#so seeing what’s supposed to be his father be as he’s learned “weak and vulnerable” scares him

[quibbs126]

I want to talk about/draw angst to do with the All Ancients Disappear AU, specifically with the Dark Cacao family (other characters have angst, but they’re the ones I’m fixated on), but I can’t because I don’t have designs for them yet

I’ve at least solidified stuff for Dark Choco’s kid in this AU. He has a son named Dark Syrup Cookie, who’s made of both chocolate and strawberry syrup. He’s 8-10 years old and he listens to and trusts his father (even though he shouldn’t). He does not yet know that his reason for existence is to be a vessel for the sword (but he will eventually)

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Henry Bowers (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: child abuse and neglect (physical and emotional), intense violence, death, bullying, implied alcoholism, reference to divorce, emotional abuse, toxic mindset.

Platonic:

As soon as his father drinks himself into unconsciousness or throws him out the door, Henry stalks down the street to where he thinks his friend might be. Explaining nothing of his sullen demeanour, he places himself in the middle of whatever they are doing, dragging them into a more private area if their current activity is too public or not to his liking. From there, the hope is that his friend will act in a way that comforts him without him having to ask for it and risk further humiliation.

There are two possible outcomes here, depending on how his friend treats him and who else gets involved. If they accept his presence without prying, Henry will shut down and remain silent for a while, riding out the emotional storm around someone he now has a reasonable chance of trusting. If they stonewall him or others interrupt, Henry will revert to his hostile bully persona and never mention the event again, as it has become a new source of shame for him.

Henry reveals a watered-down version of the truth when pressed for answers, but even then, he refuses to tell the whole story out of a desire not to relive it, not to be seen as a whiner, and not to show how profoundly it has affected him. After all, a history of cruel reactions from his father and the small-town mentality of Derry have taught him that emotional vulnerability is a dangerous mistake of the stupid and weak.

Despite this, it becomes increasingly clear that Henry is stalling for time when the subject of going home creeps up on him. He would much rather stay out all day and night with his friend and the gang, cruising town with Belch at the wheel, forgetting what awaits him when he sets foot on the family farm. But Henry knows only too well that Butch's wrath will double if he has to go looking for him.

Henry will threaten and, if sufficiently provoked, maim anyone who shows an interest in his friend. His worldview is more than a little misanthropic, as his good memories are few and far between, and his father and the community at large have taught him to hate anyone who challenges his idea of the norm. As such, he sees this as a favour to his friend, ridding them of all the scumbags who would inevitably trap them in an unwanted relationship.

But deeper down, in the places that have never quite healed, the places he never talks about, Henry is afraid of powerlessness. He despises the thought that his friend would abandon him because of someone else, as his mother did, so he does not give them that option. Anyone who tries to plant the idea in their head that they should cut ties with him, or worse, leave town, he beats as if it might save his life.

As far as Henry is concerned, no one offers a better source of companionship than he. He is fond of yelling this supposed fact and more at his friend when they refuse to drop everything and join him at a moment's notice. Seeing this as an affront to his authority as well as a personal insult, Henry cannot take it, especially when it happens in front of people, and tries to hector them into submission.

If any of Henry's accomplices disagree with his methods, none will be too honest about it. Henry displays an unabashed willingness to hurt anyone and everyone who comes between him and his friend. Other bullies have required stitches courtesy of Henry and learned to turn tail at the sight of him or them, and the last concerned citizen to intervene was left with a concussion.

Although Henry is a little more lenient with his gang, he still has rules about what kind of interactions are acceptable. Some of these rules go unspoken until one of the other boys crosses a line he did not know had been drawn. On the first day, Patrick Hockstetter lost his right to be alone with Henry's friend and incurred a death threat from Henry after Patrick made advances towards them and asked if they would like to share Henry with him.

Spending time with other people sounds like a waste of energy to Henry, but spending time with the Losers is so inexcusable that he expresses it in the only language he knows: violence. His need to anticipate his father's unstable emotions has made him sensitive to any sign of displeasure in others, which Henry receives in abundance from one of the Losers, Richie Tozier. Tozier calls him an obsessive freak when he cuts one of the kids for staring at his friend.

Romantic:

His only frame of reference is his parents' disastrous marriage, now separated, and the couples at school he enjoys breaking up with shoves and jibes. Henry can be demanding in everything he asks of his partner, putting them in the untenable position of bearing the brunt of his emotional hunger. It is an overwhelming and confused mess of mixed signals and frustration that has built up over years.

Much of Henry's attention-seeking behaviour and unpredictable aggression stems from the fact that he is both ashamed of his struggles and less and less successful at repressing them. When he still tries, it manifests itself in violent outbursts and, in the context of this relationship, defensive anger when his partner does not immediately and completely fulfil his needs.

There are few things Henry would hate more than being compared to his father, so he refrains from using this level of violence with his partner. However, he retains a distinct bullheadedness in the many arguments that do break out, usually over Henry's desire for them to give up any part of their life that distracts from him.

Under no circumstances is Butch to know that Henry has a partner, let alone meet them. He would rather die than have them see what a so-called coward he becomes around his father, and the thought of them being caught in the crossfire of one of his father's explosions makes him want to stick the knife in Butch's throat a little sooner.

At the first sign of Butch's approach, Henry pulls away from his partner and tells them that if things get heated, they should go with Victor and wait for him at a distance. Victor is disturbed by Henry's extreme view of the relationship but is wise enough not to say so to his face.

Watching his partner suffer abuse at the hands of a family member ignites a rage in Henry that stems from his unfulfilled desire to take revenge on his father. He flashes back to when Butch similarly hurt him, reopening the last wound he tried to numb by avoiding his home and seeking out his partner. Every punch Henry lands, every slash with the knife, is almost like getting back at his father for all the scars he gave him.

Henry refuses to feel remorse for those he attacks, as Butch would never apologise for the damage he inflicts and once even rewarded Henry for his violent actions. After making his partner drop a science project in the hallway, the child he forced to eat dirt had it coming. The classmate who sat next to his partner at lunch - a seat reserved for Henry, regardless of whether anyone else knows it or whether he feels like taking it that day - deserved to be thrown to the floor and humiliated in a way that will haunt them forever.

Competition, real or imagined, is unforgivable and will be met with swift, if not disproportionate, retaliation. The first line of defence is a barrage of verbal abuse, escalating to physical assault unless the pest flees the scene and swears an oath never to speak to his partner again. From there, Henry will order his cohorts to hold the person still while he carves, stones, drowns and breaks whatever he finds most offensive.

Part of a community that frowns upon physical closeness between friends, Henry seeks in this relationship the emotional intimacy and affection that his father never provided. He denies having such needs when anyone suggests otherwise, insisting that he only stays with his partner for superficial reasons and would not miss them if they were to disappear one day.

Despite his claims of indifference, Henry displays a violent resentment towards those who befriend his partner, perceiving these individuals as a threat to his importance in their life. This fear speaks to his underlying insecurity of not being in control, the same insecurity that drives him to suspect the worst in people and defend or assert himself accordingly.

[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN (22)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

Masterlist - click here for all available parts

116 AC.

T H I R T E E N - Y E A R S - A G O

KING'S LANDING

RED KEEP

Rhaenyra had only learned what true fear was when she held Jacaerys in her arms for the first time. The little creature had felt so fragile that she was afraid to make a wrong move. A quick movement that would rip this gift from her arms again. So pure, so innocent, so vulnerable. Rhaenyra had known that day that she would do anything for him. She had felt the same with each of the children that followed.

With Aemma, this feeling had been especially strong. Not because she meant more to her than the others, no, but because she knew how cruel the world was to women. Her brown eyes, with their extraordinary blue gleam, had looked at her expectantly, as if she expected more than could be offered. Rhaenyra had vowed that her daughter would never have to go through what she had, but it was difficult to rebel against the world of men when you were trapped in it.

"Aemma tells of strange figures in the fire," Rhaenyra began, seeing her father turn to her in surprise.

"Strange figures in the fire?" he furrowed his brow. He looked tired and sick.

Rhaenyra nodded and played nervously with her fingers. "At first I thought it was the playful mind of a child, but it happens to many times."

Viserys placed the stone dragon back on the table and looked at her intently.

"Very interesting. It sounds like Aemma is a dreamer."

Rhaenyra took a breath. "But she doesn't dream these things. She sees things in the fire."

Viserys rubbed his chin and leaned back in his chair. His movements were slow, as if each one pained him. Deep circles were under his eyes. His condition depressed Rhaenyra, put her in fear about the time that would come when she would be all alone in this world.

Laenor was by her side, but he was no help to her. Sometimes Rhaenyra thought he was her fourth child, a boy who never wanted to grow up. She stroked her round belly. Or her fifth.

Then there was Harwin Strong, the father of her children, who was never allowed to be what he really was. He would support her, he would die for her, but he would condemn them all to death if she ever openly showed what he meant to her.

"I really only know about our ancestors and their dragon dreams," Viserys admitted. "But in the diaries of Aenar Targaryen, the few we still have, in which he writes about his daughter Daenys and her abilities, he also talks about his younger sister seeing her own death in fire. It is said to have occurred in the same way. Maybe it was just a coincidence but probably that's why he didn't doubt his daughter's words."

Aenar Targaryen was the father of Daenys, the dreamer. She had foretold of the fall and destruction of Valyria, a prophecy that had come to pass twelve years later. Aenar had been wise enough to believe his daughter, and had fled with his family to Dragonstone. Aenar's rivals had seen their flight as weakness and cowardice, but while their families perished, Daenys had saved House Targaryen and Velaryon with her prophecy.

"Did Aemma say what she saw, then?" asked Viserys curiously, leaning forward slightly.

"Green dragon, bloody crown, black wolf, fire comes after blood," Aemma had kept repeating while staring into the fire. "Green dragon, bloody crown, black wolf, fire comes after blood."

She had no idea what her child had meant by this, but it had an unsettling effect on her. She had come here with the thought of asking her father for advice, but then she looked to his green coat and it reminded her that she was surrounded by enemies in her own home. He would tell Alicent about it without anything evil in mind, but Alicent was no longer the girl that Rhaenyra had trusted with her darkest secrets.

She shook her head. "She only talked about figures she sees."

Her father looked disappointed and nodded.

"Whatever Aemma's abilities are, you have to protect her, Rhaenyra," Viserys began, looking to the fire burning in the hearth beside them. "Protect her from any danger, protect her from herself."

Rhaenyra looked at her father in irritation. Protect Aemma? Her stomach clenched.

"Dragon dreams can be dangerous. More dangerous than our dragons," Viserys explained to her calmly, but his words worried her. "Many in our line have been dragonriders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of a dragon next to the power of prophecy?"

129 AC.

DRAGONSTONE

Despite the closed door, Rhaenyra heard Daemon going from one tantrum to the next, raving about what had happened last night. But Rhaenyra had other worries. She watched as the maesters tended to Rose, checking her for further injuries.

She watched her sleeping daughter. Exhaustion had made her close her eyelids again, although Rhaenyra would have liked to ask her a thousand questions. She had so many questions, but the most important thing was that her little girl was back. There was no doubt.

It still seemed like a dream to have her daughter lying in front of her.

Rhaenyra gently stroked her sleeping daughter's face and followed the maester out of her room as he finished the examinations.

"You look worried," Rhaenyra stated with a fast beating heart and Grand Maester Gerardys looked at the door. She felt nervous.

Gerardys nodded and pulled her aside, away from the guards and maids.

"Her injuries are minor in nature, my Queen. Worst of all is her exhaustion."

"But?" She heard in his voice that there was more. Gerardys looked at her seriously, his brow furrowing.

"The girl is expecting a child," he revealed, and Rhaenyra's eyes widened.

"She's pregnant?" she asked, "Are you sure?"

Gerardys nodded. "She hasn't been pregnant for very long, and I doubt she knows, but there's no doubt that new life is growing inside the girl."

Rhaenyra had to admit that she had expected everything, but not this. Daemon and Lucerys had told her about her relationship with Aemond. Daemon because he had seen it and Lucerys because he had suspected it, but she had hoped they were both wrong. 

What a bizarre idea that Aemma was pregnant by her uncle. The gods showed no mercy if it were true.

She'd have to find out whose child it was. 

Rhaenyra nodded gravely. "I wish that her pregnancy will not be discussed for the time being and that you keep silent about it."

Grand Master Gerardys nodded. "Of course, my Queen." If he was surprised, he didn't show any sign of it.

Should it turn out to be true that Aemond was the father, then Aemma would be in danger. She didn't know what relevance her daughter had for Aemond, but she knew her brother well enough to know that he would come for what was his.

. . . . . 

"You betrayed Mother," said Jacaerys, and Lucerys looked up. Six sat with Rhaena and Baela on the beach, staring at the sea as they had done when they were little children.

All of them hadn't found sleep since last night. Jacaerys looked at Marax, who had already been fed for the fifth time in the day. The wounded dragon ripped apart his prey, his anger was clearly felt.

Lucerys looked at him hurt, but Jacaerys had no pity. What he had done was wrong.

"Jacaerys," Baela hissed, but he ignored his fiancée.

"You freed her, even though Mother gave a different order."

"Her execution has been proposed. I had to help her."

"It wasn't your decision to make."

Lucery's hands were shaking. "She's our sister."

"Bullshit."

"The Queen called her 'Aemma,'" Rhaena said defensively, looking at Jacaerys. "I heard it, loud and clear."

Jacaerys shook his head. "That's not possible. They have no resemblance."

"Are you blind, brother? She looks like Aemma."

"She has dark hair and brown eyes. Surprise. Let me go to the village and I'll bring you five girls who look like Aemma."

"You think you're smart," Lucerys spat. "But you talk like a fool."

"She's dead! Aemma is dead," Jacaerys shouted and clenched his fists. He jumped up. He felt him tremble with anger. Why didn't anyone listen to him?  "She's no longer alive, that's just wishful thinking. That girl up there can't be our sister. The Greens are fake and sneaky. They know of our loss and try to destroy us from within. Why can't anyone see what I see?"

"Rose is Aemma, brother," Lucerys said desperately. "They have so many similarities. Please, you have to listen to me. Even mother thinks she is. Get to know her."

Jacaerys shook his head.

"No, she's a fraud."

"She never claimed to be Aemma," Lucerys defended the strange woman. "Why can't you believe what we believe? Our sister has returned."

It would be too good to be true. For a moment Jacaerys wanted to give in, but he had to keep his senses. He couldn't be fooled.

He looked at Baela, seeking help, but she only shook her head. Rhaena had lowered her gaze, and Lucerys looked at him defiantly. In the past, Lucerys would never have spoken to him like that, but since his imprisonment, he's been someone else. He didn't recognize his brother, and it was all his own fault. If he hadn't suggested Luke fly to Baratheon, he would have been spared all this.

Jacaery's heart ached at the thought that he had almost killed his brother. He wouldn't let a stranger ruin this family just because she happened to look like his beloved sister.

"She's Aemond's mistress, isn't she, Luke?"He saw Lucery's surprise. He looked to the side and Jacaerys breathed. "We can't trust her. You can't trust her. I won't let that happen."

Whoever she was, she wasn't Aemma.

Aemma was dead.

No matter how much his brother and his mother wished for their return, Jacaerys would not be able to deceive them.

He would protect his family. At all costs.

Without another word or giving the others a chance to reply, he turned around and stomped back into the castle.

He'd prove to everyone he was right.

RED KEEP

Aemond listened to his brother's cries.

He stood in the hallway, waiting for his mother, who was visiting her brother at that moment. When she came out of his room, she seemed distracted. She looked at him with sad eyes, desperate, but there was also anger in them.

"This is Rhaenyra's fault," she said, full of hatred and Aemond followed her. "He is hardly conscious anymore, and when he is, he only expresses pain. He's in so much pain, Aemond, it breaks my heart."

Her voice trembled. Aemond didn't know whether it was grief, pain or anger.

Aemond felt sorry for his brother. He had been so preoccupied with his own problems, with Rose's loss, that drove him insane.

"Everything that Rhaenyra touches falls apart," Alicent continued. She had never spoken more openly about her feelings for Rhaenyra than she does today. It reminded him of the night on Driftmark when Lucerys took his eye off him.

"We must take revenge, my boy."

Aemond looked at his mother in surprise. His mother had longed for peace, she had done everything to make sure nothing happened to his sister, the princess, even after the failed assassination of her grand children, she had kept calm, but now he saw her anger, her willingness to shed blood.

"This realm needs guidance and right now your brother is unable to fulfill that duty."

Aemond stopped and held back his mother. Did his mother mean what he was thinking?

"What do you want from me, Mother?"

Say it. Say it.

"Rule this kingdom while your brother is unable to do so. Become Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. Protect your family."

Aemond didn't know what to feel. That's what he'd always wanted. He had always wished to sit on the iron throne and possess what he was supposed to have in place of Aegon, if the gods had been righteous.

He would not be a king, but he would possess the power of a king.

Satisfaction flowed through him. He'd finally be able to prove himself. He would eliminate his enemies, every single one of them.

"If I do what you ask, I won't be able to let Rhaenyra live. No one. Not her, or any of her children."

Alicent nodded, he saw sadness in her eyes, but her attitude showed determination.

She looked back to Aegon's room. 

"Do what you have to do. Kill our enemies. Anyone who's a threat to us. I want Rhaenyra to know what it's like to see your child suffer like this."

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles

[myromeow]

!! contains spoilers for season 2 of Succession generally but MAJOR episode 10 SPOILERS !!

-

Shiv Roy was never satisfied. Whether that was in her work life or her love life, Shiv was always striving for the best angle. She would never settle for something that was any less than what she thought she deserved. Then why, why was it so hard to find someone who could keep up with her? But no, that wasn’t it, because even someone like Nate couldn’t satisfy Shiv in the end. Then there was Tom. In theory great, but still not enough. It was her interest that always, inevitably, waned.

I suppose Shiv always knew, but shoved it so deep down out of necessity. It was hard enough in the business world to be a woman as it is. She had to work ten times harder than her brothers to be taken seriously, and face ten times as much criticism when she fucked up. Misogyny was a bitch, but homophobia was worse. Never mind that her own father is the king of right wing news media, and has single handedly done more damage to the societal position of ethnic and sexual minorities than perhaps any other person in America. The world, even. Never mind that his reaction would break her, surely negative. Not out of hatred for queers specifically—Logan hated everyone, after all, especially his own children. Shiv could imagine his disproving gaze, one she was all too familiar with. His lecture on how, if it ever came out, it could, no would scare the shareholders. It would ruin everything. Never mind all that. Never mind that her first kiss was with a girl in boarding school, who left after the second term. Her first heartbreak. Never mind that the best sex she ever had was during a threesome, kissing some girl she hasn’t seen since. Never mind her disappointment when Tom said no to the threesome with a girl she’d picked out on the Roy’s yacht. Shiv could’ve fucked her anyway but the risk was

too high. Too many snakes lounging on deck chairs and sipping drinks around too polite conversation. Too many eyes. Shiv Roy liked to be in control of the narrative, the when, where and who—no interruptions or mishaps.

She sat glumly on the beach next to her husband, face frowning like a child who’d been scolded, suppressing her tears that showed up on queue. She loved Tom, is what she told herself. Maybe she did. She’d loved how easy he was to convince, how trusting he was, almost like a dog. A big soft lump, sentimental enough to get choked up at their wedding. But his vulnerability, his weakness was also why Shiv could never love him the way he needed her to. Shiv did not have a soft bone in her body. And dogs learn not to trust humans that hit them, over and over again.

Shiv Roy was never satisfied with anyone. Whether that was due to her narcissism or her abidance to compulsory heterosexuality, was anyone’s guess. Shiv had built her icy grave, cold and frigid walls unreachable by all human warmth, totally isolated.

She lay in it.

A/N — I know it’s is a hotly debated topic if Logan loves his kids but imo Logan thinks he loves his children (as Brian cox says) but REAL love is shown in actions not just words. In practice, he doesn’t love them anymore than he can use them for his own benefit. You see how quickly he throws Kendall away after u know what. Like Shiv and Tom, who she used and needed at a vulnerable time in her life when they first got together, but when someone needed to be sacrificed for the company and it was in her self interest, she would throw him under the bus in a heartbeat. Also Shiv’s face in the beach scene really reminded me of a child who’d been told off and was having a strop hahahhaha.

Please if you have any thoughts on this let me know in asks or reblogs! (I can’t reply to comments as this is a side blog). This was inspired by my pinned post on Shiv & comphet and is cross posted to my AO3

[viillaincoded]

lee pace. 43. cis-male. he/him. ┊┊ cerberus corp has been watching JACKSON BRUNGOT.  some of the public has dubbed them HIVE because of LIVING HIVE gifted by A HORNET ATTACK. having been an extra ordinary since 2023, they’re doing a good job at hiding THAT’S HE'S TERRIFIED OF HIMSELF. when they aren’t working their day job as an ATTORNEY, they are fond of ICE SKATING and are never seen without HIS WEDDING RING. at first glance they seem SENSITIVE & PRAGMATIC, though their close friends know them to also be REPRESSED & NERVOUS.  they consider themself a CIVILIAN. ┊┊ connor. he/they. 24. cst.

CONTENT WARNING for EMOTIONAL ABUSE, SUBSTANCE ABUSE, BUGS, AND INSECT IMAGERY.

001.  GENERAL

name  jackson brungot nicknames  jack (hates it, but probably won’t correct you) age  forty three date of birth  march fifteenth zodiac  pisces place of birth  buffalo, new york current residence  new york city, new york gender  cis male pronouns  he/him sexuality  gay occupation  attorney

faceclaim  lee pace height  6’5” tattoos  a small duck on the inside of his ankle piercings  (closed) lip piercing distinguishing features  dark academia style, closely trimmed fingernails positive traits  pragmatic, focused, loyal, sensitive, magnanimous negative traits  repressed, intense, calculated, insecure, nervous labels / tropes  love martyr, creepy good, body horror, guilt complex, people pleaser likes  reading, fashion, (pretends to like) hockey, (actually likes) figure skating, musicals dislikes  disappointing people, dogs (scared of them), the dark (also scared of it) fears  his powers, dogs, the dark, being alone hobbies  reading, ice skating, singing habits  holding his reading glasses in his hands (for effect), 

002.  EXTRA ORDINARY

the questions here for each section are suggestions to get you thinking. as long as the section is appropriately elaborated upon, you’re fine!

near death experience…  five weeks ago, he had been trying to get rid of some yellow jackets that had nested in a crack in the wall outside his balcony. the can of raid lasted just long enough to make them all angry before going empty. he suffered twenty three stings, and spent the next day and a half in a coma, one that he was lucky to survive. when he woke, jackson had been afraid that he was still being attacked, but it was simply the hive that had nested inside him, buzzing in his ears.

power…  living hive. jackson is a host to a swarm of yellowjackets. they live inside of him, and are able to come out through his mouth, nose, etc, as well they are able to “molt” through his skin. he is able to direct them through thought, as well we can see through the eyes and ears of them (he has not yet learned this technique). when a yellowjacket dies, he is able to make another one, though it can take twelve hours to regenerate a single yellowjacket. 

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…  the yellowjackets cannot function without his input, as well cannot leave a sixty foot radius. if too many of the yellowjackets die, he will die—similar to a large blood loss. similarly, if he makes too many, jackson will get weak, though he has yet to test the actual limit. he’s terrified of his ability, so he hasn’t been using it. 

codename…  hive. not chosen by him, just the name from a youtube video that maxed out at two thousand views (currently). jackson doesn’t like it, would rather no one knew he had this ability at all. 

003.  EXTRA

background

jackson grew up with a very controlling father. beckett brungot was the city attorney for buffalo; ambitious, and image-obsessed, he had an idea of what his son was supposed to look like. he would divorce jackson’s mother when he was six, believing she was making his soft. a nasty custody battle gave his dad full custody. desperate for his remaining parent’s approval, he learned to hide himself to please his father. 

his father remarried quickly, giving jackson a younger sibling. half-sibling. the divide between them was encouraged by him, who believed that competition was healthy between siblings. the contempt made it impossible for jackson to truly bond with them, as well as the age gap. 

jackson left for college, and quickly went off the rails, like many who have controlling parents. wanting to have his fun, while still not disappointing his father, he started to abuse adderall, thinking it was the lesser of evils. this addiction would follow him through his first marriage, and the majority of the strain between them. 

ten years ago, jackson’s younger sibling would confess their powers to jackson and their father. beckett was repulsed by what they could do, whereas jackson was terrified. their father disowned his younger sibling, and he couldn’t find the courage to reach, rationalizing that they had never been close. 

it was his cowardice that would lead his first husband to leave him. the shame of the divorce had his father give him the cold shoulder. the rejection, and guilt, pushed him further and further into addiction and self-destruction, until he showed up at his father’s—high, awake for four days—to have the only honest conversation they would ever have. by the end of it, jackson agreed to go to rehab. 

he spent the next two months there, and came out truly dedicated to his sobriety. jackson did much of it alone—despite paying for his rehabilitation, his father still refused to talk him, and when he attempted to reach out to his younger sibling to reconcile, he got a short go to hell. despite the odds, he has been able to maintain his sobriety since. 

jackson made a solid group of friends, people who showed him how to have fun without drugs, people who showed him the love he never had through his family. through his friends, he met his current husband. life had been merry, domestic bliss

until his nde. since the accident, and the discovery of his powers, he has been slipping back into hold habits, lying, working long hours, isolating himself. jackson was scared of himself, and hasn’t wanted anyone to see his shame. 

PINTEREST || PLAYLIST

wanted connections

sibling: please see here.

any gender, fc utp, 30-34 ( 0 / 1 )

somewhere only we know: jackson’s husband. they have been married for 2-5 years, though they’ve known each other for six years (give or take). since jackson’s nde, he’s been very distant, spending basically no time at home, scared of y/m’s reaction (and generally just scared in general tbh). he doesn’t know y/m is an eo as well. all other details i’m down to plot, but i want it to be a wholesome, loving relationship (with a few harmless secrets just for funsies)

men (or masc aligned), rahul kohli or utp, 38+ ( 0 / 1 )

something comforting: a mentor!! jackson is soooo out of his depth, with having a power at all, nonetheless the one he has. he needs someone to teach him how to control this shit (and also someone to tell him everything is fine). jackson’s a neutral good character, so preferably hero/vigilante/good guy leaning, but i’m also down for a villain/villain-leaning character tricking him?? 

any gender, 35+ ( 0 / 1 )

narcotics anonymous: jackson has been sober for the last nine years, but still attends at least one meeting every few months. i’d love for him to have some friends/acquaintances he has met from here.

any gender, any age ( 0 / ∞ )

i’m down for basically anything though, i love to brainstorm

[braceletofteeth]

let’s say vegas and moonjo are acquaintances in someway.

maybe vegas studied in korea for a while and noticed some people in his uni going missing, maybe moonjo was involved with the korean mafia and vegas had to secure a partnership, maybe moonjo and jongwoo relocated to thailand to start a new life.

either way, they meet, they hit off, they exchange dental torture tips. vegas looks at moonjo being an absolute simp for jongwoo and thinks ‘rip to him but i’m different.’

then pete happens.

I go a little insane every time I think about what you sent here, honestly. It opens room to so many questions... Where, when and how Vegas and Moonjo could have met; their impressions of each other and the influence their partners have over them; Pete and Jongwoo’s own impressions of Vegas’s and Moonjo’s relationship… I mean, can you imagine the four of them in the same room, having a friendly chat? It has the potential to be really entertaining, and also to go so, so wrong.

But let’s stay focused (I'm trying! I'm really trying!).

First of all, I think the idea of Vegas getting exposed to the Very Normal Relationship™ of Moonjo and Jongwoo and his inner response to it being “that could never be me” is SO funny. Especially if it's not because they're weird, but because they're cringe. Count me in on the maiming and the torture, the manipulation and the emotional instability, but finding religion in a lover? Yikes. That’s the real crazy.

Bonus points in that scenario if Vegas and Moonjo were acquaintances before Moonjo found Jongwoo. It would totally go against Vegas’s expectations. Which is to say, no fucking expectations, have you met that guy? Moonjo cares about no one. At least Vegas has Macau, and his father (that doesn’t care about him in return, but one day he will, of course). Moonjo is completely alone. By choice. He can’t stand anyone. Not even the woman who raised him. Even the people he entertains himself playing mind games with, are eventually disposed of and forgotten. Vegas might find himself in a position where the two of them are able to (almost) see eye to eye, and socialize, but he would know better than to let his guard down around him. That’s not a man you can trust your life with. Or your head. Definitely not your head.

Which probably makes Vegas wonder, as of meeting Jongwoo, just who would be stupid enough to trust their heart with him?

And here comes the shocker, for Vegas, and maybe for everyone who has ever crossed paths with those two: that’s not what happened. Jongwoo isn’t some naive darling that fell madly in love with Moonjo without knowing what he was in for; he’s not a pet Moonjo is keeping around until he finds a more amusing one (that would be Kihyuk). Jongwoo actually did something extraordinary, when he didn’t even have the intention to: he made Moonjo vulnerable. He’s the one that got Moonjo’s heart in his hands. And for Vegas, who met Moonjo pre-Jongwoo, that is… bizarre. Surreal. Unbelievable. It makes no sense, because Moonjo is supposed to be like Vegas, and people like them never show weakness in front of anyone, because they know, they learned, that when you do that, you get hurt. You lose. You die.

But Jongwoo changed something in him. Moonjo could die by his hands, and he’d still feel like he won. There’s no bad nor wrong between them, therefore, he’d take anything Jongwoo gave him. There is no one else besides him, and no one after. Jongwoo changed him.

And yet, he didn’t change. For the rest of the world, Moonjo is still the same. He still lies, he still kills, and he still regards everyone with the same indifference he always did—only he has Jongwoo by his side now, and to him it makes all the difference.

Vegas wouldn’t know what that feels like. He doesn’t even want to. Rip to Moonjo, but he’s different. He’d never let someone have so much power over him. Maybe Moonjo can afford that, because, after all, he has nothing but himself and his art, but Vegas is a businessman, who has a legacy to carry on. One day, he’s going to rule an empire, and it’s going to be all his. He doesn’t need, doesn’t want to be helped or understood by anybody that’s not family. He’s different from Moonjo, and he’s different from Kinn. They are fools. They’re going to be betrayed, or killed, or left. They are going to suffer, they are going to lose, and it’s going to be their own fault. Vegas is better than that. He does the betrayal, the killing, and the leaving, before it’s done to him.

And for some time, that's all he believes in.

… Then Pete happens. Vegas happens to Pete, Pete happens to Vegas, and Vegas finally gets it.

When he loses, but Pete stays by his side, that makes all the difference.

[x-ceirios-x]

Shouichi

Basic Data

Name: Shouichi 

Nickname/s: Shou

Age: s1 - 17

Gender: cis guy, he/him 

Occupation: bounces around a lot. pao family tea house employee as of s2

Nationality: fire nation

Abilities

Non bender Picked up a lot of street fighting tricks in his teen years and doesn’t exactly know how to fight ‘fair’. Then again, when you’re fighting for the ability to eat the next day, fair doesn’t quite matter. He had quite a bit of natural strength from working on a farm as a kid (and all the manual labor that comes with that) and learned to use that to his advantage pretty early on. 

Appearance

 1 2

Physical features: (hair, eyes, skin, build etc) really choppy cut, curly, med. brown hair, black eyes, pretty thin build

Height: i don’t have a number because none of them do but. A little taller than zuko (as of s2)

Standard clothing: i have a sketch of this somewhere i need to find it.

Defining features: (scars, burns, piercings, tattoos, signature accessories etc) killer burn scar he gets on his stomach during the final battle

Other outfits: some formal fire nation stuff he gets from zuko eventually, but he still prefers his stuff from the earth kingdom

Personality

On the surface, everyone thinks he’s a good kid that just keeps to himself. While it’s true, it goes a little deeper than that. He intentionally doesn’t get to know people better than basic small talk and keeps them an arm’s length away at all times. He’s well-mannered and polite, making him a customer favorite at the tea shop, but he’s incredibly independent (to a fault) and insists on doing everything himself.  Emotional vulnerability isn’t his strong suit by any means, but he takes time out of his day to make the kids he sees on the street smile (whether it’s with leftover food or a joke someone told him). 

Likes: country scenery, animals, kids (major soft spot there), flowers

Dislikes: city life, crabby & entitled adults

Strengths: friendly, relaxed, observant, resourceful, independent

Weaknesses: stubborn, reckless, also independent

Fears: time passing, dependency

Relationships

Affiliations/Alliances: team avatar, the white lotus league, iroh, zuko

Family: unnamed father (deceased), unnamed mother (deceased)

Friends: toph beifong, sokka, momo (specifically them, he gets along with the whole gang)

Romantic Interest/s: Zuko

Biography:

Shou grew up on a ranch on the outskirts of the fire nation, pretty far from any close city. His dad raised him since his mom died from an illness when he was a kid, and the two lived a pretty quiet life. The war finally reached the furthest parts of the fire nation (not like it hadn’t before, but things got worse), so the two decided to sneak out and hope to restart their lives in the safe city of Ba Sing Se. When he was about 12, they left for (what was supposed to be) a well-covered dock for refugees to leave the country, but it was run through by fire nation soldiers the night they tried to escape. The boat left with only half of the passengers it was supposed to. His father didn’t make it on the ship. Later, he learned his father died in prison. 

Across the sea and through a long trek on land, he made it to Ba Sing Se. He began working as much and as hard as he could—most places, however, wouldn’t hire a 12-year-old. This led to stealing food to survive, despite how badly he didn’t want to. He learned he had to do what he could to survive rather quickly. The older he got, the more money he could make at formal jobs, so by the time he was 14 (and looked a little older), he was able to get something steady. 

However, in the meantime, he got involved in a lot of back-alley, pretty shady ways to make a little extra: he started in fighting rings where people usually felt bad for the scrawny underdog, but not enough to throw the fight. He learned how to dodge and throw punches pretty quickly (considering there were some nights his life almost depended on it) and eventually started winning. The older he got, the easier it was, but the harder opponents he was thrown in with. Most of the reason he couldn’t hold down a job for very long was that he’d come in so bloodied up he’d get fired. He couldn’t leave, however, because a lot of the other guys had bets in on him. The time he tried, he ended up fighting off a couple of (slightly drunk) guys with knives. 

Things started becoming a little more interesting when he started working at a tea shop around 17. He hadn’t been there long when a rather odd pair (father and son, he originally guessed) showed up. The older man, whose name he later learned was Mushi, was the talk of the city when word got out about how amazing his tea was. As much of a pain he was, always nagging about injuries or offering to help him with things, he was the reason he was getting more money. The guy couldn’t be that bad, right?

The other of the two, a boy about his age named Lee, was a different story. At first, he treated him like any other person he’d worked with—basic small talk was fine, but he tried not to make any meaningful attachments. However, one evening he offered to close with him, so he “didn’t have to be alone all that time”, and he found out he was seriously funny. And he had some of the strangest stories to tell—whether it was about his uncle, his younger sister, or even just the things he’d seen in his travels. He talked more than he expected considering how quiet he was when they were working with others around and Shou didn’t want him to stop. 

Over time, they grew particularly close. Rather than just working together, he surprised himself and called Lee a friend. Mushi seemed to enjoy that either of them had someone to talk to and began spending quite a bit of time together, even outside work. They went for lunch on a day they both had off and he showed him some of the prettier places in the city that they could get into without trouble. (Which also meant getting into a little trouble here and there.)

Their bond turned into something slightly more than friendship shortly afterward—at least from Shou’s perspective. Even before going to Ba Sing Se, he’d never felt so strongly for someone and slowly began to realize things were different with him. He was happier than he’d ever been before and he wanted to tell him that. 

Never a master at words, he wrote him a letter instead of verbally telling him—it was much easier when he could plan everything out before he wrote it down. He offered to meet him that night if he wanted to talk and asked Mushi (who he’d warmed up to a little) to give it to him.

He waited from a half hour before, till hours after they were supposed to meet. It took a long time of denial and several ruined dishes he’d tried his best to cook himself for him to realize he wasn’t coming. The next day at work, neither Mushi or Lee showed up—when he tried to ask the owner, he said he wasn’t given a reason and hadn’t spoken to either of them since the evening before. 

Things became dull again. There was no one there to make him laugh and get the chores done just a bit faster. Despite how much he didn’t want to admit it, he missed Mushi’s songs and stories as well. Whatever happened to them was far outside his control and nothing he could be bothered by anymore. He went back to keeping his head low and guard on, preferring not to let himself get hurt again. It wasn’t fair that they—specifically Lee—left without another word, and it reinforced his already rather draining idea that most people he cared about ended up leaving or being separated from him after a while. 

He heard nothing from either of them for months, until one evening he came home to find Mushi sitting at his dining room table, drinking tea and watching the world go by. After almost throwing the closest thing (probably his shoe) at him, they sat down and talked over tea. 

Mushi explained his name was not truly Hong Mushi, but he was a fire nation general named Iroh, and Lee was Prince Zuko, the fire lord��s son. That should have taken longer to sink in, but he was throwing so many details at once that he had no choice but to follow along. He learned that there was a (now) secret organization of bending and weaponry masters meant to protect and train the avatar (who was very much alive and trying to stop the war) known as the Order of the White Lotus. With the avatar’s help (which he didn’t know he was helping yet), the order was attempting to take back Ba Sing Se the same day the avatar faced Fire Lord Ozai. Iroh very quickly emphasized that he expected him to keep this secret unless he took him up on his offer: come with the white lotus and have a chance to "change his destiny".

That was something where he and Lee (technically Zuko, he guessed) differed—he wasn’t a big believer in destiny. But if it meant out of his run-down one-bedroom and a chance to see more than just the world directly around him, he’d take it. 

They left soon after—he dropped off a letter at the tea house letting the owner know he would be taking an "extended leave of absence" for reasons he wouldn’t discuss and figured he could deal without half a week’s pay with Iroh. They got in touch with other masters who agreed to help and eventually arrived at their camp a few miles outside the city. In the meantime, Shou began asking questions—all of which Iroh would answer with patience. Why did they lie? Why were they not in the fire nation? What happened that he was an apparently disgraced general when he seemed like he’d be perfect in leadership like that? He explained what happened to his son, to himself in the passing of the crown, to Zuko (although he tried not to dwell on that, saying it wasn’t his story to tell), and how they ended up in the situation they were in. He took the time to answer everything and tried to pass on some wisdom through his stories while he was at it. Shou didn’t realize it for a long time, but many of those stories stayed with him far into his adult life. 

Each of the masters arrived and each had their own way of asking “who’s the kid?” And each time was a little easier to not snap at anyone and say he wasn’t a kid. Something about patience and open-mindedness Iroh was trying to teach him. Along with teaching him morals (and begrudgingly accepting that all these old guys were now honorary dads), he started picking up on several fighting techniques. He never got formal training, but picked up on things quickly and tried his best to mimic them. Piandao was even nice enough to teach him how to use a sword—or, at least, how to keep the other guy who’s got one from killing you. 

With time, the stories and lessons sunk in, and he was a lot less conflicted regarding Zuko and everything that happened between them. Iroh reassured him not all hope was lost on him and he hoped to see him again. Somehow, he managed to work in several jokes about how oblivious he was whenever this was brought up. He refused to admit those feelings he had for Zuko might have been reciprocated despite how badly he wanted them to be. 

He got the opportunity to find out not long afterward—one morning, he was practicing reading the maps Pakku allowed him to borrow (and ensured he took very good care of them) when Iroh came into the tent and told him he had a visitor for him. He prepared for the worst and hoped for the best when Zuko walked through the entryway. After a much-too-long and painfully awkward conversation, he found out he’d kept the letter. A million times over, he apologized for not coming despite the fact he wanted to. Too many other things happened and it led to them not seeing each other for months. After clearing the air of any and all confusion, frustration, and anything related to their relationship, they finally kissed—Shou didn’t think he’d been that happy in a long time. 

The final battle was quickly approaching, however, so that happiness didn’t last long. As soon as they were together again, they had to be separated—Zuko and Katara were going to the palace to challenge Azula, the other three (whose names he’d just learned, along with Katara’s), Suki, Toph, and Sokka, would be trying to take out the fire nation airships. Everyone was hoping Aang, the avatar (apparently) would show up at some point during this whole mission, considering he’d been missing for a few days before that. He seemed to be the only one concerned about that aspect of the plan, so kept his mouth shut about it. 

Later, he learned that the avatar was a twelve-year-old kid with a pet flying lemur. And a flying bison. Because all of that made complete sense to any ordinary person. Appa was cool, though. 

When everyone left for their missions, he kept to the promise he made to Zuko: he’d stay with Iroh the best he could and ensure he made it out of the fight okay. They talked for a while at sunrise and Shou took the opportunity to thank him for everything. The stories, the learning opportunities, and simply someone being there was more than enough for him. Since he got to Ba Sing Se, he’d been on his own, and it was nice to have someone to rely on. To Iroh’s surprise, he actually hugged him before they charged in. 

He very quickly learned how important all of those lessons were. He’d missed the adrenaline of a fight (when the tea house got popular he was able to get a little more distance from the rings he usually fought in), but this time he wasn’t facing half-drunk idiots who didn’t know how to fight but could hit hard. He was fighting trained, human-weapon fire benders who got some extra gas power from the comet.  

Again, he picked up on things fast. While the lessons were important, nothing would prepare him for the excruciating pain a fireball to the stomach would feel like. He caught on just in time, too; if he hadn’t jumped in the way, Iroh would have taken that blow to the back. Luckily, this was the tail-end of the fight, and they secured the city not long afterward. 

The rest of the team met back in Ba Sing Se at the request of Iroh—he stressed that Katara, at least, had to come back because some injuries required the healing powers of water bending, and Earth Kingdom medicine didn't cut it. Shou, despite being stuck in bed, asked him not to name him specifically in the letter. She would come to help where she could, they both knew that. He didn’t want to worry Zuko more than he had to. 

After quite a bit of healing, Doctor Katara (he started calling her that) insisted that he stay off the muscles as much as possible, and getting a lecture about him not taking time to heal past broken bones either, she handed him off to Zuko. He got yet another lecture about how he should have been more careful and how he was terrified for him and he was right to be. Through a lot of tears and several punches to his shoulder, he finally convinced him to take a breath and sit with him for a while. The two ended up falling asleep (the best they had in days, maybe weeks) and didn’t live it down from Sokka, Aang, and Toph for several days. 

Afterward, things went as smoothly as they could. Rebuilding a nation (and the world, really) after a hundred-year war wasn’t easy, but Zuko seemed to handle it well. Still having complicated relationships with the fire nation, Shou decided to head back to Ba Sing Se and help manage the Jasmine Dragon with Iroh. They visited each other when they could and communicated mostly through letters for a while. 

After a long time in this process, he finally left the Earth Kingdom and decided to stay with Zuko at the palace. They got married (there was no rule against it but many probably wouldn’t accept it) and eventually adopted a little girl named Izumi. 

Their adventures don’t necessarily end there. Things still happen and Shou made friends with someone else from the fire nation—a girl not much younger than himself named Kiui. 

Extra Information:

Main goal: Live to the next day and figure out what to do when that happens. 

Hopes/Dreams: Not having to survive one day to the next, go back to the country and live on a ranch. 

Playlist

if you made it this far ily. lmk what you think about him <3

[rusty25]

During my endeavours to learn about masculinity I try to include older and outdated notions so that I can understand it better.

I re-encountered "boys don't cry" aka "showing emotion is a sign of weakness".

And I thought, where does this come from? what exactly is showing emotion a weakness against?

and then it clicked.

[Against the enemy. Against the people trying to hurt me and those I care about. Against those who don't share my beliefs, it is a weakness to let them know what I think, how I feel, what emotional state I'm in. Because they will use this knowledge about me and my mind to their advantage.

And so they might provoke me. They are looking for the crack on my armor of stoicism to sink their nails into and pry it open to expose my vulnerable, soft flesh. And in that moment there is no mercy. I have failed to protect myself and my nearest and dearest, and thus I would rather die than live stripped away of my exoskeleton of pride and strength.]

Men associate vulnerability with defeat. They are constantly on guard, expecting an attack from all sides, but they must assume an air of ease and comfort or else the enemy will get to them before they know it. Today this is more metaphoric than actual as instead of the blood-soaked wastelands men feel the need to defend themselves on the battlefield of love, friendship and social connections as a whole. But what they don't understand is that the survival instinct in their genes is misguided - although quite useful until very recently I suppose. We enjoy a uniquely long period of relative peace on this planet today and the generations upon generations of traumatized men (because let's be honest, they are) have not had the time yet to adapt, or even begin to consider how to start adapting to this climate of calm.

A trauma response is what they do when they shut down or never even are anything but taciturn. The emotional unavailability most of them pursue as a sport, even when they become fathers, is a survival mechanism kicking in, seeing the enemy in their own wives and children.

Soldiers come to mind, veterans, returning home and trying to reintegrate to society. We hear a lot of stories how for them the battlefront meant comfort and how everything there is simple. How they act like they have never left from there, according to their friends and family.

And the quote comes to mind that started my whole thought process. A quote from Frank Castle, Marvel's The Punisher, as he's tapping the side of his head: "There is never peace... up here. There's only war."

Men don't know peace because they have never known peace.

[theprettynosferatu]

1 - The Professional

I don’t expect you to like me. In fact, I’m willing to bet that by the end of my story you will loathe me. That’s okay. I’m not a good person– no one in my line of business is. But I do want you to understand I acted without malice, no matter how cruel my actions may seem. I just take my job seriously, that’s all.

When he walked into my office I could read pain in his deep black eyes, his slow, defeated gait. He was a broken man, and as he told me his story I could tell he wasn’t just speaking: he was living it all over again. The surprise and fear when he realized he was attracted to the babysitter. The thrill and guilt of the illicit affair. The shame as he realized she had played him and he had been too weak to resist her. The rest was predictable: pregnancy, shattered marriage, loss of custody over his only son, child support payments for the one that ruined his life. And yet in that ocean of despair he had found a light, a hope. He called it a need for justice. Others might call it a lust for revenge. I didn’t care either way as long as I got paid.

After we reached an agreement, I went to work. The first step for a proper hunt is to study the prey, to get to know its haunts and routines, its weaknesses and blind spots. Old timers waxed poetic about how hard it used to be, the hours of surveillance and shadowing the mark. All I needed to do was boot up a computer. No point in watching a generation that surveils itself, that lives its life like a mixture of advertisement and open wound. What they post and what they don’t, when they are active online, who they follow… the rosetta stone to their hearts is out there for anyone that can read it. Kate Meadows was no different than most twenty one year olds, in that regard. If anything, she had a taste for the attention that salacious pictures brought her. 

I printed a picture of her and pinned it to my board. A completely unnecessary action, I know; but we all have our quirks. I looked deep into her blue eyes and asked the key question I needed to solve. Kate Meadows: what do you lack?

2 - The Homewrecker

Kate barely ever thought of James. He was punctual with his payments, and so he mostly existed as a line on her income sheet. She supposed he was the father of little Marie in a biological sense, but deep down she felt Marie had been born simply as a result of Kate’s own skill. She had willed the child into existence. A part of her had been concerned that some useless maternal instinct would appear, that she would be trapped by a genetic monstrosity hidden somewhere in her DNA and would become one of those disgusting women that cooed and posted pictures of their spawn online for the world to see. Happily, after the birth she felt no more attachment to little Marie than she did for a particularly cherished scarf. No, her most pressing concern after the birth had been to get back in shape.

Aunt Carmen could handle Marie. That had been one of the reasons for Kate’s move to Miami. Carmen was childless, resentful about it and had skeletons in her closet. She embraced Marie as her own just as Kate expected, and if she ever decided to tell Kate a peep about parenting, the younger woman had leverage to keep her quiet and servile. All things considered, a good deal. As Kate walked to the gym, she took in the looks from passers-by. Ah, there was the other reason for the move.

Miami was where rich, older men came to express their various midlife crises. Honestly, it was too easy to do her job here.

Sex was a key that opened many doors, as Kate had learned quickly. It wasn’t just looking desirable– although that was important, hence her strict gym routine and skincare habits. No, it was more than that. It was knowing how to convey a look of innocence with a hint that, perhaps, this good girl would like to be corrupted; or to say without words that she was a freak that would gladly engage in any kink and make every wet dream come true; or to project an aura of vulnerability, like a wounded kitten only looking for a protector, a guide to whom she would be oh so very grateful… The trick was knowing who to become for each mark, and she had been honing those instincts for years. Miami was the perfect hunting ground: the male loneliness capital of America.

Hell, she didn’t even need to fuck most of her marks. They kept her cozy, brought her to the best clubs, bought dinner at the most exclusive restaurants, gave her clothes and jewels and all manner of presents, all for a dream stoked by Kate with smiles, looks, suggestive words. Hope was a powerful force, and that she could provide. False hope perhaps, but real enough for her marks to fantasize the nights away. Sure, she did fuck some of them every now and then but that was hardly a sacrifice. She loved the thankfulness in their eyes, the sensation that she was a goddess bestowing her blessings on these damned souls. She came so hard bouncing on them, knowing they were her toys, her little walking ATMs. She loved that they didn’t know, loved how they looked at her with complete adoration. Nothing felt better than riding their cocks like she rode their hearts, coaxing moans and words at will with her skills. 

Suddenly, a warm shower fell on the street. Tourists, unaccustomed to the city’s regular midday rains, started running. Kate let the water caress her, let her clothes get soaked and cling to her every curve, accentuate her silhouette. Who knew, maybe she would land a rich tourist to ride and drain for a few days.

Then, she was on the ground. It took her a moment to realize someone had bumped into her. She would be upset if she didn’t know the “accidental bump” was a standard lame attempt at approaching a woman. Well, one look would tell her if she had gotten a quick success or landed a dud. 

The man barely looked at her. Expensive watch. Classy but not tacky shoes. Understated clothing in that way that old money men tended to play down their inherited wealth. Fucking bingo. A tad too young for her usual fare, but she could hook him. She took his outstretched hand and got up, expecting the usual apologies, followed by an offer to make things up to her– with a drink, perhaps? 

Instead, all she got was a quick glance. Oh, that would not do. She smiled.

“Sorry! I’m so clumsy sometimes”, she offered. There. Door open. Come in, little man.

“Yup,” he replied. Nothing more.

He left her standing there, dumbfounded. He hadn’t spared her a second look. If anything, his tone had been of utter derision. What the fuck? Whatever. He was probably gay anyway. She shook off the strange feeling in her chest and resumed her walk to the gym.

3 - Analysis

After a week of observation, I made first contact. Oh, Kate. You thought you were so complex, so smart. I went to the board. Lots of sugar daddies, that was for certain. You felt on top, and yet you were a prisoner, like everyone else. Your cage was gilded, your life a race from pleasure to pleasure, all so short lived, all so disappointing in the end. You were a seeker, and didn’t even know it. Like a fool, you went to the ocean and believed it would take the thirst away. Kate… I would have felt sorry for you, if my job allowed such things.

4 - Apocalypse in Neon

She took a deep breath, smelling the sea. Todd had just left, and Kate felt things had gone as well as they could have. It hadn’t been a hard call: Todd’s wallet had gotten lighter, his gifts slightly cheaper, his demands more intense. Sure, she could have made up some medical emergency or family crisis to squeeze one final paycheck… but she didn’t need the money at the moment and it was always better to let the used up ones go with as little bitterness as possible; and so she had pulled out the “need to find myself, you deserve someone that is focused on you” speech. It was bullshit, but she could sell it and it kept the number of angry men in her life at a minimum. Besides, one never knew when a sudden return to their lives might be needed. 

She looked at her drink. It was sweet and sour and she wasn’t sure she liked it at all: she had let Todd order for them both. Men liked that. Colored lights flashed and shifted, tinting the liquid in her hand. It felt a bit weird. A million imagined futures had been shattered by a single conversation, entire possible worlds had collapsed with her words and Miami didn’t care: it kept its bright night going with party music and a multitude of artificial suns painting scene after scene in different colors.

“Well done. I’m impressed”

Kate had been too immersed in the neon spectacle to notice the man sitting down on the chair in front of her. It took her a second, but she recognized him. The asshole that had pushed her down a few days before. Oh, great. She wasn’t planning on hunting that night, but… still, who the fuck did this dude think he was?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“The landing, girl. That could have gotten nasty, you know. But I guess you’re clever about picking your men, filter out the violent ones early, keep the more melancholic ones hooked”

Kate looked at the man, anger bubbling up. Part of it was his sheer rudeness. Part of it was that he was absolutely right. She did know how to tell if a man had that violent streak deep inside and how to keep them away. She knew she should just get up and leave, but her curiosity got the best of her. How had this random guy made her?

“What the fuck do you mean?”, she blurted out.

“Look around you. At a glance, what would you say is the average age of the men in this bar? And how old are the girls? Quite the gap, right? Look at the way they’re dressed. That’s bait. The short skirts and tight pants, the pink tops with childish designs, the eye-catching makeup… advertising, that’s all it is. Sure, I suppose it could be a coincidence and they all have daddy issues and a fetish for beer bellies and expensive cars, but I doubt it. They’re working, just like you. I was merely expressing admiration for good work, from one manipulator to another”

Kate felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t just that this asshole had called her out: it was the fact that looking around she saw other girls like her, flirting and luring men in. For the first time Kate Meadows felt something, something she definitely didn’t like. She felt common. There were so many girls… some barely out of their teens; others with cosmetic enhancements that drew the eye to their chests; others catering to special tastes: goths, tradgirls, babygirls… She felt so small, just another fish in a vast ocean… no, she wasn’t like them. She was better. She was the best at what she did. Still, it was an uncomfortable feeling. And who the fuck was this man?

“That’s a cynical view of things, don’t you think?” she challenged. She took the time to really look at him. He was handsome, sure… and his blue eyes were positively entrancing, his lips almost femenine in their fullness; but a deeper, primal part of her told her that he was dangerous.

“True. Cynical, certainly. But I’m not mistaken, am I? Don’t get me wrong, you seem really fucking good at your job, but you are delusional if you think some new girl will show up and do your gimmick better than you. And besides, this… this whole grind, it’s a fool’s game”

“Oh, so I’m a fool now too?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m saying that the real money, the fuck you money… they don’t come here, to this neon purgatory. They have their exclusive resorts and hotels in Monaco and private islands and Lord knows what. Sure, you can make a living here for a while but it seems to me like you should be aiming higher”

“Is that so? And apparently you would know how to reach those higher goals? Who the fuck are you to tell me how to do my job?”

“I’m a professional, like you. True, I don’t con middle aged divorcees, but I’m really good at what I do. I can read people. And I can give you the skillset you still lack”

“I see. And you’ll do this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course not”

“So what’s the gameplan? You teach me, hook me up with richer people and… what? Get to fuck me whenever you want? Get to have me on my knees with a snap of your fingers? Get a cut of what I make? Protect me, maybe? Are you trying to be my pimp?”

He laughed. It was a delighted, genuine sort of laughter, as if the idea of pimping was ridiculous on its face. Or maybe what was silly was the idea of pimping her. For some reason she felt slightly insulted. What, was he too good to pimp her? Did he think pimping her wouldn’t be profitable? Did he think she couldn’t be a top notch whore if she put her mind to it? And was the idea of keeping her as his fucktoy so… without charm?

“What’s so funny?”, she grumbled.

“Nothing. Just the visual of someone like me being a pimp, of all things. No, that’s not the plan. But I do have a plan. You see, I’ve been in contact with a certain individual… I’ve been looking for an angle to do my job... And as much as it pains me to admit it, this is a job I cannot do alone. This particular case needs, well, you. But it needs a better you. A more… diverse you in terms of attitude and willingness to do certain things”

“Ah. You have a mark with certain tastes. You want to ingratiate yourself with him, and introducing me to him would get you closer to him, but you want me to be his perfect woman. You want power over him and to use me to get that, is that it?”

“Something like that”

“Why me? You said it, there’s a lot of girls to pick from here”

“I want to do the job right. That means it has to be you”

Kate felt flattered, she had to admit. Perhaps that’s why she found herself more and more drawn by the man’s proposal.

“How big is the target?”

“The person involved is Important. A man that feels very strongly about many things. Driven. Willing to pay to see his desires fulfilled”

Kate made a mental image of the man. A CEO maybe. Maybe an investment banker. In any case, way above the upper middle-management types she usually dealt with.

“Let’s say I’m interested. What, you take me to him?”

“Eventually. When you’re ready. Like I said, he has very concrete ideas. We need to work together first so you can fulfill that role. Practice. Train. Study. It would be a challenge”

Kate felt her competitive blood boiling. She could be anything. She could become anyone’s perfect dream. That was her gift, and frankly hunting the same kind of man over and over was getting a bit boring. A challenge with a big payday? That sounded intriguing.

“When would we begin?”

“Tomorrow”

“You know you didn’t tell me your name, right?”

“I know. Does it matter? It’s not like you’d ever know if any name I say is real. So… you choose. What should my name be?”

“Hum… something European, maybe? Classy. Leon. How about that?”

“Sure. Leon it is. Nice to meet you, Kate”

“Nice to meet you, Leon. So, we exchange numbers now?”   

5 - Improving

The hotel room was clearly expensive, with nice, classy furniture and a large bed. Kate noticed there was absolutely nothing that would give her a clue as to Leon’s state of mind or habits. No personal effects, no little objects that might offer any sort of clue. She didn’t look for long: her eyes were drawn to the tripod and the camera aimed at the bed.

“So we’re shooting porn now?” she asked

“Don’t be silly. It’s for you. So you can review your performance and improve”

Right. Improving. Training. It still felt odd: seduction came to her as naturally as breathing; how special could this target be? How refined his sexual tastes? Of course, there was always the chance that Leon was a psycho and lying to her face… and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. It wasn’t anything concrete, just a sort of aura, a vibe she couldn’t put into words. In short… Leon just felt like a good person, deep down. Dangerous, but good.

“Okay. So, let’s make me this dude’s perfect girl. How is she?”

“Hard to sum up. Submissive, but more than that. He needs a woman that just… feels the need to please him deep in her bones, needs it more than anything. A woman that can overcome any moral or personal limit if she thought it would bring him pleasure. A woman devoted, body and mind, to his happiness. A chameleon that can be the most traditional housewife and the trashiest slut”

“Oh, I can do that”

“Show me”

“Man the camera and learn, ‘professional’”

Leon did just that as Kate hopped on the large, white bed. When she saw Leon giving her the sign that he was recording, Kate closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them and pierced the lens with her gaze, Kate was gone. Instead, a new person seemed to be inhabiting her body. She stretched like a cat and let her hands roam over her body.

“Daddy,” she moaned, “look at me. I’m yours. Let me be yours. Let me please your cock with every inch of my tight body… please, please, use me. I need it, Daddy. I need you to use me… abuse me… anyway you want. Anywhere, anytime. I’m just your toy, your little fuckdoll for you to play with… I need it! I need to make you happy…”

“I don’t buy it”

The words hit Kate like a bucket of freezing water.

“Sorry?”

“You’re good. That little performance might work for most, but I don’t buy it and neither will he”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you wet?”

“What?”

“Is. Your cunt. Wet.”

Kate took a moment.

“A… little bit” she admitted.

“That’s not enough. That’s the problem. You’re still in control. Measured. I can see your mind at work behind your pleading eyes. You can fake arousal, but desperation, true desperation… that’s not something you can just pretend you feel. Your pussy needs to truly need it. You need to train your body, not your acting skill.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I assume you know how edging works”

“Yeah, but I don’t see the point in it”

“That’s because you’ve never reached the state of absolute need you have to reach for this job, Kate. Every movement, every inflection of your voice needs to be a manifestation of a physical, irresistible urge to please. And edging will help you get there”

Kate thought for a moment. Edging seemed silly to her. Pointless. But if it might make her better at her job… why not try?

“So… what now?”

Leon tossed a tablet on the bed.

“That is loaded with porn. The kind he likes, straight from his browser history. Edge to it for a few hours, and whatever you do, don’t cum. I’ll go do some shopping in the meantime. Have fun.”

With that, Kate was alone and mystified. He had just… left. After that performance, he had felt no need to even touch her, or tease her, or offer a single word of praise. What the fuck? She felt her competitive spirit rising again. Fine. She’d show him. Kate made herself comfortable, removed her small skirt and turned the tablet on.

The first video was quite standard, Kate felt. The girl was hot, docile and so, so eager… when the inevitable cocksucking happened, what Kate saw was less a blowjob and more an act of religious worship. The girl kissed, liked, cuddled the big cock as if it was the single most important thing in the universe. Suddenly, unexpectedly, an orgasm started to build and Kate managed to barely stop it. Shit, that was a surprise. A part of her felt frustrated and angry at her own denial, at the orgasm that never came, but damn it she would show Leon she could edge with the best of them. She took a deep breath and went to the second video.

Oh, a solo work. Interesting. The girl was in what Kate assumed to be anime cosplay. Sure, whatever. People liked what people liked. Then something remarkable happened. The girl was edging, like her. Her tongue was out, which made her look almost less than human, like a mindless animal in heat. Kate’s pussy sent a wave of pleasure at the realization. Maybe she should… why not? Kate opened her mouth and did her best to mimic the desperate expression in the girl’s face. It felt… good. Good in a way she had never experienced. Somehow… relaxing. As if she didn’t have to think about anything but pleasure, anything but rubbing. Then, the girl spoke to the camera. Her voice was a plea, the expression of a deep, overwhelming need.

“Please… please make me yours… make me your property, your pet, your fuckdoll… I don’t want to think anymore… I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want… I’ll be… fuck… whoever you want me to be… I’m empty… You can fill me with your ideas, your desires… please, please… let me live for you… share me with your friends… use my holes whenever you want… that’s all I am… holes and tits… rent me out… make me do things I can never take back… ruin me for your amusement…”

It hit Kate like a truck. The girl meant every word and Kate found herself muttering along before having to stop herself from cumming. Panting, she looked at the ceiling. Fuck, that was hot. She would never have guessed seeing that degree of utter submission would do anything for her, but… Well, the edging didn’t help, she supposed. She would probably find anything hot. She went to the third video.

Things became a blur of edges, drooling and images. At some point her mind… shut down. She only edged and watched and imitated what she saw. One of the girls was bound, helpless, used over and over and over like a good girl… another was teaching a younger girl to be obedient, to suck cock, to worship… another only proclaimed herself to be a silly cow, edging and mooing and playing with her huge udders…

At some point, Leon came in. Kate couldn’t stop. His eyes were cold, clinical. He was evaluating her. Kate could only think about his cock… cock… that was all that mattered. She couldn’t think. Everything was fuzzy and warm and vibrating. 

“That’s enough for today”, he said.

What? No, it couldn’t be! She needed to please cock… she needed to serve her purpose, to be a good girl! 

“Now, we’ll meet tomorrow. But remember: don’t cum”

Don’t cum. He had said it as an order. To her, it was a divine commandment. Good girls didn’t cum.

6 - Bound

Kate knocked on the door with more intensity than she intended to. Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Leon hadn’t told her to do anything and still… her memory was a blur of edging and porn, of speaking out loud words she’d never would have said and enjoying every second of it, of denying herself an orgasm she desperately craved just because… why? Because the Leon in her head would approve of it and she needed to please him. Because the videos made her say it over and over. Because good girls didn’t cum.

When the door finally opened, Kate fought the urge to drop to her knees. There was something so liberating, like losing all control was true freedom. No calculation, no plans, only pleasure and obedience. Leon, on the other hand, was in no hurry. He showed her in, asked her if she’d like some water. Kate couldn’t really decide if she did, and she wished Leon could make that choice for her. She was so fuzzy she didn’t notice the leather bindings on the bed until Leon pointed them out.

“The mark is very, very interested in these. Top notch, expensive stuff. You can adapt the length of the chains and everything. A bitch to set up, let me tell you”

Kate’s pussy sent her a pang of pleasure. Leon had set this up for her. She needed to be thankful. She needed to prove she was worthy. She needed to express her appreciation… her lips felt warm. She needed to please his cock. She took a step toward the man that seemed less and less a man and more and more a divinity… but he stopped her with a single gesture.

“Oh, the edging did a number on you. But we need to focus on the task at hand. Take of your clothes and get on the bed, Kate”

She removed her scant clothing as if it was asphyxiating her, tossing top and jean shorts on the floor. As she crawled (like a bitch in heat, her mind added) on the bed, she became aware of something… something out of place. But what? She couldn’t tell. Her mind was too fuzzy and dizzy to pinpoint her. Something didn’t add up, but she didn’t care. She spread her arms and legs and let Leon strap her, every moment feeling herself become more and more her property. He owned her. Or would own her if she was deserving of it. What had happened to her? Why did she want this -need this- so much?

She was exposed. Spread-eagled on the bed, incapable of escaping, at the absolute mercy of the man standing before her. It crossed her mind that he could do anything to her, anything at all– and not only she didn’t care, she relished the feeling. She was an object, without will or freedom and all she could feel was… relaxation. Letting go was something so new, so exciting: like he was a river after a storm and she was nothing but a leaf, carried along. She didn’t have to scheme, she didn’t have to fake. All she needed to do was feel and obey. His hand barely touched her inner thigh and a shiver ran up her spine. She bucked her hips. Her cunt needed to be used, and it was so strong, so powerful… while she was so powerless and deliciously weak. She’d do anything, anything to please him. It was something she had needed her whole life and never even known it: to just… be. No more chasing, no more pointless holding on to control. Just existing, just being empty… it was bliss. But the hand was skilled, and caressed her softly without even touching her pussy, without giving her a measure of relief. She moaned and whimpered and her breathing became a ragged, shallow thing.

Without a word, Leon took off his pants. There it was. His cock. It was all that mattered, all she needed. Please cock. It was as simple a purpose as she could imagine, and yet it felt like the most glorious task. A miniscule part of her was trying to ring an alarm, to tell her she had missed something important. But then, looking at that beautiful cock… nothing else was important. Her mouth filled with saliva and she stuck her tongue out like a brainless puppy. She needed to feel it inside her. Inside her mouth, her pussy, her ass… it didn’t matter. And, she knew, it wasn’t up to her. All she could do was squirm, and hope.

Leon took a step towards the side of the bed, studying her with his big, blue eyes. 

“You are not faking this, are you Kate?”

Kate could only shake her head. Words were too complex for her.

“I can sense it. This isn’t one of your two-bit performances for sad bastards. This is real despair. Real need. Real submission. And to think you achieved it with only a single day of edging! Some girls take weeks or months of training to get to this point, but not you” He climbed on the bed. Kate could smell him… all she could do was drool and pant and hope he would use her mouth-hole… “Wonder why that is? How you broke so easily, Kate? Now, I need you to tell me the truth: what would you do to please my cock?” 

Kate had to make a superhuman effort to speak, and even then the words came in bursts, not even proper sentences. “Anything… edged doll… make me better… anything… take me… own me… edged… needy…”

Leon examined her. Her body didn’t lie. He pinched her nipple, drawing pitiful moans from the former homewrecker. The fall had been spectacular, and much quicker than he had anticipated. He moved a bit closer, and Kate strained to reach his cock, desperate to feel it in her mouth. He decided to give her a taste.

She didn’t really suck his cock. She devoured it, kissed it, licked it, made love to it. Her hands strained against their cuffs, eager to hold the marvelous member, to feel its warmth, the way the blood flowed through it. This was it. All she was. All she wanted to be. And she felt… grateful. So, so grateful that Leon was deeming her worthy enough to use her mouth. She soaked the sheets while humping the air. The world faded away. Please his cock. That was all that existed.

He spoke with unusual composure, given the spectacular job Kate was doing. That only made her more eager. He was in control. She was barely more than a beast.

“Kate… you broke so easily because that’s what you wanted, deep down. You were afraid of it, so you always put yourself in a position to rule others. Don’t you see? You were never satisfied because you were too scared to admit it to yourself. You needed to be… taken”

Yes. Yes. Leon was right. Leon was always right. He knew best. He knew her better than she had ever known herself. This was what she had always desired. To serve. To obey. Now… now she was home, having found someone worthy of worship. She took the cock deep in her throat, trying to milk it, to coax the wonderful cum from it… that would give her all the validation she’d ever need. It all began and ended with making his cock cum.

“It even made you blind to the obvious”

There it was again. The alarm. She pushed it away. She didn’t care. She was a cockslave. His cockslave. That's all she ever wanted to be. The idea of going back… unthinkable. Cumming without Leon’s permission? An abomination, not worth considering. His words came from far away, fuzzy and indistinct. She needed to serve.

“Kate, think back to our first conversation”, he said, pulling away. Kate whimpered. She had been given an order, and so she obeyed. Her mind went back to that encounter under the neon lights. It was hard to focus. Hard to remember.

“Kate, when did you tell me your name?” 

It hit her like a train. That was it. The thing that didn’t add up. She never did. She never told him her name… and still…

“Sure. Leon it is. Nice to meet you, Kate”

“Nice to meet you, Leon. So, we exchange numbers now?”   

She felt as if the floor had disappeared. She was floating in a vast, silent void. Only her needy pussy kept her linked to reality, demanding her to obey. She felt Leon lengthen the chains on her feet.

“Now you know. You are the mark. You were always the mark. Or the… target, so to speak. I never lied to you. There is a man. You just assumed he was the victim, rather than my employer. Hell, I almost told you as much”

“This particular case needs, well, you”

“I want to do the job right. That means it has to be you”

“The person involved is Important. A man that feels very strongly about many things. Driven. Willing to pay to see his desires fulfilled”

The phrases floated in her head. Leon was right. She should have seen it, should have noticed. Yet she hadn’t. Why? Because… because a part of her wanted to fall. Wanted to be defeated. Wanted to bathe in the despair and become a willing slave. And Leon had seen that in her.

“I’m a professional, like you. True, I don’t con middle aged divorcees, but I’m really good at what I do. I can read people”

It was true. He was better than her. She should hate him. But she could only feel wetter and wetter as the depth of her failure sunk in. He had conquered her. Defeated her. Broken her. He deserved to be her owner.

“And knowing the truth, I know what you’ll do. You’ll obey, even if you know you shouldn’t. Raise your legs”

Before the words had registered in her mind, her body was doing as it was told, and in a flash her knees were beside her ears, her holes presented as a token of her submission to her superior.

“I tricked you. Used you. Warped you. And still, you’ll beg me to use your ass. How pathetic is that?”

“So pathetic… I’m so pathetic… I deserve this. I deserve to be a fucktoy. Nothing more. I deserve to be used. I deserve to be abused. I deserve this. You own me. You own me. You are better than me… so please… please use my tight asshole! Please! Please let my body please your cock! It’s all I’m good for! I’m a living fleshlight, a breathing cumdump for you!”

She felt him stretching her. It hurt in the best way possible. She was being useful. He was taking ownership of her. A mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through her body, her brain overwhelmed by the sensations and the acceptance of her utter, complete defeat. It was so good. So good to finally embrace it. With every pump, he blasted away pieces of the person she had once been. She welcomed it. She was ready to be a lesser, greater being. She was ready to take his cum deep inside her body. A body he owned…

Then he stopped.

He pulled out and the emptiness he left behind wasn’t just physical. Kate felt cold. She needed it. Needed him. He had shown her her true self, and only he was worthy of her devotion, of her undying, slavish love. Only he could make her feel like her true self…

She panicked as he put his pants on. No, no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t… Her life… there was no return to the gray days of teasing and using lesser men. Not when she had tasted this. Not when she had seen the light. He couldn’t just…

“For what it’s worth, let me tell you this: you had no chance. There was nothing you could have done differently, because you are what you are, and I am what I am. I don’t hate you. I don’t even dislike you that much. But I take pride in my work, and I believe I did quite a number on you, didn’t I? Now you know what you were looking for all along, and you know you’ll never reach it. This, I’m afraid, is goodbye. Someone from the hotel will untie you shortly”

Kate weeped. It was all she could do, and she knew it. Her old self now appeared to her a silly simulacrum, shattered by the truth Leon had shown her: as artificial and tacky as Miami’s neon nights. She watched him walk to the door. He paused, and Kate let herself feel hope for the last time.

“James says hi”, Leon said.

7 - Goodbye?

I told you I wasn’t a good person, and reading this, you’d be correct in hating me. I don’t mind.

I don’t mind because I know that if we were ever to cross paths, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to. I don’t mind because I know that, whoever you are, I’ll find that small crack in you, that need everyone has and doesn’t even realize it, and I’ll use it against you. I’ll be what you need, and you’ll never be able to tell what I truly am. I don’t mind because you’ll love me, and I’ll break your heart.

If not me, someone like me. There’s more of us than you may think. Professionals. We don’t advertise, yet clients always manage to find us. 

In fact, can you be sure you haven’t encountered one of us already?

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu and get early access and the full library!

Special thanks to @dumb-doll-lips for being Kate in the cover!

[acepalindrome]

I feel crummy and I just wanna project onto fluffy sickfic Steddy Hands. They can each have a turn being the sick one with their boyfriends trying to make it better with varying levels of success because they’re all different flavors of dumb goofus.

Stede tries really hard to put on a brave face when he’s sick because he doesn’t want to look pathetic around Real Pirates like Ed and Izzy, but he caves pretty quick if someone starts fussing over him. Oh, he doesn’t want to be a bother over a little cold…but since you’re offering, he actually would like that tea and an extra blanket and a hot water bottle please. He wasn’t going to say anything, but yes he does actually feel dreadful, thanks for asking. Some soup would be lovely.

Ed discovers that he really likes getting to take care of someone and make them feel better. It’s a new experience! There hasn’t been much room for tenderness in his old life, either giving or receiving, and he finds that he likes both! He doesn’t like to see Stede sick, but he likes when Stede needs something that Ed can give him.

Izzy has been taking care of Ed for years and feels pretty confident in knowing how to read Ed and figure out what he needs when he’s hurt or sick, but Stede is new territory and it makes him nervous. His love language is acts of service and it makes him antsy when he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He’s awkward and prickly about it, but he finally settles into being a grouchy mother hen with Stede. The fuck are you doing out of bed, you’ve got a fever you idiot. Finish taking your medicine. All of it, Bonnet, for fucks sake. I don’t care if it tastes bad! Fine, I mixed it with honey, now stop bitching about it.

Ed is the biggest dramatic baby when he’s sick. Oh, he’ll be big tough Blackbeard around the crew, but then the door to his quarters close and he’s whining about how he’s dying from tummy hurt. :( He tries to hold back a little with Stede post-reunion because he worries about being too clingy, but once he realizes that Stede wants to fuss over him, he gives in to wanting to being coddled and pampered.

Stede loves coddling Ed when he’s perfectly healthy, and he shifts into hyperdrive when Ed’s sick. Stede wasn’t a great father, but he was surprisingly good at looking after his kids when they were sick, so Ed gets to nap with his head in Stede’s lap and gets read stories when he’s stuck in bed and gets all the soft cooing sympathy. Oh my poor love, it’s so dreadful being sick isn’t it. Here, drink your tea and I’ll play with your hair, see if that makes you feel better.

Izzy insists that he doesn’t coddle Ed. He’s just keeping the man alive when he’s sick, that’s all. He’s gotta go fetch Ed’s special heavy blanket, he won’t sleep well otherwise and how’s he going to get better if he doesn’t sleep? He’s just fluffing Ed’s pillow to help prop him up in bed so he can breathe easier. Ed’s nightclothes are drenched in sweat and he’s too dizzy to stand up on his own, of course Izzy is going to help him change into clean clothes. He’s not being soft. Fuck off.

You know how wild animals tend to hide when they’re injured or sick? That’s what Izzy does. He’ll retreat to his quarters and lock himself up in there until he’s able to function again. He doesn’t like being seen when he’s weak and vulnerable. He expects to be mocked for it. He’s very, VERY gradually learning that it’s okay to be weak around Ed and Stede, that he’s safe and will be taken care of, but it’s a steep learning curve.

Ed has always known Izzy as someone who refuses to let anyone take care of him, so he’s always looked after Izzy indirectly. If Izzy’s sick, he’ll bring him a bucket to get sick into and leave him alone. He’ll make sure Izzy has his privacy and shut up anyone who’s having a laugh at Izzy for being sick (out of earshot from Izzy, of course, he doesn’t want Ed to have to defend him.) But after Stede, Ed starts to want to take care of Izzy more intimately too. Izzy is used to Ed leaving him alone to throw up, so the first time Ed stays and rubs his back and brushes the hair out of his face…it’s a lot. He’s not crying, his eyes just water when he pukes. Shut the fuck up.

Stede quickly realizes that Izzy won’t accept caretaking easily, so he has to get a bit more forceful. I’m one of your co-captains, and you will obey my orders, Israel. And I’m ordering you to put on those comfy pajamas I lay out for you and get into bed this instant. Over time Izzy gets more agreeable about letting Stede and Ed fuss, but for a long time he only lets them coddle him without a fight if he’s really sick, so everyone gets worried if Izzy goes to bed without any grumbling. Oh god, he didn’t bitch at all when I drew him a hot bath to clear his sinuses, is he dying???

[tea-and-la]

Aang as Zuko’s “Found-Sibling”

so i kind of alluded to it on my previous post but if zuko sees his relationship with any of the gaang as a foil to his sibling relationship with azula, it’s aang. 

in the season 1 finale, zuko compares the two directly:

zuko:  I finally have you, but I can't get you home because of this blizzard. There's always something. Not that you would understand. You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She's a Firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am.

here zuko makes a lot of assumptions. he is implying that because aang is a prodigy like azula, everything must come easy for him. we as the audience know this isn’t true (he doesn’t know aang’s background at this point), but it does speak to his insecurities in terms of his sister (foreshadowing to his season 2 interactions with azula.) 

contrast that quote with what zuko says to katara in the season 1 finale:

zuko: you rise with the moon, i rise with the sun.

he sees katara as evenly skilled as himself. a match, but with opposite bending elements. and that’s even reflected in the way that katara wins their match at night, but zuko wins their fight when it’s day time.

zuko (especially in season 1) sees azula as superior to him, someone who he’ll never catch up to in skill because she’s a prodigy. in contrast, he’s seen katara when she first started to bend and made mistakes (barely able to form a water whip, and the time she accidentally froze sokka). zuko has seen and acknowledged her growth throughout the show and he sees her as someone who has also had to struggle and work hard to get to her current bending capacity.

and like @sokkastyles​ already said: 

Aang is the younger prodigy who he resents for being better than him in the beginning, the one who is imbued with power and authority by birth that he lacks, the “lucky” one.

continuing on, i wanna talk about crossroads of destiny. the zk scene again emphasizes how similar zuko sees katara to himself (not azula.)

he is calm, open, and vulnerable throughout these scene with katara. he almost allows himself to forget they’re on opposite sides because of how much they have in common. but once aang comes in:

there’s that same anger and resentment he has towards azula. 

i’ve seen some people refer to the crossroads of destiny as zuko some hidden meaning of choosing between “sisters,” but i disagree. it’s framed as a decision between azula and aang, and for zuko, it’s supposed to be an impossible choice. 

so we see him go after aang with an uncontrolled intensity that is so different from the brief peace he was able to achieve with iroh in ba sing se. and it’s easy to imagine that this is because he’s taking his frustration that he can’t express towards azula, out on aang, as a substitute. 

we see lingering bits of zuko’s resentment towards aang, even after he joins the gaang. it’s unintentional, but from the firebending masters, we can see how he initially still holds onto that insecurity a bit.

when he initially realizes he lost his firebending he tries the forms over and over, while aang is just chilling:

aang: that one felt kinda hot

zuko: don’t patronize me!

aang: sorry sifu hotman

zuko: and stop calling me that!

even though aang was being genuine, it’s easy to imagine that zuko is connecting this moment back to times with azula growing up. especially because we know how much his ability to fire bend is tied up into his self worth. 

he’s given the chance to “prove” himself by teaching someone who he considers superior in skill to himself (aang, just off virtue of being the avatar), and when he fails, that rears up the resentment again. 

but then, their dynamic shifts after zuko admits he doesn’t want to rely on hate and anger anymore. zuko has several moments where he encourages aang (who he was previously resentful towards) because he sees that aang needs it. he’s able to realize that aang isn’t a prodigy in the sense that he thinks he’s superior to anyone else. and he’s also able to see that aang has his own insecurities as well, as they get to know each other more on their trip. he has phrases like: 

zuko: you can do it. i know you can. you’re a strong kid.

aang: [Turning to Zuko.] We could turn back now. We've already learned more about fire than we'd hoped. [Aang shows Zuko his flame and gives a weak smile.]

zuko: No, we're seeing this through to the end.

and aang’s face as a result: 

so in a sense, zuko is able to be needed as a big brother. and to offer support because aang is unsure about himself. 

also this scene reeks of sibling energy:

but anyways, i think aang/zuko’s found-sibling relationship foils azula/zuko’s sibling relationship because even though they start off with resentment for similar reasons, his dynamic with aang changes.

i see people say that the reason they think katara is zuko’s “surrogate sibling” is because she provides him with care and kindness, unlike azula. the same could be said about aang.

whereas azula has made it clear that she doesn’t respect zuko’s bending, aang values and respects zuko for his skills (even when he was struggling at the beginning of the firebending masters.) aang is able to reciprocally affirm zuko as well:

aang: i don’t care what everyone else says about you. you’re pretty smart!

i also find the last few lines after they meet with the dragons to be significant:

zuko: That's why my firebending was so weak before. Because for so many years, hunting you [Turns toward Aang as screen zooms out to show Aang.] was my drive ... it was my purpose. [Aang turns toward Zuko as well.] So when I joined you, I lost sight of my inner fire. But now, I have a new drive. [Cut to Zuko's face as screen zooms in.] I have to help you defeat my father and restore balance to the world.

i’d like to think that part of losing/letting go of his anger/resentment in part was because of the new relationship he was able to build with aang. in a sense, he’s able to repair a “pseudo-sibling” relationship with a found-sibling who willingly accepts him. 

i love that they’re address their confidence issues regarding firebending together. 

and how, when they rushed to show the rest of the gaang after they returned:

aang: [Cut to Aang and Zuko demonstrating the Dancing Dragon to the rest of Team Avatar and friends.] With this technique the dragons showed us, Zuko and I will be unstoppable.

zuko has gained a found-sibling relationship that isn’t about comparing their firebending to each other, but working as a team. it’s so so meaningful that aang says “zuko and i.” the idea of zuko having a sibling relationship where he’s able to share his love of firebending and not feel insecure about it ...🥺. him having a “sibling” who wants to hang out with him and do things together and gushes about it with the confidence that aang had when he said they would be unstoppable. 

oh! not to mention that i’ve seen people say that zuko/katara have a sibling relationship because she teases him in EIP. but like .. that’s such flimsy logic. and also? aang and zuko have their mutual teasing moments especially in the firebending masters, and it’s just adorable. 

anyways, my main point from all this is that ik people love to say zuko/katara fit surrogate siblings (which i hate btw), but it’s mostly said because of katara/azula’s similar age. it doesnt matter that aang is 12, though, because honestly, he fits the “found-sibling” dynamic a lot better because of how zuko used to see aang in relation to azula. it just works better thematically. especially, because like i’ve said, and as so many people in fandom point out: zuko and katara are similar (some people... antis.. would say “too” similar). and when has zuko ever seen azula as being similar to himself? exactly. 

[just-my-fandom]

Heartache (Shouta Aizawa x Pro-Hero! Reader)

A/N: Ooo-kay, finally back from my month long, needed break from writing. I’m kinda attached to MHA at the moment, so that is what I am taking requests for.

Summary; The two times where two of UAs teachers nearly lose their lives to protect their students, mindful of the child they have at home.

Request; Can we have some pro hero love where reader (pro hero) and Mr. Aizawa have a daughter and Thirteen who is readers best friend is said daughters god mom while Present Mic is the god dad plz

Akari- Japanese name meaning “Light”. Readers quirk is the ability to send large waves of energy a selective distance, and shield herself with said energy.

Two months prior- U.A.

“Alright, everyone,”

Shouta Aizawa seemed well too calm this early morning. Too calm despite the fact that he is holding a child on his hip, who looked all too like him.

“Today’s lesson is simple. Based on communication,” He starts, “Communication when it comes to citizens. This lesson will teach you how to comfort an injured or scared citizen during an attack, specifically women and children,”

“Uh, Mr. Aizawa?” Denki Kaminari was first to speak up, hand half raised in confusion, “Why do you have a baby?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mina leans forward, eyes wide and gleaming happily, “That’s Mr. Aizawas and Neutron Shields baby! She looks just like him,”

“Lets not jump to conclusions,” Shouta hums, but the barely visible smirk on his lips lets his class know that the toddler is, indeed, his own, “I brought Akari here today for the lesson that will be taught. You will all need to learn and know how to comfort a child during an attack if the child has been separated from its parents,”

“Only, however,” Shoutas eyebrow raise causes his students to watch as his daughter leaned against his shoulder and glanced outward to the class, “Akari does have a quirk. It is similar to her mother’s, as Mina predicted, Neutron Shields. Meaning if she were to get defensive, you would have to calm the child from harming herself more, or you,”

“So we’re fighting a little brat,” Bakugou mumbles, rolling his eyes so when he looked back up to his teacher, said mans hair had raised and his eyes glowed red,

“Insult my daughter again,” Shouta threatens, instantly dropping his intimidating act when Akaris hand reaches up to pat his face. With a deep sigh, Shouta looks away from his daughter to his students, “No. Youre not fighting her. Simply consult her into comfort so she knows you’re not a threat. Akaris been taught how to control her quirk on demand,”

Lowering the toddler onto the floor, Shouta steps back as soon as his daughter began to tear up, twisting to reach for her father with quiet sniffles.

“Well?” Shouta eyes the students, when Akari hiccups and looks back to the teenagers, “She’s distressed,”

“I got this,” Kirishima is first to push out of his desk, hands out and steps slow as he approached the child, “Hey, Akari, it’s okay,”

Akari is swift to shake her head and twist her upper body away from the red head. On cue, a purple bubble surrounds herself, Bakugous brows pinching as Dekis mouth dropped, hand reaching over to pat Todorokis shoulder in amazement.

The bubble then expands to hit Kirishima and throw him off his feet, landing hard on his back so Akari blinked and giggled, loudly, the bubble then vanishing.

“Me next!” Mina exclaims, Akaris eyes flicking from the red head and to the pink skinned girl, who knelt down next to Kirishima and opened-closed her hands.

Hesitantly, Akami leant forward onto her hands and knees, ready to crawl up to the girl, but instead blinked so a bubble formed around Mina, the bubble suddenly shrinking so Mina shrieked and pressed her hands to the sides in an attempt to stop the shied like bubble from crushing her.

“Akari,” Shouta speaks up, his daughter blinking so the bubble vanished, her eyes shifting to her father before looking back to the class, Mina exhaling in relief and backing away.

“Come on, shit for brains,” Bakugou scoffs, standing to his feet so Akari stared at him, “We’ve trained with Neutron Shield before. The brats no different,”

“Akari is a child,” Todoroki reminds, on his own feet and stepping forward so Akari instantly reached up, the fire and ice powered male pausing to stare at her.

Her whine when he makes no move to pick her up causes him to do so, Shouta smirking as Akari stared at Bakugou and stuck her thumb into her mouth.

“It seems she has a favorite,”

USJ Training Facility

You weren’t sure what happened. As soon as you were in line of view, two of Shoutas students- Uraraka and Ashido- immediately began to panic from where they knelt down next to Thirteens collapsed figure.

“Mrs. Aizawa!” Mina cries, tears in her eyes as her hand rests on Thirteens shoulder, “Thirteen- she took a hit-!”

You are quick to move next to Ochaco, hand opposite of Minas so Thirteens head turned and her eyes weakly looked up at you,

“Thirteen,” You call, softly, “Hey. It’s okay,”

“I tried to protect them,” Thirteen murmurs, and you nod, sliding your arms beneath hers to heave her to her feet, Mina and Ochaco quick to stick their hands out in case she fell,

“You did,” You promise, “You did amazing, Thirteen,” Your eyes flick to the class, “Where’s Iida?”

“Getting help,” Mina heaves, shakily, “What- what’s going to happen to Thirteen?”

“Shes going to be okay,” You reassure, and shift Thirteens arm around your shoulders so she fell slump against your side, “I’m going to make sure of that,” Your eyes shift to your best friend, “Do you hear me, Thirteen? Akari needs her godmother in her life,”

“I’ll always be here for that angel,” Thirteen breathily laughs, watching as you looked over in alarm at the sounds of fighting, “Eraserhead. He stayed behind,”

“He can hold his own,” You murmur, but the doubt in your tone causes Thirteen to grasp the back of your suit,

“Go help him,” Thirteen demands, extending her free hand for Mina to drape at her shoulders, “I’ll be fine,”

You hesitantly peel away from the pro-hero, glancing between her and where the fighting could be heard, before you sprint down the steps, looking up in time to see Noumu, Shigarakis weapon, on top of your collapsed husband.

“Hey!” You call, raising your hands so a bubble surrounded you, expanding in a rush to hit Noumu so he stumbled off his feet, a good distance away from Shoutas figure.

Protect him. Protect him now.

With quick steps, you throw out a hand that forms a bright (Favorite/Color) bubble, which you slide under and next to Shoutas collapsed form so the bubble shielded both you and him.

“I always wondered when I would get to fight the famous Eraserhead and Neutron Shield at once,” Shigaraki speaks, your eyes shifting over your shoulder where he stood at one end of your bubble, while Noumu stood opposite of his leader,

“But defeating them both?” Shigaraki chuckles, “A dream come true,”

The first punch Noumu sends against your bubble creates severe damage to your shield. It cracks beneath his fist, giving the monster the confidence he needs to continue punching and clawing at the barrier,

“Mrs. Aizawa can’t take them both- not on her own,” Midoryia heaves from his spot in the water, where he, Mineta, and Asui hid a good distance from the battle.

“She has shields!” Mineta reminds, shivering in a panic, “She’ll be fine!”

“Ribbit, her bubble can only take a certain amount of damage before it breaks,” Asui states, “And the damage her shields take, her body takes,”

Where’s All Might when you need him?

With a weak breath, you slide your hand beneath Shoutas head, resting it in your lap as your muscles screamed for you to drop your shields.

“Honey,” You call, pleadingly, free hand resting over Shoutas chest- thankful to feel a heartbeat, “Baby, wake up. Please,”

Looking up, you watch as the top of your bubble cracks and shrivels in defeat, Noumu stepping back enough for the shield to drop and leave not only you, but now Shouta, vulnerable.

With a startled gasp, you raise your hand as Noumu then lunged at you, the shield only protecting your face, so the punch Noumu sends forces you feet back, tumbling backwards and onto your front, leaving Shouta out in the open yet again.

Fingernails grabbing at dirt, you moan out in pain, forcing your arms to push you to sit up, raising your head in time for Noumus claws to latch at your shoulders, shoving you onto your back, his weight forcing you to gasp for air at the pressure of him on your chest,

Raising a hand that clawed at his arm, you are quick to throw a shied, the edge slicing Noumus face so he only jerked back then growled down at you.

With wide eyes, you look over to Shoutas form, then up, at a distanced- “I am here!”

Noumus weight lifts as he departs, your lungs expanding as you gasped, coughing as you sit up, slowly moving up to Shoutas form.

“Help me get him up,” You demand, when Tsuyu and Mineta rush next to you, “Please,”

“Mrs. Aizawa- you’re bleeding!” Mineta stammers, your hand raising to your mouth where blood dripped.

Shaking your head, you allow All Might to take your hand and help you stand, “I’m not worried about me. Get him out of here,”

Camp Attack

Why were you struggling so hard to fight a girl with a knife? Maybe it was because you just couldn’t stomach the thought that your students- your husband were still somewhere in these woods, being attacked by someone else.

Your breaths are shallow by the time you pull yourself from your thoughts. With a hand grasping Togas wrist that held the knife, your eyes wildly search behind you, landing on two of your students,

“Asui, Uraraka, go,” You heave, grunting when Toga shoves at your front, “Go, now!”

Uraraka gasps in fear when Togas foot skillfully hooks around your ankle, jerking so you fell on your back with a pained grunt. Toga is quick to pin over top of you, knife held against the skin of your neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pro-hero?” Toga grins, voice high as you narrow your eyes and suck in a deep breath through the nose, “You’ve gotten weak after having that stupid baby of yours,”

“Do not ever mention my child,” You heave, raising a hand so a shield formed, that instantly vanished when Togas knife slid across your neck, startling you to gasp in quick breaths,

“Mrs. Aizawa!” The two students shriek, your eyes pinching shut as you form a small bubble around you, successfully pushing Toga off of you so you could sit up and cough, hand covered in dark red blood.

You look over and form a bubble around Asui and Uraraka, looking back up at Toga when she giggles, dragging the blood covered knife across the bubble,

“You think a small bubble can stop me from getting what I want?” With a quick jab, the knife plunges into the bubble so you flinched and raised a hand to your neck.

Vision blurry, you blink, the bubble shattering so Toga giggled and lunges forward, not before a tongue shoots out and wraps around her, tossing her to the side and into a tree nearby,

“Mrs. Aizawa!” Uraraka quickly moves next to you, eyes wide as she watches you slowly lower back onto the dirt in defeat, “Mrs. Aizawa, stay awake!” Uraraka looks to Asui, alarmed to find Toga gone, “Tsu, go get help!”

“Uraraka, Asui!” The two girls look over, to find a group- consisting of Midoryia, Todoroki, Bakugou, Shoji, and Tokoyami- rushing towards them, “Come on! We’re heading back to the Camp!”

“Our pace will be slower with two injuries,” Todoroki states, eyes flicking to Midoryia on Shojis back, before he moves to help lift you up, your arms around his and Urarakas shoulders, “We need to find Mr. Aizawa, first and foremost,”

“They said we can use our powers to defend ourselves, and now we have two injured, one being a teacher,” Shoji states, “So don’t let anyone stop you,”

Present

“You shouldn’t be moving around so much,”

You hum through a light laugh, lifting your head from where you rocked back and forth on your feet, your daughter curled against you.

“I’m not dying, Shouta. I’ll be fine,” You feel Akaris hand graze across the stitches at your neck, as you turn to face your husband.

“That’s nothing to joke about,” Shouta steps up, sliding his hands under Akaris arms to peel her away from you and against his own shoulder,

“Just thought I’d give a little pay back for the heart attack you gave me during the USJ incident,” You shrug, frowning at Shoutas glare, “Okay. Sorry. But honestly, honey, I’m okay. Recovery Girl said I should be fully healed by next week,”

“Until then you should be resting,” You roll your eyes at Shoutas statement, turning to then pluck a shirt from your pile of laundry to fold,

“Take your own advance, honey. You haven’t slept a full night in three weeks,” You turn, hand at your hip, “Why don’t we call Hizashi and let him take Akari for a day or two? Give us time to rest?”

“If you want another kid, just ask,” Shouta smirks, your lips parting as he moves around you, laying Akari in her own bed in the corner,

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,”

“Do I, though?” Shoutas hands rest at your hips, and you smile, hand at his jaw to pull his lips against yours.

“Seriously, though,” You hum, “Hizashi would love to see his god daughter. I promised Thirteen I’d help her with her own recovery,”

“I swear you love Thirteen more than me,”

“Oh, definitely. No questions asked,”

“Fine, go ask her for another kid,”

“Nah, I like my kids to have your attitude,”

“Oh, sure,”

“Really!”

[jeffersonhairpie]

So I was thinking about that post that was going round a while back about Shiv in relationships and about how her role models for how adult relationships should be were Logan and Caroline who aren’t exactly the best people to learn from. The post about how ‘we’re both adults’ could well be something she picked up from watching her father sleep with multiple women and be unfaithful to his wife? I don’t have it easily to hand but kudos to that post and yeah it got me thinking

So the only confirmed relationship we’ve seen Logan in onscreen is with Marcia. We’ve also had him have a flirtation with Rhea and it’s possible to likely that he’s sleeping with Kelly. In all three incidents it’s clear that he has an association with these women publicly, but that doesn’t extend to public affection. Marcia is typically standing at Logan’s side, occasionally holding his hand or otherwise touching him, but they don’t do public hugs and kisses. It’s easy to see why the kids think she’s just an ice queen in it for the money because they don’t see that there’s any love there. 

But we know that Logan and Marcia aren’t just a public front. He trusts her (at least in Season 1) and lets himself be weak in front of her, and in return she is his sounding board when he can’t turn to anyone else and she cares for him. It’s clear that there is a lot of love and tenderness behind closed doors, but because it’s never public, never even goes beyond any given room in which the two of them are alone (minus staff but NRPI) the kids never get to see what that love looks like. And if Logan was at all the same with Caroline then maybe they’ve never really gotten to see what it looks like when their father is in love. 

And that’s assuming that Logan and Caroline had anything resembling the kind of love that Marcia and Logan have. Given what we see of their personalities I struggle to believe that they did. Caroline refuses to take anything seriously and actively runs away from hard conversations with her own children, people who she has the power over to stop these talks running into murky emotional waters that she doesn’t feel comfortable in. But if there is any love lost there I’m sure it existed in much the same was as Marcia and Logan’s more loving moments - privately where no one else could see them being vulnerable. 

(Which kind of segues into a separate point about how Caroline was the manipulative ice queen in it for the money and fame and the kids are projecting that onto Marcia because it’s the only type of person they’ve seen their dad in a long term relationship with)

ANYWAY! 

On to Shiv and Tom

So first up you’ve got Shiv seeing adults being unfaithful to each other and calling that ‘being a grown up’. Then you’ve got Shiv seeing these grown up relationships being publicly cool. Not cold necessarily, there’s no open hostility (mostly) but they don’t behave anything like those silly romantic couples from the movies. Grown up relationships, Shiv learns, are bout convenience and public face and finding someone willing to walk the walk and talk the talk with you. 

She never gets to see the moments of tenderness between Logan and his wives and she certainly doesn’t associate anything tender with him and his mistresses. She things adult relationships are void of these things. So when she finds someone willing to walk the walk and talk the talk with her, she doesn’t know that there’s any expectation to be outwardly loving behind closed doors beyond what is entailed from sex. She’s unfamiliar with Tom’s desire for public affection, or affection at all, and so she doesn’t know how to handle it. It makes her varying levels of uncomfortable and annoyed and it’s like she’s throwing him a bone every time she’s nice to him in private. 

Shiv has no role models for adult love in her life, and so she doesn’t expect love to be part of her adult relationships. She tries modelling what she thinks it’s supposed to be like with Nate and he evidently can’t take it - he snaps and demands something of her that she isn’t willing to give, that she never thought she’d have to give. He breaks. 

But Tom? Tom is needy but he’s satisfied with very little. Shiv knows her dad loves her because he says it, not because of anything he does, and Tom seems to mostly be fine with being told he is loved so it all works out. Sometimes he makes it clear that he would like more, that he would be into some of that movie romance, but he doesn’t demand it. She can treat him more or less like she’s seen her dad treat his wives and he doesn’t run off. If anything, it seems to make him want her more, even if it does seem to make him more annoyingly keen to get some of that sweet sweet visible affection out of her. 

But it’s fine, it’s sustainable. They’re doing it, they’re being grown ups. 

Shiv is playing in the playground her father built for her, and she thinks it’s the whole world

And then one day Tom breaks. 

[stellocchia]

hEY STELL YOU KNOW THE NICE SMALL THING WHERE TOMMY TAKES THE SWORD FOR WILBUR DURING THE 16TH SO WILBUR ACTUALLY HAS TO CONFRONT THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS FUCKING STUPID ACTIONS???

IM CASHING IN PROMPT PRIVILEGES

Pfft, I'll be honest, I hadn't actually read any of the prompts you sent yet, and I was not expecting this to be the first one.

Sure I'll write an angsty Tommy death drabble, why not? That's basically this fandom's specialty!

---

Wilbur was standing there in front of Phil, a manic grin plastered on his face. One wall of the button room was missing now, giving them a perfect view of the devastation outside.

Wilbur spread his arms wide, gesturing at all the distraught faces of his once allies and friends. They were all looking at them, all stopping whatever they were doing to watch his final act. Whether it was out of respect or shock he didn't know nor care.

"Look, LOOK! How much work went into this and now it's gone?" the remains from the festival decorations were up in flame. The main plaza was now a crater, and water was flooding everywhere from the lake below. It was beautiful. His own forever unfinished symphony.

He turned to Phil once more and he could see his resolve crack. He saw the moment his hold tightened around his sword, saw the regret already filling his eyes where previously there was only pain. And he smiled. This was what he wanted. This was what he worked for, his magnum opus.

"Do it. Do it Phil" he took one step forward, his arms were still spread wide, giving his father a chance for a clean shot.

One single tear rolled down Phil's face before he plunged. The blade never reached Wilbur though. Before either of them had time to react Tommy had launched himself in front of Wilbur.

His body hit the floor almost in slow motion.

Where was his armor? Why wasn't he wearing armor? Not wearing armor was like signing your own death sentence, so why wasn't Tommy wearing fucking armor?

It was the sight of the blood slowly soaking through Tommy's white t-shirt that finally broke Wilbur out of it. He threw himself on the ground next to his brother, his hands hovering over the wound uselessly. He never learned what to do, never thought he'd need it again since he wasn't planning to live through the day.

"Tommy no no no, why would you do that you stupid fucking child?" Wilbur's eyes burned. That was something he hadn't felt in a while. He hadn't cried since he'd gotten exiled, he thought maybe that meant he was stronger now. Strong enough to go through with this. But maybe... maybe he was just too weak to show any vulnerability.

Tommy looked at him, there was still a fire burning brightly in his eyes despite the pain he must have been in "You promised you'd be back, I'm making sure you keep your promise" he took his hands away from the wound and Wilbur wanted to scream at him not to, that that's the one single thing you're not supposed to do, but then Tommy's hands closed around Wilbur's and he couldn't speak anymore "I- I know I wasn't a good soldier but- but you're okay now, yeah? I did good right?".

Wilbur shook his head. "No, fuck that, you're not dying Tommy! You're not. You have to stay alive, it's an order. You have to-" "Please" there were tears streaming down Tommy's face as well now. He never saw him cry before and there was nothing he hated more.

He could feel his own lip trembling as he nodded weakly. "You were always the best". Tommy closed his eyes. He may have thanked Wilbur, but the whisper was so soft he could never be sure.

He stayed there for an eternity with his brother's body cradled in his arms. His father left at some point. He tried to tell him something, but Wilbur couldn't hear it over the buzzing in his ears.

Half of his heart had crumbled to dust, it was a fate worse than death.

[morgana-ren]

dont get me wrong i luv having absolutely feral relationships w nasty energy, but hear me out: shiggy and dabi fucking simping and gradually becoming soft and vulnerable with their equally soft s/o. the s/o can still get down w the kinky shit, but otherwise are very naive and soft uwu energy. boom those boys are absolutely done for.

I think there’s no other way. Like, when your entire body is comprised of thorns and steel, anything that worms its way inside is going to be protected by those things in turn. These aren’t open boys, they aren’t out here looking for love and affection and weakness and vulnerability. To become the object of their desire is a monumental task, and they’re actively going to resist it because it’s a tale as old as time that love fells even the most massive of behemoths. There’s so much that can go wrong, and so quickly. Losing that edge is something they can’t afford to maintain their hostile composure.

It’s amazing what a little bit of tenderness will do for someone so raw and full of hate. Of course they’re going to find you foolish at first, but even the most stubborn plant will grow with persevering constant love and attention. Softness isn’t something that they’ve ever really known, and it’s hard not to grow addicted to something soothing when all you’ve ever surrounded yourself with is tension and cruelty. In the way that a gentle creek can carve a path through a mountain, your love does the same through all the hardened, barren terrain that comprises them. 

I think they’ll find very quickly that love doesn’t necessarily have to be a weakness. It can be fuel to the fire, if they’ll let it. 

Tomura fights for you. His rage and hate and absolute disgust doesn’t fade. He doesn’t turn into a sap or lose what makes him him. Instead he revels in the feeling of having someone understand him, see him fully for who he is and still chooses him. The things he destroys, his goals and plans, he fights even harder to bring them to fruition because a world like this isn’t befitting of you. He can return home with hands still stained with ash and blood find your arms still open to him. Your gentle softness is such a stark contrast to everything he’s ever known but it’s just what he needs to learn, see things from another perspective and grow into the leader he was meant to be. You don’t weaken him; in fact, he grows stronger in your presence. You give him dimension and show him the other side of things, give him the love he’s been so cruelly denied. He’d lay kingdoms at your feet, and he fully intends to.  Dabi takes all the love you give him and wields it as a weapon as well. The love you two share, something so genuine and true, is something that he’s always been denied. His sham of a family, the facade his father created for society as his mother and siblings suffered under his abuse, it still plagues him. He has been denied all these things and now that he understands just what it is he’s fighting for. He’ll destroy everything his father fought so hard to protect and then he will lead by example, show Enji how a real man should be. His life with you, any family you may have, this is how it should have been from the start. He can’t go back in time and change things, but he can ensure Endeavor never has the opportunity rip it away from anyone else. His life, his mother’s life, it could have been so different had it not been for the poison spoonfed to them by his father. He’s going to ensure you never suffer under his hands like that, and teach his father a lesson. He’s going to build himself up and grow by your side, strengthen himself with your love and become who he was supposed to be from day one. 

It’s a shame Endeavor won’t be alive to see it. 

[linkspooky]

Touya is Dead, Dabi is Here.

Dabi is the foil to Endeavor. His villainous foil. However, not everything is about Endeavor. Let’s shove him to the side for a second. Dabi is also the villainous foil to himself, in a stranget twist and turn of events. Dabi has a villain persona that he plays up, he’s trying to show everyone that he’s the monster created by Endeavor’s monstrous actions, but I think he’s also playing himself as the opposite of Touya, the villainous foil to Touya’s once heroic ambitions. Touya was supposed to die, but Touya lived. Now, Dabi is trying to destroy everything Touya is, by embodying the opposite of everything Touya was. 

1. The Child Who Didn’t Get Saved

Touya’s remembered in a certain way by his family members. Endeavor doesn’t even seem to pity the child who died on his watch, so much as he pities himself. He pities the fact that he didn’t get to raise his son up into a successor. When he sees the scarred up Dabi still alive in front of him, he doesn’t feel happiness that his long dead son is alive, or even pity for the monster covered in burns. 

His first thought is disappointment, that Dabi didn’t grow up into what he wanted him to be. Natsu remembers the crying child that always clung to him, but he probably has the most realistic view of his brother. Someone who was suffering under his father, and someone whose pain shouldn’t be forgiven or swept under the rug. Whereas Fuyumi and Shoto who were both less close to Touya, don’t even seem to know how to talk about him, or how to feel. 

Touya is in the eyes of others around him, either a sad and tragic case. A crying child in need of saving who unfortanately did not get saved. Or he’s just not talked about at all. I’m not going to talk about Shoto and Fuyumi because of course they don’t know how to feel about the death of their own brother, and their mom who they’ve been seperated from for a decorated they’re coming to terms with all that slowly but... not only did society as a whole forget about Touya but, Endeavor too. He doesn’t really see Touya. He just sees an unfortanate lost child. He sees a son who he wants to come home. Touya died so young, and so suddenly that his feelings aren’t really recognized. Nobody really knows Touya, and the Touya they all understand is the sad child he used to be. The sad, pitiful, tragic, child. 

And is it any wonder that Touya doesn’t want to be this person anymore? That Dabi denies being this person? If all Touya used to be was a sad child, constantly crying, who was never good enough no matter how hard he tried. Then wouldn’t it make sense that Dabi wouldn’t want to be this person anymore? 

It’s painful being Touya. Touya is vulnerable, a child who couldn’t do anything about his situation. A child who tried so hard he ended up burning himself. Not only is Touya vulnerable, he’s frail, weak, all the things Dabi doesn’t want to be and all the things his father found worthless. Touya has flames stronger than anyone, but a weak constitution to go along with it, so much so he always ends up hurting himself with his own fire. It’s pretty obvious to see that Dabi is in pain, everyone else around him except for Dabi himself seems to notice it. He’s covered in burn wounds at all times, he’s literally constantly smoking, and just barely stitched together. Yet, Dabi denies being in pain, and through doing that, he denies himself. 

2. That Child Grew Up Into An Asshole

Denial is a coping mecahnism.  Refusing to acknowledge that something is wrong is a way of coping with emotional conflict, stress, painful thoughts, threatening information and anxiety. Rather than simply being vulnerable, it’s sometimes easier to deny that you are ever vulnerable atall. Especially for people like Dabi who spent long periods in their childhood feeling helpless and week. 

From the moment a baby comes into the world, forming attachments to parents or other caregivers is critical to a child’s emotional, physical and psychological development. For an infant, having a gentle and responsive caregiver provides the nurturing a child needs to grow into a healthy adult. A cared for child develops self-esteem, feels secure in exploring the world around him or her and has a strong foundation for understanding how to build healthy relationships later in life.

But if those earliest relationships break down, the child may experience what is known as abandonment or neglect trauma.

One way of coping with this trauma is to be entirely self sufficient. To basically close up, never need to rely on other people ever, and therefore never open up. Basically, what Dabi denies more than anything else is his vulnerability, even though it’s obvious he’s in pain. 

Vulnerability, after all is the reason he got abandoned. Touya was tossed to the side because he was too weak. Therefore, in an effort to be strong Dabi denies feeling any pain at all, and in the process shuts out his other feelings. He also denies anything, his connection to his family, any feelings of guilt or remorse he might have.

Self-denail, and self-abuse, it’s the same reason kids from bad homes end up acting irresponsibly and abusing drugs, it’s all a fancy way to hurt yourself. 

If overthinking about things causes him pain, causes him to break Dabi’s solution is to simply not think about things. If being Touya is too painful for him, then Dabi chooses not to be a person and plays up the monster. 

It’s almost like Dabi and Touya are two separate people stitched sloppily together, but they’re coming apart slowly at the seams. Dabi pretends to be a remorseless villain when facing off with Endeavor, but then in front of the crowds when he’s begging for sympathy he shows off all of his burns, sits politely, and presents a character that is much more human making his case that he killed innocent people but he did so with reason, for a good cause. While, the same Dabi instead of Endaevor seems to just want to burn everything for the fun of it. The point being that, Dabi contradicts himself a lot. He argues with himself. 

It’s because Dabi is putting on deliberate acts. He’s changing himself based on the audience. It’s just that he’s also not as good of an actor as he thinks he is. However the performance seems to be pretty consistent at least for the most part, he wants everyone to regret what Touya became because of Endeavor’s abuse so he purposefully makes himself into the opposite of everything Touya was. Touya wanted to be a hero to carry on his father’s legacy, Dabi is a villain dedicated to completely destroying his father’s reputation and leading him to ruin. 

Touya was known for being particularly close to Natsuo, not only playing with him all the time, but confiding in him. Touya must have been a good big brother to Natsuo if Natsuo misses him so much. Yet, Dabi acts like Natsuo is nothing special, just another casualty in his revenge on Endeavor. 

Touya was someone always working hard to earn Endeavor’s attention and please him. Dabi seems to only want to bring about Endeavor’s ruin and think of ways of hurting him. There’s a certain irony in Dabi being so laser focused on Endeavor, because once again you reap what you sow. Endeavor wanted to raise his child to exist solely for his purpose, to carry on his legacy, to center everything around Endeavor’s needs rather than to care for another living human being with needs of his own and that’s what he got - someone who is singularly laser focused and obsessed with bringing him down. Even if Touya is still obsessed with only Endeavor to the point of forgetting the rest of his family, that’s literally just a symptom, a side effect of child abuse, of Endeavor raising Touya with the expectation that he had to please him.

Touya was a kid who is always crying, and Dabi seems to have no feelings at all. Once again, always, always he presents himself as the opposite of everything that Touya was and wanted to be. 

Dabi denies that he is Touya, and therefore denies that he is in pain. 

He pulls his brother close, and hugs him, and then does the opposite of what a big brother is supposed and hurts his younger brother instead of protecting him.

It’s not just Dabi being the opposite of Touya, it’s almost like he’s doing everything he can, to  burn up and riun Touya’s memory. To deny that any part of him ever was Touya. 

Dabi is in denial, but also I think some part of Dabi is aware of his denial. Like I said, he contradicts himself. He says that these are Endeavros’ flames, then just as easily he says “no duh, it’s obvious I’m not Endeavor.” 

I think Dabi realizes what he is doing, it’s just at the moment he believes he has to do this. It’s the only way. Whatever, Dabi is hoping to achieve, the radical reform of society, the destruciton of the hero system, it’s more important the feelings of his family, and more important than his own feelings. 

However, if those feelings are there it means Dabi isn’t without hope. There’s still a human side to Dabi. Dabi is still Touya, the same way Shigaraki is same Tenko. Their child selves died, but they never did die. Dabi is trying to be pure evil, but parts of him are still good he’s just suppressing himself. 

I think what Dabi needs to realize is that his hurt feelings, his feelings of vulnerability, are just as important as the strength he fights with. He needs both parts of himself in order to live on, weak little Touya and villainous Dabi. I don’t think Dabi will turn into a 100% good person, but as for character development the same way that Shoto is learning to reconcile his two disparagent sides, his ice and his flames. I hope that Dabi learns that he’s still Touya, while being Dabi at the same time. He’s not a villain, he’s someone capable of being both good and bad. It’s only that way he can learn to live on as Touya, rather than hoping to die and drag his father to hell with him as Dabi.