#the amount of projects i start a day before its due or even on that day........

[maochira]

I (once again) procrastinated one of my school projects for so long it's due tomorrow and I barely started it on Monday💀 I'm gonna do it now😔

[maximwtf]

“As per new routine”

Alhaitham x Reader

Words: 870

Google Docs Pages: 1,5

Warnings: established relationship, fluff, no angst no hurt?! That's a new one for me :”D Bedtime sillies, sleepy cuddles. Written by someone awake at 3am, proofread by the same person awake at 2am. Mistake prone, I’d say. (At the very least, I tend to repeat myself when tired :"D)

Opening: Coming back from work rather late, only to find him waiting for you. 

AN// G/n reader. Eeh, this is again gonna be one of those fanfics I thought of writing and then remembered I’ve never written for said character nor do I plan on doing so in the future. But I felt like this was needed, even if this is shorter than what I usually make :”D

“As per new routine”

Getting home late had become a little more usual than in the past. But that was merely due to the amount of work coming in recently, and by no means would this continue on for forever. But what it did entail was a change in your usual routine, which meant it also affected Alhaitham’s. Though, so far you hadn’t even gotten him to mention your late appearances back home. 

So as per routine, you arrived back home late. Tiredly attempting to make your way in quietly, expecting that Alhaitham would have been asleep by now. Kaveh on the other hand was most likely still awake, pulling an all-nighter with his projects. So he wasn’t exactly a worry you had. 

Sneaking carefully further, abandoning your bag by one of the couches. Not bothered to start undoing its contents so late in the night. Having already left your shoes by the door, you start making your way towards the bedroom. Combing your hair out with your hand, an attempt to ease the exhaustion and slight stress of the day. Opening a few buttons from your shirt while at it, ready to hit the hay as soon as possible. Knowing there was going to be yet another long day awaiting tomorrow. So every minute of sleep counted for something. 

Attempting to quietly open the bedroom door was for no use. Seeing as even to your surprise, Alhaitham was awake, calmly reading a book on his side of the bed. It wasn’t the book that surprised you, but the fact that he’d seemingly stayed awake because of you. Alhaitham on the other hand didn’t seem fazed, barely even reacting to your arrival. Only turning a page of the book, “you worked later than usual.” A calm comment breaking the silence right after. His eyes still calmly scanning the pages, not having even looked up. 

Any initial surprise disappeared, finding it almost funny how you’d initially claimed this as odd. But the more you sat on it, the more it seemed in character for him to do. Alhaitham had just seemingly stayed up and waited for you, he just hadn’t bothered to do so the previous times.

Making your way to your side of the bed and sitting down, you took a moment before answering him. “I had to catch up on a few things,” you stated calmly. Not mentioning anything of your previous surprise of his behaviour. Knowing it hadn’t been because he was worried about your absence, he knew you were going to come back. Even if later than usual. 

“You’re running a better schedule than he is,” Alhaitham commented. Eyeing the direction of the hallway, not having to guess he was insinuating at Kaveh. His comment gaining an amused hum from you, in truth being exhausted enough to not have the energy for unnecessary comments. Especially if it had to do with their silly banter, as much as you liked to watch it go down usually.

And you suspected that Alhaitham noticed that, dropping the topic as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Allowing you some time to change into something a little more comfortable to sleep in. Buf after getting that done, your gaze landed on the nightstand. Realising that you’d forgotten to get a glass of water before making your way to the bedroom. Having been in such a hurry to get some sleep. 

Your eyes moved to Alhaitham’s side, noticing the glass he had. Not saying anything, you reached over him for the glass. Getting a slight grunt from him for blocking the view of his book. In the end not even being able to reach the glass itself. 

He closed the book, gently pushing you back and while placing the book back on the nightstand, handing you the glass. While also giving you a look, insinuating that you could have just asked him for it. For which you allowed him a chuckle. 

“You don’t need to make this a habit, you know?” You commented, taking a sip of the water. Noting how it was still rather cold. “Waiting for me, I mean,” you added while handing back the glass. 

You’d somehow gotten used to how low maintenance your relationship with him was. So seeing him pay attention to you coming home later than usual, all of a sudden felt odd. But there was something endearing about it as well. 

“I wasn’t going to. I was only seeing when it was you’d started coming back.” Alhaitham answered. And of course he had known of your recent habit of coming home later than usual. Even when you’d made sure to check that he’d been asleep each time you’d done so. 

“Did you get an answer?” You asked calmly while getting under the covers. “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating tone, copying your movements. 

There was a comfortable silence for a moment as the two of you lay still. Before you turned to face him, inching closer. He allowed it, like always. The feeling of him making space for you familiar, as you settled against him. Sleep overtaking your tired form rather quickly, breathing in his familiar scent. Not having the time to notice his arm placing itself loosely on your waist. 

[uno-san]

Oohhhh I can totally see Bill threatening to hurt or even off you after Ford broke things off with him.

Perhaps he wanted to reach out to you for help because he had a small sliver of hope that you, with your heart which was a size too big for your own good, might just come to his aid if he asked, even if you were upset with him. But then he was afraid of letting Bill get anywhere near you, so he endured all of the torture and abuse, just so long as he didn’t touch you.

Do what you will with this idea.

OOOHHH GOOOD this ask sent me in a spiral as I immediately had ideas for italsdfjlsaflfj Thank you so much for sending in an ask, especially since I love seeing your posts!

Sorry this took so long but please, enjoy the angst~

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

Each tick brought a new needling pain to his already frantic mind. How could such a small, incessant sound be so torturous? For every count that was marked down on the small watch it brought a harsh reminder to the pacing scientist; his eyes were bloodshot, dry, and torn. No matter what he’d do one would even bleed onto whatever project he’s started on to try and save his life. Everyone’s life.

Stanford Pines has been awake for 3 days.

Tick

  Tick

Tick

“Goddammit!”

Research notes and project blueprints were scattered everywhere with one mighty drag of his arm across the once-cluttered desk. Around him loose papers hovered uselessly in the air, as if they were trying to offer him a solution in the now discarded pile. He paid them no mind. They were just another idea down the gutter.

This time, a truly foolish one. He had called it the Bill-Proof Suit (Name Pending) and if he had a proper amount of sleep he would have seen sooner what a joke it truly was. Stanford’s concept was solid, naturally, the issue was the actual construction. That’s where the joke was.

He needed Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was long gone now. If Stanford hadn’t already chased him away the day of the portal incident there was no doubt Bill would have done the job himself. The man’s mechanical knowledge far exceeded Ford’s own. That’s what gained him a spot on this project in the first place. And now, it was laughable to think Ford had a hand in sabotaging such a pivotal partnership. A friendship. God, how that word felt so bitter now.

Bill had been his friend. His muse as well, but more importantly his friend. Fiddleford had been too. Stanford pushed him away, revealing that the one he had left was a guillotine waiting to drop. A conman from the very moment Ford had made the mistake of summoning him, lying the very second he appeared. The best lie Bill ever told was that Stanford was a genius.

In truth, Ford was an idealistic fool too over his head. Hunted in his own home until the day his mind would break and give in to what Bill wanted. But it would be a cold day in hell before Stanford ever gave in without a fight. For if he couldn’t keep the bastard out of his body, there was still one way to thwart him yet.

Scatter his research. Not destroy it, but spread it far so that no other fool under Bill’s thumb could recreate Ford’s work. It shouldn't be difficult. Ford had already sought to hide his other two journals due to previous threats. All that remained of his recorded mistakes were his first journal. This one needed special handling. The other two, while well hidden, still remained in Gravity Falls. Journal 1 would need to see a swift exit out to the world unknown.

But how?

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

With a growl of frustration Ford dropped himself into an aging chair that had been pushed out of the way to make room for his pacings. One arm rested across his knee while the other stayed propped up on his elbow to hold his head up; a dangerous position, considering his exhaustion. Though bleary his eyes focused on a nearby chalkboard with hastily scrawled names on its black surface. He’s been stuck on this awhile.

Fiddleford was out. No doubt about that with how they had departed. Unfortunately that meant that Stanford would have to find help outside of the initial project, which will prove to be risky at best and time-consuming at worst to get them caught up on the stakes of the mission. That left little to consider.

Already that knocked his parents out of the running. They were getting too old to do what was needed to keep his research safe. Not to mention what they’d think of Stanford started going off about demons and otherworldly powers.

You lost them millions, Stanford. Never even impressed your father and now you want them to help you? When was the last time you called?

Stanford’s body froze. Only the slow movement of his eyes showed signs of life as they drifted to each dark corner of the room. Had he said that? He gathered the courage to check over his shoulder. There was no one. His fingers tapped against his knee as the truth of the whispered words began to sink in. Would they even answer his call?

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Focus!

Right…right. Who else?

Nobody in town would be jumping at the chance to help him. Stanford never made the effort. Couldn’t make it, to be more accurate. Never was good at talking to people. Bill had helped with that isolation though Ford couldn’t place as much blame on him as he wanted to.

If he had the money, this would be a far easier task. Thanks, however, to his constantly running lab and testing of the portal during its construction even his generous grant money was dwindling down to pennies. Not even that tie he sold to the government went far. That was spent to get them to turn the other way for Ford’s more questionable purchases (Or thefts).

They wouldn’t have talked to you anyway. Not without a carnival banner to let them know the freakshow was in town.

Stanford’s hand swept up in his hair; his thumb resting outside the greasy mess to instead prop his eyelid open. The air stung. It was manageable compared to the heat of annoyance beginning to rise in his chest. Was this the best he could manage? Stanford Pines, life forever in ruins now just because he didn’t think to make silly small talk over a burnt cup of coffee?! Surely, there had to be somebody else to turn to-

You already know who you want to go crawling back to. To be safe in their arms again. Despite already chasing them off you know you want to drag them back into all of this. You want-

Stanford shot up from his chair. The rapid movement caused it to swivel while Ford’s hand grabbed hold of a long forgotten experiment; he shouted a guttural “NO!” before hurling the hunk of junk at the source of the voice. It shattered against the wall.

Both hands were knotted up into fists while Ford’s shoulders shook with a fury he couldn’t control. His lips were drawn back in a snarl as he continued to face off against nothing. This being the most he’s been awake in days being the only blessing of an already cursed conversation.

“No, I’m not doing this to them again, I’m not!” Stanford’s eyes followed a foe that wasn’t there, now facing a different side of the room, “They’re gone now and there’s nothing I can or will do to ever risk them coming back here. I can handle all this myself!”

Not that you’d get any help after what you did.

Stanford staggered back. Like the flame of his anger had been blown out and he’d been left with the ashes of guilt. He looked so unsure. Different compared to his conviction on stopping Bill once and for all.

“That was Bill, I didn’t want-”

Bill, who can read your mind? Bill, who has known you more intimately than you ever have your ‘partner’ know? Well, now's your chance. You look like shit. Everything around you is falling apart. One look at you and they’d come racing to your side. You want-

“ENOUGH!”

Stanford might have given in if he had heard your name. He now grabbed onto the abandoned chair and threw it against the next wall with all his might, praying that the sound of destruction would tune out that predatory voice poisoning his mind. It was just as awful as that-

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

That-

Tick

  Tick

Tick

THAT GODDAMN TICKING NOISE!

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

The man fell onto his knees in a heap. In spite of the danger of it all his eyes were skewed shut while the flat of his palms covered his ears like a spoiled child. Now on top of all he was trying to shut out he could hear the thunderous pounding of his heartbeat in face of the near mental break. But it was all in vain.

Stanford could hear the ticking of the stopwatch counting down another waking hour. The whispers, Bill, and…and the memories of 3 days ago replaying in his mind, again and again.

___

The day had already begun strangely. Not in the sense that when Stanford arose he didn’t know where he’d wake up, or that he was covered in mysterious injuries that he’s sure he didn’t want to know the origin of. None of that. That was, quite horridly, becoming Ford’s new reality until he gave in to Bill Cipher’s demands. Which would be never.

No, what made this day bizarre was that Stanford had woken up in bed. No ditch or jail cell. His actual bed inside his own home. When he had realized this Stanford had been quick to search the room for any signs of a trap. He didn’t get the chance to look long before he noticed that his hand had been clutched around something. As per usual his hands had been bloodied across the knuckles (which would sting to patch up later), but wrapped around and bundled into his palm was…hair?

The dread in his gut only deepened when he had given the hair a conspiratory sniff and recognized a scent that used to provide him comfort. It was the smell of your shampoo. It was after the horror began to dawn on him that Stanford noticed the corner of a tape poking out from beneath his pillows.

‘Play Me: Part 2’

The scene opened up to a hotel room, identified only by the luggage rack in the corner currently occupied by its namesake. Within the focal point of the shot was an empty bed and a window barely fitting into frame. Both the stillness and odd positioning of the shot suggested that the camera wasn’t being held at all; it was hidden on the tv stand.

Out of frame a door must have shut. Following after were the familiar sounds of ruffling fabric before the main light had been turned off, leaving only the bedside lamp to provide proper lighting. Then you walked onto the screen.

Wearing a pair of familiar pajamas, slippers, and a book in hand, you were yawning as you began to climb and settle into bed. You must have been staying in that room for a long while to be as comfortable as you look. Despite just opening your book you’re interrupted with a yawn, making you huff in frustration and stubbornly set your nightly entertainment down. The pout that Stanford always found cute was displayed prominently on your face. It was almost domestic.

It wasn’t long after until you reached over to turn off the lamp nearby. Immediately the room was shrouded with darkness; save for a sliver of light escaping past the curtains to illuminate your midsection. Not much, but enough to see you.

For several minutes, that’s all there was. In real time your process of sleep was captured. How you’d roll back and forth a few times before adjusting into a comfortable position, your pillow punched just right to cradle your head the way you liked it. With a final wiggle of comfort you fell asleep. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deep motions.

Then a pair of yellow eyes blinked open.

Stanford’s breath had caught in his chest. Nearly choking on it as he rose from his spot on the couch to instead crouch in front of the TV as if he could hop into the scene himself.

Beneath the bed a six-fingered hand crept out to grasp at the shag carpet and use the leverage to pull the rest of the body out with it. Emerging from the abyss was a stranger’s smile on a familiar face. His glasses were askew and the grin contorted his face unnaturally, but there was no doubt who it was.

Bill. Stanford. It hardly mattered when you wouldn’t even know the difference.

The figure moved with precision. His limbs stretched out far and bent at odd angles to distribute weight on the creaky floor; he looked like a spider poised to strike. Bill crept forward at a snail's pace. His stare never wavered from the camera meanwhile, remaining level headed until almost the entirety of Stanford’s- Bill’s yellow eye took the stage. A blink after and it was gone. In frame it captured a closeup of his hand as he grabbed the camera from its hidden position.

The already unnerving video had Stanford on edge and in his paranoia he paused the video. Freezing it right at the moment the knuckles of his hand flashed across the screen where he then held up his current injured one. The hand in the video had matching injuries, however in the past it still sparkled with fresh blood when the light hit it just right.

Stanford let out a sigh of relief. So Bill had tried the door before coming here. The wounds were from the door. The door. A fact that he’d have to remind himself of while he unpaused.

Bill was no longer visible as he became the cameraman. It was with soft footsteps that seemed ill-fitting of the one making them that the TV screen was now filled with your unconscious form. He had stopped just at the edge of the bed, yet the angle the camera shot from suggested that Bill began leaning over you. Miraculously, the frame remained steady in spite of the position.

He then spoke in such a hushed tone that his voice was almost unrecognizable if it hadn’t been the evident grin behind his words, “What. Happens. When they. Wake. Up?”

It felt as if all the blood in Stanford’s body froze at once. Each syllable that passed Bill’s lips sent a new horrific vision of what the fiend could do to your unsuspecting form. Emphasizing your vulnerability. Somehow your breathing already appeared weak as if you’ve been struck already. The thought had Ford’s mouth dry.

A pit was beginning to settle in his stomach. To calm himself down his eyes cast downwards to his bruised knuckles, trying to commit to memory that the wounds had been there since the start of the tape. Stanford didn’t gain comfort, however, as his attention returned to the screen. He couldn’t bear missing even one detail. No matter how much he wanted to.

For a long while, the ‘movie’ remained static. As chaotic as Bill was he could be patient when he wanted to be. Listening closely revealed Bill gasping for breath every so often, having forgotten that air was ‘integral’ to humans living when he had been so focused on you. Or maybe he was holding his breath on purpose. Pain was hilarious, he’d always say.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The tension was suddenly cut through by a burst of noise outside. A familiar and irritating sound of a car alarm began to blast away the quiet night, its rhythm now matching that of a racing heartbeat as it mercilessly shouted. Through the curtains a harsher light broke in. Blinking on and off to cast a harsh silhouette of Bill standing over you against the wall.

“No, no, no, nononono, gods, no!” Stanford cried out while his hands gripped at the TV’s sides to nearly crack the material. “Don’t, please-”

The past remained unchanged in spite of his begging.

You began to stir. With brows furrowed together your eyes squinted tightly together as if to block out the intrusive light, the once calm expression of peace you had now replaced with irritation at the interruption. Under your breath you mumbled something indiscernible.

From above a six-fingered hand began to torturously slide into frame while its fingers were spread and bent as if they were claws. Down and down it went. It was poised to make contact with your neck until the hand paused to hover over your body, the fingers giving a cheeky wiggle towards the camera. The open wounds on the knuckles still bled, allowing trickles of blood to pool at his fingertips until they fell and spilled across your collarbone.

Now your own hand reached up to idly scratch where the blood landed only to inadvertently smear the warm droplets on your skin. Off camera still, the sound of Bill sucking in air through his teeth filled the anticipated silence as he waited eagerly. Even the wet sound of skin stretching was a harsh reminder of how elated he must have looked.

Stanford’s hand reached toward his face where trembling fingers traced the torn corners of his mouth.

With a groan you made a sudden turn in bed that Bill hadn’t expected. He was forced to dodge his hand out of the way. You turned on your side away from the window with the corner of the blanket bunched in your first to fully entrap yourself within the comforting warmth. The car alarm outside had turned off just as you let out an exhausted yawn and snuggled into your pillow.

A moment after the camera slowly adjusted to frame your entirety once more while somehow capturing Bill’s unspoken anticipation. Yet you didn’t stir further. Instead the quiet was cut-through by your growing snores brought on by deepened rest. Off-camera Bill slowly released the air of excitement he had sucked in moments to ago in a disappointed huff.

Stanford wept.

___

Tick

  Tick

Tick

The memory brought a new sheen of tears to his eyes that Stanford cursed. Bitterly he threw off his glasses to wipe them away before they dared to fall and reveal his growing weakness. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for himself.

He had to protect you.

That had been three days ago. Worse yet the tape had actually contained the entirety of your night. From the moment you got into bed right down to your alarm clock going off, Bill stood over you. Stanford knew that for a fact considering he watched the tape all the way through, never daring to speed-forward or skip ahead out of fear of what he’d stumble upon after doing so.

The 6 hours of footage felt like an eternity of limbo compared to the pain of being awake for so long. This was much preferable to ever seeing that again. Even if it killed him Ford made the vow to not rest until he could assure that a ‘Part 3’ could never be made again.

Thus far the only respite he’s allowed himself was a call to your hotel. Thankfully he had recognized the tacky furniture from his own stay many years back when he had to wait for the construction of his home to complete. When you had picked up the phone and said a greeting in your warm voice, it felt as if Stanford had his second wind.

He hadn’t heard you since the day you left. Since he had driven you away in order to fall under more of his ‘muse’s’ lies. But now when Ford heard your voice all he could do was remember all the nights you spent taking care of him after an extensive research expedition. Or all the warm meals you’d prepare for him to fuel up for a dangerous day in the woods. All of that felt like a lifetime ago.

Stanford Pines had thrown you away. Now, his only redemption lied in keeping both you and the world safe, no matter what it took. Your voice was the motivation Ford needed but the reward he hadn’t earned yet. He hung up without ever saying a word to you.

From the floor Stanford used his knee to propel himself back upwards. He remembered to take his discarded glasses with him to wipe off on his button-up shirt and place back on his face. Trying to dust the rest of himself off he glanced around his now ramshackled lab that had once been the prize of all his hard work and efforts, now covered with the scrawlings of a paranoid recluse and damaged experiments from frenzied episodes.

His eyes landed on his remaining journal that had been left abandoned on the ground. Odd. Had he knocked it down at some point during his episode brought on by a lack of sleep? Stanford bent down to pick up the poor book left in disarray. Poking out from the side was a corner of a photo that must have become dislodged from within, serving as a reminder that Ford should take better care of his precious research.

With a huff of annoyance towards himself Stanford flipped open the book only to be met with a photo of his face- Stanley’s face captured from an airing commercial Ford had caught on TV one day. Puzzled by this, Ford pulled the photo from the pages to inspect Stanley’s expression yet the glare of gold from his journal behind kept drawing his gaze as well.

  Tick

Tick

  Tick

For a long time Stanford’s focus flickered between his journal and the photo of his brother. First he stared with irritation. Then as the seed of an idea began to bloom his eyes softened with a regret while seeing Stanley. So many years spent drifted apart, and yet…

Tick

  Tick

Tick

Stanford tucked the photo away with far more care than he realized he had before turning to head back upstairs to his home. There was a determination to the man as his feet picked up speed, now powered by the first actual idea he’s had in days. Whether it would work or not didn’t matter.

He had no one else.

[lady-griffin]

I'm curious, what are some of your favorite Timebomb headcanons?

I’m so sorry for this beyond late response; I really don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.

I know my answer isn’t going to be “worth the wait,” but I still hope you (and others) find it interesting. Please bear with me and my somewhat incoherent thoughts as my love for these two has destroyed my brain.

Also, my answer is beyond long, but that shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.

My Favorite Timebomb Headcanons

They’re both bi.

-

They’re always touching one another. Not so much in an inappropriate way (though they can get too handsy in public); this is more holding hands, cuddling, using each other as a cushion, etc.

When they’re bored or preoccupied, they'll start “fidgeting” - Ekko plays with Jinx’s hair, while Jinx plays with Ekko's hands.

-

Jinx doodles on Ekko pretty much all the time, while Ekko straight up writes on Jinx - specifically notes and reminders to himself.

Basically, Ekko will already be in bed and suddenly he'll get idea for a project but doesn’t want to get up or he suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night and has to immediately write down his thoughts before he forgets them and well, Jinx is right there.

Jinx honestly only minds this when Ekko won’t let her wash off because he needs to figure out what he meant when he wrote down “hextech cheese sandwich solution to dogs” at 3am and obviously it being her on her left shoulder is essential to figuring it all out.

-

Jinx bites. Not so much in a sexy, bedroom kind of way (though yes, obviously that too); she just sees Ekko and has to go chomp.

-

Ekko is slightly insecure about his height, which makes zero sense to Jinx. Seriously, what is he even talking about? Ekko is the perfect height – he’s within reach of her kisses (and bites).

-

Jinx really, really, really loves Ekko’s arms and hands.

His whole everything does it for her; but boy, oh boy, does she have a thing for his arms and hands, especially his hands. The amount of self-control Jinx has when it comes to Ekko’s hands is truly something to behold.

-

Jinx runs cold while Ekko runs hot.

Jinx always wants to cuddle with Ekko in the winter because he’s her personal space heater and Ekko always wants to cuddle with Jinx in the summer because she’s a living ice cube. The two of them like to complain, but they're not fooling anyone; they love every second of the other clinging on to them.

OR

Jinx runs hot while Ekko runs cold.

Jinx gets uncomfortably warm, so she really enjoys being cold. Unfortunately, that’s quite rare for her nowadays due to her body producing its own shimmer; her body temperature is now basically someone with a deadly fever.

Ekko on the other hand easily gets cold and he absolutely hates it; so, he's not exactly mad at Jinx becoming a living furnace.

I’m honestly torn between these two versions and the vibes vs. 'evidence' backing them up. But does it really matter? At the end of the day one of them runs cold while the other runs hot and they balance each other out perfectly.

-

The Firelight’s truly love Ekko; they're beyond thankful to him and everything he's done for them. So, despite the fact that many of them hate Jinx and want nothing more than for her to be gone (dead), they are willing to accept her because Ekko loves her.

Some of them will never forgive nor make peace with Jinx, but they’re willing to coexist with her; while others are willing to get to know her and even befriend her.

It’s not easy for any of them but for Ekko, they'll do it and as time goes on it becomes less of a struggle to accept Jinx.

I’m a huge fan of Jinx being accepted by the Firelights not because they actually accept her (at least at first) nor because they’re such wonderful, good people, but because they love Ekko. He’s their savior and guiding light and they want him to be happy and Jinx makes him happy - so, of course they'll do it.

-

Jinx absolutely has a praise kink; she adores being praised and complimented in bed and Ekko has no problem indulging her.

I don’t have a single doubt about this. This is just fact.

-

Despite being so gone for each other, they both have a lot of insecurities, particularly when it comes to the others’ feelings and commitment to the relationship.

Ekko is scared he’s just a convenience for Jinx and she’ll easily abandon him again; while Jinx is scared Ekko’s going to realize he doesn’t actually want to be with her, because why would he.

To make things a bit more heartbreaking, Jinx sometimes wonders if Ekko is only with her because she’s the closest thing to “Powder” he can be with.

They have a lot of issues and it took them many years to work through them; but those issues and insecurities still make an appearance from time for time.

-

Ekko isn’t always great at taking care of himself; he’s always putting others first and he’s easily consumed by his projects and responsibilities.

But taking care of Jinx forces him to take care of himself.

He can’t argue she should go to bed at a reasonable hour, when he’s up at the same godforsaken hour she is nor can he complain about her eating unhealthily, when he’s eating the exact same thing or something worse.

-

Ekko is always running late; while Jinx (to many people’s surprise) is either on time or very early. When the two of them arrive late together, it’s because Jinx didn’t want to go to the thing and she succeeded in distracting Ekko (usually with sex).

-

Being together was one of the easiest things for them as their two pieces who fit perfectly together; at the exact same time though it was also the most difficult thing for them, due to their history.

Ekko has struggled with his feelings of guilt because it was so easy for him to be with Jinx and love her; he feels like he’s betraying his fallen friends and people. Jinx is responsible for many of their deaths and even when she wasn’t directly responsible, she still benefited as Silco’s daughter.  

Jinx has struggled with feeling like she’s betraying Silco and rejecting their bond as she doesn't talk about him for the sake of her relationship with Ekko. She can’t talk about Silco with Ekko at all, because anything negative about him (no matter how small) only confirms to Ekko she was abused and brainwashed; while anything positive or even neutral is like "attacking" Ekko and everything he's gone through.

Silco was the reason Jinx was happy and able to be thrive over the years and he's the reason why Ekko suffered and struggled to survive during those same years.

While they never truly come to terms about Silco, they still try and make an effort to respect the other’s feelings for him.

-

Gift giving is a huge part of how Jinx shows her love. She doesn't need a special occasion or reason to give Ekko gifts and she likes leaving them where he can come across them randomly. Her presents can be anything - from a cool rock she found to a specific piece of machinery Ekko wanted.

Oh and of course, a beyond valuable item she stole from some elitist Piltovan or vicious Chem-Baron who is more than willing to start a war over their stolen property.

Ekko knows she means well (at least he thinks she does); but he would appreciate it if she didn’t bring him and the Firelights more trouble with her gifts.

Which Jinx doesn’t fully understand.

It’s not that she doesn’t understand the value of things; but a cool looking rock and some wealthy Piltovan’s prized heirloom have the exact same value to her – she thought Ekko would like it, so why wouldn't she get it for him?

-

These two can be so beyond competitive it’s not even funny and nothing brings out their unhinged competitiveness than when they’re up against each other.

But they’re having fun and that’s all that matters in the end... ignore all the property damage and fires.

-

Sometimes when things get heated between them, Jinx gets a red blotchiness on her neck and chest; which she's more than embarrassed by. Ekko on the other hand tries to see if he can make her even redder and he’s more than smug when he can.

-

Ekko wasn’t always a great boyfriend to his previous partners, not because he was an uncaring asshole or anything but because he never opened up to them. He never shared his problems nor did he let them take care of him; he was always the caretaker. It also didn’t help that he put his responsibilities as leader and other people before his relationships.

However, this isn’t a problem with Jinx. Ekko is quite selfish when it comes to their relationship. He’s not willing to put others’ first. Not this time. Not if it costs him Jinx.

Jinx also knows him far better than his previous partners did, she sees past the front he puts up for others and is more than willing to call him out on his bullshit. Plus, Jinx is in no way shy when it comes to her wants.

Ekko has also learned that if he doesn't rely on her, she has no reason to rely on him. If he doesn't trust her, then she doesn't trust him.

Finally, Jinx tries to get Ekko to be more selfish, while this is for her own benefit (obviously), she genuinely wants Ekko to put himself first; she’s even willing to put herself second (at times), if that’s what it takes.

-

Over the years they balance each other out – Jinx makes Ekko more selfish and gives him the freedom to put himself first without feeling guilty, while Ekko makes Jinx less selfish and he's a good starting point for her to become more considerate to others.

Of course, Ekko will never be a selfish bastard who turns his back on his people and Jinx will never be a living saint who sacrifices herself for the greater good.

-

Ekko usually takes the lead in the bedroom. He loves riling Jinx up and embarrassing her in bed; he’s particularly obsessed with getting her to beg him to keep going,

However, it doesn’t take much for Jinx to ‘turn the tables' on him; her ‘begging him' is a sure-fire way to get Ekko to unravel quickly, which Jinx is more than willing to exploit for her own fun and pleasure.

-

Ekko accidently taught their kid(s) how to curse.

-

They’re packrats.

These two are very attached to their things and and look they might need that random useless thing one day, you don’t know, they obviously can’t throw it out.

-

Jinx is very honest with their kid(s).

She doesn’t lie nor try to hide who she is nor who she was and what she’s done. Silco was always forthright with her; Jinx knew exactly who Silco was and loved him all the same and she wants the same for herself (Silco wouldn’t have accepted anything less for her).

She doesn’t want her child(ren) to love a fake version of herself; she wants them to know and love the real Jinx – monster and all.

-

I honestly don’t think a threesome would be possible for these two; they’re way too jealous and obsessed with each other to let a third party involved. Especially Jinx.

Let’s be real, she would absolutely kill someone for touching her Ekko or if Ekko touched them she would 100% have the logic of “they can’t steal my Ekko if they’re dead.”

Now Ekko will never be as bad as Jinx (very few people can reach our girl’s levels) but I easily see him being like “No. Go Away. My Jinx.”

-

I’m torn between Ekko being concerned by how much he finds Jinx’s unhinged jealousy, possessiveness, and intense (creepy) expressions of love to be charming and beyond endearing; or if he honestly doesn’t understand why people are weirded out and concern for his safety when Jinx says she wants to rip out his heart and feast upon it.

I hope you all enjoyed this insanely long list and maybe even accept a few of these headcanons as your own.

Thank you for reading this and thank you for the ask @nerdasaurus1200 and again, I'm so sorry for the years long wait.

[residenthughes]

we have magic mike at home

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

tags/warnings: inspired by magic mike, fluff, pandemic is mentioned briefly, suggestive? (near the end at least)

summary: planning a wedding is never easy, especially under the stresses of the pandemic. leon wants to help you unwind.

notes: so, this is the fic i was meant to post a few days ago (whoopsies!) but i've had a very busy few days, so i'm quite glad to have had the chance to sit down and post this one 😎 not sure when i'll be posting again, but hope it'll be soon! enjoy :)

Early evening settles in, bringing with it a gentle night’s breeze and the aching sensation that burns the back of your eyelids. It’s a mere two nights before your quaint but glamorous wedding and you think the planning you challenged yourself to undertake is finally taking its toll. Needless to say, your husband-to-be, Leon, helped out in any way he possibly could, suggesting from the get-go to hire a wedding planner with the help of the generous salary you both earn. You politely declined however, citing the personal touches you heavily desired sprinkled into the details of your beautiful day to just remain between you and Leon - no one else. While this is mostly true, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit that forfeiting so much control in the hands of another individual wasn’t exactly something you were interested in doing. Especially on such an important day.

So, you start to plan your wedding and it’s so much fun. The freshness of a new project always is, particularly when a select bunch of your closest friends and Leon are the ones you bounce ideas between, creating a picturesque plan that ensures to capture the beauty of your faithful union in all its glory. You arrange and arrange, sifting through countless wedding dresses for the one, consuming cheeky amounts of cake all in the name of cake-tasting - all the bridal things. You find it truly fulfilling, being so booked and busy, particularly when taking into account how your regular life schedule takes a turn due to the pandemic. Though you remain ever the optimist when Leon checks in with things on your end, sometimes you find yourself out of sorts when the thought of how different things would be if there wasn’t a pandemic happening crosses your mind. Despite your initial discomfort, you would have agreed in hiring a wedding planner as the scale of your wedding would have required doing so, and so many of those who’ve not only touched your life but Leon’s too would be in attendance, rejoicing and celebrating the momentous occasion for what it’s worth.

It’s not as if the quaint outdoor wedding attended by a select bunch of those closest to you two didn’t have a special place in your heart, but when days are long and you feel such a disconnect from your norm, you simply cannot help the thought. Today is one of those days.

Immediately, you gaze down at the sparkling diamond encrusted ring that sits perfectly against your skin, a reminder of your sacred love and there’s a lightness in your chest at the prospect of the piece of jewellery accompanying you for the rest of eternity. The thought gives just a bit of comfort, even if you want so much more. You sigh nevertheless, pushing your glasses back onto your face and getting back to the sickening amount of emails that flood your inbox, put at ease knowing the end of your night will come when the email count reaches 0.

As you sit comfortably against the soft material of the couch in your shared apartment, nearby TV murmuring in the background, you don’t question when you hear the sudden loud of music. Leon returned home not long ago, peppering your forehead with smothering kisses and the promise of joining you after his shower. You do question the music though, when it’s unlike the familiar alternative tones of music that usually play as he showers but the sounds of Ginuwine’s ‘Pony.’ You can’t help but chuckle to yourself at the choice in music, shaking your head in amusement as your shoulders absently move in time with the beat. Your fingers pitter patter against the keys of your laptop, feelings of tension lessening before you hear the door of your bedroom open. You’re so engrossed with typing the last bit of your email that you don’t immediately turn to Leon, who exits the bedroom.

“New addition to the shower playlist, I see.” You muse, grinning as you hit the full stop button and turn to face Leon, face draining of its colour.

Now, in all the time you’ve known Leon, you’ve had countless encounters with him nude, the outline of his veins and bulge of his muscles something you can never tear your eyes from, as if you were seeing them for the first time everytime. His bare state is nothing irregular due to the circumstances, but you’re sorely mistaken. Leon, who you assumed would retreat into the living space in an ivory white towel hung loosely around his sculpted midriff, opts for something else, something else you couldn’t even have guessed.

Black leather crosses the expanse of his legs, flared out at the bottom and gripping his large thighs like a lifeline. A tawny brown belt holds the material to his hips, leather trousers hanging so low your line of sight is abundant in deep v-line and his butterscotch blond snail trail. His rock hard torso glistens as he steps out into the light of the room, strutting in with command as his hand secures the midnight black cowboy hat atop his locks, effectively shielding his eyes. You audibly gulp.

Yet again, another assumption in your mind is combatted. You were under the impression that Leon couldn’t dance, over the course of your relationship the man himself joking he’d have to oil his joints before utter destruction would take place on the dancefloor. This is not the case. Again. Albeit sheepish and amateurish, Leon steps towards you with seductive rolls of his gleaming torso, sleeveless vest outlining the flow of his movements as the long sterling silver feather necklace he adorns nestles onto the space of his cleavage.

At this point, you’re barely blinking, afraid you’ll miss a single second of the amazing spectacle, taking in every inch of Leon as he stops before you. In your trance, you must have placed your laptop somewhere, because it is long gone when Leon’s figure looms over you, suddenly making you feel so small yet so terribly flustered. In one swift motion, the cowboy hat Leon sports falls atop your head, half shielding your eyes. You’re quick to move it further upwards, eying Leon as he shimmes the leather vest down his shoulders inch by inch. Regardless of the overflow of lust that dilates your pupils and leaves you with dry mouth, your smile is innocently amused as you notice the rosy tint of Leon’s cheeks against the porcelain of his skin, lips fighting the timidity that very much craves a downturned smile.

The vest is off Leon’s shoulders and he’s shaking his hips in small circles to align with the lyrics. Lifting a toned arm up to the sky, he swings the material in slow motion, highlighting the shadows of his great muscles and overall being an absolute sex-god. You hear a smack off in the distance where the vest lands and Leon’s grabbing your hands, touch warm and sensual as he guides them onto his torso. Beneath your tingling skin, you discern the mould of Leon’s build - solid, lean and every explicit word that comes to mind. He’s so undeniably sexy, ushering you down the expanse of his toned body with heavy-lidded eyes, but so damn endearing. He tries his very best to settle into the serious stripper persona he’s adopted, but his hands are trembling and he’s biting his lips in order not to burst out laughing and you can’t take it anymore. An airy laugh empties out from the bottom of your belly, gazing up at Leon with all the love and happiness you can muster in your eyes. The instantaneous change in atmosphere is one Leon appreciates, chuckling under his breath as he listlessly keeps with his supposed choreography.

“When you said we have Magic Mike at home, I didn’t think you meant this.” you joke, not even attempting to hide how ludicrous this whole scenario is.

Leon snickers, still preoccupied with your hands as they rest on either side of his waist. “Seemed like a shame to not provide entertainment for your bachelorette party.”

He ghosts your hand over his snail trail, brushing past his cock quick enough for inaction but slow enough for you to make out the semi hard-on he’s working with. There’s a disgusting twist in your abdomen. “Channing Tatum can’t beat this real deal, now can he?”

Aided by the calmer sounds of the next song murmuring behind you, you’re simply confronted with the grapple of the literal context of your current situation. Your legs cross over one another, a rush of humidity showering over you as your front teeth sink into your bottom lip. You want Leon in every possible way, and are sure he feels the same, his desire face to face with you. But you can’t ignore the nuances that envelope you. Observing the long hours you spent organising your wedding, with no occasion planned to drunkenly celebrate together with your friends or seemingly reward yourself for your extensive labour, Leon took it upon himself to be there for you. As he always has been, and you honestly can’t thank him enough.

You press a soft kiss against Leon’s knuckles, peering up at the man who couldn’t be a better face to wake up to for the rest of your life. “I love you so much. Thank you - really.”

His lips curve softly and you’re falling in love all over again. “Don’t mention it.”

[anemoneuniverse]

LOVE DAIRY : DAY 4 : watchful eye (aka stalking)

listening to : i want you - Mitski

the past weeks have been….somewhat rough to almost unbearable.

you’ve never seen a couple fighting so much in your life. every time you see those two is like they are hanging on by a thread of a spider web. you always avoided whatever hallway or room they are in, she never catches you but he does. you were now your way to health class with yuji, when you spotted them at the stairs near the health class, due to yuji talking his ass away about absolutely nothing he didn’t hear you calling his name. you grabbed his by his collar, taking the air out of his lungs, and dragged him away.

“what was that?!” he yelled when you guys reached the other side of stairs. “we’re taking the long way.” you walked up the stairs, hand in hand with yuji as he using his free hand to rub his neck to soothe the pain.

you entered and see yuta already sitting in his seat, with your chair already untucked, he looks almost happy to see you then his eyes moved down, then his face turned sour and turned away from you. after you settled down in your seat. he was paying you no mind, which is good in your books. “alright class, let’s get started!”

each class is about 50 mins to an hour, it’s been 22 almost 23 minutes to be exact, you are sweating bullets, ‘someone is watching me’ and it’s creepy, you watched everyone in the room carefully, but no one is. you don’t want get suspicious of the bastard sitting next to you but you taking it into consideration. alright everyone i today, i have decided to assign partner project. i already have your partner assigned, but let’s go over the details.” he passes out the worksheet, “alright, so i want the project to be a diagram of the important body parts, like the heart, lungs, etc; and i want clear explanation of the importance of each part, what it does, and what will happen if that part of the body fails. now let’s go over your partners” he pulled out a clipboard and starts reading out names.

“megumi and tsumiki; lastly, y/n and okkotsu” you wanted to kill yourself right then and there. your head rested in your hands, “um i..excuse me..y/n..” you heavily sighed, slowly raising your head to be having eye contact with your unfortunate seatmate. “yes okkotsu?” he frowned was slightly visible, maybe cause you called him by his last name. but it’s okay. “which body parts will you like to do?” he said shy or nervous, confidence still there but it watered down. “i’ll take the heart, lungs, brain.” you stated. “alright i’ll take the kidneys, pancreas, and endocrine system.” he give you a small smile.

BONUS : hallway & class scene

yuta’s pov :

another fight with rika, it’s gets boring and dry at this point, it’s always how i treat her or about y/n, i wonder if she gets tired too; cause im tired of this relationship this soon as we reached high school.

in the corner of my eye, i see her. y/n, with her friend yuji, she noticed us arguing, this is so pathetic, the amount of times she caught us and couldn’t even walk past us is absurd. i mean i would too. i just wanted to talk to her..without this one to watch my every move. she drags yuji by the collar, i was fighting urge to laugh, when they were out of sight i just sighed “alright bye rika..” i turned around to the stairs as she continued to shout at me as i walked away, i reach the class before those two.

i untucked her seat for her to have easier access to it, everyone else was chatting it up and away with their friends, i just stared at the door waiting for her. she finally arrives, i shot her a smile and excitement in my eyes but suddenly, my body—or eyes to be specific moved on its own, she was holding hands with him.. i immediately looked away from them, i felt angry. i know they’re just friends but that didn’t help the way my heart felt. she finally sat down next to me, completely ignoring my existence which is a norm for him at this point, just watching her work made me happy, being so absentmindedly doing her work. she started to seem uncomfortable like someone is watching her. she looked around the room cautiously, when she turned her head back i immediately looked away.

BONUS 2 : rika and yuta

◁◁ I I ▷▷

diary readers : @agomeangelcat @yukii-1 @ilovedinodino @sad-darksoul @notveevee

[cal-writes]

I feel like in a lot of your stories, your zoro exudes abandonment issues 🥲 Is that a conscious thing on your part? Or am I projecting lmao

I’m loving the little snippets of fic you post btw always brightens my day 😃

he does. it sorta happened subconsciously i think. im not sure if it started from my interpretation of his character in canon or from myself projecting lol

i think it might be a mixture of both like. the juxtaposition of zoro as a character who is very confident in exactly one area of himself and that is fighting and his strength. like zoro doesnt tend to get jealous until luffy implies someone might be stronger than him. i always think of something the youtube quinn curio said in a video about the umbrella academy talking about the character played by elliot page.

so i often read zoro as someone who thinks he needs to be the strongest so that has value or is allowed to be there

and another part i think is that zoro is a very lonely character. like we learn about kuina and that she died when she was 11 and that shook him so fundamentally that he's essentially living his life to fullfil that promise he made to her. we've seen koushiro and johnny and yosaku but they were very utilitarian. koushiro was his trainer, i dont think zoro ever mentioned him again since the flashback in like what chapter 5? and johnny and yosaku were a good way to bring arlongs bounty up and show the necessity of having a cook on board. sure they care of zoro and he cares about them but there isnt the sense that they are particulary close. zoro doesn't have a family like nami, or someone who seems to have raised him like family like luffy and sanji. if we take movie canon into it as well he'd have another friend from the doji similarly to kuina who he later thought had died due to him not being strong enough

and even now in the more recent manga chapters we see it implied twice that zoro is "a burden" on his crew, both from an antagonist but then also from a crew member. and unlike when sanji and zoro usually bicker, zoro doesnt respond. we have a panel of him flinching about the comment before he grits his teeth and continues.

addtionally during water seven when everyone is falling apart bc of whats going on he's not allowing himself to be vulnerable. we dont see him miserable or angry or sad because he sees his duty as having to hold it together and make sure everyone gets through this. like zoro was just as affected by merry's fate as everyone else but he couldn't show that (or he felt like he couldnt). its an incredibly isolating experience.

there is that manga panel which i might be misinterpreting bc the speech bubbles make it hard to tell who is actually saying it

like "huh you saved me" like he's surprised someone would do that.

but even if in that panel its not zoro saying it we still see himself punishing himself after getting injured in a fight even if he ultimately won. after little garden he trains until his feet bleed again, after the fight with mr one not only does he carry nami around for hours and gets shot while injured already he doesnt let himself recover, and then of course after thriller bark.

i always get the sense that zoro puts an enormous amount of pressure on himself as if he has to justify being there and has huge expectations for himself that he needs to meet.

and not to forget that on shabaody, he had no idea what happened to everyone else. he was the first to leave and for all he knew until they got the message from luffy, everyone died bc he was injured. i think that definitely festered.

like (its probably not that deep but you are reading this so far so youre in too deep now)

i thought it was curious. that zoro is the first one back. that he asked perona for help to find the way. as if he was worried. that if he came to late they wouldn't wait. so he made sure he was the best, the fastes, the first. he made sure to show off his new skills immediately. tried to show them off to luffy immediately despite it being a dumb idea to cut their bubble underwater.

so anyway yea i do end up writing zoro as someone who has abandonment issues tied in with his self esteem issues.

[cinnaamon]

IF THIS WAS A MOVIE

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: smau, nongf!au, tara and sam are twins in the series,

synopsis: it's the first day as college sophomores for y/n and her friends.

previous 🩷 next

— Y/N'S POV

— THIRD PERSON

the group begins to make their way to their college, having to meet with the missing two friends. tara and y/n both had two coffees in each of their hands, one for them and the other for ethan and chad.

when they finally arrive, they start searching for the two boys. it was extremely difficult because of the amount of people entering the building.

"guys, over here!" a voice shouts from amongst the crowd.

anika points to a boy who turned out to be chad. he was on his tippy toes while waving waving his hands in the air to attract their attention. they walk over, the gentlemen recieving their warm beverage.

the clique spent the majority of their morning chatting about any topic that came to their minds, no matter how random. tara checks her phone and sees that its 8:52 am, signalling class was about to start.

a couple days prior, when they first got their schedules, they showed each other in the group chat to see who had what classes with who.

y/n, anika, and sam all had first class together. the three bid their goodbyes and started making their way to the classroom.

— TIME SKIP TO LUNCH

y/n slams her head onto the lunch table in frustration as soon as she sits down. anika rubs her back to comfort her.

"what's wrong with her?" chad asks, causing tara to shove him lightly.

"her history teacher already assigned her class a project," anika explains.

"damn, that's sad," mindy says, starting to eat her lunch.

"i know what'll cheer you up," chad speaks up.

y/n looks up at the boy, confused and excited at the same time. this also catches the attention of the rest of the group.

"my friend's hosting a party like he does at the beginning of every year. it's tonight at 6 pm. you should all come."

"as much as i'd love to, this is a huge assignment that's due friday, and i can't waste my time on a stupid party," y/n looks at chad briefly. "no offense."

chad shrugs, clearly not taking any. it wasn't his party anyways.

"i'll stay with y/n, i also have an assignment for econ, so i can't go to the party either," ethan butts in.

"i'm sure y/n appreciates it, but i'll stay with her." tara flashes the curly haired boy a smile.

underneath the table, mindy uses one of her feet to punts tara's ankle. this causes her to lift her foot up onto the chair, rubbing the spot that was now turning red.

"actually, you can stay with her," she groans.

the crew bursts out into laughter at mindy's antics, except for tara who was rolling her eyes in annoyance.

they all begin to eat their packed food. a few minutes later, sam checks her phone and realizes that it was time for their last class of the day. they throw away their trash and grab all of their belongings.

y/n and ethan had last period together, so they separate themselves from the group and make their way to class.

the walk was silent, but it wasn't even a tiny bit awkward. when they enter, they sit down next to one another, ready for class. the second the teacher starts speaking, y/n groans quietly. she lifts her left hand onto the table, making her elbow rest on top of the surface. she places the side of her face into her palm.

"psst."

the girl furrows her eyebrows at the hushed call. she turns to look at ethan and sees him looking ahead, a crumpled up piece of paper (iykyk) laying between them. she looks from it to him before hesitantly grabbing it. she opens it and smooths it out while reading the messy words written on it.

my house or yours?

a soft smile spreads onto her face. she grabs her mechanical pencil and writes down something on it before sliding it towards the boy. y/n looks back at the teacher, sounds of shuffling paper and led rubbing up against the paper coming from where ethan was sitting.

can we go to yours? mines messy..

ethan softly chuckles at her response. y/n feels the paper being slid back next to her. she drags it across the table so it's now in front of her.

sure, although i wouldn't have really cared if your house was messy!! my dad's working overtime and won't be back until late morning and we would be in class already.

the girl smiles at that and gently crumples the paper back up, trying not to attract the attention of anyone. she places it into the pocket of her backpack that didn't have her water bottle in it.

the class continued, filled with the teacher's lecture and students whispering and snickering. mr. frazier, their teacher, looks at the clock placed onto his desk and claps his hands suddenly.

"okay, first day back to college is over! remember to go through pages 1-35 of our textbook for tomorrow!" he exclaims, dismissing the class.

all of the young adults in the room stand up and begin packing. y/n finishes cramming her books into her backpack and looks up to see ethan waiting for her by the door. she smiles at the gesture and walks over to him.

the duo exits the college and sees the rest of their friends waiting for them where they had met up earlier that morning.

"okay, anika and i are going to go to my house because she takes forever to get ready," mindy states.

anika nudges her girlfriend's shoulder and shakes her head. mindy interlocks their hands and they both say adieu before walking away.

"well, ethan and i are going to his house to study already," y/n comments.

"yeah, have fun at the party!"

ethan and y/n give them a wave and walk to ethan's car. since y/n had walked to meet up with the other girls, she didn't bring hers. the boy gets into the driver's seat while the girl climbs in the passenger seat.

he starts to drive away, making his way to his house. y/n turns on the radio after getting his permission and continues changing stations until a good song pops up.

when they arrive, they make their way into the home. y/n smiles as it was her first time being inside of his house. they both take their shoes off and she follows along behind him, not wanting to do anything wrong.

"you can go upstairs to my room. it's the first room on the left. my sister won't be home today as she's spending the night with one of her friends, so we'll be home alone. i'm going to get some snacks for us," ethan announces.

y/n nods and gives him a thankful smile. she makes her way upstairs and enters the supposedly room that belonged to her friend. she looks around and takes in as much details she could of his room.

the young woman places her backpack against the side of the bed set in the middle of the room and sits on it. she continues observing every toy, poster, photograph, award, and book displayed until her eyes land on a very specific photo placed on ethan's desk.

it was a photograph of their friend group at tara and sam's eighteenth birthday. a smile spreads on the girls features, the sound of the door opening snapping her out of her daydream of the memory.

"so i got some caprisuns, chips, sour skittles, and twizzlers," he says.

he places them onto the end of his bed and places his backpack next to the snacks. he sits across the bed from her and takes out his textbooks and laptop. y/n does the same and they both begin studying.

it was silent, but none of them minded. they were content just being able to feel the presence of one other. once in awhile, they would ask each other a question, but other than that, the sound of papers, pencils, wrappers, and chewing filled the bedroom.

and that night ended up with y/n sound asleep besides ethan.

© cinnaamon, do NOT repost on any platform without my permission. you will be blocked and exposed.

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 3

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

On Monday, Alba armed herself with a mop, a broom, a copious amount of dust cloth, and various cleaning fluids, powders, and waxes, packed into the basket of her bike and strapped along the frame. Papi offered to drive her, but she refused. Mr. Grunauer may not welcome another intrusion. Plus, she had the sneaking suspicion that Papi wished to check out Grunauer, to make sure that she was safe while working there. Grunauer may find that offensive. She didn't want him to feel like he was being scrutinized and have a reason to turn her out even before she could start.

Beatriz had protested having to man the counter alone, of course, but Alba knew, deep down, her sister was glad for a chance to prove herself to Papi. For her part, Alba was only too glad to get out of the hot, cramped bakery. She rode her bike down the lane toward the Grunauer place, delighting in the coolness of the swamp, where the sweltering heat could never quite reach. The message that Frank delivered on Sunday had been a pleasant surprise; then again, she was quite confident in her sandwich. Nobody could resist a Cubano from La Perla del Sur.

As she rounded a corner, Alba almost crashed into Grant's Aston Martin, which was blocking the lane, its red paint incongruous amongst all the greens. Grant himself was lounging on the hood, surveying the swamp with a pair of binoculars. Alba squeezed her brakes, mumbling a curse under her breath. She couldn't turn back now—he had caught sight of her and was lowering the binoculars with his usual arrogant smile, and with all the burden on her bike, she couldn't lift it over his car. She was stuck.

"Fancy meeting you here, Allie," he said. "Out on a morning ride?"

"Not everybody has as much free time on their hands as you do, Mr. Grant," Alba replied. "I'm on my way to work, if you must know."

"Doing what?" Grant eyed her cleaning supplies with distaste. "Cleaning?"

"Yes, I got a job as a housekeeper... at a hotel," she said, to just get him out of her way.

Grant raised an eyebrow. "What hotel made you bring your own cleaning stuff?"

Mierda. Grant may be a heel, but he wasn't a fool. "Would you move your car, please?" she said, trying to change the subject. "I'm late."

Grant didn't move. He looked down the lane, where it merged into the shadows of the swamp, and seemed to put two and two together. "I see that the bakery truck has been going to the Grunauer place quite a lot lately," he said.

"What's the big deal? Mr. Grunauer is our landlord."

"You don't know what he did during the war, do you?"

The last thing Alba wanted was to give Grant more attention, but at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. "I heard he was a medic," she said cautiously.

"He killed someone, you know."

Alba rolled her eyes. "There was a war on, in case you've forgotten, Mr. Grant. People killed each other all the time."

"No, not a Jerry. He killed someone on our side. In his unit."

This stopped Alba in her tracks. She stared at Grant. "Really?"

Grant smiled, smug now that he'd gotten her attention. "Yeah," he said. "It was on D-Day. His whole unit was killed. He was the only survivor. Isn't that suspicious?"

"No, not at all," she managed.

"They said it was friendly fire, though I have my doubts. But again, it was chaos back then. With all that fighting going on, it was easy to lose one's head."

To hear him speak, one would think that Grant had personally stormed the beach at Normandy and liberated every man, woman, and child of France, though Alba knew for a fact that he'd been stationed at Gibraltar at the time, enjoying a cushy assignment at the supply depot.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alba said, narrowing her eyes.

"Just looking out for my girl, that's all." Still leering at her, Grant moved his car an infinitesimal amount, just enough for Alba to squeeze through. She got on her bike and pedaled away without bothering to thank him.

Despite her effort not to let Grant get to her, Alba couldn't put his story out of her head. Could it be true? Was that why Grunauer never went out—not because of his scars, but because of the guilt? She didn't believe he was a stone-cold killer, but he seemed to have a bit of a temper. And if he had killed a fellow soldier, accidentally or not, and he found out that she knew... What would he do? For the first time, she realized the risk she'd put herself in. She was going to spend almost a whole day with a man she knew nothing about, in an isolated house, in a remote part of town.

It was with a certain quiver in her heart that Alba arrived at the Grunauer place. She unloaded the cleaning equipment and supplies and staggered into the house with them. Only Otto's joyful bark and his rough, wet tongue lapping at her arm in greeting jolted her out of her fearful reverie and restored some of her cheerful mood.

"Hola, Otto," she said, scratching his huge head. "I'm happy to see you too."

"Good morning, Miss Reyes," a voice said. Alba looked up to see Grunauer standing at the foot of the staircase. She peered at him, as if she could tell whether he was a killer or not just by looking, but all she could see was that sadly damaged face. At least he'd made an effort to shave today. He started to walk toward her, moving with difficulty—his left leg appeared quite stiff, something she hadn't had a chance to notice in their last two encounters.

She crossed the hall toward him, to save him the trouble. "Good morning, Mr. Grunauer," she said. She wasn't sure if she should shake his hand or not. "Please, call me Alba." He didn't reply. "Thank you for—" She was going to say "for the opportunity", only it sounded too formal, too rehearsed, like she just got interviewed for a job. Well, this was a job, wasn't it? "Thank you for this," she finished lamely. She tried to put on an eager look. "Where do you want me to start?"

Her question seemed to catch him by surprise. "I—I don't know. The whole house is a bit of a mess, as you can see. Everything needs attention." His hesitation made her feel a little better. At least he was as unsure about this as she was.

"How about you show me around and we'll see which room needs to be tackled first?" she suggested.

Grunauer looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I can't get around much," he said, indicating a cane leaning against the banisters. Alba could've kicked herself for being so thoughtless. Of course. If he had been able to get around the house, he wouldn't have let in fall into such a state. The den in the study made sense now.

"It's all right," she said cheerfully. "I'll start from the top and work my way down." She wrapped a scarf around her hair and picked up a broom. "And if I have any question, I'll just ask—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted, raising a hand. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Do what you have to do; there's no need to ask me anything."

"But what if I come across something that I'm not sure if I can throw away or not?"

"Just put them aside. I'll deal with them later." He started to sound irritated, so she simply nodded, and, ducking her head, she went past him and up the stairs, feeling those dark eyes on the back of her neck.

Alba went through the house, followed by Otto. Grunauer was right; it was a mess. Downstairs, there were the study and the kitchen, and a living room and a dining room, neither looking like it was in use. Upstairs was even worse. The air of neglect throughout the house was increased tenfold here. The rooms all seemed frozen in time, as if the inhabitants had just left that morning. Everything looked like it had been put down absently and never picked up again—a yellowing newspaper on a table, with the headline about D-Day splashed across the front page, a palmetto fan on a chair, an unfinished dress still in the machine in the sewing room, with a pair of fabric shears next to it. Only the thick, undisturbed layer of mold and dust over everything revealed the passage of time. This house hadn't been neglected in just the past two years; it had been in a slow decline for much, much longer than that.

The master bedroom and the nursery were the saddest of all. On the dressing table in the master bedroom, all the creams and powders and brushes were still laid out; the creams had gone dried and cracked, the powders becoming one with the dust, the bristles of the brushes missing. A woman's dressing gown was draped over the back of the chair. A pipe and a pair of glasses sat on the bedside table. It appeared that after his wife passed away, Dr. Grunauer had left her side of the room exactly as it had been, and when his son came home and found his father gone, he'd done the same for the other side.

The nursery, which was situated in a large, airy room at the back of the house with a bay window overlooking the swamp, was tidier, the bed showing signs of recent occupancy, but it was no less sad. The shelves were filled with toys—stuffed animals, their fur now patchy, a miniature sailboat with chipped paint and torn sails, a sun-faded globe—and books, hundreds of books. The door of the closet was left ajar, and when Alba opened it, she found the clothes inside were mostly for a boy, with only an open suitcase containing a few adult things. This must be Grunauer's old room. When he came back, he'd simply dropped the suitcase on the floor and gone on living in the same room he had since he was a child. It appeared to have been unchanged since he was ten years old. Where had the boy gone after that, and where had he been since?

But all these melancholy musings would not make the house clean. Alba shook herself free of them, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

***

Derwin put down his book when he realized he'd read the last five pages or so without retaining a single word. He'd been too busy listening to Miss Reyes. It had been so long since there was a sound in the house not made by him or Otto, that even the most ordinary noise now seemed fascinating to Derwin, and he listened to them as keenly as his father used to listen to the birdcalls and other animal noises of the swamps—the pitter-patter of her feet as she moved from room to room and lugged her cleaning supplies up and down the stairs, the swish-swish of her broom across the floor, the gentle sound of her voice as she talked to Otto while she worked. It was a distraction, but he found that he didn't mind it.

Which was a dangerous mindset to have, of course. He could not allow himself to get used to Miss Reyes. She was not here to stay. Depending on the quality of her work, she might be gone by the end of the week, or, in the best-case scenario—though best for her or for himself, he wasn't sure—she would only be around for a year or so. And then she would leave, just like everybody had left. His mother, his father, his fellow soldiers. Sometimes, Derwin wondered if he was cursed, and anybody who entered his life could only pass through briefly, like ships in the night, before leaving and never to be seen again.

So, yes, it would be dangerous to get used to Miss Reyes's presence.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from listening to her, taking comfort in the noises she made, wondering what she was doing at that moment. Then, to his confusion, he heard the front door open and close, and everything went quiet. After ten minutes of silence, Derwin picked up his cane, went into the hall, and looked out the front door. Miss Reyes's bike had disappeared from the porch.

Where had she gone?

He trudged upstairs. It appeared Miss Reyes had only started cleaning his old bedroom. She had stripped the bedding and the curtains and cleaned the windows. All the toys and books had been put neatly into some cardboard boxes she'd found God knew where, and the shelves had been dusted, though she hadn't swept the floor yet. Perhaps she'd forgotten something and gone to retrieve it—though it seemed unlikely, judging by the pile of supplies she'd brought. Or perhaps she'd found something horrifying amongst his old things and decided to flee.

Sitting down on the bare mattress, he looked over the room as if he was seeing for the first time. Since he came home, he'd slept here out of habit but never noticed how it looked. There were his old toys, the sailboat he and his father used to sail on a pond in the swamp, the stuffed dog he'd carried to bed until he left for boarding school. He flipped through the books, childhood favorites that he hadn't looked at for so long. Defoe, Stevenson, Verne, Dickens, Kipling, Twain. Books of poetry by Carroll, Wordsworth, Frost, and de la Mare, some too complex for his ten-year-old comprehension, but all had sparked a life-long passion. No, there was nothing here that would repulse a person. Perhaps she had simply been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of mess and given up.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Derwin's bewilderment and anger were replaced by despair. He'd tried to prepare himself for it, but the shortness of her stay was worse than he could have expected. She hadn't lasted even half a day. Had he done something to drive her off? Had he been too short with her, too cold, too irritable? He had no idea how he should've behaved.

He went down into the kitchen, though he knew there was nothing here that could give him a clue about Miss Reyes's departure. Otto was here, gnawing on a bone he'd found somewhere—Derwin prayed that it wasn't from some long-dead animal—and didn't seem too upset about the disappearance of a certain dark-haired young lady. Derwin sat down heavily at the table.

"It's just you and me again, boy," he said. Otto's tail gave a thump in acknowledgment.

Then the tail kept thumping, and Derwin realized Otto wasn't looking at him, but beyond him at the door. He turned around and saw Miss Reyes walking in through the back door, her arms laden with groceries.

At the sight of her, Derwin's heart gave a little jump, almost imperceptible, but any relief he'd felt at her return was immediately drowned out by his annoyance, annoyance at her for swanning off without a word, and most of all, annoyance at himself for caring so much.

"Where were you?" he asked with a scowl.

"I went grocery shopping," she said, like it was the most obvious thing. "I didn't think about it this morning, but when I came down to do the washing, I saw that the pantry and the fridge are kind of empty. There was nothing for lunch..." She trailed off, looking perplexed. "Are you angry with me?"

"You could've said something!" Derwin shouted. "I thought you'd left—I thought the work was too much for you and you'd left—or that you've changed your mind—or I've frightened you off somehow—" He hardly knew what he was saying.

She looked at him almost pityingly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize it would matter. You said not to disturb you," she said, and his irritation grew when he remembered that yes, he had indeed told her not to disturb him. She'd done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that he was jumpy as a jackrabbit and always came to the worst conclusions.

Without another word, he got to his feet and made his way to the study, where he found a blank notebook and a pencil. When he returned to the kitchen, Miss Reyes was still standing by the groceries, looking mystified and miserable.

"Here," he said, thrusting the notebook and pencil at her. "If you have a question or something to say to me, just put a note through the door of the study." She took them and tucked them into her pocket, still looking uncertain. He eyed the groceries. "And give me the bill. I'll pay you back."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said quickly. "It's for me as much as it's for you."

"Miss Reyes, if you're going to work for me, I'm not having you pay for your own lunch."

"So you agree to let me work here?" she said, her face brightening.

He'd spoken too soon. "Not yet," he replied, trying to scowl but failing. For some reason, it was impossible for him to maintain his annoyance when those green eyes were turned upon him.

"OK, I'll give you the bill." She tilted her head, studying him. Derwin suddenly felt like one of his father's reptiles. He looked away, avoiding her eyes.

"And next time, if something's running low, just tell me," he said. "I'll place an order at the store."

"Which store?"

"Wendell's."

She made a face. "They charge you an arm and a leg for delivery. And their produce isn't the freshest."

Derwin sighed. He knew his arrangements weren't ideal, but he had no choice. "What use do I have for fresh produce?" he said glumly. "I can't cook anyway."

"Well, you have me now," she said with a quick but bright smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Grunauer. I'm not going anywhere. The Reyes have never run away from anything, and I will certainly not be the first to do so. I'll have this house spick and span before you know it."

He nodded curtly and limped back to the study. About an hour later, the most mouthwatering smell wafted down the corridor, reaching all the way through the closed door of the study. It took all of Derwin's self-control not to run into the kitchen to see what feast Miss Reyes was cooking up—not that he could actually run. His stomach gurgled loudly. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a note was slipped through the bottom of the door.

Lunch is ready, it said. Would you like it in the dining room or the study?

Her handwriting was very clear and neat, without any unnecessary flourishes. Just like Miss Reyes herself.

The study is fine, he wrote back.

A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Derwin opened it to find a dish covered with a silver cloche—really, where does she find these things?—placed on a side table just next to the door.

Stuck to the cloche was another note, which said, ¡Buen Provecho! P/S: Once you finish eating, please put the dish on this table. I don't want an infestation of cockroaches to destroy all the lovely books you have in the study. Derwin's mouth quirked up in amusement, despite himself. Under the cloche, he found a piece of chicken, nicely browned, nestled in a bed of rice and vegetables. The chicken was so tender that it fell apart under his fork, the rice was soft and fluffy, and the vegetables sweet. It was, in short, the best meal he'd ever had.

Derwin was a little embarrassed that he'd scarfed down the chicken and rice in less than fifteen minutes. After waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass, he returned the dish to the table, with a note saying, Thank you. On second thoughts, he added, P/S: I'm sorry I shouted at you.

The response came with the rattling of the dish: It's OK. Those two simple words were enough, and Derwin breathed a little more easily.

The rest of the day was quiet. Miss Reyes continued to work diligently, tirelessly. Otto stuck to her like glue, and often Derwin would hear her footsteps being accompanied by the clicking of the dog's claws. Derwin was glad that the dog had found someone else to hang around with; he was well aware of how tedious his own company could be. Once, a movement in the backyard caught Derwin's attention through the window, and he looked up to see Miss Reyes hanging the washing on the lines, the sheets and curtains blowing about her like clouds. When she reached the end of a line, she lifted her head to look at the frangipani tree planted by his father at the edge of the yard, which was just beginning to put out its fragrant blooms, each looking like a little swirl of cloud containing a miniature sun at its center. A lock of her hair strayed out of her headscarf to dangle over her forehead. After trying to blow it out of her face several times without success, she pushed it back in place with an impatient but well-practiced movement, and returned to the washing. She didn't see him.

As the light outside grew dim and the sky glowed red through the cypresses' trunks, another note was pushed under the door.

I'm done for the day, the note said. There's leftover chicken in the oven for your dinner. Your room is clean, so you can sleep there again. See you tomorrow.

Derwin dragged himself out of the study and went back upstairs. Yes, she had cleaned the room. The bed was made with fresh sheets, smelling of frangipani and sunshine. Every toy, every book was back in its place. For a heartbeat, he was transported fifteen years back in time, when he was ten years old, when his mother was still alive. The only things that had been moved were his clothes—his current clothes, the few shirts and pants, his one good suit, and his dress shoes had been unpacked and hung up in the closet, while his childhood clothes were carefully put away in the suitcase.

Realizing he was still holding Miss Reyes' note in his hand, he contemplated it for a moment. See you tomorrow. Those three words put a smile on his face. Then, without really knowing why, he folded the note carefully and put it in the drawer of his bedside table.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @kitkat80

[despairots]

STARS ALIGNED — # CHAPTER ONE !

#DESC. you followed the one cold star that you weren’t told to. your parents has always told you to follow your destiny and fate but the more you heard it, the more you travelled off of your future.

#PAIRS. aquamarine hoshino x gender neutral! reader. slight fem! oc x gender neutral! reader.

#WARNINGS. violence, murder, manipulation, swearing, suggestive themes, dark themes, yandere themes, etc.

#DESPAIROTS NOTE. i started this series in school ,,, 😭 also this chapter wont have a lot of info abt the hoshino siblings or mentions of them but as it progresses, they will appear as i have a project due friday. also its short lmfao.

WHEN LIFE HAS BEEN forcing everything on you, it has bound for you to be driven to manipulation and greed. you were the most desperate person for fame and someone to know who you actually are.

the form of 4stros made you shape a persona that only fans and friends would know, no one actually knew who you were and what your intentions were. to be fair, all you wanted was fame and revenge.

you wanted to kill the person who ruined you, who destroyed your childhood life. you were forced to grow up because of them and your brain was forced to create another personality.

besides the trauma you dealt with, 4stros has grown into a popular idol group. people inspired to be like the group, especially you.

[name] was the leader with multiple fans and love letters with to many creepy stalkers in other, dark places but for some reason, they didn’t get bothered by them.

[name] was an idol and actor, a real life prodigy in action. but who knows, they might use that to their advantage.

maybe help a boy who’s the child of ai hoshino, a popular idol. would they use them too, maybe the two would toy with eachother? who knows, this is your story, not mine.

[NAME] HAD MULTIPLE PEOPLE look down on them when they were younger due to being claimed “weird”, it didn’t bothered them, most things didn’t bother them besides when people actually know them.

“[name] san? you there?” yashiro queried, pink eyes dotting at their leader. [name] smiled at them with a nod, “yes, yashiro chan?” they replied with a tone that would mame fans swoon. yashiro giggled and pecked their cheek before jumping up.

oka opened the door, hair cut and tied into a ponytail with a book that had all their songs, haru and juno were behind her aswell. “juno chan!” yashiro called out and hugged the women, who blushed and mumbled as she hugged back.

[name] walked up to them after waving, “oka chan~ are you done with the new song?” they were quite close to the lyricists face, light red on her cheek as she nodded at the leader who smiled.

“yes, i have.” oka answered with an emotionless tone, the 5 friends have been together since younger days and they’ve all helped eachother through their hardships.

they’ve been 4stro for a 2 years (this is the 3rd year) and this song is for their anniversary, X/XX/2023.

fans all over the place has been waiting for this day to come, expressing their gratitude for them and their excitement all over the 4stro’s fanpage. the anniversary has sky rocketed because of st4rs, the fandoms name.

[name] gave a few instructions before their mother knocked on the door, “[name] san? are — oh! you guys are here! i just wanted to remind you guys that you have school!” their mother reminded quickly and waved at the four friends.

“thanks ma!” [name] gritted in between their teeth, pulling their bag up as the five friends left for school, not before hiding themselves into they got there.

even though getting to school was hard, the amount of times paparazzi has noticed them and tried to invade their life was harder.

especially being classmates with creeps too . . .

“juno chan!” yashiro dragged out the ‘chan’, having juno push yashiro away from her with an annoyed look, the idol group already in class. “yashiro san! leave me alone!” juno whined, clearly enjoying the way yashiro laughed.

haru lightly chuckled whilst oka watched intently before looking back down at her phone, [name] sighed and laid their head down on their desk, peoples mutters being the only thing they heard.

“oh, [name] san!” a familiar girl’s voice rang through their ears, like a gunshot, kana arima stood beside their desk, a smile plastered on her voice.

[name] sat up, their face changing from a scowl to a fake smile, “kana chan!” kana winked at them as [name] just sat there, the same smiled plastered onto their face.

“pleasure seeing you again.”

“pleasures all mine, [name] san.” the two conversed, the classmates just watching with res pigment on their cheeks, having multiple idols in the same room as them.

“you did your hair?” kana asked, pointing at the dyed streaks in [name]’s hair, they lead nodding with a bright smile, having someone to notice at their school.

“i did, kana chan! thank you for noticing.” kana just smiled with closed eyes back at the doll like idol, who’s face returned to a scowl for a second before the teacher came in.

obviously the scowl was noticeably from their friends as they were aware of [name]’s greed and hatred for others, they didn’t point it out since they were all selfish.

they weren’t good people.

and lying to themselves got them nowhere—unlike [name], who admits things are just the way they are.

juno was the most envious, yashiro was the laziest, oka was the most saddest, haru had the most pride, and [name] was the most greediest.

they couldn’t help it. everyone was a horrible person and the more you lie about it, the more ignorant you are. [name] couldn’t help it but feel rage because of them.

“do you remember ruby and aquamarine hoshino?” them. oh them, how could [name] forget them! [name] hated them and their mother, they couldn’t stand the two of them.

“yes, why?” kana grinned before sitting down, not explaining why she had asked. the thought dwelled into their mind, remembering the times that they had seen them.

you met them by visiting a studio where kana was acting at, and surprisingly the hoshino twins were there. “ah! is this one of your friends, kana chan?” you walked up to them with a smile.

ruby blinked at you before smiling, “i love your eyes!” she complimented you, giving a red tint on your cheek. “o - oh, um, thank you…?” “ruby hoshino!”

“and that’s my brother, aquamarine hoshino but most of us call him aqua!” runy answered with cheerfulness that you wish you had.

“nice meeting you, ruby chan, aqua kun. i’m [name] [lastname], the child of hima [lastname], the famous singer, pleasure.”

a dark glint was in your eyes and a smirk plastered on your face, sometimes you wished you could rewatch the face aqua made when he saw you change your personality.

it was delightful to never see them again as they made your blood boil, you couldn’t help it. they were naive people, and you hated naive people.

[bluegekk0]

Idk if it's the way I perceive fpk, or if it is intentional, but he looks like he has upper body strength. Is he equally strong everywhere, or does have a specific strength?

He does, I put extra effort into making his arms look more muscular so I'm really glad you noticed! He's generally quite physically strong now, and if you took all his fat away, he would be fairly muscular. The arms are the most noticeable because of how his fat distribution works - he's fatter in his lower body, that is his stomach, legs and the base of his tail.

It also makes sense that his arms and upper torso would be the most defined. Whenever he goes hunting, he does a fair amount of climbing, not to mention the most effective way to chase his meal is to run on all fours, and for that he needs very strong arms. Then there is his workshop, his projects involve dealing with metal objects and stone among other things. He primarily fixes and tinkers with small items like watches, but he also delves into designing and upgrading larger farm equipment and similar mechanical constructions, which are a lot heavier. And because he works alone, he has to carry everything himself, so he gets his daily exercise and builds his muscles.

He certainly enjoys his food, he's without a doubt a foodie (though his childhood trauma also plays a role in how much he eats during hunts), which is a contributing factor to why he's so visibly fat, but it's also connected to the role the extra weight plays in his body. The fat protects him from injuries but it also helps him keep warm and regulate his body temperature, which is crucial for living on the surface in such a cold climate. And unlike Grimm, the kids, Hornet or Holly, he doesn't have fur or an exoskeleton-like shell, which would shield him from cold, so his body had to adapt in its own way.

As a little fun fact, this is something which wouldn't be that unheard of among his kind. I imagine his home land to be a somewhat cold desert with large sand dunes, which periodically experiences winters, including freezing temperatures and snow. So there is a precedent for his body, albeit physically much different in this reduced form, to have this kind of adaptation for cold climates, which wouldn't be visible until now. Before that, he lived underground, and the lack of a proper diet (or any, really) meant that he wasn't able to build any extra fat. Over time, he started losing even more weight, but that's something I already talked about in the past so I'll end this side ramble here.

But to bring this back on topic and to answer your question, he's physically strong all over the body. His tail is flexible, but the base is very muscular under all that fat. This lets him use it almost as a third leg, it acts as counter balance but he can lean on it to support his body if he needs to. His legs are very strong, allowing him to jump quite high up, certainly higher than you'd expect (though the fat tail does drag him down a bit, so he's not as skilled of a jumper as he could be). He can walk, trot and run with no issue, although it does resemble a clumsy waddle, mainly due to how short and stubby his legs are. Already talked about the arms so I won't repeat myself, I'll just add that the nice result of all his physical exercise is that he can lift up and carry Grimm for quite some time, which I think is a very cute (and slightly amusing) mental image. His neck and back are also worth mentioning. The neck is a bit short, but it's decently muscular, which is necessary considering his large head. And his spine, similarly, has the strenght needed to carry all the extra pounds he gained, so he doesn't suffer from back pain (well, unless he spends all day carrying large boxes of heavy materials without taking a break).

So all in all, despite being fat, he's physically healthy and strong. I think it makes sense considering all I said. Plus it's just really fun to think about all of his physical traits working together like this. And it goes to show that relying on soul in his past just couldn't replace all those processes needed to make him as healthy as he is now.

[hollandorks]

shadows in the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

epilogue

summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story

a/n: I literally can’t believe this story is over. I started writing MOTN in March this year, and it has been with me ever since. Almost 9 months straight of MOTN and Battinson. I’m so thankful for this story and the community it brought me and how much fun it’s been over the course of these months! I could write an entire essay on what it means to me and about the people this story brought into my life, but I’ll keep it short and sweet for now. 

I’d like to note that I kept this short on purpose--it’s just a glimpse into their future, and I didn’t want to bog it down with too many details. However, I do plan on including at least one more oneshot (maybe more). 

(PS: @captain-ariel-rogers you’re welcome) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 2807

Every tragedy in his life had led him there, to a home full of love and laughter, even amidst the shadows that came in the night.

The wind on top of the signal tower was unforgiving as Bruce waited next to the spotlight. It was March already, but winter had refused to release its claws from Gotham. 

Things in the city had changed, and not all for the good. Not all for the bad, either. 

Bella Reál had proven herself time and again to be a more than capable mayor. She thrived in the chaos, in the uncertainty, and had whipped Gotham into shape so quickly it had made Bruce’s head spin. Despite all of the crime, despite how many nights his signal shone in the dark, the new mayor had wrestled control of the city back into the hands of the good. 

The trial had started in December as planned, despite the flooding and the wreckage of the city, mostly due to Bella Reál’s firm hand. It had taken weeks, draining them all, but in the end every single man had been convicted on multiple counts and been sent to prison for decades if not the rest of their lives. 

For a while, as y/n was forced to relive her trauma on the stand, she had become a shell of herself. She had been withdrawn and quiet throughout the ordeal, the weight of the world holding her down despite Bruce and Alfred and even Gordon doing their best to share her burden. Her nightmares had worsened and Bruce had forced himself to come home earlier and earlier each night simply to be there for her. 

But the closer the trial got to its end, the more fiery she became. Her shoulders had straightened and she had thrown herself into rebuilding not only the Gotham Project, but the Renewal Fund as well, and even several other smaller projects that went hand in hand with helping the city. 

And she had planned their wedding. She wanted to get it done right, as Bruce had requested, but she also didn’t want to wait. 

He was, to put it plainly, in awe of her. 

And now, as March started to draw to a close, still wrapped in an unseasonably late winter, their wedding day loomed. 

Bruce wasn’t sure what he was more nervous for–the meeting he was about to have with the newly appointed Commissioner Gordon, or the wedding day itself. 

He fiddled with a hair tie he kept looped on his utility belt, a habit he had developed in the past year and a half. 

It wasn’t too long before the elevator in the tower started rattling its way upwards. 

Bruce inhaled sharply and fought against nervously tapping his foot or pacing back and forth. He forced himself into stillness as the doors slid open and Gordon stepped out. The man cursed and burrowed more deeply into his coat. 

“Couldn’t we have done this inside?” Gordon called out. 

“Light’s warm,” he said softly. It was true–the giant spotlight radiated warmth, more and more the longer it was on. Gordon shivered as he came to a stop next to Bruce. He rubbed his hands together to warm them. Bruce was glad for his own gloves, a newer pair that y/n had made him get that were thicker and lined with fleece. She’d forced him to winter proof his suit, for which he was grateful even if he had grumbled about it at the time. 

“Been a while,” Gordon said as they both looked out over the city. It had been a while–things had died down over the past several weeks to the point where the signal was rarely needed. Bruce mostly patrolled on his own and used police scanners to find out where he was needed. “How you been, man?” 

Bruce almost frowned. He didn’t realize that they made small talk now. “Fine,” he said. 

“Good, good.” Gordon rubbed his hands together again almost absently, then glanced up at Bruce. “So, what have you got for me?” 

Bruce couldn’t help shifting slightly from foot to foot. He hoped Gordon didn’t notice. But he was a good detective, a good cop–he likely did notice even if he was pretending otherwise. 

Finally, Bruce said, voice gruff and nonchalant, “I have to…step back for a couple of weeks. I wanted you to know, in case you needed me and I didn’t show.” 

He’d wavered back and forth, over and over again, between telling Gordon he was leaving and simply disappearing. But he cared for the city too much and had eventually decided that he couldn’t leave without telling someone. Y/n had agreed that Gordon was the best choice–he was trustworthy and likely wouldn’t press for information. 

“I figured as much,” Gordon said. Bruce’s eyebrows drew together behind his mask. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll look out for things here, even turn the light on and off and spread some rumors. Make it seem like you’re still around.” 

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Why?” he said, the only question he could come up with that wouldn’t sound suspicious. 

Gordon gave him a sly look then shrugged. “I want you to enjoy your honeymoon.” 

The world fell away from Bruce’s feet. How could Gordon possibly know that was Bruce’s reason for leaving? He had no idea who Bruce was. Or at least, he shouldn’t. 

“Wh-what?” Bruce said. He silently cursed the stammer in his voice that likely gave it all away. His heart thundered in his ears. Everything went utterly quiet in his mind, every thought wiped out by a wave of pure shock. 

Gordon spread his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, man, if you were getting married this weekend and if you were about to go on your honeymoon, I don’t want you worrying about the city. I can take care of things for a couple of weeks.” 

Bruce struggled to remain still, to control his breathing, to reign in the panic building in his chest. It was as if he’d just taken a dive over the side of the tower, the world rushing past him as his stomach swooped up towards his throat and his heart pounded with fear and adrenaline. 

All the while, Gordon simply stared out at the skyline of Gotham all around them, his breath fogging in front of him as he breathed deeply and evenly. 

Bruce silently warred with himself. Did Gordon actually know, or was he guessing? A cold sweat started at his spine and worked its way upwards. 

But then he thought back to all the small interactions he’d had with Gordon, especially the ones where y/n had been around. The looks Gordon sometimes gave them, the small comments here and there. Gordon had even joked about y/n being taken and Batman having feelings for her, more than once. 

Gordon knew. 

Gordon had known for a while. 

“How?” Bruce said after a long silence had stretched and warped between them. How did Gordon know, how was he sure, how long ago had he figured it out? That one word encapsulated everything Bruce wanted to ask. 

“The gala,” Gordon said, which was the exact opposite answer of what Bruce had anticipated. “Your butler was there. She told the two of you to go home and, well…wasn’t hard to connect the dots after that. Especially with the way you looked at her. You tried to hide it, but…” Gordon chuckled.  

Bruce swallowed hard. The roaring had quieted in his ears, but he still felt panicked, unsure. He had always known his feelings for y/n would be what led someone to connect his identity to Batman. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gordon finally turned to face him. His expression was light, almost amused. “No offense, but I don’t really care who you are.” He shrugged. “You and me, we have the same goals. We want to keep the city safe. It doesn’t matter to me who you are. It never mattered to me.” 

Bruce felt something odd in his chest at the words. He opened and closed his mouth several times. 

Gordon had known for a year and a half and had never said anything. Had never cared. 

“Like I said, man–enjoy your honeymoon.” Gordon winked, slapped him on the back, and left without another word. 

Bruce could only stare after him, utterly stunned. 

Finally, when he was so cold it hurt, he flipped off the light and left. 

His thoughts churned all the way home. He couldn’t get past it–Gordon had known this whole time. He had never revealed Bruce’s secret, had never even gotten close, not even to Bruce himself. 

Another person in his life that he didn’t deserve. Gordon had been a truer friend than he had ever realized. 

Bruce changed in the abandoned subway station, shivering from the cold. It was later than he’d thought. He’d been frozen–literally and figuratively–atop the tower for much longer than he’d planned to be. 

Upstairs, he found Alfred asleep on the couch, the cat Vinny curled up on his lap. Bruce smiled to himself. The butler always acted like he didn’t like the cat, who was now twice as big and twice as fluffy as he’d been when Selina had dropped him off. But toys always mysteriously showed up for the cat, ones that Bruce certainly hadn’t purchased and y/n swore she hadn’t gotten either. 

Bruce quietly turned off the lamp and left them to sleep before turning towards his room. 

That last little bit of anxiety finally melted from his chest. 

The city was in Gordon’s capable hands. He knew he didn’t have to worry while he was gone. And as an added bonus, he didn’t even have to worry about anyone connecting the absence of Batman with Bruce Wayne’s absence. Gordon had taken care of that, too. 

Bruce slid into bed next to y/n and sighed as she immediately curled up close to him. 

He couldn’t wait for her to be his wife. 

–

“Stop fidgeting,” Alfred murmured as he fixed Bruce’s bowtie. “You’ve no reason to be nervous.” 

Easy for Alfred to say, Bruce thought a bit bitterly. Bruce hated having the spotlight on him. There were so many ways he could mess things up. And he didn’t want to mess a single thing up–he wanted it all to go perfectly. 

“It’s y/n,” Alfred said as he smoothed the bowtie into place again. “Just you and her. No one else.” 

And somehow, the words worked. 

It’s just y/n, Bruce repeated silently to himself. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her warm hand in his, that little furrow between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. His nerves ebbed and settled. They were still present, but they were no longer choking him. 

“Alright,” Alfred said as he stepped back. “That’s your cue, my boy.” 

“Right,” Bruce said. The music had indeed shifted. He was supposed to go out to the altar. They’d practiced it the night before and everything. 

“Now I have to go get the bride,” Alfred said with a wink. 

Bruce swallowed and nodded. He made to step away, to go take his place, but Alfred caught him by the arm. 

“I know neither of us are much for words,” Alfred said. He swallowed hard. Were those…tears in his eyes? Bruce was suddenly nervous again for a completely different reason. “But I love you like my own. You and y/n both.” 

Bruce nodded because the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him speak. “I love you, too,” he finally managed, barely a whisper. 

Alfred hugged him quickly, then shoved him none too gently towards the door. 

“See you soon,” Alfred said with a watery smile. 

And then Bruce was standing in front of the crowd, palms sweating, all alone except for the woman who would be officiating. He saw Gordon in a smart suit, his wife at his side. There were Bryn and Ollie, sitting with Lena and her son. The lone reporter they had invited to document the event with several incredibly thorough contracts. Bruce’s old housekeeper, Dory, whom y/n had replaced when she’d retired. Even Selina was there, dressed in black and sitting near the back. She caught his eye and winked. 

It wasn’t really a crowd, only their closest friends and acquaintances. But it felt like hundreds of people to Bruce. 

His only stipulation, besides doing the wedding the right way, was to get married in the same church where his parents had gotten married. He’d worried y/n would be disappointed, that it wouldn’t fit with her vision of the wedding, but she’d been enthusiastic about the idea. 

His parents and her mother also had seats reserved for them, and he felt their eyes on him more than anyone else’s. 

The music shifted again, and every single thought eddied from his mind. 

The doors at the end of the aisle opened, and there she was. 

His breath caught in his chest. 

She was perfect. Her smile was wide and bright and the sight of it was like an arrow slicing through him. 

Her eyes met his and the rest of the world faded away. 

Emotion swelled, choking him, blurring his vision. 

He had never expected to find a love like this, a love like hers, and here she was, moving towards him and looking at him like he had hung the moon. 

Distantly, Bruce felt wetness on his cheeks.

But all he could see was her–the woman who was going to be his wife. 

As she got closer and closer every last bit of nervousness he’d felt disappeared under her brightness. He was simply an object in her orbit, following her sun, helplessly caught by her gravity. She eclipsed everything else, utterly radiant and so perfect he could never believe she was going to be his. 

Belatedly, he fumbled for the handkerchief Alfred had given him that morning. It had been Bruce’s fathers and still bore the initials T.W. He wiped at his eyes only because the tears were blurring the perfect vision of the woman in white before him. 

He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, eyes never straying from her, and held out his hand as she stepped up to him. 

Her hand was warm and fit perfectly in his own.

“Hi,” she whispered with a soft laugh as the officiant told everyone to be seated. 

They faced forward and Bruce whispered, “Hi,” back to her, his smile so wide it hurt. 

Now that she was close, he took in the small details, the world slowly fading back in at the edges. He was still focused on her, but it was no longer a total eclipse. 

Her dress wasn’t quite white–ivory, he was pretty sure they called it, which he only knew from their many conversations about dress shopping–and had a long train. Her veil was long, too, making her look regal beside him, a queen at her coronation. The material of the dress was almost silky, unadorned but not boring. Nestled at his throat were his mother’s pearls, matching the delicate pearls on her veil. His breath caught again at the sight. 

Y/n heard the small noise and turned her face to him to smile. 

This woman was going to be his wife. 

She nudged him gently and with a jolt, he realized that he was supposed to be paying attention to the officiant. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman at his side for long, stopping every few seconds to look at her in awe. 

The ceremony was flying by without him hardly noticing. He vowed to love her, protect her, be beside her always. He vowed that they would never be parted, even in death. He reminded her that she was everything he’d ever wanted, the words choking him on the way out.

He had written the vows in an almost fugue state the night before, the words pouring from him. He meant every single thing he promised. 

Then y/n vowed to love him, support him, be with him in all things. She laughed when she repeated that she would protect him and that not even death could part them. He was crying again, but he didn’t care. 

They exchanged rings and then–

Then they were pronounced husband and wife. 

Bruce kissed her fiercely. She was so warm against him, soft in all the right ways, and he never wanted to let her go. He wouldn’t ever let her go. 

There were cheers around them. Y/n was still smiling, her eyes wet. 

“My husband,” she murmured for his ears only. Was it his imagination, or did she glow even more brightly as she said the words? 

“Mrs. Wayne,” he said back teasingly, enjoying the way her breath hitched at the name. “Extraordinary woman.” 

Y/n was finally his wife. She was his, in every way. 

He was never letting her go. 

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[evanspresso]

can you do one where y/n is having a bad day she’s like crying for no good reason and she can’t sleep but is exhausted and evan helps her like sort of comforts her?

and all of a sudden I felt really tired

Y/n doesn't know what it is.

She doesn't know if its because she has endless amounts of projects due and it's her last semester ever, or the fact that she has a raging headache that not even two extra strength tylenols can get rid of.

She doesn't know if it's because she is laying in her boyfriend of a month's bed and she's nervous to make a sound or move wrong. She clutches her pillow tightly and closes her eyes to try, just try to find that peace in her mind so she can fall asleep.

Jesus, fuck!

She whimpers and hastily removed herself from the thick duvet and slips off the warm bed. Y/n runs her fingers through her hair and makes her way out of his bedroom.

Her eyes adjust to the dark living room and she groans out lowly, thinking that this is where the kitchen was. She doesn't know where the light switches are and quite frankly is too shy to even turn on the lights. What if he wakes up and finds her like this. No, she cannot have that.

She chuckles lightly and makes a beeline to the right and groans loudly, causing tears to run down her puffy cheeks.

She chuckles lightly and makes a beeline to the right and groans loudly, causing tears to run down her puffy cheeks.

"Seriously?" she throws her hands up in annoyance as she faces his office, where endless amounts of scripts lay scattered on his desk.

Her chest heaves because all she wants is some God damn tea but she can't even find the kitchen. She sniffs and lets her shoulders sink as she begins to cry softly, because maybe she just needs a good cry. She feels so silly but she wants to allow herself to feel these emotions.

I'm just overwhelmed.

It's dark and she feels hidden, her shoulders tremble as she tries her best to be as quiet as possible. She lets herself cry for about five minuets until she hears his voice before she actually sees him causing her to freeze with her hands halfway covering her tear streaked face.

"Y/n? where did you go?" he questions.

She can hear the rasp in his voice as he gets closer to her and she closes her eyes in defeat as she hears him flick on the light's causing her to cower back in response.

"Oh. There you are! What are you doing down here?" he chuckles as he walks over to her slowly. He doesn't see her tears yet and he smiles tenderly at her.

"I can't find the kitchen." she lets out making him frown as she moves her hands away from her face.

Evan's eyes widen and sticks out his chest as he takes a deep breath, placing his large palm against her cheek. Her head tilt's to the side as he holds her face to look up at him.

"What's wrong? what happened?" he searched her face for any signs.

It's like a triggered reaction and her face curls up again as she starts to cry. Evan coo's and pulls her delicate frame into his chest as she wraps her arms around his torso and lets herself cry into him.

Evan's hands trace her back soothingly as he lets her cry softly into his chest. He bends his neck to kiss the top of her hair repeatedly to let her know that he is there, and that it's okay to cry.

"I- I'm sorry I- I didn't m- mean to wake you up." she hiccups.

"It's okay. Don't be sorry. You didn't anyway, I had to go to the bathroom and I noticed you weren't there." he whispers into her ear. "Just take a deep breath okay, baby?"

This is the first time he's given her a pet name and her heart does cartwheels and butterflies start to dance in her stomach as she looks up at him with a timid side smile.

He smile back softly and her head falls back as he supports her neck while she looks up at him with her large beautiful eyes and it makes his heart bounce from left to right, up and down making him bite the inside of his cheek.

They both take a deep breath and he nods at her, signaling for her talk and that it's okay to tell him what she's feeling. He will listen.

"I'm feeling a little overwhelmed... I think. I have so many things on my mind and I'm just so exh- exhausted." her voice breaks as she looks away from his face.

"mhm" he hums, caressing her tear stained cheeks with his thumbs. "You couldn't sleep?" he asks.

Y/n shakes her head, yes. she takes a deep breath and looks back up at him and he move his hands from her face and runs them down her arms before he takes her hands and brings them up between them.

He fan's his lips agains her knuckles and breathes lowly, his breath warming them before he places small reassuring kisses against them. "I came down to make some tea..." she sighs. "But, I couldn't find the kitchen." she says bashfully making Evan flop his head to the side, his hair falling in his face making y/n run her fingers through his locks.

"Well." He says standing up straight suddenly causing her to jump. "Follow me, baby." he says cheerfully.

Evan takes her hand and nearly drags her towards the kitchen, her lips turned up into a big smile as he looks behind his shoulder at her and gives her a toothless grin. He squeezes her hand as he turns the kitchen light on and spins around to place his hands on her hips.

"Here's the kitchen!" he sings making her squeal.

"Ohh" she plays along.

He lifts her up effortlessly and she wraps her arms around his neck, her legs dangling below them as he walks her towards the island. He doesn't sit her up right away, he smushes her against the counter and his body and she blushes as he looks down at her with his dark eyes gleaming. "Can I get a kiss first?"

Y/n nods and lifts her head as he meets her halfway. Both pair of lips playing the game of 'catch me if you can.' They giggle as they lean in and pull away at the last second, their breaths fanning between them both before she catches his chin and crashes her lips into his.

Melting, melting, they both moan into one another and their bodies mold closer to each other, Evan's fingers digging deeper into her hips as she caresses his soft skin.

He smiles as he feels her lashes kiss his cheeks and he pulls away making her gasp for air, their chests heaving as he stares directly into her eyes as he places her onto the counter slowly.

The muscles and veins in his arms bulge through his white t- shirt which catches her wandering eyes and she hold's her breath as she lets herself hungrily admire him. "I feel a little better." she hums.

She watches him move around the kitchen effortlessly, filling up the kettle with water and placing it onto the stove, he heads towards the pantry where he keeps the tea. "What kind do you want?" he questions from inside.

"Green. Please."

Seconds later he comes back out, closing the pantry door with his socked foot and takes a washed mug from next to the sink and places the tea bag into the mug as they wait for the water to boil.

"You need help with any of your projects?" he asks, running his hands up her thighs as he walks back to her. He fits perfectly between her legs.

Y/n crinkles her nose at him making him playfully scowl. "Hey! I know I never went to college, but I think I can help." he says making her giggle.

"Yes. I'd love that." she finally says, kissing his shoulder. "Thank you." she beams.

Evan bites his bottom lip and catches her hand mid air, after she moved her hair behind her shoulder. She looks at him in surprise as he brings her hand towards his lips and flips it over to kiss her soft palm.

He doesn't take his eyes off of her and her mouth falls agape as she watches him admire her, forgetting about the kettle that suddenly starts to sing, signaling that the water is boiling.

"I'm falling." He whispers. Y/n's brows shoot up as she watches him kiss her palm again and she shifts her hips slightly. "Will you catch me?" he questions, seriously.

"I-" she looks at him with shock and closes her mouth as she grips onto his t-shirt desperately. "Only if you catch me too."

[hereforthefunnyguys]

okay okay marik ishtar getting psychosexual in the club brain time. (Sorry in advance for the bigass text block. also if you are an ace/aro marik truther then A) I can see it but also B) this is very much not that. be forewarned.) I know things along these lines have been said before, but I truly cannot picture him being some kind of crazily sexually/romantically liberated flirt like you see a lot in fanon. Feel free to argue with me if you want in the reblogs or comments or whatever I am not sure about what I'm saying here. (+1500 words of Help Me under the readmore!)

He grew up underground, with no one else around but his abusive highly religious dad, personal manservant/extremely protective brother figure, and what seems to be the only even somewhat normal family relationship he has with his sister that's almost as isolated and frankly seems moderately socially awkward outside of telling mysterious prophecies. I do not think he was not getting Helpful and Informative Sex Ed, to say the least, and also if/when he started going through puberty he would have functionally nowhere to project those urges. Maybe he can get a crush on a particularly well-drawn wall carving or statue idk but the point is that he doesn't have any actual human reference for what the feelings mean other than his immediate family which is a uhhhhhh different and much more uncomfortable conversation!

Also, even when he and Rishid finally get out of there and start up the Ghouls, I don't think Rishid would bother with telling him about sex and romance as he gets older - if anything, he would be less likely to tell him, because if there's one thing Rishid would want to do as little as possible, it would be to allow more opportunities for Marik to act out in more "depraved" ways - I mean, come on, the guy already forces people to commit suicide, brainwashes them to fight in death matches, and do weird little dances in public for his entertainment (I know that one isn't as intimidating as the other ones, but I do think it's important to establish the sheer level of pettiness and self-indulgence he's at by this point.)

We've already established by this point that his ability to empathize and sympathize with other people is currently somewhere at the bottom of the Marianas trench, assuming he may not have had low empathy before then, which he might've judging by how he treats his siblings (diversity win! the arc villain has low-functioning empathy!), though that may also be due to being the "favorite" and getting what he wants all the time and not being raised to consider them real people on par with him and his father. But I digress. I do think Rishid would be at least considering the ways that those behaviors would intersect with teenage hormones, to say the least (plus the whole Yami Marik thing, which I'll discuss. Later.)

But by contrast, I don't think it makes sense to say Marik's completely innocent to the concept - he may be a very socially isolated 16 year old, but he's still like. a 16 year old. He regularly pries inside of peoples heads to manipulate them, and if you go by anime canon, he is definitely aware of very strong romantic feelings (and therefore possibly sexual ones, though maybe not? arkana ace king ig) in the form of arkana/pandora's little anime lost love scenario. Also, I think its fair to assume a Good Number of the Ghouls would possess sexual or romantic feelings as well. However. However. I am going to go out on a limb and say that learning about sex from people's personal fantasies is to sex ed what learning about how to cook from Hell's Kitchen is to chef college; everything you absorb is overdramatic, unrealistic, extremely emotionally charged, and often involves a surprising amount of violence and degradation for a day-to-day activity.

I'm going to say Marik then is Aware of sex, but doesn't fully "get" it. Like. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it for too long, and in general, it's just something Other People do. It's something he can use to get close to people (sign that says ASK ME ABOUT FEMME FATALE MARIK ISHTAR PROPAGANDA), but its not really something he fully accepts as something he would do just for the sake of it. He's aware of it, but it's still a moderately alien concept to him, at least that's how he would think about it.

Additionally, I don't think his vision of romantic love is going to be any better. In between societies massive effort to romanticize (ehehe) those specific feelings as the end-all-be-all of affection and the fact that, again, he didn't really grow up with anyone (and still really doesn't have another outlet) other than his dad and siblings as who he "loves" - I do think he loves his siblings, and, tragically enough, probably his father as well. (Thats something else people ignore a ton. We as The Audience do not like Peepaw Ishtar but Marik himself has NO clue what he did was wrong or bad or unforgivable. If anything Marik considers himself the problem for not being able to take it. But that's another convo. God I'm going all over the place today.) Anyways what I'm trying to say here is that Marik probably sees romantic love as something that's present and he should Want but doesn't quite fully understand the emotional implications of it or investment necessary to make it work. If anything he would know less about romance since while old Egyptian myths do mention sex and sexuality with fair regularity - albeit not with much that would help a clueless 12 year old that associates said myths with his imprisonment and doom - there is very little talk of True Love in there. The fact that his knowledge of marriage extends to "my mother died a horrible painful death in childbirth having me and my dad didn't really care" probably is not helping matters!

Also tying this all together is the fact that Marik seems to have a Fraught and Uneasy relationship with his own body, to say the least. Like. I'm just going to go out on a limb and say he seems to consider it just another damp, dark prison he's stuck in, one that has done nothing other than provide an easy way to hurt him and keeps him tied to the Tombkeeper legacy. And who wouldn't? The guy has a massive scar carved into his back permanently reminding him of how trapped he really. Additionally, that's another barrier to intimacy, since there's no way on Earth he's letting anyone touch his back without an INSANE amount of trust - I imagine even Rishid is somewhat suspect in allowing him to touch his back.

The only time he seems really happy is when he gets to extend his mind outside of himself, into other people's brains and giving him a sense of power in an otherwise very controlled life. So that's definitely one barrier there! How do you even begin trying to make your body feel good when all your body has felt like all your life is completely awful? Especially when it would involve letting another person have access to it in a very vulnerable state??? Nuh uh no way thank you sir but we're staying repressed forever and shoving any and all Perverse Urges into a box deep deep in our Mind Room and ignoring them until we die, which we never will because we're Special. This is to say nothing of the fact that one of his tombkeepers duties is theoretically to procreate and create a new generation of keepers which is. Wow. Another conversation entirely but for our purposes means that he already is not going to have a good relationship to that! (Bonus points if it turns out he's homosexual. I'm not saying he is gay, but layering the Problems with "not attracted to women" would be an interesting intersection.)

Anyways the cherry on top of this miserable sundae is the Existence of Yami Marik, the Good-Times Ruiner. Point number one: in between the weird sadomasochism thing he has going on and the fact that he seems significantly more physically and emotionally liberated than Marik, I think it would be fair to call him a moderately sexualized character, though not a straight-up succubus (yes I am aware the term for men is Incubus. quiet).

Point number two: Yami Marik is generally seen to represent Marik's repressed urges and grudges, so we can pretty easily make the assumption that Yami Marik being sexualized comes from an attempt to absolve Marik of such uncomfortable distractions. So there is the thought there that he considers his sexual urges on par with or at least related to his violent and vengeful ones.

Point number three: You would have thought that at least partially realizing this by the end of Battle City would result in Marik realizing he should stop repressing his emotions. But it won't! Because that's not how that Highly Functional Ishtar Brain works! It goes "I now associate sexuality with one of the worst and most publicly humiliating and traumatic times of my life, so I now consider it an Active Problem to get rid of instead of just a uncomfortable quirk of mine." So no actually I think he would be getting worse! Someone send him to a therapist please or at least figure out a way for him not to simultaneously hate himself while still hating everyone else More.

anyways tl;dr: Marik ishtar knows about an extremely warped version of sex but good lord he is repressing it fifteen feet underground. Again feel free to argue with me if you want I'd like to hear other opinions. Anyways hope yall have a nice day and thanks for reading thru all of that!

[tyrantisterror]

It might just be me projecting my own bullshit onto something I like, but I think the popularity of both Spy X Family and Chainsaw Man is in part due to how they articulate the modern anxiety of how impossible it seems to live instead of merely existing.

Almost all the characters in Chainsaw Man are struggling just to get by, with Denji being one of the most hard-luck cases of any fictional character ever.  Dude sold his organs for money when he was a child, man.  The sheer abuse and poverty he’s suffered before the story even starts makes living in a shithole apartment eating ramen noodles seem like paradise, to the point where he’s willing to take on a life-threatening and utterly horrifying monster-hunting gig - one that’s far more dangerous and traumatizing than is normal for the Monster Of The Week genre - just to keep up that bare minimum existence.  Denji’s goals in life are incredibly humble - he wants toast with butter and jam, he wants to take baths regularly, he wants to get a kiss from a pretty girl and maybe touch her boob with her consent.  It’s, like, basic shit, basic animal desires, and the sheer amount of toil and mortal peril he has to endure get a fraction of that is staggering - and almost every other character around him is in the same boat, from Kobeni who’s taking up the same job not even for her sake, but to support her brother’s hopes of going to college and relieve her family of the “burden” of paying for her existence, to Power, who has to keep working as a devil hunter if she doesn’t want to be executed for being a fiend (i.e. a devil inhabiting a human corpse).  Everyone is suffering, everyone is clinging to life by their fingernails, and everyone’s reward for going through all this shit is to barely scrape by.

Towards the end of the first arc of Chainsaw Man, Denji, having finally decided to kill his evil boss who’s been exploiting his basic human desires to suit her own ends, proudly declares that he’s no longer satisfied with the minimum.  He wants to eat steaks every day, he wants to date a BUNCH of pretty girls, he wants to live, goddammit!  And that passion helps him do the impossible, a passion that everyone should be allowed to feel.

Spy X Family, ostensibly a cheerier series, has its characters begin with even less than Denji in some respects - because while Denji at least consistently hopes for a better, "normal” life, almost all of the protagonists of Spy X Family initially believe that a better life is impossible for them.  Twilight/Loid Forger became a spy because he essentially lost everything during the war, and has chosen to dedicate his entire life to this job - forsaking all thoughts of personal happiness in the process - for the sake of making sure no one else has to go through that again.  Yor Forger became an assassin at a young age to financially support her brother after they were orphaned, and believes the nature of her work and the blood it’s left on her hands makes a life of personal happiness impossible for her as well.  They are both people who think they are beyond saving, and in most stories this would be true - spies and assassins in fiction tend to live pretty unhappy lives, full of peril and loss, never allowed to settle down and live for themselves.

The child and dog they adopt are in similar situations.  Anya was experimented on by some shady group of scientists to give her psychic powers, which is a trope that, especially in anime, generally ends with said psychic child going berserk and having to be put down.  Bond the dog was likewise experimented on to make him be able to see possible futures, and, as an animal used for a science experiment, was destined to be treated as an expendable resource rather than a pet.  None of these four characters had any reason to think they could live a happy life, and all of them have a plethora of reasons to think such a life is beyond their reach.

Yet the great fantasy of Spy X Family is that it isn’t out of their reach.  These four weirdos find each other, and though the family they form is started under a pretense, each of them quickly forms a very real attachment to the others, often jeopardizing their own personal responsibilities (whether it’s spy missions, assassin gigs, or concealing their status as escaped psychic science experiments) for the sake of helping each other.  And while they struggle to live a “normal” life in the way other, “normal” families don’t, their unique skills ultimately allow them to live a life they enjoy nonetheless.  They find their own happiness in spite of a world that’s demanding too much of them.

Like, tonally speaking, Spy X Family and Chainsaw Man are pretty far apart - Spy X Family is a lighthearted slapstick domestic comedy, while Chainsaw Man is pitch-black-as-dark-as-it-gets tragicomedy with a HIGH body count.  But they’re both about characters who work their asses off without much compensation from the Powers That Be, and yet, despite everything, manage to reinforce their humanity by coming together and loving one another.  And I think that resonates pretty hard in this current climate.

[mia-talks-toons]

(S1E4) Infinity Train: How Companies Disrespect Animated Shows PART 2

This is part two to my previous post about The Owl House and how companies disrespect animation, so go read that first if you haven’t already! 

Infinity Train, oh where to start… Well, it first aired in 2019 on Cartoon Network and was created by Owen Dennis. It started as a 1-season miniseries but was quickly turned into an anthology series with a planned 8 seasons. As an anthology, it follows different stories set in the same universe, surrounding a common setting, which is the titular “Infinity Train”. The train, as you might assume, is a train with an infinite amount of cars, that goes on for eternity in a lifeless wasteland. It’s an unexplained place where those who have personal issues/traumas are transported and are able to work through them by making their way through each of the huge, unique cars on the train.

After 2 seasons, the show was moved to HBO Max (now simply called Max for some reason) and continued for 2 more seasons before getting cancelled. The 5th season, which was in early production, was canned for not having a “child entry point”, though the show is a mature cartoon, and is able to be enjoyed by people of all ages. The rest of the story, though bits and pieces have been revealed, will never see the light of day. 

Now here’s where things go even more downhill. In August of 2022, Infinity Train, along with 36 other shows (20 of which were originals, and 14 being cartoons) were being removed from the platform, many of which aren’t available anywhere else, meaning unless you have a physical copy of it, you have no way of being able to legally watch it. And such is the fate of Infinity Train. What makes it all even worse is that many people involved with the shows weren’t notified whatsoever about their removal, and the only reason for their removal is due to cutting costs. 

Oh, ANOTHER THING. While I was researching for this blog, I found out that according to a crew member, the first 4 seasons, the unfinished 5th season, and a Christmas special were all part of a singular season order. This means that even though 4 seasons aired, the writers were only paid for a single season's worth of content. This show has gone through hell and back, and if that wasn't enough on its own, the crew wasn't even paid fairly. Just... wow.

…When I was younger, I dreamed of becoming an animator, sharing my ideas with the world in the form of a cartoon show. That dream has long since been abandoned (though I still help other people with their projects, and work on my little original universes for my own enjoyment), but as more and more time goes on, and as stuff like this keeps happening not only to Infinity Train, but to so many other cartoons, I feel a sort of bittersweetness. I’m relieved that I didn’t make my way into an industry that would Thanos snap all my hard work away for no good reason, but it SUCKS that I have to feel good about not pursuing my passion. Art should be appreciated, not thrown in the trash to save a few dollars. Beautiful, mature, interesting and well-made art, no matter the medium.

So that’s all for this post. Sorry to end on such a downer, haha… Hopefully the next one will be happier? Actually, no. The next one WILL be happier.