashing out and making a mess for attention.

His body language here is obscenely out of character. Consider the following because, as I said in the opening, in spite of what all these re-writes of Dio would have you believe, Araki crafted Dio with specificity and consistency: Araki only draws Dio (with very few exceptions) 1) standing tall, looking down at you; 2) back turned, looking back and down at you; or simply 3) back turned, (performatively?) ignoring you. Dio is never on the ground except when he's knocked down (think, young Jonathan finally fighting back in the Joestar home or, much later, Jotaro stopping time and landing those punches). By constrast, mamoDio has spent an incessant amount of time of the ground, crouching, kneeling,, bowing, hunched down. Who is this guy? So his hunched-down exit in the final moments of the production, literally being led by Jonathan (controlled??), is so amazingly stupid that if I didn't have a gif as proof, you might think I'm just making this stuff up:

There's plenty more to unpack that I won't address here: ghost Dario. The lack of grave-spitting. The complete absence of true joy or leisure expressed by Dio especially during his vampire era: no woman eating her baby, no owlcats, no Poco's sister. No chaise lounge. No roses(!). No fun. Not for Dio. That would be too manga-consistent. That might mean Araki wasn't giving us the appropriate message that bad guys are actually just sad guys.

tl;dr Dio isn't in the Phantom Blood musical. He's replaced by a normal guy who's motivated by a lack of self-esteem and despair that he wasn't born into an upper-class household, or something. He's boring. The result? There can be no Part 3 in this musical's world (and presumably no Parts 4, 5 or 6, no Giorno, no Jolyne, … you get the picture) because mamoDio just gives up. It's a nicely produced little tale about Jonathan Joestar and some random other guy who at some point gets a funny green coat.

[furiousgoldfish]

I have this reoccurring problem where I feel like I've found a friend in someone, and then some time later, this person does something to hurt me, and rather than apologizing, they snap at me, act like I'm awful and a nuisance to them, and generally get very angry with me. First it makes me feel guilty, and I go over everything I did to see how I deserved this, but then I realize I didn't do anything, they just hurt me and snapped at me, made me feel like it's my fault. And then I get scared that this person could do that, because I can't even imagine doing that to anyone, it's so deeply unethical and shitty, but people do it like it's their second nature. Once I realize that this person scares me, I know I have to get distance and move away from the friendship if I don't want to live a very anxious and triggering life, so I do that. And thus I have no friends anymore.

Now for me, this occurred easily over 30 or 40 times with different people, to the point where I've started to wonder if I maybe draw this behaviour out of them. Because I will usually pick people who I believe would never do that, who seem to be kind, understanding, gentle, funny, easy going, I go for that almost every time, and still they snap at me. I'm wondering if it's because everyone in their mind thinks there's one person somewhere they're allowed to snap at, and since I'm very mild tempered, easy going and understanding, it feels to them like snapping at me couldn’t possibly have any consequences?  Again, I don't understand this, I would rather never snap at any person in my life.

My problem is that sometimes, I end up very bonded to these people, and I start building hope that maybe I could be normal, have friends, function in society, just because it feels for a bit like I'm accepted, I'm allowed to socialize and chat and joke around and tell things to someone, and this means the world to me. I've lived in an environment where I was not allowed any of that. So when these specific people snap at me, my hopes crumble to the ground, and I'm back into the place where I don't feel like I'm a person anymore. Even worse, I get triggered back into my childhood, where my parents screamed at me telling me how disgusting I am, how nobody will ever want anything to do with me, and how I'm the worst thing to ever exist on the planet. That's how I end up feeling when anyone turns against me, or abandons me. I keep it to myself, because I don't want the triggers affecting the friendship. But they affect me deeply.

That feeling of someone I care about finding me disgusting and awful and poisonous gives me so much pain I want to curl up and disappear. I want to not exist anymore. I would rather be alone forever than experience more of that. And that's exactly what I do; I curl up in my own little corner and don't socialize out of terror that more of this will happen, because it does happen so often and I still never see it coming.

I know on some deeply logical level, that people are snapping at me because it's easier for them to do that than to face that they've done something wrong, that they've hurt our friendships and acted badly towards me; they need it to be my fault so they'd feel better about themselves. Taking it out on me is just an easy route because I have zero vindication in me and probably won't ever snap back or get angry in return; I'll just withdraw. I'm always too worried I've genuinely done something wrong when it happens, I'll apologize a thousand times, I'll spend a while trying to figure out what's the truth, and then before I even think about getting angry, I'll be swallowed by pain and sorrow that this happened to me again.

Has anyone found any ways to have people not snap at you when they hurt you? What kind of change in attitude would achieve this? Do I just have bad friend-picking skills? Is this just a normal part of life that other people can handle because being snapped on doesn't make them suicidal? Is it considered normal that your friend will sometimes snap at you when they hurt you? Is it not a glaring red flag? In some cases people will not only snap but also gaslight me about what happened, and I know gaslighting is way over the line. Has this been happening to others? Please give me any opinions or experiences of this, especially if you found a way to deal with it.

[edges-of-night]

I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡