#this is also reminding me that I really need to get around to reading checkmate

[luciferinn]

reading the omac project today and one thing about rucka is that he can set a tone

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

Intro to Romantic Literature: Prologue

Professor!Terzo x TA!Reader (pretty gen for this part, but the main fic describes fem parts)

CW: implied smut, MDNI, 18+ only please, romantic tension, professor Terzo is a tease ✨

Word Count: 1.2k

I have been working on a Professor Terzo fic for MONTHS now, literally months. I'm getting close to the end, and this prologue popped in my head at 5 o'clock this morning, so I had to scribble it down. Plus, I think it'll make a cute little teaser 🥰 enjoy!

Intro to Romantic Literature: here!

Every day feels like a big day as you barrel towards the end of your degree. The pressure of arranging your final portfolio of works, defending final arguments, typing papers... it's all really starting to get to you.

𝘐𝘵'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, the bittersweet thought crosses your mind. You'd finally be done with all this stress and move onto the ease of a consistent career, but you'd also be leaving behind the best job you've ever known. Leaving 𝘩𝘪𝘮 behind.

In fact, you're so lost in your thoughts, collecting and organizing papers and files so efficiently--you could do it in your sleep at this point--that you don't notice him staring at you, the pained expression on your professor's face that would tell you it eats him up to see you like this: so stressed you're ready to snap.

He reads you like the many leaves and pages studied in his romantic literature class, like a poem written just for him. You recite your feelings to him daily without knowing it; it's in the way you walk, the way you hold yourself, the way you tilt your head when you rest the tip of your pen on your bottom lip, lost in thought on the class discussion at hand.

Sauntering into his office, you drop your shoulders as you flop into his soft leather chair, taking a deep breath before sorting papers accordingly: lesson plans in the bottom right desk drawer, books on the bookshelf, papers to be graded in the third slot of the black wire rack, anything needing immediate attention left squarely on his desk in plain sight.

"Grazie, stellina," his voice snaps you back to reality, immediately causing your cheeks to flush at the nickname. 'Little star' is what it means. It makes you feel like a teacher's pet, which would've bothered you if it had been anyone else; however, it makes you feel special to earn attention from him. "La mia brava ragazza, you always do such a good job for me." He leans in the doorway, running a hand through his graying locks.

"Thank you, Professor Emeritus," it comes just above a whisper, and you look down at the desk briefly before standing to make your exit.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast," he murmurs, catching your waist as you try to pass him in the little room. Spinning you around, he pins the back of your thighs to the desk before leaving some space between you... Just enough space to be respectful, but a clear indication that you're not getting out of this so easily.

You're so caught up in the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne that you hardly hear him when he asks how you've been. "Hm?" you reply, playing naïve.

"Tesoro, please, I can't have my favorite student looking as distracted as you've been lately," he starts, but you interrupt him.

"I'm not your student, I'm your teaching assistant," you remind him with a light hearted smile.

"You are still learning things, no?" he cocks one thick black eyebrow in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat, his intense white eye putting you in checkmate.

"I suppose so," you whisper, looking down at his ridiculously shiny loafers.

His fingers under your chin direct your stare back up, "What has you so distant, eh? Would you like to talk about it, cara? Confess your sins... So to speak." He winks at you, earning a small huff of a laugh from you.

"What are you, the Pope?" you joke.

His eyebrows quirk in an unreadable way, but he stays silent, urging an answer from you.

"I've just been really stressed with school," you finally concede, letting out a breath you'd been holding.

"Have I put too much on you?" he worries about the workload he's given you cutting into your schedule.

"No!" you look up at him almost desperately, "No, I enjoy this position so much. It's everything else. The final papers, getting good grades, trying to graduate." You choke on the last few words; it was something you'd been emotional about the last few weeks, plus your professor had your guard down.

"Don't cry, tesoro," he commands softly, but it's already too late as tears flood your waterline. Without a second thought, he cups your face in his hands, wiping away anything that threatens to spill across your cheeks. Wrapping a protective arm around your waist, he pulls you flush to his chest before fishing a handkerchief from his pocket, because of course he has one, and dabbing softly under your eyes before offering the piece of silk to you.

"Thank you," you stutter, clutching the cloth in your hand. Hesitantly, you glance up at him before laying your head on his chest, folding your arms under his in a hug.

His hand on your waist falls to caress the small of your back while the other cradles your head, while you regulate your breathing. You can't say for certain, but you think you feel a whisper of a kiss placed on the crown of your head. Holding each other like that for however long, you don't know, but when his fingertips gently start to massage your scalp, you let out an involuntary moan.

Your cheeks blush pink again, meeting a much more heated look in his mismatched eyes. As his warm hands move to grasp at your hips and waist, suddenly all of your worries melt away, as the only thing you can think about is him hoisting you up on the perfectly organized little desk and having his way with you, your panties tossed aside in his office chair, and you laid back and arched up into him while he works every tension from your needy body.

Your fantasy fades away when Professor Emeritus's hand cups your chin again, fingers pressing into your jawbone in a dominant way to lift your face to his. Your gaze wanders to his plump lips... how many times you've thought of having them on you.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek as he leans impossibly closer, and one of your hands smoothes over his firm chest.

But before he makes a move that he can't come back from, he presses the pad of his thumb firmly against your supple lips, stopping himself from crossing the line, even though he so badly wants to... wants you.

He gives you a solemn nod before putting some distance between your bodies, "I hope you're feeling a little better, after our, uh... chat, stellina."

"Uh huh..." is all you manage to breathe out before straightening up. "Yes, sir."

Offering a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, he carefully presses a kiss to your cheek before sending you on your way.

Tonight, you'll tell yourself that you misread the situation, that he was only trying to be a kind and caring professor, but somewhere deep down inside you, under lock and key, you know that isn't true. Especially because you felt something hard graze against your hip as you squeezed past him and out into the hallway, but you put that thought far behind you as you head back to your dorm.

[nugnthopkns]

i wish i could disappear

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, feelings of anxiety due to social media harassment, invasion of privacy that border on stalking

recommended listening: brutal | olivia rodrigo

series masterpost: here

a/n: and we're off to the races!! i love this album and olivia so much. there's a shoutout to goon by tobias jesso jr. in here bc it's my favourite album to cry to lmao (highly recommend giving it a listen!). i'm on the fence about this one but am posting it anyways because i don't think i can make it any better

How the fuck do people find your social media?

All of your accounts are private and Kevin makes sure to never tag you on the rare occasion he posts a picture of the two of you together. The wives and girlfriends who have public accounts make sure to never post about you, and you’re careful not to comment on posts often. You’re a private person and though you understand that due to the nature of your relationship with Kevin you intrigue some fans, you don’t want to give them more than you have to.

Despite making no attempt to open up to the public or media, every day you wake up with hundreds of follow requests from complete strangers. At first it was a little exciting knowing that people were curious about your life but after years of the same routine it’s become draining. It takes you nearly twenty minutes each day to weed through them and accept only the people you know personally. Kevin doesn’t actually know how many people want to catch a glimpse of your daily life because you do your best to keep it from him. Knowing would only bring him stress, and you want him to be able to focus on winning games and loving you with his entire heart.

☼☼☼☼

The phone on your desk rings loudly, pulling your attention away from the computer screen that has way too many numbers on it for your liking. The finance department needed someone to proof their audit before sending it away and since you’re the only one in human relations that has a business degree the job landed on your shoulders. Eager to take a break, you pick it up and press the receiver against your ear.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side laughs gently, but you immediately know it’s Kevin. “Hi sweetheart,” he says warmly, “How’s work?”

“Fine I guess. It’s work, Kev. Nothing terribly exciting happens here,” you explain but continue to fill him in on all the coffee pot gossip you got this morning. Kevin listens as you complain about forgetting your lunch on the counter and chuckles at how upset the situation makes you.

“What if I told you I’m outside your window with a burrito bowl?”

Excited at the possibility of seeing your boyfriend before dinnertime, you whip towards the window and spot Kevin on the sidewalk, waving like an idiot despite knowing your office is on the fifth floor. You hang up quickly after telling him you’ll be down in two minutes and let the receptionist know you’re stepping out for lunch. There’s a line for the elevator so you head to the stairwell, taking them two at a time in your haste. You’re crossing the street to the small park where Kevin has set up a picnic before your co-workers are even out the door.

You plop down on the blanket beside Kevin and lean into him. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before passing you the food he brought. You take a bite, sighing at the taste. Kevin knows you better than you know yourself and knew exactly what to get that would satisfy your mounting hunger.

“Thanks babe,” you smile, holding up your fork and offering him a bite. He takes it graciously but makes a face. “What’s the matter?” you laugh as you take the utensil back.

“I fucking hate avocado.”

The two of you eat in relative silence, speaking only when you remember a detail from your morning. Kevin tells you about the drills he’s going to lead at practice in the afternoon and what he plans on cooking for dinner since he’ll be home before you. You insist you can whip something up when you get home but Kevin shakes his head. He reminds you that relationships are give and take, and that you’ve made dinner the past three nights because he had a string of games. You manage to reach a compromise that has you doing the dishes before you have to return to work.

Kevin insists on walking you back to your office even though you protest vehemently. Your relationship is far from secret, and has been the topic of workplace gossip more times than you can count, but after five years you’ve learned to ignore most of it. However, you don’t want your co-workers to think you flaunt your NHL player boyfriend to prove you’re better than them. They all love Kevin, and a couple of them congratulate him on last night’s goal as he follows you down the hall. A few of the newer hires stare in awe and shake his hand, completely blown away that one of Philadelphia’s biggest stars is asking how they like their jobs.

“Pretty soon they’re going to approach you to do PR for us,” you chuckle as you flip the light on and close the door of your office.

His laughter echoes off the walls as a pair of strong arms find a home around your waist. “It would be kind of fun to hear myself crush those radio commercials.”

“Since when do you listen to the radio?”

“Checkmate,” Kevin sighs, pulling you closer. He kisses you quickly, not wanting to give a show to anyone who could be walking past, but it still sends you reeling. You don’t want him to pull away and kiss him again.

You get your way for a few more moments and then Kevin’s leaving with a promise to not burn the house down and wishes for a good rest of the day. Focussed on giving the audit its final once-over you don’t bother pulling your phone from the drawer you had placed it in when you got to work that morning. You turn up the small radio at the corner of your desk and get to work scanning the document for errors. There’s a mistake halfway through that skews the rest of the data and fixing it takes a bit of time, but it isn’t a huge deal. You have nothing else to do except answer a few emails and organize meetings for after the weekend.

An hour or so later you’ve completed all your tasks and debate what to do. It’s too early to leave for the day, so you decide to kill time by checking your phone. You’re expecting a few notifications, perhaps two or three memes in the group chat you share with your friends, but not the hundreds that greet you.

The majority of them are instagram notifications, and assuming they’re just more fans requesting a follow you ignore them, instead heading to your text messages. There’s a picture from Kevin of a dog he found walking home and another from your mom asking why you haven’t called home in a few weeks. However the one from Claude’s wife is the one that piques your curiosity.

Just a heads up that someone posted a pic of you and Kev to one of those stupid wag pages. I filed a request for Instagram to take it down but it’s gotten a lot of traction. Sorry :((

Your heartbeat increases rapidly and a million thoughts fly through your head at a rapid speed. Fingers shaking, you respond with a thanks and open up the dreaded app. You don’t see it immediately, your feed being full of photos belonging to friends and family, but it’s in your messages almost two hundred times. Many of them have text attached and you know there will be a comment about your relationship regardless of which one you open.

Tapping on the most recent message you brace yourself for the worst. The new window opens a photo someone took of you and Kevin while eating lunch in the park across from your office not even three hours prior. It’s grainy and the camera angle is strange, but you’re eating and Kevin is looking somewhere out of frame. The accompanying caption reads Kev and his girlfriend out for lunch today! Follow @philllywagupdates for more :).

You let out a sigh of relief – it could have been a lot worse. Personal pictures of yourself have made it onto pages like that before and most of them they’re paired with mean-spirited captions about your appearance or other trivial matters. Assuming you’re in the clear, you head back to the page of the original message to thank the person for bringing the post to your attention. However, the message accompanying the post is anything but positive.

He can’t even fucking look at you. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves you

The blood in your veins runs cold. You know it’s not true – Kevin’s made it clear you’re the one and truthfully you’re just waiting for a ring – but it doesn’t stop the sting you feel. What could possess someone to say such horrible things? You decide not to respond despite, possibly opening another can of worms with the seen function, and close the app. Leaning back in your office chair you focus on anything but your phone, looking out the window at passersby while regaining your breath. It works for a while, but eventually not knowing what others said eats away at you. You go through every single message to see hundreds of similar comments to the first, with only a few saying they’re glad you’re happy or how posting the picture is a violation of your privacy.

By the time you’re finished your spirit has been crushed. However, it’s also an acceptable time to start the weekend – at least no one in the office will have to see you cry. Things are hastily packed into your bag and you wave a few quick goodbyes before once again taking the stairs. You curse yourself for deciding to walk to work that morning and set off in the direction of home wiping away tears. The last thing you need right now is for someone to recognize you, but you have to get home. Tobias Jesso Jr plays at much too loud a volume through your headphones and Kevin will most certainly remind you it’s bad for your hearing, but the melancholy piano riffs of Goon overpower the thoughts swirling around your head.

Do people really feel that way about me?

Are my friends just too nice to stop inviting me places?

Does Kevin really feel trapped?

Hundreds of similar sentiments and situations cross your mind as you stumble through the streets of downtown Philadelphia, but you force them as far back as possible before opening the door to the apartment you share with Kevin. Hoping to slip inside undetected, you take your shoes off slowly and throw your jacket on the end table instead of hanging it in the closet. Your plan fails somehow and Kevin hears you, greeting you in a goofy apron covered in flour.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, but it drops once your eyes meet and he sees the hurt on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, trying to step around him in pursuit of the bathroom.

Kevin doesn’t buy it and sees right through your feeble words. “It’s not nothing if you’re this upset. If you don’t want to talk now that’s fine, but I think you should get it off your chest.”

You know he’s right, but you also know you can’t tell him the true cause of your despair. “Just some work stuff,” you sigh. “The audit got all fucked up and I had to fix it even though it’s not my job.”

It’s not technically a lie, which makes you feel better, and Kevin buys it. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips in sympathy. “Go take a shower and the gnocchi should be ready by the time you’re done. We can spend the night cuddling on the couch.”

“And watching Selling Sunset?”

“We can watch whatever you want sweetheart,” he chuckles. You part from him with a final kiss and head to the bathroom. Hopefully the steam from the water will carry away the negativity brought on by that damn post.

☼☼☼☼

Time passes but the hateful comments on social media don’t stop. In fact, you’re pretty sure they get worse. It’s so bad that you’ve deleted every app except facebook because you need it for work. Kevin doesn’t notice your abstinence from social media, but he picks up on how you spend more time criticizing yourself or staring off into space. When he pushes you either brush him off or feed some bullshit excuse about how work is getting you down. You know he doesn’t believe you but trusts you enough to come to him when you’re ready to talk.

You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to tell Kevin what’s been going on. There’s been scrutiny from social media before, when you first started dating, but it quieted down after the initial media frenzy. He helped you through that but it’s different this time around. Never before have you had strangers tell you your life is worthless or that your boyfriend should end your relationship. Some of the other wags notice your absence on instagram but chalk it up to you just taking a break. They reach out via the group chat and send wishes to see you at the next home game. It’s nice to know they care, but the voice in your head that has grown much larger in recent weeks tells you they don’t truly mean it. This leads you to decline the invite as politely as possible, citing extended work hours for your absence. In reality you’re too anxious to be anywhere that isn’t home or work, petrified someone is going to post something that will add fuel to the flames of those who interrogate you.

It’s another Friday afternoon, and you’re leaving the office early once again. There’s a small craft exhibition taking place around the corner from work and today is the last day it’s open. You had been meaning to go all week, hoping to find something small to add to Kevin’s birthday gift. As you step out of the building there’s a small group of young women, who don’t look old enough to have graduated college, standing off to the side. It fills you with dread, worried that somehow someone found out where you work and the insults are going to start occurring verbally, but you force yourself to be rational. You work fairly close to one of the artsier districts in the city and it’s more than likely they just want to find a cute mural to take pictures in front of.

You pass by and swear you hear them snicker, but you remind yourself you’ve just been jumpy lately. When they peel from their place on the wall and follow behind at a distance you think the coincidences are running out. It seems a little too strange how their movements line up with yours, and you go down a few winding side streets in an attempt to lose them. Part of you feels ridiculous because what group of barely legal girls would track a full-blown adult around a city of nearly two million people, but your life is currently strange enough you can’t be sure. They don’t follow you, and by the time you reach the market your heart rate has returned to normal.

The first few stalls have little to catch your eye, but a few rows in you find a leatherworker who makes adorable wallets. Kevin’s is ridiculously old and falling apart at the seams – his mom bought it for him before the two of you got together. You think a new one will make a perfect addition to the concert tickets you already bought and browse the table for something simple and elegant. A deep brown one with tan braiding around the edges catches your eye and you know it’s the one for Kevin. Checking the price to make sure you have enough cash in your wallet, you approach the shop owner to purchase. The older man has a kind smile that reaches his eyes as he thanks you for purchasing from him.

“No, thank you for making something so beautiful!” you gush. “My boyfriend is going to love it.”

It’s then you hear it – snickering accompanied by the click of a camera. You look over your shoulder to see the same group of girls from before laughing as they huddle over a cell phone, no doubt already starting to broadcast the photo across the internet. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Those girls don’t deserve to see their mission accomplished, but the longer they laugh at you the harder it is to swallow your feelings.

Head held high, you thank the owner one more time before holding your head high and walking past the group. The only way out is past them so you hold your breath and pray they don’t notice you. Unfortunately you aren’t that lucky, and one of them looks up just as you come into earshot.

“If Kevin doesn’t leave you after that sorry excuse for a gift I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she sneers.

Another one chimes in, “You’re honestly so pathetic.” They all cackle in amusement, and you speed up. The tears flow freely now, and you call an uber even though it will be a ridiculous amount of money. You just want to get home.

The uber driver doesn’t say anything when you get in, though you know it’s strange to be bawling your eyes out at four in the afternoon. You can’t help it – weeks of keeping all the hate to yourself finally got to you and being followed with the sole intent of ridicule is the final straw. At one red light he silently passes you a box of tissues, which you accept gratefully.

Luckily the lobby of your apartment complex is empty and you manage to get to your floor without encountering a familiar face. There’s a few hours until Kevin gets home from his final roadtrip of the season, and if you play your cards right you can get all the tears out and be as normal as possible before he comes through the door. You don’t even bother to put anything away, just head straight to the bathroom to slump against the tub. Sobs rack your body and you lose all sense of time. All you can feel is the hurt you’ve been holding in releasing itself and soaking the material of your blouse.

Kevin finds you laying in the position hours later. He tripped over your shoes coming in the door and immediately knew something was wrong – you always place them neatly on the rack in the closet upon arriving home. Peering through the quiet house for a hint at where you are, he sees the bathroom light on and makes a beeline for the room. It breaks his heart to see you like this, and even more so because he doesn��t know what spurred it on.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he coos, maneuvering his body to sit beside you and pull you into his lap. “What’s the matter?”

You bury your head in his shoulder and clutch the material of his dress shirt as you cry harder at the sound of his voice. Kevin takes your reaction in stride, rubbing circles on your back and working on evening out your breath. He doesn’t pressure you to speak and provides the stability you desperately crave as the world around you spins. An unknown amount of time passes before your tears run out, but spend it all on the bathroom floor curled into Kevin.

“I guess I should have told you sooner,” you mumble, “But I didn’t want to bother you.”

Concern laces Kevin’s features and his eyebrows knit together. “Tell me what?”

“I, uh, have been the subject of some internet hate for the past little bit,” you say sheepishly. It feels stupid to not have told him now, but you can’t change that. “But you were really busy with the season and I wanted to make sure your head was completely focused on the game so I just dealt with it myself. I deleted the apps and tried my best to go about my life. And then today after work I was followed by some people and they said some really hurtful stuff and shit became a little too real.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Why are you sorry Kev? You're Not the one sending me death threats.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair back into your ponytail. “Maybe not, but I still made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about what was going on. What kind of partner am I?”

“The best one,” you say confidently. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I just want to forget about it right now. Can we just disappear for a little bit?”

Kevin wraps his arms around you tighter, as if he can engulf you to protect from the cruel outside world. “We can do whatever you want. If you want to get out of the city for a bit if you want, or just spend the next few days here away from prying eyes.”

“I love you.”

You say it because you mean it, and if you could scream it from the rooftops you would. Kevin is incredibly easy to love, even when you make it difficult for him to love you back. You know another much longer conversation is coming about everything that has happened recently because communication is the only way to solve problems and Kevin deserves that, but you’re thankful he’s willing to put it to rest for a few more moments.

He cracks a smile for the first time since he’s been home and kisses the crown of your head. “I love you too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Always and forever.”

Things are far from over and though you still never want to show your face in public ever again, you know that Kevin is going to do whatever he can to make things better and that’s enough for you.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @ricohenrique @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[nazuna-tunnel-vision]

That last post reminded me why exactly i consider that Izumi has NPD

(response to this post)

I am so unfamiliar with NPD that I had to google what it is (I’m assuming you mean Narcissistic Personality Disorder), so I won’t hard agree or disagree. I did, however, get possessed by the need to write a long character analysis about Izumi and the relevance some of the traits I see listed for NPD - an inflated sense of self-importance, a huge need for excessive attention & admiration and a lack of empathy.  

*cracks knuckles* So. Izumi's habit of talking himself up and putting others down. In this essay I’m gonna argue that even if Izumi does have ambitions about being the object of intense and widespread affection, him talking himself up is just a shield for his low self-esteem and guilt. He doesn’t actually expect to receive such affection. He also cares a lot about the people around him but sucks at showing it, and this only got worse after the war. I won’t agree that he has NPD, but I agree that he should go for therapy.

This post will contain spoilers for Checkmate, Starmine and Horror Night Halloween.

If anyone reading this hasn’t read Izumi’s stories yet, here’s a list of stories with a recommended order and links.

I also haven’t had the time to reread Izumi’s stories so there may be some inaccuracies and developments that I missed, but well this is already a 2.5k monster that I’ve sunk in several hours into writing.

Izumi and his big talk

“even if I made mistakes, which I never do, obviously,”

“hey show some gratitude that someone like me is helping you out!”

Izumi’s really whiny. But for all that he goes “you’re soooooo annoying”, he doesn’t ever retaliate. He can be a bit of an asshole (see: that one ! Idol Story where he makes Tori run around the tennis court like crazy just to vent his frustration; no link sorry) but he never really goes overboard.

Instead he’ll say things like, “hmph, when I reach the top of the modelling/idol world, you’ll see!” He’s setting goals for himself, fake it til you make it and all y'know! Yuu-kun’s an exception but more about that later.

And for all that he says he’s the most beautiful in the world and that he never makes mistakes, his internal self-talk is very different. Izumi is someone who believes in hard work and persistence above all else, and he pushes himself hardest of all. In Chess (the large unit that Knights broke off from during the War), Izumi was the only member out of the whole lot that turned up for practice. Please read Checkmate, pre-war Izumi is adorable, he was so eager to practice. He knew that no one else would be at practice and he’d still be like, every second not spent in practice is a waste of my time!!!! Please go to the hospital/infirmary already so I can stop worrying about you, I should be at practice!!! This guy is really self-driven in his desire to improve, and that’s not something you’d see from someone who believes that they’re already the best. Granted, NPD seems to be about believing the person deserves things regardless of whether they’re perfect or not, but the point is that Izumi doesn’t actually believe that he is as good as he always says he already is. 

This continues to apply in !! . He admits (with some cursory reluctance, because he has an image to keep,) that things aren’t going smoothly with his modelling work and he continues to put in the elbow grease to advance his career. And out of all the Knights members, he was the first and most adamant one to voice concern about whether their current trajectory would really allow them to stay competitive in the idol industry.

Pre-war Izumi also never forced himself onto others. He didn’t bother getting others to join practice. In fact, he barely interacted with others. There were at least two times where he was told, “I’m so relieved to see you have friends!” And by friends they really mean one (Leo). Izumi only dragged Ritsu and Arashi into Knights because they needed to make up the numbers. And he only became friends with Leo because Leo was the only other guy in Chess who shared his interest in idol activities, and more importantly Leo was the only one persistent enough to keep talking to him. Izumi wasn’t the kind of guy who would demand affection from people around him. He would at most aim for people to love him as an idol or model, and that’s a pretty distanced (safe) sense of love, quite unlike the one he proclaims Makoto has for him. 

Present-day Izumi still chases after that distanced kind of love through his career as an idol and model. He also became meaner in that he constantly puts others down, and while I think he’s more focused on how it compliments or even fights his own harsh self-talk, it does hurt the people around him to have to constantly talk themself back up after Izumi puts them down. Izumi’s kind of shit that way, but we all knew that already. I’m still pretty sympathetic towards him though, because 1. I don’t actually have to talk to him irl and 2. he’s Like This because he’s traumatised and trying to cope.

Izumi, Yuu-kun, the war and Leo

This is where I crack open Midsummers’ Night Dream / Starmine, especially the chapter Prisoner’s Love 1. Runway is also a good story for examining Izumi’s relationship with Makoto and himself, but I don’t have time to analyse that here.

In Starmine Izumi is jetlagged to hell. He has way less energy than usual to put into keeping his fronts up, and we get rare insight into how he actually feels and thinks. 

Izumi in his thoughts, multiple times: Makoto doesn’t love me. I came here to spend time with him as a reward for myself, but the look on his face tells me that this is a real chore for him. He’s only putting up with me for Trickstar.

‘But if Izumi knows how unpleasant Makoto finds him, why does he still harass Makoto?!??’ Here’s where we need context from the previous year (relevant stories are Checkmate and Horror Night Halloween). A summary; Leo gave too much of himself away to people who did not give back to him, including Izumi. Leo broke. This is why Leo is absent for half of !'s timeline. Izumi was there for the whole process and played a huge role in it.

Izumi blames himself for this; for not just failing to protect Leo from others, but also hurting him. Izumi sees himself as the main cause of Leo breaking. He doesn’t even blame Eichi, who spearheaded the war that threw all of it into motion and drove Leo to his breaking point. (Sidenote; this drives me insane. You have so many characters who hate Eichi for the war; Natsume, Shu, Nazuna, and then you have Sena “I never make mistakes, it’s always someone else’s fault” Izumi blaming himself. He and Eichi had a talk in Checkmate about why Leo broke and he squarely blamed himself and told Eichi to look after himself and get indoors so he doesn’t get a cold. Hello???? Izumi?!?? You could say that Izumi blaming himself is just him being self-important. But Leo did pin all his hopes on Izumi, Izumi didn't protest, and they fell apart.) (And another sidenote here; after Leo returns, Izumi deliberately puts distance between them because he is afraid of hurting Leo again. I’m going to lose my marbles.)

What Izumi says in this chapter of Starmine is that he “doesn’t have the right to force [Makoto] to stand by him”, but he wants to do the “thankless” task of protecting Makoto anyway. Izumi doesn’t have grandiose delusions about deserving Makoto’s affection, or even his entitlement to Makoto. He knows he doesn’t have the right to force Makoto to do things, and Makoto wouldn't give him gratitude or appreciation for his ‘protection’. But Izumi wants to protect him anyway because he “failed to do so when they were child models”. [Read: Izumi failed to protect Leo the previous year and he won’t let another person break like that.] 

Izumi when Makoto told him that he’s only checking in on him for others: “I know, Yuu-kun. / Makoto Yuuki-kun. I’ve always known.”

No idea why he decided that his strategy was the best way to protect him, but when you're stuck in past trauma you don't think very logically.

Izumi may have been the one to “survive” the war and hold down the fort while Leo was away, but he was broken down and traumatised too. Leo was his first and only real friend (source: Requiem 30), and Izumi not only played a huge role in breaking him, but also watched the whole process. But unlike Leo, he never quite got the time to heal. As Leo astutely pointed out in Horror Night Halloween, Izumi projected onto Makoto as a way to atone for what he did not do for Leo. But because Izumi never got to heal, he tries to ‘protect’ Makoto in a messed up way that also screwed Makoto over.

Izumi doesn’t lack empathy. 

Izumi is the certified mom friend for a reason. He’s been the mom friend since he was a child model and adopted Makoto, and even as a highschooler Leo’s little sister is fond of him. 

He just keeps nagging people until they take care of themselves. And then he doesn’t get any thanks because he does it in such an annoying way, like dude are you trying to sabotage yourself?? Local guy says he wants love and looks after the people around him, but before people get to thank him he makes himself an asshole and no one feels like thanking him anymore. 

I would argue that yeah he’s subconsciously doing this on purpose. There’s the part where he just doesn’t know how to be honest about being nice, but there’s also the part where he’s setting himself up for failure because he’s trying to atone for his second year with Leo.

Some of Izumi’s mom friend moments:

Starfes where he knit a scarf for Makoto. Typical bonkers Izumi behaviour. But guess what, he also knitted gifts for the rest for Knights. “I needed some practice so I could make the perfect gift for Yuu-kun”, then explain why Kasa-kun’s gift is a toy, Izumi. I don’t know about you but I’m pretty sure that’s harder to make than a scarf and requires you to have already put in quite a few hours into knitting.

Dance on Ice and how nicely he treats Anzu

Starfes when Valkyrie needed help. Izumi: Hmph, Naru-kun’s Mika-chan and Nazunyan’s problems aren’t my problems. Let’s go we need to help them.

Please just read Starfes. It's such a warm story.

I’m sure people with NPD also have moments where they’re nice, but I also just wanted a moment to gush about Izumi being domestic and mushy. And point out that he almost deliberately sets these moments up with at least an annoying sentence or two about how he doesn’t care or the other person sucks. Which ensures the other person would definitely not be in the mood to praise him unless they’re already used to him being tsundere. He’s not calculating these moments to get praise (but I’m also not sure that’s what NPD entails anyway, so).

Izumi also knows he’s a pain in the ass. During graduation, he thanks the people around him for putting up with him. He does say it more than in just Requiem, but that’s the one time he makes sure to be honest and not brush it off by being mean afterwards. Because he didn’t know if they would drift apart after graduation and if that was the last time he would be this close to these people, and these people were too important to him for them not to know. But he also couldn’t stop being an ass after graduation because he’s a mess and doesn’t know how to behave around people and hasn't quite begun to address his trauma, gdi

Izumi cares a lot but doesn’t know how to show it. The war made it worse.

It starts off pre-war when he’s just kind of too shy and proud to show it. I might actually go as far as to say he wasn’t even tsundere before the war; he wasn’t shy about expressing worry for Leo or Ritsu’s well-being, and that was the first time he met Ritsu. But the war was hard on both him and Leo. Both of them got pricklier and pricklier and Izumi never learned how to express care apart from nagging, so it got mixed up with genuine negative emotions and Leo never received positive ones. There’s this traumatising flashback scene in Horror Night Halloween where Izumi and Leo fight; Izumi, in all his frustration, says something like, “I liked you and your songs! But you’ve changed!” and Leo retorts with “That so? This is the first time I’ve heard of this! Say it sooner, wouldn’t you?!?” I don’t doubt that this moment haunts Izumi. (It sure haunts me)

Izumi subsequently became determined to protect those around him. But since he never learnt how to show care properly before this and he’s now traumatised to boot, it manifests in pretty twisted ways.

!! era Izumi

(spoilers for Dark Night’s Passing & Next Door)

By the end of !, Knights’ relationship has become a lot closer and more secure. Knights has a really compelling narrative of all of them being afraid to really get close to others, but over time becoming close enough to each other that they call each other family.

Izumi and Makoto’s relationship has also become more equal. Izumi sees Makoto’s strength and gives him space, but also steps up when Makoto needs help. (SS made me cry, please read it after Summer and Autumn Lives.)

So you would think that maybe Izumi has become better at being honest with himself and at accepting love from others, but. But then Dark Night’s Passing happened.

While Izumi was off in Florence chasing his dreams, Leo got in quite a bit of trouble. I’m not going to try to capture his voice, but Izumi’s inner voice probably went something like, “Oh god I failed to protect Leo-kun again.” Remember when Izumi projected his guilt towards Leo on Makoto? Yeah, trauma triggered again, now Izumi has whisked Leo off to Florence where he can keep an eye on him and they’re living domestically in the same house. The rest of Knights is ringing alarm bells about how overly dependent they are becoming on each other but oh god IzuLeo is going down that same path, again, I- 

!! Era IzuLeo is frankly quite disconcerting but analysing that would require a whole ‘nother post. They’ve both got more self-awareness now but I’m still waiting for the bomb to go off.

But I think Izumi relapsing is great writing. Healing isn't a linear process and people often fall back into old patterns and traumas. 

This was inevitable for Izumi because he never quite forgave himself for what happened during his second year with Leo. Additionally, neither Izumi nor Leo have internalised the idea it was unfair of Leo to put the responsibility over his life in Izumi's hands. No matter how hurt, lost and desperate Leo was, Leo also had a part to play in them falling apart. Leo still struggles not to blame Izumi for every little thing, and Izumi still freaks out when he sees others use Leo.

Both Leo and Izumi fall into old habits, and Izumi still blames himself.

TLDR; 

Izumi cares a lot about the people around him but doesn’t know how to show it. He also has not fully moved on from the war and continues to blame himself for Leo breaking, while ignoring the hurt that he himself suffered. Izumi’s big talk is a front and he doesn’t actually expect people to go through with it, and does not genuinely get mad at people for it. His self-important talk functions as a shield to make himself feel better and way to make other people annoyed so that he won’t get any thanks for the help he gives, just like he probably thinks he deserves. Izumi remains pretty traumatised after the war and I think he should go for therapy.

Going back to the original ask about NPD, I'm quite uncomfortable with making any assertions, not just because I don't understand the bare minimum about NPD, but because of the ideas associated with it. I've never seen NPD talked about in a way that doesn't cast the person with it as a sub-human being that lacks basic human empathy. I do believe that you have a more nuanced view on NPD since you’re familiar enough with the term to use its acronym without clarification, and I'm open to learning more about NPD but it would still make me uncomfortable to agree that Izumi has NPD when I know so little about it.

Regarding NPD’s bad image: I think it's valid of the people that have been hurt to embrace their hurt and not deny the way they've been treated. Sometimes honouring these feelings can take the form of demonising the person who hurt them. Especially since people who’ve been hurt have probably been told that the person is doing things out of love, and must’ve struggled to acknowledge their feelings. It’s also really trashy to try to invoke sympathy for people who’ve inflicted trauma in a space for people who have been hurt by them. These kinds of spaces are where I usually see discussions on NPD and maybe why I’ve only ever seen NPD in a bad light.

But I don’t feel that it’s fair if uninvolved people also take this view of the person. Maybe there really is something fundamentally un-human with the person! Or maybe, like Izumi, they’re traumatised people who do things that hurt others in their struggle to cope, and haven’t realized it because they can’t even bring themselves to recognise their own trauma. Maybe that’s the reality of NPD and Izumi really would have it. I don’t know. Although like Izumi with Makoto, it doesn’t erase the hurt that they’ve caused or make it any less. 

In Izumi's case, if he would get diagnosed with NPD I think it would fundamentally be because of his behaviour and how it impedes his ability to relate to others in a healthy manner. That being said, I think it would be better to just send him for therapy for those behaviours rather than labelling him as having NPD. I think he would just buckle down and try to defend his pride - or rather, his self-image, which is already not the best. I think it would close him off to listening and acknowledging how deeply hurt he is. 

Izumi doesn't lack empathy or think of himself as some bigshot, even if at first glance it seems that way. Izumi has been terribly hurt and never dared to let anyone come close to dress the wounds. His trauma resulted in the off-the-cuff and unhealthy way in which he deals with people. And yet, despite being so hurt, he continues to care about the people around him. 

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

A ball| Tup

Note: they did not need to make him that Pretty

Warnings: no not really, just Tup and Y/n fallin in love and steamy scene at the very end but kinda not really, also this is really long

Reader: female

Part 1 | 2 (in the works)

"Checkmate," Satine spoke.

"Damn it..." Y/n muttered, hand on her chin as Satine had one yet again another game.

Satine smiled at her, as Y/n tried reading the board seeing how it had exactly happened.

"Duchess, excuse me." A guard interrupted their leisurely game outside in the guards of the castle.

"It's no problem, what seems to be the problem?" Satine questioned.

"The preparations for the ball are underway, the royal seamstress says your outfits are done and asks if you both can approve of them."

"Yes of course," Satine spoke, two more guards walking up with boxes.

"Oh. no, I'm quite okay," Y/n responded, resetting the black and clear glass pieces.

"Y/n, you are turning 19, my dear, you'll need to look presentable," Satine spoke.

"Dutchess I believe I look presentable, I'm quite comfortable like this as well," Y/n told.

"I know my sweet child, you've always been comfortable with the bare minimum, but please, let me spoil you for one day," Satine responded.

Y/n was quiet as she set the final piece down, "very well..."

Satine smiled as she stood up to look inside the box and approve the dress, Y/n sat in thought, Satine wasn't her mother, no they looked drastically different after all, Y/n had been left in a bush in the palace gardens, Satine finding the child alone and in silence, busying herself with one of the flowers. Satine had gladly kept the child inside the palace walls until a parent came along, but no one ever came and Satine was suddenly a mother.

"Mistress." The guard spoke snapping her out of thought.

"Oh uh, yes." Y/n spoke standing up from her seat, and looking at the creme outfit with barely a glance, "Yes, it's beautiful, tell the Seamstress 100 thanks."

The guard nodded covering the box as they all bowed and left, Satine frowned, "Come walk. Let's talk my daughter."

"General Skywalker, do, do we really have to go as well?" Tup questioned, droids handing them all dark blue suits almost black in color, and matte.

"Yes, Obi-Wan was double security at this event for the Dutchess, and I agree with him," Anakin spoke, "Separatist parties will be there, Duchess Satine has a knack for being able to convince people, and with Padame they're practically an unstoppable team."

"But," Tup spoke, "Sir a, a party?"

"Diplomatic party, you'll be fine Tup."

Anakin then walked away to let his boys get ready and go get himself ready.

"I look good," Fives spoke checking himself out in the mirror.

"It's nice to wear something besides armor." Hardcase commented, "Makes me feel like a civie."

"A civie that just has thousands of replicas." Dogma argued.

"Oh get the stick out your ass," Jesse argued, "We can have fun for the one time in our life on the job,"

"Hey," Kix placed a hand on Tup's shoulder, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah," Tup spoke, "Crowds, uh aren't my thing."

"I'll make sure Rex posts you on the patio outside, you won't be around too many people then," Kix told.

"No, It's fine, I'm on the job- I'll, uh...just focus on that," Tup responded.

"Are you sure?"

Tup nodded as Kix returned the nod in understanding, going back to dressing himself, Tup went over to his bunk to dress, he'd admit, even though he was the same as everyone else in that room, he still felt shy, being a bit leaner than the others he started pulling his armor off to dress in the new outfit, simply putting the outfit over his blacks.

"What- No! Hey I want a titty window!" Fives argued.

"No," Echo demand, buttoning up his brother's shirt fixing Fives vest as well.

Tup stayed silent as he buttoned up the shirt, tucking it into the slacks and putting on the matching vest.

"OH Ho HO!" Fives whistled, "Look at Tup!"

"Yeah, thanks," Tup spoke, fixing the collar of his shirt, and pushing up the sleeves.

"Come on! Let your hair down! We're going somewhere fancy!"

"I'm good." Tup spoke

"He's way to excited for this." Dogma protested causing Tup to chuckle.

"You look nice." Tup commented.

"Uh. Yeah I guess." Dogma spoke.

The two had gotten close due to one another due to being not only regular troopers with no rank, but due to there quietness.

"OH HO HO! LOOK WHO JUST CAME IN! GENERAL TANO!"

The boys turned there head whistling playfully.

"Bad bitch is the house."

She wore a pinstrip pant suit, the lines orange on white fabric and a pair of heels. She laughed.

"We're almost there." She spoke, "Skyguy wants us on the transports now."

Tup followed suit of everyone else. Everyone doing as asked, it was odd, seeing everyone dressed up all fancy and nice.

Y/n sighed.

"Look up madame. They'll be plenty fine gentlemen there." A maid tried to pursuade, "or a woman if you'd prefer."

"Yes. I know." Y/n responded mindlessly, nose stuck in the book about game tactics, her goal to be her mother, "mhm. I've never tried that before."

The maid sighed finishing y/n's hair in the crowned braid.

"Look look beautiful."

"Mhm."

The maid frowned, and there was a knock on the door. It opened as Satine came in, the maid bowing and leaving quickly.

"You're nose still stuck in a book. You remind me much of Obi-wan."

"Is the party over yet?" Y/n questioned flipping the page.

"It hasnt even began my dear." Satine spoke, expecting a comment back Y/n kept silent sitting infront of her simple vanity it black in color and matched the bench she sat on.

Satine walked over, taking the open spot next to Y/n.

"What is wrong me dear?" Satine inquired, "You don't avidly read strategic books unless something is wrong."

Y/n sighed, marking the book with a string and setting it down.

"I. I just don't wish to go." Y/n responded.

"It is much bigger than that isn't it?" Satine refered, catching Y/n in her lie.

"I." Y/n sighed, "I am nervous."

"For what my darling?"

"People." Y/n responded, "I. This. People...it's...I dont have the skills."

"Well of course you do,"

"I've never been out the palace walls, I've never fallen in love, I've never been taken advantage of- I just- Don't know anything about people," y/n defended "I've never even seen another sential species besides the holograms and images in my books that use words. I know every launage out there but have never met there people- I-"

"Calm down, take a deep breathe." Satine soothed, "everything will be fine. I will be at your side. The whole time, and you know me. Don't you?"

Y/n nodded as Satine smiled, "You're turning 19 my dear, becoming a young woman. You can do this, and I will guide you through whatever you ask."

Y/n only nodded once more, "now. Lets put our. Pain killing heels on and make haste shall we? Guest are arriving and I'd like to introduce you to your very first group of friends, but first."

Y/n watched as Satine pulled out a box, "I had something much. Much more elaborate my birthday, but you I know. Like to keep things as simple as possible."

Y/n took the small box in hand. Opening the golden box there was a small golden crown, it reminded her of a laurel wreath, yet without as many leaves, a few littered around the gold band with a stone that was ment to set on her forehead.

"For you're love of nature a green stone." Satine spoke.

"Its beatiful, thank you." Y/n spoke softly pulling it out of its box.

"Allow me." Satine spoke, y/n handing it over and bowing her head, Satine with a smile set the item on her head.

Y/n raised her head back up, "quiet beatiful you have become."

Y/n smiled smallly, "now. Shall we make haste? To make new friends?"

Y/n nodded smally as Satine smiled.

With that they were off, y/n following Satine dressed up nice, and thanked maker for the soleless sandles given to her instead of heels.

Y/n wouldn't lie, when General Kenobi arrived as they walked out onto the royal landing pad she found no interest in him, bowing her head respectfully, she did the same with Anakin. A bit more intrigued with Ashoka, but nothing pictures hadn't depicted. A man stood next to Anakin, who was soon introduced as Captain Rex. Y/n welcomed and thanked him for coming, but besides that, she was silent during the conversation.

"Sir, apologies for interrupting."

"It's fine, Jesse go ahead," Anakin spoke, Y/n watching the man with a large tattoo on his face gave a brief report to his general as the two joined the tight group of talkers.

Y/n was intrigued with the man next to him, hair tied back in a bun as his brother in arms talked. He too seemed the silent type, staying behind Jesse's shoulder rather than next to him, it was a slight difference Y/n realized.

"Lady Y/n, these are two are some of my finest men, Jesse and Tup."

"Lady Y/n" Jesse spoke bowing his head.

"Nice to meet you," Tup spoke nervously, his hand outreached for a handshake, Jesse quickly pulling his brother's hand down who was already a nervous wreck.

"Apologies for my brother! He doesn't know how to act!" Jesse scolded elbowing Tup slightly who was already shaming himself mentally and Y/n could sense it, but Jesse was already dragging him away with an insane amount of apologies as he left. 

Y/n watched as they got far enough away to where Jesse had started to drag Tup by the collar of his shirt.

"Lively bunch aren't they?" Satine questioned Y/n who nodded.

"My apologies Duchess, Lady Y/n. The 501st is not very big on tradition, and neither is there general."  Obi-Wan scolded as Anakin shrugged.

"It's okay." Y/n finally spoke up, causing heads to turn, "I, um, apologizes. Duchess if I may."

"Yes, you can go ahead," Satine spoke worried for the girl as she rushed off quickly. 

"Will she be okay?" Ashoka questioned.

"She has no social skills, and on top that, no friends her age," Satine spoke solemnly, "I wish to help her but she's a closed book." 

"Have I got the perfect trooper for her to make friends with," Anakin responded

"You're not sending Fives or Hardcase over to her, if anyone to watch her it'll be Cody, at least he can stay on task," Obi-wan argued.

"I think me and my master have the same idea," Ashoka smirked.

"I- I'm sorry general- Me?" Tup questioned.

"Yes I need a clone with Lady Y/n at all times, and since she seems to like you after a slip up that could have cost us a whole war," Anakin spoke, "You're watching her,"

"General! I. I can't watch her! I. I. I. I have patrol!" Tup tried to argue.

"Kix is on patrol now, she's supposedly back in her room," Anakin spoke.

"Her- what!?" Tup argued.

"one of the guards will escort you thanks again."

"Wait! General!" Tup argued but he was walking away and waving to Tup happily. 

"Are you the clone trooper known as Tup?" A guard asked walking up to him.

"yes, but wait a minute!-"

"This way." 

Tup had no option but to follow a guard at his back and his front as they escorted him to the room. Anxiety racked his body, his hands clammy and squeezing each other as he gulped, the guards stopping and knocking.

"Mistress your escort is here."

"Oh, yes," Y/n spoke quietly, "He may come in alone."

The guards posted outside her room as Tup pushed one of the doors opened, he walked in silently and closed the door behind him carefully.

Looking straight on the large french doors were opened to a patio. Walking towards the open doors he found Y/n sitting on the floor a stack of books beside her with a chessboard by her side, her knees raised to her chest as her dress was laid out around her.

"I'm uh, your guard for the dance," Tup spoke, his thumb pressing into his palm.

"You can go back, I'm not going," Y/n told him, her mouth and jaw covered by her arms propped on her knees.

"oh, uh..." Tup spoke, not knowing what to do.

Y/n looked beside her, "You can sit, maybe you'll get in less trouble that way?"

He nodded in agreement, taking a seat on one side of the chess board. They sat in silence against the wall. Tup looking down at the pieces of the board set up on their respective sides, his clammy hands couldn't help but move a piece. Y/n looked overhearing the crystal click on the board. Looking down she picked up a piece and moved it, Tup moving his next piece without a word. Y/n looked down at the board, her legs falling from her chest and onto the ground flat as she looked over in thought. Picking up her next piece she took his pawn, setting it down on the side.  As they played they could hear the talk of guests starting to come to the palace. Due to where Y/n's room was it wasn't much to hear, just the occasional burst of loud laughter. 

"Ah yes! Yes!" One laughed spoke loudly, "I love the stars!"

Y/n suddenly came with an outburst the came with the man's hearty laugh, "I have loved the stars to foundly-"

"-to be fearful of the night." Tup finished moving his next piece.

Y/n's moved her gaze up softly then chuckled, "Mythology lover?"

"When I have the time, I mostly learn through tell and hear," Tup responded watching Y/n capture another piece.

It was silent again as Tup captured yet another piece, his eyes drifting over to her stack of books. Eyes glancing over the titles.

"H.P Lovecraft?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding.

"I find his stories interesting, I enjoy the horror genere as a whole." Y/n smiled moving her next peice, "do you like horror?"

Tup nodded, "I do occasionally, again hear and tell mostly."

Y/n nodded, "come with me."

Y/n stood up, walking into her room, Tup watching her.

"Come on." Y/n gestured holding out a hand for him.

He took it gently and was pulled up from his spot on the floor. Y/n led him by the hand into her room and towards a wall pushing on a certain spot a small door opened. Y/n leaned down walking through the door as Tup followed, Y/n closed the door behind them.

"Woah."

Y/n smiled, "the palace library."

"I am the only one who's ever in here." Y/n contuined.

The two walked side by side, out from the side of the room and into the center of the room. Tup turned around to speak, but he watched her pass a dusty window, the sun set passing in through cobwebs and dusty, shining on her think crown, her dress flowly and made up of multiple thin layers of fabric.

He gulped as she turned her head, stopping in her spot.

"What's wrong?"

"I," he started but stopped for a momment, "My name, its. It's Tup. I don't know if you-"

"Remember you?" Y/n questioned, "I do."

She walked up to him a hand extended, "Y/n."

He smiled as they shook hands.

"Tup." He introduced himself once again as they chuckled lightly.

They pulled away, Y/n's hands clasped infront of her.

"Well Tup its very nice to meet you again."

"Its nice to meet you too Lady Y/n."

"Lady Y/n!"

She took a quick step back from her closeness with Tup, clearing her throat.

"Oh thank maker..." the gaurd spoke under his breathe, "the duchess wishes for you to greet your guest."

Y/n nodded softly, "Well. Let's go?"

Tup nodded, the two leaving side by side in silence. They two making there way down to the main set of doors which led to the throne room.

"Lady Y/n." Obi-wan spoke, "The Duchess ask I escort you in while introduced."

"Oh." Y/n spoke looking at Tup he gave her an akwards thumb up, she chuckled and smiled at him with a nod.

Y/n smiled Obi wan extending an arm, Y/n linking arms with the Jedi General. The doors opened as they walked forward.

"Introducing Lady Y/n! Daughter of Dutchess Satine! Next in line for the throne!"

Y/n and Obi-wan walked forward people clearing a straight shot to her mother. Her and Obi-wan walked forward, feeling the stares on her she kept silent. It soon because uncomfortable, feeling the gaze more than just simple admiration or awe. She tensed as they walked making her to the steps to Satines throne. She pulled away from Obi-wan, bowing her head to her mother as she walked up, a smaller throne simplistic like how Y/n liked it and took a simple seat, she watched Tup sneak into the room carefully standing next to a man who had a medical band on his arm with his suit, before everyone started to fill the room again.

Satine stood up, she was making a speech Y/n zoned out, it was a greeting, thanking everyone personally for coming to celebrate Y/n's transition into womenhood.

"That's why I am glad to speak, Y/n's hand is extended for potential marraige candidates!"

Y/n sat up shocked, and Satine thanked everyone once again and took a seat. Everyone going back to chatting.

"Excuse me!? Marraige?" Y/n argued.

"It is a formality you do not have to marry anyone."

"Im not taking anyone into consideration," Y/n defended, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"Lady Y/n-"

"No." Y/n spoke, she was beyond annoyed.

"Thank you for your time..." he spoke bowing his head and walking away heart broken.

Y/n rejected any man that came up to try and give there hand to her.

Tup watched from afar, Kix and Dogma by his side. Men contuined to go up to her and as more and more did she seemed more and more irratated. He quickly walked away from his brothers would watched him out of confusion.

Watching him walk up to the thrown he started walking up the steps.

"Y/n," Tup spoke, holding a hand out for her, "I'd like to spend time with you, perhaps a dance?"

"Hey! Buddy wait in line!" A man argued but Y/n looked at Tup thanks in her eyes.

The lighting on him seemed perfect, he back lit perfectly, his eyes holding a smile along with his lips. Y/n grabbed his hand lightly as Tup helped her up, the two walking down the stairs hand in hand.

"Thank you." Y/n spoke they now in the crowd of people.

"Seems you needed it," Tup answered as Y/n chuckled.

"To the libary?"

"Actually," Tup spoke quietly, "I'd...like to have a dance with you."

Y/n flushed, "t-that sounds good. Yeah."

It was almost on cue did everyone backed up circling people who wanted to dance, Y/n and Tup in the center of it.

"Um. Tup." Y/n spoke.

"Hm?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

"Oh. Uh." Tup spoke, "no actually, do. Do you?"

Y/n shook her head no. The two laughing together as the music started.

"Suppose we should act like we're doing and maybe we'll fall in?" Y/n laughed.

Tup smiled in return, "I suppose."

The music started as they watched other, a simple waltz. Y/n and Tup luckily able to copy others, hands which once were placed in hand on on him, soon became more intimate, fingers intertwining. Tup's hand moving from her hip to the small of her back, she leaning into his touch just a bit more.

"Not bad." Y/n spoke softly, "we're doing decent."

Tup chuckled softly in return, "I suppose us clones learn quick."

"Clone?" Y/n questioned, "you're a clone?"

Tup looked at her confused, "You. You don't know that?" He questioned confused.

"I." Y/n spoke, "I don't mean to sound, uh, Rude."

Tup frowned, maybe she was an avid clone hater?

"I um. Havent payed much attention, to your face, my apologies." Y/n spoke, a flush coming to her cheeks.

"Am I offensive?" Tup questioned.

"No. No. Not at all." Y/n spoke, "On the contrary actually. I. Find you most appealing, your. Voice and presence is quiet soothing. You're a good man."

It was Tup's turn to flush, spinning her around softly as everyone else did. Her dress picking up just the slightest at the ends. Pulling her back into his grasp, it was sudden for both of them, there chest pressed up against one another, faces close, Tup's hand now across the small of her back grabbing her other hip as he lowered her into a dip, Y/n's arm around his neck as he did.

The claps of everyone was muffled in there ears.

Tup's nose brushing against hers as he tilted his head softly, Y/n stopping him with a hand on hie jaw , and she was raised up again in a flash.

"I. Im sorry" Tup apologized, everyone still clapping as Y/n bowed to him red faced.

"I...must go." Y/n spoke quickly rushing away and into the crowd.

"Wait!" Tup called rushing after her, she rushing out the throne room.

"My lady-"

"Im quiet fine a game of tag is all." Y/n defended rushing off, the urge of wanting Tup so bad fueling her feet as she ran from him.

Tup rushed looking both ways, "Which way did she go?"

"Left sir-"

Tup rushed after her, his shoes clicking against the marble floors of the palace as he ran. Seeing her take a turn up ahead he called her name once more, following her quick steps, she rushed into her ungaurded room and closing the door behind her.

Making it to the doors he panted for a moment, soon calming his breath he knocked on the door.

"Please! Y/n I did not mean to upset you!" He begged, "I. I should have asked asked you! I should have never just jumped into it!"

Y/n quiet as she leaned against the door, her body pressed up against it to keep it closed, he seemed genuinely angered with himself, and worried for her.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Tup spoke softly, "I...just..."

Y/n stayed silent listening.

"I. Seen you for the first time walking up with my brother to report to General Skywalker..." he informed, "I had no idea someone could look so beautiful until I seen you, then. Well then we started that chess game."

Y/n's cheeks grew red as she listened, her heart starting to drop its quickly put up walls.

"You just spoke and It was beautiful. I. I'm not good with words either. I." He sighed, "I didn't realize someone like me could have so much in common with you... half the time my brothers don't like any same things as me. And we're all copies of each other."

The knot in her stomach grew as she gulped, "I. Tup. Its not that I'm mad at you."

Tup was surprised to hear an answer, "I. I think you're quiet beatiful, I. I just...I've never..."

"Y/n you do not need to explain yourself to me." Tup told her.

"Just. Let me finish." Y/n spoke calmly, "I've, well. Tup. I. I. I've never kissed anyone."

Y/n stopped waiting for a laugh, or even a 'yeah right', but she got a sincere chuckle trying to break the ice, "neither have I."

It was a surpise to Tup when the door opened softly, Y/n's flushed face being seen due to the light of the hall.

"Are you okay?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding her gaze to the floor.

"We're you being..serious?" Y/n questioned softly.

Tup nodded, growing nervous himself.

"Would you..umm. like too?" Y/n questioned, "kiss me?"

"I..um." tup spoke his face full red, "yes.."

Y/n opened up the door a bit more so he could come in, taking the hint he walked in the room dark. His eyes not having to adjust as the French doors which were uncovered let in moonlight.

Y/n closed the door quietly, locking it behind her so they'd be uninterrupted. He turned his head watching her walk towards him.

Oh maker.

They stood infront of each other nervously, refusing to make eye contact. Y/n with a shaking hand reached out her hand, her fingers dancing along his shoulder as he looked down.

"Tup. I." Y/n spoke, her other arm following her first one on the other side of his head his hands slipping onto her hips.

Nerves in a bundle they tensed in one anothers arms, faces leaning in slowly, noses brushed up against one another. A few of Tup's fingers tapped and tilted her face to the side as he tilted his own face the other way.

"Tup...Im nervous." Y/n whispered against his lips, "what happens if...if i like it too much?"

"I'll do anything you ask me..." he mummbled her hot breathe hitting his lips.

It was silent for another momment, Y/n's eyes slolwy closing as Tup's followed. They leaning in the small space as there lips pressrd against each others. The bundle of nerves melting away and falling into ribbions that slowly started to knot.

The kiss was, cute, nothing more than pressing there lips against one another and then pulled away little space between there lips, a new found hunger filled the both of them, Tup pressing forward in a much more passionate kiss, y/n kissed back, lips dancing against one another. Y/n pushed into Tup. Breathe heavy through the armature kisses. Tup mindlessly picked Y/m up, her legs wrapping around his waist as they contuined to kiss. Walking over to her bed he placed her down carefully, climbing over her body.

Kiss only breaking for air, "Do. Do you want this?" Tup questioned, things had moved awfully fast and turned into a one night stand, love filled relationship neither could explain.

Y/n nodded, "Only from you"

"Are you sure? I don't want you unsatisfied." Tup spoke honestly.

"If its you I'll never be unsatisfied." Y/n told him, the two kissing again, Tup holding his like a peice of glass under him.

"I love you." Tup whispered against her lips.

"I love you too Tup." She spoke back. Tup kissing her once more.

[enviedear]

that damn american ᶠᵒᵘʳ

you seem different

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco shows y/n the room of requirement, and she realizes she likes him more than she thought

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 1.6k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

chapter four, i hope you all enjoy! let me know if you do :) also gonna rec some some songs from the playlist

f**kin’ love songs - awa and 505 - arctic monkeys

“i’m a slytherin prefect y/n, if we get caught, i know how to lie. but flitch is an idiot squib so don’t worry. now shut up and follow me.” draco grumbles.

your newest friend has proved to be surprisingly fun. in the last three weeks he’s taken you on countless adventures and tonight is no different. this evening, he’s showing you the room of requirement. 

for the whole day, he’s been impatient and ready to show you this room. you can’t blame him, you were practically bouncing off the walls all day too. it left april and sophie a little annoyed as you refused to take them along. but you’ve found it was best to hang out with draco alone, or else he gets moody.

“here we are. now, think about the room, envision it, be specific in what you want.” draco tells you.

you do as you’re told and after a minute you see a door form in the stone.

“this is amazing..” you mutter, tracing the handle.

draco grins, “well, go in.”

you open the door and step into the room, draco right behind you. you’re amazed, the room is exactly as you thought. exactly.

“is this your room? really? you could have made it anything and you make it your bedroom. i knew i should’ve picked.” draco chides.

“oh shut up. i thought you’d like it. you’ll probably never get to see the real one. and now we could do what all friends do, have a sleepover.” you say, hugging his arm.

“fine, but i expect to be shown around.” the boy retorts, stiffening a little at your touch.

you nod and let him go, making your way to the far left of the room.

“this is my desk, where i cry over summer work, mindlessly scroll through twitter, and read. i once snuck a boy over and he begged to fuck me on this desk. of course, i couldn’t do that to her, and i told him to leave.” you chuckle, stroking the wood.

“i didn’t need to know that.” draco grimaces.

you shove him, “next is my shelf of plants. these are my babies and i swear to god if they’re not being watered while i’m gone i will hex my mother. which reminds me, i should text her.”

“right beside it is my picture wall. it’s kind of embarrassing, i have super old pictures up there. i should warn you, april used to dress like a farmer.”

draco pauses at the pictures, looking at them all.

“who’s that?” draco asks, pointing to and old picture of your grandparents.

“my grandma and pa. i think they were seventeen in this picture.” you reply, looking at your grandparents smiling young faces.

“that’s cute that they were together even then. my mother thought that pansy and i would be like that, but pansy is too, well, pansy.” he mumbles.

you smile at him, “whatever you say draco.”

he sits on your bed, “i’m being serious, i have someone else in mind.”

your eyes bulge and you look at him with a smirk, “and who might that be?”

he rolls his eyes, “i would love to tell you, but i’m not ready the tell the loudmouth american.”

“i can keep a secret!”

“i’ll tell you when the time is right. for now, i want to learn how to google.”

it takes an hour. a full hour just to explain the concept of google to draco. throughout the process he keeps asking stupid questions.

‘you’re sure there’s no magic involved?’

‘you can learn anything from this?’

‘what do you mean i can’t search that?’

like you said, stupid questions.

but it didn’t really bother you. it was nice seeing the platinum haired boy learn about modern living. and it was even nicer to see him begin to enjoy yet another muggle invention.

you stare at him at he types in a search, his eyebrows furrowed and hair unkempt. he looks different than the boy you first met. almost happier and more carefree. his pale complexion has some sun from the countless hours the two of you have spent at black lake. his fingernails are also now coated in a layer of light green polish.

“stop staring at me.” he grins, turning his face toward you.

“i can’t help it.” you say, fighting back a smile.

his cheeks turn a light pink shade, “and why is that, l/n?”

“you seem different.”

“is that bad?” he asks.

“no, it’s actually really nice.”

draco bites his lip and looks back down to the computer, “i think we should head to bed, don’t you think?”

you nod your head and close the laptop, placing it on your nightstand.

“did you bring pjs?” you ask him, reaching under your bed for your own bag that holds your sleepwear.

“um, no. why would i have brought them? i didn’t know i was sleeping here, l/n.”

you stick your tongue out at him, “i think i have some of quinn’s old clothes in here. hold on.”

you rummage through your drawers, trying to find clothes to fit draco, until you finally come across an old wampus annual bake sale tee and some black and orange flannel bottoms.

you turn around, only to find your friend shirtless.

your mouth opens, ready to tease him.

“oh please, i can’t sleep in a shirt.” he groans.

and you can’t help but to look at his chest and torso. he’s so muscular and lean. but before you let yourself be sucked into fantasizing about your friend, you throw him the pj bottoms.

“i’m gonna change in the closet, you can stay out here. just let me know when you’re done.” you say, rushing into the closet.

you change quickly, but stay inside for a bit longer, thinking about draco. 

your sweet, sarcastic, quidditch loving, spontaneous dickhead of a friend. and it’s then you realize that draco is not just your friend. 

you actually like the guy. 

and you’re about to share a bed with him. 

this should be great, but you’re too scared to ruin the friendship between the two of you. the one you’ve worked so hard for. 

when draco shouts that he’s done changing you quickly compose yourself and slip into your bed, right beside him. he turns off the lights with a simple flick of his wand and eases next to you.

“you don’t snore, do you?” he asks.

you feel his legs, wrap between yours and for a second you forget to answer.

“oh um, shit, i don’t know.”

he huffs and pulls you into him, pulling your curls away from his face and onto the pillow.

“goodnight draco.” you whisper, suddenly deathly aware of the close proximity between the two of you.

he rubs your back, “goodnight l/n.”

__

when the you wake up, draco is still beside you, arms around you and face nuzzled into your neck.

it takes a few minutes but he finally wakes up, separating from you. 

you miss his flushed face as you go to the closet to change, and he doesn’t pay attention to your stuttering each time you look into his eyes.

“i have to study for charms today. i’ll see you after lunch though, i think blaise wants us all to head to hogsmeade.” draco says, as the two of you slip out of the room of requirement.

“alright, sounds good. i’ve been meaning to try butterbeer.” you smile, avoiding eye contact.

when the two of you enter the common room, you’re greeted by april and blaise, who are playing a game of wizard chess.

“hi y’all! did you have fun last night?” april asks, staring down blaise’s king.

“um, yeah. it was really cool. i’ll have to show you and soph sometime.” you say, taking a seat on the armchair.

“merlin april, hurry up, you play like my grandmother.” blaise chuckles.

the dirty blonde smirks at him before making a move, “checkmate, zabini.”

blaise gives her a smile.

“come on zabini, let’s head to the library. i have a bloody charms essay due.” draco tells him.

blaise rolls his eyes, “sure, but i don’t know why i need to come.”

draco scoffs, “if you want to do your essay with crabbe then be my guest, i was just trying to be nice.”

blaise looks over to the fire, where crabbe is burning the tip of his wand. the brown eyed boy scratches the back of his neck before getting up and following draco out of the common room.

“he’s so cute.” april breathes out, staring at the door the boys left out of.

“zabini?” you ask, confused.

“yes girl. and he’s so funny. and sweet. i told soph last night that i wanted to take him out on a date. and i think i’m gonna,” she looks at you, eyes begging. “will you pretty please double date with us this evening at hogsmeade. sophie said no.”

you furrow your eyebrows, “i’d love to but i don’t have anyone to take along.”

she gives you a deadpan look.

“what?” you question.

“you’d take draco. i know you’re just friends, but if you talk to him i’m sure he’d be fine with it.” she says.

you sigh, “i’ll ask, but no-”

she interrupts you, “oh thank you honey! i love you y/n.”

you don’t tell her about your crush on the grey eyed boy. even though you’re dying to get it off your chest. 

but it’s probably for the best. he said himself last night that he has someone in mind. and what good would it do telling him, it might ruin the friendship. even if he did like you, there’s only so much time in a year until you’re back in american. i just couldn’t work.

even if you really want it to.

‘fucking great.’

[honestsycrets]

Mirror, Mirror | [ Cursed!Ivar x Modern!Reader ]

❛ pairing | cursed!ivar x modern! disabled (cleft lip sooo)! latina!reader

❛ type | ( ? )

❛ summary | after ivar kills his son, the witch freydis, his wife, curses him. somehow, he ends up with you.

❛  warnings | witch!freydis, POC reader, disabled reader, modern fic, cursed!ivar, modeling/elements, mention of self hate, sweet uncles, SFW

❛  sy’s notes | happy Monday everyone! how are we doing? are we surviving the coronapocalypse? I hope so. I come to you with another fruit of my eccentric, written all in one shot, writing. this request was left over from my Ivar 5CW event. 

“I got you something for your surgery. See looks just like you, right, good girl?” your uncle rushed into your room, full militant uniform, with the great mirror between his aged fingers. As a military mechanic, his schedule was often too full to have time for lunch, but today was different. He sets it down, a soft tuft of dust floats free, and you cough in its wake.

“Where did you get this, tio?”

“Estate sale on Cherry. Imported by the dead guy, uhh… Mr… Borg,” he answers, flicking his hands in the air in circles as if he’s trying to remember the guy’s name. As he rambles on about the dead man you look to the empty wall, soft grey and bland, just like you’ve wanted to paint your walls-- now that you could! Because unlike the other houses, this great expanse is all yours. You could paint it rainbow colour, flick some glitter up there, and seal it if you so damn wanted. Instead, you settled on a subtle grey. The soft pink dries on your accent wall, waiting for your bountiful French decor.

“From where?” you slur out, smoothing out the bottom of your sundress, and point toward the wall where you wanted the giant mirror to go. It would encompass the wall. But you’d feel like you always wanted to: like a princess. “China?”

“Tsk! China!” He booms half insulted in the way he drags it out, smacking his hat against his palm. “Scandinavia!”

“Scandinavia isn’t a country.”

“Ay,” he walks toward the mattress on the newly mopped floor, picking up a nail that you set on your bed. “Stop giving me a hard time. I bought it for you, eh? Wasn’t cheap!”

It didn’t look cheap, either. It sweeps nearly the size of your tall uncle, its silver designs swirling around, flourishing along the top. It’s lovely. It fits your aesthetic, even. It’d make for some good pictures, too.

“Thank you tio,” you answer, putting that picture-perfect smile on. He’s a proud man when he mounts that mirror up, securing it with some strange hook and chain type restraints. It’ll smash ya, he said! Maybe it could have, but when all is said and done, and you stand before the massive mirror, it’s a strange type of beautiful. Ethereal as it was, something felt… off behind its reflection. Your nails skim the surface of the glass, repetitive click after click,

“How are the stitches feeling?” he asks.

You lift your fingers up, inching toward the puffy flesh of your mangled lip. The stitches would look like shit now. “Dr. Rao fixed it.”

“Tch, he better’ve. How did he do it wrong the first time?” he asks, and you shrug your shoulders, as if you don’t know. What were you, a plastic surgeon? “Since you’re feelin’ good again… Make me a tunafish before I go!”

Should have said no. But you weren’t going to say no to your uncle’s love for salty fish squashed between two pieces of wheat bread and some scraggly salad. You’re sure the mirror caused three times that. Okay, maybe more like thirty… or three hundred.

Good body, but you don’t have the face for it. Try photography. The university has a good program.

Stapled to your portfolio is that one little note. A woman’s would be kind words plastered onto the front as a friendly word of advice. Give up, move on. Something out the bright limelight. You kick off your shoes at the door, thrash the door shut, pop the lock. Set dinner on the counter. Don’t eat it. Head to your room and thrash that door too. Drop the portfolio on the desk in front of the obnoxious mirror and sink into the plush white comforter.

And you breathe. Your chest swells deep with breath, and it's prickly against your lungs, as if it hurt. Your sparkly phone vibrates with your friends’ many questions. Did you get it? Do models get paid per shoot? A hundred considerate questions and maybe, they all failed to give the one comment you needed to hear from anyone of them. Ms. Bisset had dragged the knife of disappointment across your belly, disemboweled you until nothing but disappointment, remorse, and self-hate poured out onto your toes.

“Your face looks better than hers.”

You shoot up, hair matted to the soaked pieces of hair against your cheek, turning side to side. No one was in your room, and yet, you felt them here. Their gaze poisoning the sanctity of your private place-- where you could cry and no one would know better. You lurch out, flip your phone, and there’s nothing there. And again, you reach out, only this time its to the knife at the bottom of the top drawer of your nightstand. You slip out of your fluffy sheets, quaking around the handle, turning it over and over, and over and over, looking around and around.

“Who’s there?!”

The room stretches inhumanely. As if the walls goes on for a mile or longer. You swirl, and your white dress follows, but nothing else. No matter how you pace from one end, to the other, and around the corners. “You’re getting close,” the voice laughs, and there’s a gentleness behind that statement. “No… nope, no. In the chest, really?”

You stomp toward the sheer white curtains, hiking them back, as if you’d really see anyone there. The warm sunlight streams against your skin, down in your bones, and there’s nothing or no one there.

“What the fuck,” you whisper, but no one is there to answer, and you’re sure. You’ve checked your closet, under the bed, over the bed, in the chest, by every nook and cranny and-- you look up, under your desk, and that’s when you see it. Two slouched legs, dependent upon a inky black and ragged crutch. You scan him over, something of a medieval horror, because he’s all leather, and chainmail, and locks, and buckles, and god he’s big in his own way, encompassing the mirror-like a cloud of black death.

But he’s not.

“There you go! Checkmate.” Despite those worn hands, his pale face is chiseled as if by a sculptor. High cheekbones, a pronounced forehead, and a broad nose. His hair is in its own way lifelike, braided back behind his head. His dull expression comes alive in bright blue eyes, excitably staring to you, and past you. His armour clinks. You grasp the knife, flicking it at the mirror.

“Watch out.” He warns, and you duck, because the mirror reflects your knife, chucking it into your beautifully painted wall. It embeds straight out into the wall, and you screech, both for your lovely wall but also the great loss of your mind. There was a man. In the mirror. Of your house. You’re stepping back, staring behind you, then back again. He’s there in the mirror, but not beside you, where you imagine his large body to be overtaking your petite frame.

“What the fuck are you?”

“Ivar,” he answers. Igor-- like those old Frankenstein movies? “Igor?”

His fingers flick, rattling irritation. “Ivar the Boneless.”

“Who?”

He leers behind that glass. For that awful leer of unchecked power, slamming his hand onto the other side of that glass, there’s nothing to be said for it. It’s as if he thinks you should know, because his lip wrinkles, and he turns toward his surroundings. Within the mirror, craggy, dark surroundings. He collapses on a bed of furs, which you can only just so make out because it is directly behind him.

“I am… was a king,” Ivar explains. Though this is all one great illusion, you’re curious enough in it, because what else did you have to do but sulk? Your hand goes toward the holy oil your tio had so graciously left, telling you to smear it all over, sanctify the mirror because who knows what kind of creepie demons were in that thing, and maybe you should have listened, and maybe he knew better.

“I’m not dead,” he snorts, “Take your little Christian bottle and spray for demons somewhere else.”

“Then what are you,” you play along. Ivar, for all his snappy wisdom, falls quiet a moment. He unlatches the armour on his legs, slides out of some medieval torture device that held his legs mishappen and weird.

“Cursed,” he answers. “...by my witch of an ex-wife and her little--” bastard, you almost read, but the pain in which he said it, suppressed any meaning behind it. It’s as if he dies a little when he says such a thing.

“It… wasn’t yours?”

“The wretch couldn’t be mine,” he says factually. For a man as strong as he was, you wonder why. Why was he explaining this to you, who he had only just met, and then again-- why not? If this Ivar brain illusion was locked up as long as he was, hey, maybe you’d be aching for company too. He gestures from his pronounced nose down, over his full lips. “His lips… his nose. They were torn one to another.”

“A cleft lip?” he sighs, dipping his gloved hands behind his head. He doesn’t lift, not even when you shriek, coming closer now. You climb over the white desk on your knees. “I had a cleft lip!”

He turns up his head, bitter at the mention, as if ice had stabbed not only him-- but straight through him, too. Even more than talk of his wife, talk of the small child seems to wound him. A wretch, a bastard-- “What happened to him?”

He turns in his bed, bound to ignore you, when you slap the glass, shaking the very foundation of the wooden boards under the bed. “I killed him-- I killed me son.” He answers, and the words sound heartless to you, torn as they were, pained as they were. When he turns up his head, you connect with his eyes, desperate to give sense to murder. “He was in pain. He could not live like that, mocked by everyone he meets, loves.”

You hold his words close, looking down, the scratchy handwriting from your denied portfolio sits there, a reminder of his words. “That’s why you’re in the mirror.” He clasps his hands together, leaning forward, and unclasps again, offering up toward the dark nothingness and it’s detached light which lights his bed from seemingly nowhere at all. “Well, good. You deserve to be in that mirror for what you’ve done.”

He doesn’t deny it. He turns, all alone, abandoned in his bed. You wonder how long he’s been there. Has it been a short time? Has it been a long time? It’s not been in the last five hundred years, for his clothes look aged. Maybe a thousand. But you don’t really know. Whoever this Ivar the Boneless was, he was an old man.

“I meant what I said,” his voice is rough, almost quaky. Is he crying? His words grace your skin like feathers, tickling you into interest for what he might say next. You settle into your chair at the desk.

“What?”

“Your face is more beautiful than hers,” he prompts. “Ms. Bisset.”

“How did you know her name?”

Ivar rumbles in his laughter, his broad back flexing. “You talk to yourself more than you’d think. And when you’re not talking to yourself, you leave all the important articles on your desk.”

It’s true. You scramble to stuff them into their appropriate folders, cursing him for being as he was. A nosy man with no sense of morals. If you were locked in a mirror, wouldn’t you have nothing to do but snoop around? You make note-- buy a cat. At least then, you wouldn’t feel your mind running away on you.

“That means a lot,” you mutter, “Coming from an ableist.”

Ivar pulls his armour off. Strip by agonizing strip, until he’s nothing but well formed muscles in his inky trousers, matching the blotchy black tattoo of dragons that course by the back of his neck. You spin around in your chair, hands to your eyes, chanting ‘I see nothing!’ as if… if you said it enough times, maybe it would be true. “Product of my time.”

He rests.

“Isn’t that a bit much?”

Hallucination or real, you came to accept that Ivar the Boneless, some kinda Viking-King was here for good. His mirror is the best mirror to do your make up in due to the great natural light that filtered in, but also the worst for his companionship was always awful. WIth every flick of your eyeshadow brush painted in bright red, Ivar had a sing song opinion.

“You look better natural.”

He’s not a fan of this whole fashion eye you were going for. Vibrant hot red and warm blues weren’t his favourite, especially not blue, because they reminded him of his brother Sigurd. Gods rest his soul, he told you. He killed him too.

“Ivar, for fuck’s sake.”

“You talk to your tio like that?” he scrunches his fingers.

“It’s not a date, Ivar.”

Tch, Ivar drags out, throwing his hands behind his head, annoyed in the way that he plops back onto his bed. Ivar’s ideal take? Dewy, natural, something with a hint of colour and a well-flicked eyeliner. Not a fan of caterpillar lashes, as he called them. He did like a perfect red lip, which you only learned by angling your television toward his mirror, so that he might be able to watch while you were out on the town with Igor, the orange tabby cat.

“Then what is it?”

His eyes falter, falling to the red satin romper you wear, as if you know, and he knows, that you’re up to no good. “Fashion shoot.” You answer him. “If they won’t publish me, I’ll publish myself.”

Ivar’s lips quiver, amused, and he smiles as you pomp those soft curls. It’s sultry, sexy, defined. He doesn’t think it needs to be. But it’s bold and only a fool would deny how beautiful you looked, dolled up more beautifully than even his late Freydis. He was here because of his son, placed into a home with a woman who had the same condition as his late, beautiful baby boy. It wasn’t on accident.

Ivar smiles. “Be ruthless.”

So you try, settling yourself on the edge of the bed next to the tripod, gliding your fingers over your dress, considering yourself. “What, no set design?” he asks.

“Set design?” you ask, laughing at the concept. Behind you is the soft pink accent wall, bouncing against the other walls behind you, soft and sweet. That’s all that was needed, really. Or so you thought.

“I’ve been in whorehouses with more taste.”

Ivar, you grumble, bounding off of the bed. Then, standing before him, your hands slap on your thighs. “Well what do you suggest?”

He leans out, gesturing his fingers toward the curtains. “Pull those dust catchers you call blinds shut. Add some soft flowers.”

You rush out of the room on bare toes, rushing back from your craft closet, arms full of fake flowers. You arrange them around your balcony bed, passionate and red. “Like this?” you crawl back on the lip, taking your place on the bed. Ivar leans, his cheek against the cold glass.

“Good enough.”

By now, you’re used to Ivar’s comments. Fashion shoots are on the daily, and as much as he detested the colour, you’ve grown used to his comments. You learn that he is better suited for creating a good background. Something about Ivar is all show, all flash, and you love that. In place of a friend to push you along, there’s Ivar. Always looking forward to giving you opinions about where to place this, or that, and Igor get the fuck out!

Priceless, like you said.

But as you progressed, and Ivar sat trapped in the mirror, something ate at you. When Ivar was not on his crutch, he would throw himself on the ground and drag himself like a giant snake across the ground wherever he went. He never once said a word about your crooked lips. The stitches faded. It was a gnarly scar in its place now, which hardly commanded attention save from the men you met on the daily, who all at least asked what was different about your face at one time or another, or excused themselves and never came back.

“You finally took my advice,” Ivar looks at you, dolled up like he liked. Soft curls, soft make up, a white dress. The gentle purity reminds him of his mother, Aslaug, or so he told you. You peer up at him, dragging the eyeliner out.

“Maybe it looks better like this,” you tease, and the thought hits you. “I’m guessing you have more experience than me, chulito. You’ve been in that mirror for 1200 years, you know.”

“Mostly in whorehouses. Wasn’t all bad, eh? Imagine my chances at finding a virgin with a cleft lip to set me free.”

“I bet you miss your family,” you tell him. Or what was left of it-- that was.

“I miss my brother Hvitserk,” he admits. The one brother, that though they both fought, he still found love in his heart for him. “And my mother,” tears gather, welling at his almond-shaped eyes, and you’ve done it again. “Freydis.”

“Would she take you back?”

“No,” his form drops, “You know I killed her.”

“A common theme,” you tease, drawing a small smile of him. But he drops his head down, cupping his hand behind his thick neck, lost in thought. “Ivar it-- it’s okay. You’re not a monster, y’know.”

“Aren’t I?”

He has a reputation for it. The names, the numbers, the people, the death. So, so much death. If he were here, today, they would call him a serial killer. A terrible man. A demon. When he sits there, unresponsive, you press your fingers to the glass.

“You aren’t,” you swipe the words from his lips, he has nothing to do but back away. Hope and pray you drop the subject, move on. He’s done talking again. This time you don’t. “Ivar-- you aren’t.”

You turn your fist to the mirror, crack your well-formed fist straight on. As opposed to the last time, reflecting the so deemed flimsy metal of your sword, your fist fractures the glass. It clatters around your fist, falling apart into a million tiny shards on the back of your blood, seeping into the mirror. But it’s cemented there, suspended in the air. Eyes wide, Ivar’s chest swells with air, and you roll your scarred lip into your mouth.

Then, the shards drop. The mirror cracks like a halo around your feet.

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[sumeshi-t]

[Kiseki no Angst]

akashi seijuro x reader

wordcount: 5k+

tw: cheating, mentions of depression, death :(

"i don't hate you. i'm just disappointed you turned into everything you said you'd never be."

people used to look down on you, never really noticing that you were someone worth respecting. it wasn't your fault, but your surname's fault. you always knew that being born into that family was the biggest mistake. nevertheless, you worked hard not because you wanted to be noticed, but just to tell them that you weren't a piece of trash anyone can just trample on. 

despite the insults aimed your way, you maintained your cool. you didn't stoop down to their level because, hey, they didn't know who you really are. that you were someone more than “just what your surname is”, that what it was doesn't really define you.

you were one of those students who aced in tests, and got high enough remarks in every subject. 

you were also someone who, in the field of sports, is actually considered good. but you also had your own flaws–one of them being your laziness. you were too lazy to focus on one sport and decided that as long as you don't get a failing mark because of that subject, then you're fine. 

friends? you rarely had them, because most of the people who approach you were just looking for your weaknesses, so they can have something to gossip about the next day. so, you usually just sat alone and ate in silence, watching everyone from a certain point in the room. 

there was this very outstanding student, and his name was akashi seijuro. he was someone close to perfection–intelligent, sporty, and quite good looking. yeah, he was your classmate but there was hardly any conversation made between you two. due to your constant observations, it was pretty damn obvious that a portion of the female students had a not-so-secret admiration for that guy. 

you wondered if anyone was brave enough to confess their feelings, but seeing as how his eyes weren't interested in that aspect of life, his stare could either make a girl combust on the spot or make them bury their body alive. you had a hunch that confessions were rare to happen. 

also, since he's too smart, you figured that he could somehow, sense it in a person. akashi seijuro, for you, was peculiar and indeed, someone to look up to. he was something akin to an inspiration, without the need to be interested in him in any romantic way.

you still wonder how on earth he noticed you, as you were playing chess–alone–just a few meters before the gym's entrance, in some lounge in school. that time, news about rakuzan's loss to seirin were being spread around and duh, since you were in the losing school, it was the hottest topic. 

usually, people would just glance then whisper amongst themselves upon seeing you. who wouldn't? when they see someone having a fierce battle with their self.

but he was the first, in a long time:

akashi moved a piece on the board and muttered, "checkmate." 

you had a scowl on your face from analyzing too much and it was still evident when you looked up at him. your eyes met his, and though you've heard that if you did, he'll “gouge” them out, you were still, just a tad bit frustrated at his interruption. really though, it was the first time you looked straight into his eyes, and you knew well to listen. 

but contradicting what your brain had always reminded you, akashi didn't flinch or scowl, and you just couldn't read his expression.

"i didn't mean to bother you, kaname." 

akashi just came from practice and you realized, it was about time for students to go home. then it took your brain seconds to register the way he called you using that last name.

you nodded, then proceeded to packing your stuff, turning your attention away from him. you thought he'd leave already, but he was just standing there and was watching you. 

not to be rude, you stopped for a while, holding a white queen and a black king in one hand as you looked at him again. "akashi-kun, is there something wrong?"

"why do you prefer isolating yourself from everyone?" the red-haired and red-eyed guy suddenly asked, catching you off-guard. you smiled, not really reaching your eyes, and answered as you continue to pile the pieces back inside their place.

"because they don't like my name. and it's also for them to have a topic to talk about, every once in a while. i pity them," you trailed off.

"but ‘y/n' isn't that bad for a name, don't you think?" 

his words made you freeze, a small gasp escaping your lips, which were soon trembling as you tried to hold in tears. “what's… it to you, then? i mean, you barely even talk to me in class, get it?"

this was very sudden, you thought. you described it as awkward, weird; and a lot more words your brain's dictionary could give you. or at least it could provide you. the akashi you've come to know was a bit more hostile than this.

but he smiled. 

akashi seijuro smiled at you. it wasn't fake, it wasn't something you daydreamed. it was genuine. the warmth you felt from it, was far from fantasy.

"it's just a heads up for you, that there are some people who won't judge you because of a surname," he paused, waiting for you to react. when you didn't, he continued. "just continue being you, y/n." 

"…why are you being like this all of a sudden?" 

"you're interesting, and you have potential to do great things. don't let their judgments get in your way."

it honestly just started from that day. that was the first unforgettable moment you shared with the emperor.

you really didn't expect that he'd end up sharing his surname with yours, in the end.

and now, as you wore an elegant and expensive white gown, you knew there were more moments you can look forward to. and you knew, that you were you, he was who he was, and that the two of you were special in your own ways. you honestly thought his father would get in the way of your relationship, but it seems like the odds were in your favor. 

your rings were wrapped around your fingers, and a kiss to seal and lock you two together for the rest of your lives.

akashi was a very loyal man. he was sweet, have tendencies to spoil you, despite his busy schedules. you were fine with it, after all, you were there behind him and supporting him.

akashi was also quite a loving husband; he lives up to his title,"the emperor" both on the court, and, although not really surprising, this was the case when it came to your bedroom activities.

still, there was something about him, that your guts have been meaning to tell you, that there was something wrong. or something you didn't know or understand yet. maybe it was his eyes, but really, you just end up drowning in them. so you killed off the doubt screaming at the back of your head. 

you were faithful, and you both love each other so much that that love gave fruit to an addition to the akashi family lineage. a boy whose features were a perfect combination of yours and your husband's. for that reason, your child's name had sounded so similar to akashi's.

akashi seiji.

he wanted it so, because you wouldn’t agree to “seijuro jr”. somehow that was childish of the red-haired man (and of you) but it was cute, you figured. even though you two were married, he still rarely showed his, somewhat, other sides.

and there goes that feeling again… doubt? suspicion? you couldn't even find a word to name it.

years have gone by, and before you knew it, you were celebrating seiji's fourth birthday, complete with all of your husband's business friends, and his middle school basketball team, the 'generation of miracles'. 

your lives were going too happy, too well, too perfect. just like a fairytale. you began to believe that until one night. things began to take a different turn, perhaps going in the wrong direction. 

you came home from work—you had insisted that you won't be a housewife, and you didn't have any interest in the akashi business—and was surprised to see your husband there, doing his paperwork in your room, with seiji on the bed, solving mathematical equations that weren't really for his mere age of six. 

your son jumped out of bed and ran to hug you as soon as you came in, his arms wrapping around your waist as he did so. yeah, he was a mother's boy indeed. 

and he went on about his day; seiji was getting better at playing the piano, and was also starting to learn basketball. his eyes that had the same shade of color as yours, darted over to sneak at his father, and whispered. "mother… i think father should teach me instead of any other coach. because he is the greatest!" he giggled. 

akashi sighed, hearing him clearly, then turned around to face you both with his eyes closed. you expected him to at least smile at your son and his eagerness, but he had this unreadable look on his face. eyes closed, his brows sunk in deeper. this was the usual face he makes when he used to crush his opponents in basketball, the face he makes when a secretary just fails at their assigned task. 

it was… terrifying.

"shut. it." 

your eyes widened a bit, but seeing how your son reacted, broke your heart more. so you forced a smile, bent down and gave your son's chubby cheek a peck. "come on, ji-kun. it's way past your bedtime. say good night to your father." he did as he was told, bowing before akashi before you led him outside, back to his own room and waited for him to fall asleep.

it was around 9:45 in the evening when you came back to your room and saw your husband on the bed now, reading a book. you quickly went to the bathroom to freshen up before crawling into bed next to him. you leaned your head, placing it on his right shoulder and took his scent in. 

"sei? is everything alright?" when you felt that the timing was right, you asked him. with a soft thud, the book was closed and he placed it on the bedside table near him, making you lean on the headboard instead. 

"everything is as it should be, y/n." he faced you with a blank look, and it was the first time you noticed that his eyes were now different. again. his golden yellow eye had returned, and looking at him made you feel uneasy.

"and why are you looking at me that way?" 

"n-nothing, dear… maybe i'm just tired." 

"then sleep, rest. good night, y/n. by the way, try to avoid making too much eye contact with me." he turned around, and slept with his back facing you. you were… shocked; no, that was an understatement. you were hurt. what had happened, you wondered. you tried to think back everything that has happened between you two, if you've said or done anything to trigger this certain side of your husband. 

when he was deep in his sleep, you placed an arm over his body and let the darkness your eyelids can give, take over you. 

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➴➵➶➴➵➶

there was one thing that was constant in this world. 

change.

things change. people change. as time passes by. some were for good, for the better. 

but the way your husband changed, it wasn't exactly good, no, not at all.

it started out with text messages from women's names you didn't know. and akashi totally didn't care nor bothered if you saw the notifications popping up on his phone. 

and in the end, unwelcome women came in every night, sometimes with your husband or the girl was fetched by limo. you were usually late to arrive home since your workplace was much farther than his. 

you weren't deaf, dumb, nor blind. you also weren't strong enough to handle this. it hurt to know and be slapped in the face by the reality that you have no power to stop him even if you tried. if it wasn't for your son's presence, you might've snapped. every night you'd sleep in your son's bed, trying your best to just cry it all out once he's gone to sleep. 

once he asked why you weren't sleeping with akashi. you only smiled, feeling a lump form in your throat. "well, your father is very busy with work and he doesn't like being disturbed." 

that was also the same night you decided to sit right outside your bedroom doors for a few minutes, hearing every single noise completely, and all you could do was to let your tears fall down in streams on your face, sobbing quietly.

you began questioning your worth; this was worse than when you were younger. you much prefer the hushed whispers and gossiping that surrounded you than the way your husband was destroying your pride and your love.

weeks, months, and then it has been a year since akashi has been taking women—mistresses—home for his own sexual desires. for a year, you remained strong, well, as strong as you could and as you would like to believe yourself to be. 

and then it was seiji's seventh birthday. 

for a day, you were suddenly his 'beloved wife' once more. akashi gave you stolen kisses on your forehead, your cheek and an arm was always either on your waist or around your shoulders. 

you excused yourself when it was time to eat, and a certain pink-haired lady followed you to the restroom. "y/n-chan?" 

you blinked back the forming tears in your eyes and forced yourself to smile, however you weren't able to fool momoi satsuki. "is akashi-kun… okay?" 

you looked anywhere except your friend's concerned eyes. biting your lower lip to prevent from breaking down in front of her, you nodded stiffly. 

silence shared between you two until she couldn't hold it in anymore. 

"he isn't the real akashi, is he?" 

then the restroom doors suddenly burst open, and entered a busty woman with layered auburn hair, wearing a tight dress that reached just above her knees, hugging her body completely, and six inch stilettos that matched her clothing. 

her icy blue eyes were familiar to you and then you remembered her as one of the women akashi has taken in. 

"oh! mrs. akashi, hello. nice to meet you. you're looking splendid!" she reached for your hand and shook it. "i haven't introduced myself, i'm aya, akiyama aya, one of the new board directors." you put on the best fake smile you could and with a pleasant—yet slightly higher tone of voice—you conversed with the bitch—mistress.

when aya had left, momoi decided to hug you, as if she saw through everything just because of what happened between you and the lady. 

"m-momoi… i just… don't know what happened… why things had to be this way, it's so hard for me to be living under the same roof as his."

you let a few tears go, then quickly wiped them off as you pulled away from momoi's caring hug. "please, don't tell anyone about this. i have my son to keep me going, and i'll be stronger. thank you so much." 

"b-but, y/n-chan!" 

you shushed her, bringing your index finger to your lips. "let's go, they're probably having dessert by now. you should really try it." and you led her out, squeezing her right shoulder lightly as a final way of thanking her.

you watched your son enjoy his special day, as his father sat next to you, running his thumb over your palm he was holding. something about what momoi said had your pulse racing, even if you two were silent. gulping down your fears, you asked him. "who are you?"

his thumb lingered over your skin before he removed his hand from yours. he smiled, and you didn't know if he was laughing at you, mocking you for such a stupid question or was forcing it out of his system for show. 

"i'm akashi seijuro, your husband, who else would i be?" 

your son suddenly raced towards you. his eyes were intent on his father's, and you swore you saw akashi's eyebrows twitch for a fraction of a second. "father, my friends and i have decided to go horseback riding. may i take yukimura with me?" 

akashi motioned for his hand as a go signal, and seiji bowed before running off with a butler to where the horses were kept. and then when they were far away from you two, you resumed your low-volume conversation with the red-haired man.

"do you love me?" 

"yes, i do."

"no, do you—you, right now—do you, love me?" 

and then he was silent. his face looked troubled, as if akashi was having a war with his own self, with his own mind.

"that's what i thought…" you murmured, and stood up, suddenly feeling numb. you went to follow your son and took pictures of him, innocence and happiness radiating off of him. seiji was your last pillar of strength, and if you can't hold on any longer, you'll have to take him with you. 

'that gives me an idea…' you thought.

but as a faithful wife, you still had to think. what if akashi returns to his real state? 

two weeks later, seiji made a mistake with the notes of the piano piece he was playing. akashi was there, listening, while you had been busying yourself with crochet; and he made his son stop. the look he gave seiji was a look you'd like to describe as one would use when abandoning or when giving up on someone.

"why can't you be a little bit more like me?" he sighed, patting seiji lightly on his head before leaving, his eyes darting towards you, as you can see from your peripheral vision. 

akashi disappeared, probably off to find aya or another woman he kept. 

that was the last draw. you were fine if you were being the one trampled on—most of your life, you went through that—but if your son gets affected, oh, things were to change for real. 

you hated this change. why did things have to change?

it was funny how you just felt your anger now. determined, you helped your son perfect the piece before letting him have his snacks, leaving you alone with your thoughts. playing a different piece, one you once enjoyed playing with akashi, your eyes were closed since you've mastered every note by heart. 

you cried one last time, then made a decision. if akashi couldn't stand your presence, how much more that you couldn't stand those filthy women. it was also for the sake of the child. this was for the better. you loved akashi and you always will, but… things are different. 

he is different.

through your own sources, and with the help of your mother, you were able to find a house of your own. you hadn't really told her the complete story, nor do you want to, and you didn't want her to get involved. you're not going to take revenge, of course. you're just going to keep your distance until the real akashi decides to come back... you hoped.

you can just make him—the akashi right now—to love you. but… you're far too hurt and exhausted already. you honestly tried. it was too late, you figured. 

he didn't… care. 

you know there's a chance you'll also get hurt physically if a confrontation was done. plus, your son, you didn't want him to have to go through that. he was just seven! 

tonight you'll set things right, or maybe a bit better. sort of. you were just tired. and couldn't endure anymore. you were but a human after all, and this was your limit. 

in just five days, you and your son would stay in the house—bought with your own money—that would be ready once you arrive. 

"y/n." akashi's stern voice startled you. for the first time, he was 'available' tonight, which happened to be the last night you were going to see him this close, the last night you were going to hear his voice, his breathing. this was the last night you were going to live under the same roof, where you promised to love him with every passing day; yet the same place he broke his oath to you. 

"seijuro." you replied. you met his eyes and tried to look deep into them, trying to find the man you married. you know it's him, he's there, but somehow he just won't come out.

"you bought a house under your name," he began and that wasn't a question. you nodded, not a single emotion slipping from your face. you tried to remain as blank as you could. "yes, and i used my own resources to acquire it, don't worry."

'this house was supposed to be for you, me, our child. and i was supposed to be the only woman to share this bed with you. but if there are too many others, then i guess i'll take my leave.' you wanted to say more, but he just stared at you. 

he was trying to read you. 

but no, no he won't. he wouldn't understand. because he didn't know you.

"…sei," you took a breath and he turned to face you once more. and you pushed yourself forward and gave him a kiss, and you closed your eyes. 

god, you missed his lips. you probably imagined it that his hand tugged on your hair while the other caressed your cheek, down to your shoulders then arms. when you pulled away, it was for real. his upper body was nearly on top of you already, and your eyes widened a bit. 

you shied your body away from his, and he probably got the message that nothing would happen between you two tonight. 

"…good night, sei." you murmured and turned the opposite side. you felt no movement from his side for a few seconds, nearly a minute or so, until the sheets were pulled and the lights dimmed. 

you only took a nap, waking up at around two in the morning. everything was ready. you had your son up and in your car already with the help of his maid. she was eager to help you, and she'll go with you. 

with one last glance at your husband, you left a note and placed a clear, glass queen chess piece on top of it. 

then, you were gone. 

that morning, akashi woke up to an empty bed and saw your note. the first words he saw made him grip on the paper, crumpling its edges a bit.

‘sei. 

don't misunderstand this, please. i don't hate you. i'm just disappointed you turned into everything you said you'd never be.’ 

you had left him the address of your house nonetheless, even if you knew full well that he can just get someone to find it for him but you weren't going to be selfish and keep your child to yourself. it's just… living in two different houses 'cause apparently, one wasn't enough, no matter how big it was.

‘…in case you'd want to visit your son; please do. i hope you find happiness, akashi seijuro. not just you, but also the real akashi seijuro.’ 

you wrote your name on the bottom right side of the paper, concluding the letter.

oddly, akashi didn't burn the letter or anything like that and instead, threw it inside one of his drawers, including the chess piece. he thought you couldn't stand living away from him, and even if he doesn't want to admit it, he was waiting for you. 

the same way you were waiting for him to just come to you as his real self. 

the last time you met him was during your child's ninth birthday. you were the one organizing the parties, not him, and you even had to invite him. akashi still had his pride with him, and you expected that. you also expected that he still came home with different women every other night, but he didn't tell you that he'd stopped. 

the akashi household… was quiet. too quiet. 

two years passed. no child-like voice laughing, no happy piano tunes, no you; it was dull, it was nearly lifeless. it was too late when akashi realized that. you sometimes text him, reminding him of work-related stuff, and that he should be taking care of his self. sometimes leaving subtle hints for him to visit for seiji's sake. 

he didn't want you to know that he was missing you. and he wanted it to hear from you that you missed him, but you felt, after two full years of waiting, that you were the only one wanting to continue on with this marriage. 

again, for seiji, you decided not to divorce him. it had been in your head for a while. since he is a male akashi, they might snatch your child, the only heir, your only treasure and sanctuary; and force you to live the rest of your days alone. you couldn't take that. 

so instead, with the strength left within you, you continued to raise your son, despite feeling down at how helpless you seemed to see yourself.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➴➵➶➴➵➶

akashi seijuro felt empty, and thinking about it, he finally let his pride go off for a bit. this year, his son was turning 10, and during his time, at that age, his father was already preparing him for business-related duties. 

yes, that would be a perfect excuse to finally visit his wife and child. 

reaching for one of the drawers, akashi grabbed the note and the chess piece. he cursed his self for losing and giving his wife a chance. plus, it had been months since you last contacted him and he wanted to know why. it wasn't like you to just cut him off like that. it has been far too long to be considered as the woman being busy with work. 

akashi drove his way using his own car, not a limo, to where his wife and son both lived. he had hoped that they didn't move without her telling him about it. but then, it would've been easy to track them down. 

the house was a bit big for just the two of them, he mused upon laying his eyes on a pearly-white, simple, yet elegant house. he went out of the car after turning the engine off, outside black iron gates. 

akashi rang the doorbell, and he waited, the glass chess piece in his pocket. after around two minutes, a boy could be seen running to the gate, carrying a basketball with him. 

"he's… grown… a lot." the father of the child murmured. since they lived separately, seiji exclaimed in happiness at the sight of his father. he opened the gates for the elder akashi to enter and gave him a big, warm hug. 

akashi's heart began to throb, and he returned his son's hug, going down on one knee to hug seiji tighter. he half expected for his wife to be there, running to the sight of this reunion with tears brimming her eyes.

but there was no one.

but, it can't be that she left her child—their child—all alone? 

"seiji, where is your mother?" akashi asked upon pulling his son away gently to look at him. the kid looked down, scratched the back of his head and sighed. the young akashi's actions reminded him so much of his wife. "well... you see, she's been away for a while now. and i don't know when she'll be back."

just then, a maid was rushing to the two red-haired males, followed by an elderly woman akashi could recognize even from afar.

it was her mother. his mother-in-law. 

the male head of the kaname household has long passed, and the rest of their family have families of their own. 

well, maybe except for y/n. her family's status has become quite complicated; and akashi finally admitted to his self, it was his fault.

"seijuro-kun? well, it took you a long while," mrs. kaname said spitefully, with as much venom as her voice could get. akashi knew not to mess nor look down at this woman whose hair was now graying, lines of age evident on her face.

akashi bowed in greeting, "i apologize, mother." 

"enough," she paused, motioning for the maid to get seiji out of the elder akashi's reach, and to lead the child back inside to play. 

he could only watch, though he was quite confused of this sudden action. "follow me." mrs. kaname ordered, and they both arrived at a veranda, overlooking the backyard where his son was playing basketball. 

he let the elderly woman sit first, before him, and when it was not that awkward, akashi began to speak. "is… she home?" 

"what if i told you, that she's not? that she's now happy in another man's arms?"

akashi clenched his jaw at the thought of y/n, her refreshing laugh and calming smile, the touch of her soft lips on another man's; how did he put it, he was mad, he was jealous, he… was hurt.

mrs. kaname looked at him skeptically, and could see through his efforts of hiding his feelings.

"though that's not exactly the way she felt when you did that to her, at least, you've had a fair share of your own medicine."

then it struck the emperor. he remained silent, still, and his wife's mother continued.

"if she were here, she would've gotten mad at me for doing that to you."

akashi and mrs. kaname's eyes met.

"however, she's not going to be around to do that anymore." 

the redhead saw the pain, the held back tears of the elderly woman.

what? what did she just say?

"mother…? i'm sorry, but… what?"

mrs. kaname took a deep breath, then smiled a sad smile as she explained. 

"she ‘s gone; you don't know how much it hurt to just watch her suffer, waiting for you all this time! she wanted to just end everything, but seiji was her only thread of hope. but still… in the end she,"

"…couldn't hold on and wait much longer."

akashi was having a hard time to process all that in an instant. however, he felt his hand reach for the chess piece he hid in his pocket. and he gripped on it, hard, as if letting go of it would have made him lose his grip on life.

he was too deep into his thoughts that he didn't notice mrs. kaname stand up, and retrieve something from inside the house. a few minutes later, she returned, but akashi was just staring straight ahead, frozen in place.

whatever the thing was, mrs. kaname slid it over the table to her late daughter's husband. "here," 

it was a small photo album. on top of it was a crumpled up paper that had y/n's handwriting. 

"that was the last favor she asked of me. apparently, she knew… she felt, that, her hopes were slipping away. her heart gave up."

akashi's eyes went down to observe the album but his hands refused to leave his lap. 

"as what she wrote there, she told me that if ever you visit, i should give that to you, so you'd know and you'd see the things you missed when your son was growing."

mrs. kaname stared at him for a while, and decided, to stand up and leave him alone, giving him the privacy he should have, since that album's contents were for him and his eyes only. she figured it wasn't part of her right to take a peek. 

akashi brought out the chess piece and placed it before him before he hesitantly took the photo album. the glass queen reflected the sun's light, making it shimmer in the background as the redheaded man began to flip through the album's pages slowly.

seiji and y/n in a theme park, a picture taken by seiji himself with y/n staring ahead at the sunset by the beach, seiji making a three-point shot in their garden, seiji playing with his own team of friends, y/n having icing on her nose when she and her son baked together, and lots, lots more. 

but then, it seems the album wasn't filled to its pages. and akashi wanted to see more, until he reached the final page and his mouth went open in the slightest. 

akashi stared at the image of himself, his smiling self, in the wedding picture; and the emperor reminisced.

the way y/n became his wife that day, her eyes sparkling in delight, her face glowing despite being underneath the veil she wore, her soft lips on his when they kissed; everything was perfect. 

until things began to fall apart. 

the akashi business was about to face bankruptcy, due to an inside-job by one of his employees—how he didn't even see that, akashi couldn't find out why—and stockholders and investors began to pull out one by one.

because of that, it triggered the real akashi to go into hiding. all the stress, the pressure, the fear—building up in his heart.

his single, golden yellow eye began to diminish, the same time tears began to form in his pair of red eyes.

and now, the real akashi was back.

he took out the wedding picture from the album, and was surprised to see another paper, however this one was neat and organized, meant to be hidden and be discovered by him and him only. 

akashi began unfolding it, and read y/n's letter, and he could hear her voice in his head as he did so.

'dearest sei,

thank you for visiting our son after all this time. i tried to forget about us, about you; but believe me, even though i'm no longer by your side anymore, that i love you. i always have, i always will. remember that i'll be here, to support you two—the two amazing men in my life.

from now on, i leave ji-kun in your hands. my mom promised me she would help and guide the both of you.

seijuro, i love you. i love you. thank you. 

i love you.

good bye.'

the veranda had a roof, akashi was sure of that, he took note of that. 

and it was supposed to be sunny.

then, why was there rain? the letter began to have droplets of water. 

when the redheaded man felt something wet trickling down his face, he realized that it was of his own doing. not just about that, but about everything.

immediately, akashi asked where his wife lied in eternal sleep. 

he took the time to buy a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers, and he crouched before the gravestone, feeling the weight of her letter in his pocket.

akashi took a deep breath, brought out a black king chess piece and the glass queen one. he placed them, lying down beside each other and pressed down, as if trying to bury them together; but not too deep, just enough for the two pieces to stay there for sure.

"…checkmate, huh?" he sighed, and proceeded to sitting, leaning slightly on the gravestone. "it happened to be that way, because i cheated?" 

akashi grit his teeth in a mix of different emotions. he gasped, feeling the pain in his heart.

akashi seijuro cried. 

"i'm… sorry; i'm so sorry…"

he closed his eyes, making more tears run down his face. he hated it, that it had to end this way. he regretted his words, his actions, his choice of wallowing in fear when she was there—to help and support him—always, no matter what. the redhead gasped for breath, and he spoke with his voice that could barely be heard.

"i never… realized it… i never realized how much you loved me…. and how much i wasted that love…"

he sobbed in silence, and a gust of wind blew... he felt that you were there, smiling and crying at the same time, as you hugged him. akashi didn't really see you, but then you vanished with the wind; finally feeling your soul at peace.

[otterknowbynow]

T’as de la place sur le canapé

Sometimes the others need a nap; Hunk is more than happy to provide comfort for his paladin family.

Written as part of Gentron Week 2020 for the prompt Cuddle Pile | Literal Sleeping Together. Also on ao3

Keith falls asleep on him first. Hunk wouldn’t normally expect it, but the guy’s been up for three days straight at this point, probably, between all they’ve been doing for alliance-building since Shiro’s been back and zipping off on Blades missions left and right. He’s focused on going over the notes from his last few sourdough biscuit attempts -- it seems like the space yeast, or whatever it is, is more sensitive to temperature than the Earth variety -- when Keith slumps over sideways against his shoulder. He tenses for a brief moment, worried something is very wrong, and looks over carefully without moving anything apart from his eyes. Keith’s mouth is slack, but his eyes are still open and as they focus on Hunk’s face, they widen, and Keith sits back up again quickly. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking away. His shoulders tense quickly and resettle as he leans against the back of the couch, as if he’s felt a chill. “Didn’t mean to…” he trails off, one hand waving vaguely in front of himself. 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Hunk says with a shrug. And it is, of course, now that he knows nothing’s wrong. “We’re all family here.” Keith looks back over at him and blinks. 

“...we are?” He doesn’t sound upset, just bewildered.

“Aren’t we?” Hunk asks, and thinks he’s probably just as confused as Keith is. He’s pretty sure there isn’t a better word for the five of them -- seven really -- than family at this point, considering. 

“I…” Keith trails off and picks up his tablet again, and Hunk shrugs as he goes back to his notes. He’s just worked out what he thinks would be an ideal ending point of temperature for the yalmor fat in the biscuits and has started to factor in the ambient temperature of the kitchen to know where it needs to start when Keith speaks again, so quietly he’s not sure he’s supposed to hear. “I guess we are.” Hunk nods without adding anything to that, still mostly focused on the numbers in front of him. Keith shrugs and leans to the side again, tentatively resting his head against Hunk’s shoulder. 

“This okay?” That question he knows is meant for him to hear, and Hunk nods again without really looking up.

“‘Course,” he says. 

As he finishes writing out the new procedure for his biscuits, Hunk slowly becomes aware that Keith’s body is vibrating softly against him. He frowns, almost opening his mouth to speak, and then closes it as he looks down and realizes the vibrating is accompanied by a quiet rumbling sound, and Keith is out like a light.

“He’s purring,” says a voice, and Hunk looks up to see Pidge leaning against the doorway to the lounge, carrying her tablet in one hand and a shoebox-sized container under her other arm. 

“He can do that?” Hunk asks. “That’s…” 

“Something he’s done for a long time,” Pidge says with a shrug. “He makes a lot of noises, if you listen for them -- extraverbal communication and all that. I noticed the trend a while ago -- that his tends to be cat-adjacent.” Hunk thinks back over the past several months and nods slowly. 

“Yeah, I guess he does. I never really thought about them being cat noises...thought they were just, I don’t know --” it’s Hunk’s turn to wave his hand vaguely in front of himself, carefully avoiding moving the side Keith’s leaning on “-- him noises.” Pidge shrugs again and crosses to sit on the couch on his other side, the shoebox thing between them. “What is that, anyway?” 

“Couple of broken communicators. I’m pretty sure they’re just old Altean walkie-talkies,” she says, lifting the lid so he can see two sleek white things that look like exactly that. “The thing that’s cool is they don’t use the same long-range frequencies as our suit communicators or the intercom. As far as I can tell, they’re just run-of-the-mill handheld two-way radios -- maximum communication distance should be something like five miles, but it seems like they might come in handy if I can figure out how to reload their power source..” 

“Nice,” Hunk says, looking them over and taking in the dual antennae and impossibly delicate-looking speakers. "Do they not just run on quintessence…?"

"Oh, they do," she says, nodding rapidly, Hunk assumes to offset how low they're still keeping their voices. "It’s just not in a form I’ve seen before, and I’m not sure how to recharge them, or really how they discharge." She flips one of the units over as she's speaking to show him a little catch on the back, which she slides open to reveal what looks like a small bag full of translucent blue gel -- it reminds Hunk more than anything of those little packs of dishwasher soap, but nearly drained. 

"Oh, wild," he breathes, careful not to let his shoulders move and jostle Keith. "Is that like...quintessence goop?" 

"Looks like it! How they got it in this form is still a mystery, though, and I think I'm well past having the level of focus I'd need to figure it out -- nearly fell asleep in the lab. I thought the change of scenery might help, or you might have some ideas, but..." She glances over at Keith -- head still resting on Hunk's shoulder, arms folded in front of his chest, and soundly asleep -- almost longingly. Hunk grins. 

"Tell you what -- why don't you get some rest and let me think on it?" 

"You sure?" She asks, stifling a yawn. 

"Yeah, I’m sure. You deserve a break, kid.” She grumbles a bit at that, but when he moves the box to the floor and picks up his tablet again, she doesn’t object. Instead, she faces the door and curls up against the back of the couch, resting her head on top of it. It doesn’t look like an entirely comfortable position, but Hunk shrugs and pulls up the data they’ve collected about the different matter forms of quintessence so far. 

Halfway through reading about its liquid form, however, he’s interrupted by a highly irritated-sounding Lance, who’s standing in front of him having apparently just come from the pool, if the combination of the smell of chlorine and his wet hair is any indication. 

“Oh, sure, no one bother telling me we’re taking a group nap, just don’t try --” he breaks off into a yawn, and Hunk takes the opportunity to shush him as emphatically as he can considering the sleeping forms on either side of him, but Lance continues just as indignantly as soon as he can draw a normal breath. “Don’t try to include Lance; he doesn’t need to know about local comfy gathering, more at 11!” His hands are on his hips, glare so sharp it could probably cut glass.

“Shush,” Hunk stage whispers, holding up his one free arm and trying not to laugh and disturb the others by shaking. “This wasn’t exactly a plan.” Lance narrows his eyes even further, looking down at the shoebox-y container on the floor. 

“Then why did you guys move things off the couch, hmm?” he asks, and Hunk is just glad he’s brought his voice down a bit. “Checkmate!” Apparently it’s not quiet enough, though, since Pidge stirs, mumbling something about a crick in her neck. And resettles facing toward Hunk instead, all without opening her eyes or taking her glasses off. 

“Lance, buddy, you are welcome to join us,”  he says, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Lance’s mouth is already half-open to continue his tirade, but he stops and closes it, blinking. 

“Yeah, that’s...probably better,” he says slowly. “I’m pretty beat.” He plops down onto the couch between Hunk and Pidge, where there’s barely enough space even for him. Pidge grumbles half into Lance’s shoulder and shoves him slightly toward Hunk, who lifts his arm to wrap it around him so he can still get to his tablet. Lance settles against Hunk’s side and yawns once, eyes already closed. 

“Wake me if there’s breakfast.” 

“I can do that,” Hunk says, fumbling a bit as he gets his screen back in front of him. He didn’t notice exactly when Pidge decided that his bicep made a better pillow than the back of the couch, but she’s wrapped onto his arm now, her glasses balanced somewhat precariously where her head was resting before. “I can do that.” 

[junewild]

tags masterpost

a couple of people have complimented me on my new tag system and a couple of people have asked me what tags go to what sort of content, so i thought i’d write up a little masterpost of what the tags mean, where they came from, and why they’re important to me! you’ll even get a sneak peek at a few tags that are very rare or have yet to be used 👀. this will be linked in my carrd when i get around to it. i’ve even tried to alphabetize them 😅 thanks for expressing interest, it’s very lovely of you all xoxo

#and i am close behind — home tag

a continuation of “the wild geese are heading home again” which is my nature tag. just for everything that makes me feel like i am coming home. 

#and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart — quotes and words tag

from a poem by e.e. cummings. “and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart / i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”. words are just hearts speaking to each other, after all. 

#and i was like *screams* — space tag

from the jenny slate drunk history nasa episode, because she somehow manages to sum up fully 80% of my feelings about the universe in that one sentence

#angstposting — disordered thoughts tag

literally just stream-of-consciousness breakdown-posting. probably block this tag. i go back and clean it out after every breakdown.

#but they are all good stories — media analysis/literature critique tag

hilary mantel (whose work i have never read) wrote that “some of these things are true and some of them lies. but they are all good stories.” anyway, that’s how i feel about taking apart stories and narratives and looking at them from the outside. 

#can you not hear the ocean in me — mental health and disorders tag

the non-breakdown version. from this poem, which i can’t find anyone but i think is a deleted inkskinned or caitlyn siehl one: 

“i am alive; 

can you not hear the ocean in me; 

are you not aware of the war i am fighting ; 

i am alive ; 

you cannot take that from me”

#checkmate nihilism — crafts tag

higgsboshark wrote a lovely post about how knitting is a great treatment for existential dread & now that’s all i think about every time i’m crafting. checkmate, nihilism. look at this thing that i am making with my hands. it exists and it will change someone’s life. 

#dumbposting — misc tag

for tag games and dumb comments and things that don’t fit in anywhere else. 

#fashion is instant language — fashion/body art tag

okay. IS this a cliche prada quote? yes. but also, one of my first classes in college was about art & society & the first thing that we learned was that the human body is the first & most primal canvas. what you do with your body is a statement, a language you are sharing with the people around you. i get very emotional about it. 

#felt rather than seen — poetry tag

YES i am a BASIC WHITE GIRL, thank you. the first half of the da vinci quote. “poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen / “

#fill your arms with the pink and white flowers — spring aesthetic tag

from one of mary oliver’s slightly less well known poems. 

“do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly

exclaiming of their dearness,

fill your arms with 

the pink and white flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing

forever”

#get in good trouble — activism/politics tag

are you really living if you aren’t making trouble for someone? write more letters. leave more voicemails. go to protests. join a mutual aid group. donate. there’s something you can do, even if it’s small. 

#i am building a world that is worth living for — moral living tag

slightly different from the activism tag bc this is more about what you/i can do in everyday life to make the world a better place. these are my own words, reminding me that to stay alive i have to build my own life and live in it. 

#i care to look on the outside like i do on the inside — gender/ sexuality tag

maggie stiefvater is a poet. 

#i have a magpie mind — happy tag

laurie graham’s version of the quote goes “i have a magpie mind, by which i mean i see and hear little things - photos, fragments of conversation - and store them away for future use,” and that’s what this tag is. just a lot of lovely things that i want to look back on. 

#i think i was a selkie in a past life — ocean/beach/selkie myth tag

someday i’m going to walk into the ocean and never come out again. j promised he would take me to a warm ocean where i can stand in chest-deep waves until i can’t stand any longer and i’ve never looked forward to anything so much in my life. 

#i wrote my own deliverance — creation/writing tag

this is not an admission of guilt. hamilton has a lot of words in it and these happen to be very nice. 

#it would be a merrier world —  food tag

because tolkien was right. 

#laughter for no cause — humor tag

funny things. half of a quote by louise glück. 

#let the wilderness engulf us again — discourse tag

i believe this is by christa wolf. anyway this is how i feel when i read Discourse. let’s all just get swallowed by the wilderness. who needs civilization anyway. 

#loveposting — affection tag

look, i’m just really gay and happy and i love my followers and my mutuals. let’s move on

#nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it — memory/emotion tag

yes, i have read everything ever written by l m montgomery, why do you ask? 

#offspring of heaven firstborn — light tag

constantly debating about whether i should change this one. i just have too many quotes about light. and too many posts about light. and too much love for light. this one is by milton, from the third book of paradise lost, and i memorized the entire chapter as a teenager because my “history” “class” believed in memorization as a form of education. 

#our bodies are meant to hold other bodies — sex/eros tag

from that little comic by grendelmenz (?). i KNOW it’s about cannibalism i DON’T care don’t @ me to love is to consume

#seen rather than felt — painting/visual art tag

and here’s the other half of the da vinci quote. 

#she stood in desperate music wound — music and playlists tag

from “a crazed girl” by yeats. tbh i usually lie upside down in my bed in desperate music wound but this poem kept me going as a teenager

#simply because the world is beautiful — misc tag

i just think the world is lovely and i am glad to be alive in it. this is where the rest of the assorted content goes. 

#someday you will be old enough to read fairytales again — fantasy/gaming/scifi tag

cs lewis got one thing right. 

#stardust will turn into kindness — joy tag

okay. okay i am still weeping about this man and his chickens. this tag is for every small creature who brings me delight. https://everychickdeservesamother.com/2019/08/17/all-the-good-there-is/

#thank god for the months after may — summer aesthetic tag

i haven’t listened to ben rector since i was seventeen but this is a good quote anyway and summer flowers are the thing that keep me going through the winter. 

#the first sign of civilization is a healed femur — civilization/altruism/kindness tag

paraphrase of the famous (possibly apocryphal) margaret meade quote. i saw a criticism of it by the green brothers, who were like “but lots of people/animals show altruism without any connection to civilization (eg buildings and cities and record keeping systems)” and i deeply disagree with them. civilization doesn’t require monuments, only people coming together to build (metaphorically) something bigger than they could have done as individuals. humans aren’t the only ones on that path, just the ones who’ve gotten the furthest down it. 

#the great sweeping wind — autumn aesthetic

yes i am a shameless l m montgomery stan. anne of green gables is my kindred spirit. 

#the quick and the dead — fungi tag

from the bible. you know. we all sin, we’re all alive or dead or both. fungi don’t care.

#the race that knows joseph — kindred spirit tag

haven’t gotten to use this one yet. looking forward to when i do. 

#the wild geese are heading home again — nature tag

shortened version of mary oliver’s poem. 

#there is a history in all men’s lives — history/natural history/anthropology tag

shakespeare knew how to use words. everything is history and i am excited about ALL of it. when will someone admit me into a grad school???

#we are the children of an indifferent universe — community/fandom tag

but, like colin meloy says, we are also the inheritors of a wonderful world. i think it’s amazing how we look at the universe around us and build communities and find meaning out of sheer spite. also i have got to refine this tag set better i can’t just shove ALL fandom content into one tag. stay tuned

#we don’t love this world without reason — awe/joy tag

from catadromously’s comic. this is for things that make me go “oh.” when i see them. 

#we shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us — architecture/interior design tag

churchill can have one right. architecture is one of my favorite art forms & interior design is something i love looking at and doing. someday i’ll even be able to afford it.

#we will be better than we were — recovery tag

from (yet another) caitlyn siehl poem that reads: 

“love is quiet love whispers “it is okay, we will be better than we were” and we are. we are.”

and we are. 

#within me; an invincible summer — winter aesthetic tag

albert camus wrote that: “in the midst of winter, i found there was, within me, an invincible summer. and that makes me happy. for it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.” winters are hard for me, but i hang on anyway. 

#you have no idea the joy that is coming — love tag

guess who this quote is by? if you guessed caitlyn siehl, you are correct. 

#you pull out the wild in me - feral aesthetic

not feral, just… wild. i don’t know. i don’t think i made this quote up but i can’t find it anywhere else so maybe i did. i’m guessing it’s now-deleted inkskinned or bonemeadows. 

#you’ve got to be kind — misc humans tag

kurt vonnegut. because yeah. we’ve got to be kind. that’s the only rule. we’re just humans and we have to be kind.

[bnhablessings]

Confession

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing? (C’mon it’s Bakugou here of course it’s going to be a swear storm)

Words: 2,881

So I recently got into 19 Days (I binged read all of it within a few hours and omg I love it so much. I’m so mad it took me this long to get into it) and this was inspired by the moment between Xiao Hui and Jian Yi and a letter. I am trying to be vague for those who haven’t read it lmao but yeah, this was created because I love 19 Days and the characters remind me of Bakugou and the squad :’)

(I am being so self-indulgent forgive this mess I made)

I am tempted to somehow make a reader insert for 19 Days now help me

I headcanon that Bakugou’s favorite word is fuck

“Mina, this is getting annoying. I don’t even get why people like me,” You murmur as you hand her yet another note received by a guy from another class.

She scans it with ease before laughing.  While pinching your cheeks she murmurs, “It’s because you are the cutest thing alive. However, I am curious as to why you turn them all down. You got so many hotties looking at you all the damn time! I’m jealous!”

A new voice pops up and slings around your arms, “Yeah. Why turn them down? As a potential male who loves you, I am curious to know!”

Denki is, of course, teasing you but it makes you flush in embarrassment. You don’t say a word… until they give you the puppy dog eyes. You cave in.

“I have my eyes on one person but… he’s out of my league. He’s amazing so I just can’t imagine myself by his side,” You state in a slightly saddened tone.

Unbeknownst to you, they already know you are referring to. Their number one favorite person to annoy and a mutual friend of yours, Bakuhoe. They also hate how dense you are and how stubborn he is because it’s obvious the way his behavior slightly changes around you that he likes you too.

As if the two can read minds, they lock gazes with each other and seem to agree upon something.

“I know (Name)! I think you should give one of your suitors a chance!” Mina states loudly.

Denki nods his head frantically in agreement as he yells, “Yeah! Go out with me!”

“I need to go yeet myself off the roof now since you’re being too loud with my problems,” You murmur as you hurry to leave the classroom to evade all the looks you’re getting from your peers.

Mina and Denki merely smile at each other in victory. Yeah. They’re about to play terrible matchmakers but in the end, they will win with this. “Shall we go let Sero and Kirishima in on this?” Mina asks as she puts her hand out in a silent deal.

“We shall.” Cue the devil horns on the two.

~*~

You groan into your desk. Throughout the week it feels like your problems with suitors have increased. You feel awful for turning them all down and slowly you are feeling like Mina may be right. Maybe it is time to at least give it thought before turning a person down.

A flick to the back of your head forces you to look up into ruby red eyes. Your heart freezes from the concerned look you are getting before it falls. Right, he will always just be a friend.

“What’s up with you?” Katsuki questions

You sigh inwardly as you try to act like your normal crackhead self. “I was just thinking about how I want to become as muscly and angry as you so I can take down everyone in my path.”

Immediately, a vein pops from his head and you regret everything. Before he can punch you like he normally does when you say something stupid, Denki and Mina appear before the both of you. Denki casually wraps an arm around your shoulders while Mina looks up with a glint in her eyes.

“Say (Name), I heard that an attractive person from Class B gave you a note this morning. Did you think about what I said?” Mina questions most definitely catching Katsuki’s attention.

You sigh this time not hiding it as you get up. “I need to get a snack before Aizawa comes back,” You state.

In your absence and now stuck with worse idiots, Katsuki gets visibly even more annoyed. “What the hell are you two planting in her head?” He growls out affected by how distant you seemed lately.

“Oh! She’s been having trouble with confessions lately so we merely suggested she should give one of them a chance,” Denki states like it’s no biggie.

Katsuki’s eyes widen and his scowl grows. A popping sound is resonating from his hands. Mina and Denki try to hide their smirks. Checkmate for jealousy.

~*~

“I’m thinking about giving (Name) a note,” Eijiro states looking rather serious.

This stops conversation in the Bakusquad especially as Katsuki glares at the red-head. You are absent today so the squad has finally decided to enact their plan that should take effect tomorrow when you return from school.

Hanta is smiling as he asks, “A note? Like all the confessions she’s been getting?”

“Yeah! It seems pretty manly to do so, and she is really cute so I figured why not?” Eijiro laughs while scratching the back of his head.

He knows the risks since Katsuki gets weird about you. He knows he might get slaughtered but it’ll be worth it to finally see you together. To his and all of their surprise though, Katsuki doesn’t say a word. He looks angry as usual.

Deciding to up it up a notch, Mina asks, “Do you even like her though? You know (Name) is sentimental. She’ll want the relationship to mean something.”

“Well, we’re already friends and she’s not the type to make things awkward so I have a feeling it’ll be different. If not, it was a manly try!” Eijiro goes on.

When no reaction happens Denki gives it one last shot, “What do you think Bakugou?”

“Why the fuck do you wanna know?” He growls out.

Eijiro feigns excitement as he goes on with the idea, “Yeah, Bakubro! You know more about her since you two are close! Do I have a chance with her?”

“I don’t fucking know or care so fuck off,” It’s so painfully obvious he is pissed off from this topic.

The four members of the squad all sigh in an almost defeated way until a new voice speaks up. They turn their head to see it’s Todoroki who was listening in on the conversation.

“It sounds like you do know and do care from the distinct sound of popping,” Todoroki states.

Katsuki stands up out of anger now and questions, “How the hell does it concern you?”

When Todoroki doesn’t say anything Mina gets a look of pure horror on her face as she turns to face the squad. They all have some stupid way of communicating with each other with just their facial expressions.

You don’t think he likes her, do you? Mina is horrified at the thought.

No way, he and Bakubro just have a rivalry going on. Nothing new. Eijiro somehow conveys with the frown on his face.

I think he likes her. Hanta is eyeing the dual-haired boy.

Find out! The mission can’t fail! Denki is making the X movement with his arms.

“All of you are pissing me the hell off with your stupid faces! Stop moving like that too dunce-face!” Katsuki yells at them. They wince but are grateful he didn’t get the meaning behind their faces.

Mina ignores the insults as she turns to look at Todoroki and asks, “Do you like her?”

Todoroki is intimidating as he is silent in his pondering. With a nod to his head, he vocalizes his thoughts, “Yes. It’s none of my business what you do Bakugou but it’s obvious from the way you act that you like her. It’s a shame that she has interest in you as well but if you’re going to play denial that gives me the advantage.”

The whole gang’s faces light up at his words. Not the fact that he admitted his like towards their favorite girl but the fact he pointed out that the two idiots obviously liked each other. They turn to face their angry boy only to see his face completely blank.

It stays that way for the rest of the day.

~*~

“Did I miss much yesterday?” You ask softly.

Katsuki says nothing making you furrow your eyebrows at him. It’s just the two of you in the hallway since you both arrived earlier than usual. You were ready to give up on speaking to him since he’s being weird until he shuffles himself to look at you.

“Do you like someone?” His question is harsh and usually, the tone wouldn’t have bothered you if he didn’t quickly add, “Some of the guys who ogle you were fucking annoying yesterday, asking me where the hell you were.”

Ah, your heart feels like it’s stinging. Reluctantly you answer, “I do and it’s stupid because they wouldn’t like me back.”

His expression remains hostile but his tone is a bit less harsh as he asks, “What are they like?”

“Annoying and stupid, so a bit like me I guess? He doesn’t hesitate for the things he wants. He sucks at communication but so do I. However, I know he cares deep down for the people he loves. It’s a trait I admire and I know they’ll be the number one hero one day,” You state with a sad smile on your face.

You described him obviously but the look he’s giving you is one of disgust. “Oh fuck- They’re in this class? Annoying and stupid- Is it fucking Deku or that stupid Icy-Hot?!” The venom in his voice is terrible but understandable since he thinks you’re describing the people he loathes.

You don’t get the chance to explain as you hear a happy voice call for you along with the rest of the squad.

“(Name)! I missed you yester-“ Eijiro doesn’t get the opportunity to speak more as Katsuki almost explodes his face off.

He’s on the floor from the impact but he’s fine. You hear him groan. Yeah… he’s fine. Katsuki mumbles, “It’s too fucking early for this goddamn nonsense.”

When Eijiro gets back up he looks at you excitedly and speaks again, “I need to giv-“

He’s back on the floor. Mina looks at Denki and Hanta with confusion. Mission status: closer but almost a failure?

Well, they know Katsuki isn’t going to let Eijiro “confess” to you.

~*~

In the courtyard, the Bakusquad is trying to regroup during their lunch break. It felt like a long day that hasn’t gotten anywhere with their plan.

“Well, that was a bust,” Hanta states.

Eijiro groans out in pain but manages to speak, “Bakubro is manlier than I thought to protect his crush from me.”

“You got hit 49, nope, 50 times. I think you’re manlier for not giving up sooner,” Denki states as he casually passes over a list of tallies he made for each time the poor red-head got assaulted.

Mina sighs loudly as she asks in desperation, “Don’t we have a backup plan? I thought the jealousy thing would’ve worked but he’s just stopping all Kiri’s advances. Why did it have to be this hard?!”

“SHUSH! HE’S COMING!” Denki practically screeches from seeing how ticked off Katsuki is as he stalks towards them.

The boy is literally shaking as if he’ll explode himself. However, instead of the yelling they were expecting, he speaks in an eerily calm voice. That terrifies them even more.

“When will you fucking give up? I am aware you are just being so damn annoying to try and match us up. There’s no way Shitty Hair would ever seriously confess to her because that would be breaking his so-called man code. Knock it off before I get furious. Got it?” Katsuki growls out.

Hanta is the first one to speak, “Awe man, you knew?”

“If you knew the whole time then- You like her and she likes yo-“ Mina is cut off when Katsuki finally loses it.

He yells at them the anger and slight embarrassment evident in his voice, “She doesn’t fucking like me! Okay?! So drop it!”

“Why would you say that? She doe-“

As Eijiro and Denki try to convince the vicious boy that he’s wrong, Mina spots a certain dual-haired boy headed inside with a white envelope in his hands. Her eyes widen and immediately she jerks her elbow into one of the boys by her, which happened to be poor Hanta. He looks to see where she is looking and gets the hint immediately.

Mina slaps a hand over Denki’s mouth while Hanta does the same to Eijiro and they both apologize. “We’ll drop it. Are you going to stay out here and eat with us?” Mina asks knowing fully well he wants nothing to do with them at this moment.

A split second passes and his reply is, “Fuck no.”

Bingo. Mina gives her fellow boys a look suggesting that they best put on their ninja mode.

~*~

Katsuki walks the halls to head back to the classroom. It’ll be a while before class actually starts but he needs the time to think for a bit. However, that thought flies right out the window as soon as he hears your soft-spoken voice right around the corner. He stops and sticks to the wall to eavesdrop.

“Todoroki… what is this?” Your voice is doubtful and it sounds like you are giving something back to him.

Katsuki is deathly still as he listens to Icy-Hot speak, “You know what it is. I know it’s in vain because you already like someone else, don’t you?”

When you speak, Katsuki is surprised at how shaky your voice comes out, “Yes. It’s stupid but yes. I was going to try, really try per Mina’s request to say yes to someone’s confession. As soon as I saw your envelope I was going to say yes- but I just- I just can’t.”

“It is Bakugou, correct?” Todoroki questions.

Katsuki can’t explain it but his blood is boiling yet again. This time he is angry at himself because this just doesn’t seem correct. Your words from earlier don’t match now.

“Yes.”

Todoroki hums and asks, “May I know why?”

You reply without a hitch and this time with a certain fondness in your tone, “He can be so damn infuriating. He is smart but can be a bit dumb as I did say similar words to him earlier and he thought I was referring to you or Midoriya. Even if he denies it he’s a pretty good friend. He takes care of us. I’ve never seen someone deny friendship the way he has but still remember details that no one else would-“

Katsuki’s heart is pounding. He’s pissed because he was wrong. Even more so that you are confessing everything to Icy-Hot about him and not to him. It bothers him that the stupid Icy-Hot guy thought he had a chance with you and even more so that you could’ve said yes if your feelings weren’t strong enough for him. He can’t take it anymore.

You freeze in absolute fear upon hearing footsteps step out as Katsuki finally reveals himself. Todoroki hides a pleased smile and states, “I’ll be taking my leave now. I’ll see you in class (Last Name).”

You’re too in shock to return his goodbye. Instead, you’re contemplating on running for your life or pretending that Katsuki didn’t just hear your confession. The look on his face suggests there are no options as such.

Still you decide to play dumb, “Hello, Bakugou. Fine weather, we’re having, huh?”

STUPID. STUPID. STUPID.

“Dumbass,” Katsuki mutters under his breath before he tugs you by your wrist and pulls you into him.

It was worth a shot but now you are awkwardly frozen. Of course, you were expecting a yell or a punch from him but since that didn’t happen you were hopelessly confused at this new unexpected soft side of him. He’s hugging you tightly.

His breathing is ragged as he seems to be having an internal conflict in his head. You feel pain on your cheek as he decided to pinch it.

“I fucking like you too, idiot. Your mine now so if you get any more of those damn confessions, tell me and I’ll set them straight.”

He removes his fingers from your cheek and this time you pull him into a hug, unable to contain the happiness you’re feeling from having your feelings being mutual.

“By the fucking way you are the annoying and stupid one,” He growls out as he finally remembers the insult (though it is a trait you adore).

You laugh as you purposely say, “Whatever Bakagou.”

“BAKA?! Fucking whatever. It’s Katsuki to you now.”

~*~

Once the Bakusquad and Todoroki hear yours and Bakugou’s footsteps disappear to the direction of the classroom, they finally start high-fiving each other, minus Todoroki who is pleased.

“I had no clue you were just bluffing about liking her! What are you some kind of genius?!” Mina questions the dual-haired male.

Todoroki simply shrugs and states, “You guys weren’t too quiet about your whole plan you made. Watching you guys fail was painful as well. You simply need an obstacle to make you think desperately and have Bakugou fall into your hands.”

“We weren’t quiet? Maybe that’s how Bakubro found out,” Eijiro laughs.

Denki shakes his head as he does the finger gun motion to Todoroki, “Either way thank you for helping us out! We needed it!”

“I’m just glad Mission get the idiots together worked!” Hanta states.

Todoroki shakes his head, “See. Even the name for the missions is too obvious.”

Mina just smiles. The mission was successful.

[bom-bombon]

Texas?

Yeehaw

Name: Sebastian Inglesias

While Texas does have a second last name because he’s Hispanic, he decided to drop it. I know many Hispanic who have either both of their parents’ names and of only their fathers’ last name with the former being more common. Those with one last name has less complications with paperwork, applications, etc., than with those with two last names. Considering all this, I think that Texas would drop the second last name to make his life more easier.

Age: 27-29

Gender: Cis male

Ethnicity/Race: Hispanic (Mestizo)

Siblings: Coahuila (perhaps Chihuahua and Nuevo Leon too but it’s still a wip)

Height: 5′11 (180.34 cm)

He’s sad that he’s not 6′0. He may be taller than some of his fellow Mexican brethren, but he gets reminded that he’s not the tallest in the Union, or at the very least, he’s not 6′0. This annoys him to no end.

Relations:

-Arizona: They’re buddies. They both share a love for guns, have similar conservative ideologies, and they love a/c. No matter how much New Mexico tries to discourage Arizona from talking to him, Arizona just doesn’t care. He thinks that Texas is cool (which fuels his already big ego)

-Arkansas: They get along. That’s it. I suppose that sometimes he does call her Ar-kansas and she don’t talk to him for a whole day after that, but they’re cool nonetheless.

-California: They don’t like each other. He finds her annoying and thinks she’s an idiot. When she was first introduced to the states, he thought that they could be together and be some sort of duo. But they thought different things and it upset him. To him, it almost felt like betrayal because he thought he knew her and she supported and admired him. So why doesn’t she support him now? Today, they just bicker and often start arguments. Both of their egos will never let it go and make up.

-Coahuila: It’s complicated. Coahuila was enraged when Texas broke away from her and even more so when the US helped. While I’m not sure their relationship was during this time period, I do know that they didn’t talked for a while. Texas believed he was doing the right thing in following his own dreams. Though that is debatable at best. Nowadays, they get along well and Coahuila sometimes invite him to parties. Sometimes…

-Louisiana: They chill with each other. Louisiana, although criticizes him on some occasions, think he’s a nice guy. He has helped her in the past and she no doubts never forgot about it, so she helps him whenever she can. They’re also dumbasses together so that’s fun too.

-Minnesota: They’re together! Minnie is like 6’2 so she calls Texas cute for being tiny and he loves and hates it!! They are both tough as nails. For example, Minnie surprised him by beating him on a mechanical bull, Virginia complained about how strong Minnesota was during the Civil War, and Montana always remarks about how Minnie was the only other state who can keep up with her in the World Wars. And Texas is Texas. They are both incredibly sweet in relationships. Minnesota is known for being nice and it’s tru. Texas in relationships is sort of like the Latin Lover, excluding the constant need for uhh bedroom stuff. They are both gentle to each other out of respect and always get each other meaningful gifts. Not to mention the daily reminders of “you’re beautiful” or “you’re my sunshine”, they’re too pURE. They both like similar hobbies such as watching and playing football, taking care of animals, and roasting the hell out of people. Texas helps Minnie into confronting problems and people

Minnie: Idk how to tell them

Texas: It’s easy, I’ll show you how

Texas: Hey New York!

New York: I’m not listening…

Texas: New York!

New York: *looks up*

Texas: I like your shirt but I don’t like you!

She teaches him about considering other’s feelings. Sometimes Texas is too caught up about himself to realize how he’s affecting others around him and she knows this. She reminds him that people that not everyone will understand him emotionally and might take offense. Slowly, Texas thinks more often. Minnesota and Texas also love having adventures together. They would go and snowboard (though Texas has fell off a mountain one time). No matter what they’re doing, they always seem to compliment each other and have fun together. 

-Montana: They’re cowboy buddies. I would imagine them talk to each other about animals, particularly horses and cows. Since Montana is also a tough person, she and Texas loves to have small competitions with lifting or who has the most power. He sees her as a buddy and likes to talk to her, which is good because Montana herself has trouble fitting in when all people know about her is just cows and nothingness.

-New Mexico: New Mexico hates him. From what I can remember, Texas tried to claim parts of New Mexico three separate times. The last attempt was the Civil War, and with the attempt to take Santa Fe, New Mexico won’t let it go. Texas doesn’t really care about him nor seem to remember that he even exist. He mostly focuses his rivalry with Oklahoma. Plus, he think New Mexico is a bad driver.

-Oklahoma: They’re rivals. The extent of this rivalry, I’m not too sure and admittedly haven’t delved into much. What I can say is that he always honk his horn at her because she’s a terrible driver. At some point she called him Baja Oklahoma and he cried

-Tennessee: They’re friends. Tennessee is gay for him. So when the Texas Revolution was starting and the US helped out, a good chunk of the people were from Tennessee. So Tennessee helped Texas out wherever he can and that was his first friend from the US. They love to go hunting and talk about guns and stuff. Tennessee really admired him and is glad that he’s consider to be close friends with the big boi of the South. They also play music together and have nice country vibes.

-Wyoming: They’re Yeehaw buddies. They also had a relationship is perhaps early 1900s but I’m not too sure yet.

Things I don’t know how to title but it exists:

-Texas has tattoos of all his state symbols on his arms and back

-They played a “special” game of Truth or Dare. In the end, Texas threw up and vowed to never go to Vegas or hang out with Nevada for 9 months.

-Texas gave some of his friends in the Midwest and South (who aren’t Hispanic mind you) the “spicy” Mexican candies and almost all of them are more cautious about Mexican candies. Plot twist: they’re not spicy at all; they’re just weak

-Yee in the streets, haw in the sheets

-He’s bisexual

Some things about her (development? idk):

Texas has this arrogance that kinda makes it unbearable to work with at times (his closest friends can attest to this). But to be fair, this arrogance would be provoked by someone either messing with his lovely state or someone who’s just curious. Besides that, he is actually pretty charismatic, confident, and charming that attracts people despite his (non intentional) brash behavior. (It’s a joke that he purposefully made Tennessee gay). He’s also intelligent as he’s musically talented, exceeds surprisingly well in mathematics and sciences, and fluent in a couple languages such as English, German, and Vietnamese. He worked hard to be where he is and he can be closed minded in some parts but that’s because he likes to stay relatively the same. He doesn’t like a lot of change; you can say he’s afraid of it and what it might bring because he doesn’t want to lose who he truly is deep down inside. (It’s kinda funny because with this new influx of Californians, he’s stressed and upset at her more than ever).

Some quotes,, things?: 

New York: I’m hot shit and that’s the only thing I’ll take away.

Texas: Didn’t you hear her? I’m also hot shit. And that’s the power of the Texan charm ;) Checkmate, liberals.

New York: Yeah well why don’t you shut up.

Texas: You shut up

–

Northern Mariana Islands: *gives everyone a glass shot of tequila*

Everyone: *downs the shot and put their shot glass on the middle of the table*

Delaware: More please!

Ohio: No more please…

Arkansas: What the fuck was that??

Utah: Ugh, that so strong what the heck-

Texas: Can we do this every night?

–

Priest: You may now read the vows you have prepared.

Texas: I think I misunderstood the assignment.

Minnesota: Just read what you wrote, dear.

Texas: Ok *deep breath* A E I O U

–

Texas, drunk: SI YA SABEN COMO ME PONGO PA QUE ME INVITAN???

–

South Dakota: But it’s couples like you that give hope to the rest of us. Minnesota, you deserve the best, and you found it.

Texas, don’t you dare hurt her.

Everyone: *laughs*

Texas: I won’t.

Michigan: Don’t laugh. She means it.

Texas: Okay, I-I won’t

.Nebraska: Seriously, don’t hurt her.

Texas: Okay, I’m not planning on hurting her.

Indiana: You better not be

Texas: I’m not!

Ohio: Hey, Texas, you best be watching yourself

Texas: Why would any of you think I would hurt Minnesota? Y’all my friends too.

Illinois: Nah

–

1945

Tejas, a los otros estados: Me das una úlcera cada vez que me despierto y tengo que venir ‘pa trabajar para ti, para ti!

–

Texas, grabbing a toy police car: Coahuila! Can you buy me this?

Coahuila: No.

Texas: You never buy me anything!

Coahuila: You’re over 300 years old!

–

Texas: Yee in the streets, haw in the sh-

Oklahoma: No.

–

Texas, drunk: You’re so pretty,, are you seeing anyone?

Minnesota: Yeah, I’m married

Texas, crying: To.. to who?

Minnesota: You, you smol idiot *kisses his forehead*

[inflammatoryfandomblog]

on blake and running away

this post will be just me rambling about some tension i’ve noticed in the show for the longest time, yeah? i'm not trying to like, take people’s favorite characters away from them or whatever, but it’s me trying to come to terms with the fact that “running away” seems to be a very common theme for WBY... and for BY, it’s handled a bit oddly.

adam is mentioned as a matter of course, but i don’t really look at him the way you are used to--i don’t talk about the race stuff at all. i exclusively look at his abuse to Blake here; let it not be said that i’m so hung up on the race stuff that i ignore this part of his character. but if talk about abuse triggers you, you may not want to read this--it doesn’t really talk about personal experience at all and it’s not graphic, but this is a deeply personal Topic so i will warn you right now.

since this is long (no, really, it’s long as hell because it takes some explaining, and it’s more me trying to wrap my head around this than coming to a conclusion), i’ll stick it under a readmore:

Hello there!

Now, let’s all get on the same page, shall we? We all know that Adam’s a slimy creep in the show, right? And that most of his words to Blake should be taken in the context of what he intends to do and comes forth from his character?

This is a pretty basic observation... the things that characters say can be safely assumed to have a purpose in some way. Like Adam saying “my dear” or “wow we finally have alone time!” or whatever crap isn’t meant to be taken at face value as romantic, right? In fact, because Adam is (supposed to be) charismatic and an emotional abuser, you should generally assume there is some ulterior motive to what he says. (If this isn’t obvious to you, see Blake telling Yang that Adam only has power because of his manipulation in the Brunswick Arc.)

Which kind of strikes me as weird because... this isn’t really in line with how the writer’s depend on Adam’s dialogue sometimes? At certain points you’re supposed to take his framing as basically true--think of when he yells “what does she even see in you?” which ... is supposed to be taken by the audience as “see, even Adam sees their relationship, in case you haven’t gotten it yet!” rather than the kind of meaningless unhinged statement an abusive, jealous controlling asshole would make,

And like, if it were limited to rare instances like this, I wouldn’t really care about it that much, I would just take the unnatural dialogue as the audience clue-ins they’re meant to be and take Adam’s talkativeness in the final fight as RT being excited that Garrett Hunter can finally do the bare minimum of voice acting. But the reason it bugs me is because Adam was previously used to outright tell us Blake’s supposed character flaw of running away and we were just... supposed to take it at face value?

So, Adam constantly taunts Yang during their volume 6 fight, reminding her of Beacon to no end. And if you know Adam’s character, you’d know that this is meant to be intimidating shit-talking to Yang and to get her to attack him. It’s not even really subtle. “You’re a coward! Just like [Blake]” etc etc etc

(The fact that it doesn’t really work at all in this fight and he fucking keeps taunting her even when it clearly doesn’t work is the reason why Adam is annoying as hell during that fight. I’m salty that I was forced to be put through his voice acting, yes, I’m allowed to be petty.)

Remember this line of dialogue from him, because it’ll be important later: “You’re a coward! Just like her!” He frames her running away as a flaw pretty consistently, and this actually lines up with her character arc:

So flashback to the earlier volumes, right? Blake’s self-identified flaw is that she “always runs away” in volume 2. In that infamous volume 3 fight, Adam says, in response to Blake’s “I’m not running!”: “You will.” And that’s what happens, and it’s supposed to fuel most of the Yang-Blake drama in subsequent volumes. 

Volume 4 has Blake outright say that the reason she ran away was because she wants her friends to hate her so they can be safe, and Sun basically tells her, “you don’t have to be alone, your friends are here.”

In volume 5, Yang reinforces that this is supposed to be a trait of Blake, and it’s also framed negatively: “she ran!” Now Weiss contextualizes this in their talk by basically saying that Blake is lonely and she ran away because she wanted to protect them, and Yang repeats the whole notion of “she doesn’t have to run! We were here for her.” In that very same volume, Blake  “now he can see what it feels like to run away” when she successfully out-organizes Adam. The parallel between Blake now having Support and Backup and Therefore She Doesn’t Need to Run Away Anymore, while Adam Lost His Influence and Therefore Must Run Away.

In the V6 ending  song “Nevermore,” Blake’s first singing part implies that her running away is a character flaw that she got over by killing Adam:

Will I be afraid (Adrienne) Nor will I run away (Casey) It's behind me (Adrienne + Casey) Freedom is finally here (Casey)

So it’s clear that the story the show wants you to take away from this is that Blake always runs away because she views herself as a burden to her friends and won’t let them help her, and she needs to open up more and be more confident in her value as a person and push people away. Her arc is about that in volume 5, where she defeats people via the Power of Friendship. She spells out her character arc to Sun in volume 5, chapter 5:

“I’m going to try and help [Ilia] the way you helped me. You showed me that sometimes you need to be there for a friend even when they don’t want you to be. I was drowning in guilt and fear, and I tried to push you away, but you didn’t give up on me. And I can’t give up on Ilia; it’s about time I saved my friends for once.”

Blake’s character arc post-season 3 revolves around being comfortable with relying on support and supporting others, and that helpfully stops her from running away and lets her face her big problems. 

This would all be all well and good if it weren’t for the fact that running away actually isn’t the bad thing that the show tries to frame it to be, if you were to judge by what actually happened in the events of the show and the actions of other characters, and this is where my big beef with Blake’s arc comes from. I’m going to argue that running away wasn’t actually a character flaw Blake had at all, and the show treating it as such is it basically siding with Adam on this particular issue.

Blake has run away 3 times in the show’s runtime thus far.

1. The first time was in the Black Trailer

2. The second time is in volume 1 when she inadvertently reveals herself as an ex-White Fang member to Weiss

3. The last time is during the epilogue to volume three when she absconds to Menagerie

All three instances were actually valid and ended up being good for Blake. (1) is her escaping an abusive relationship. (2) leads to her finding Sun and opening up to a fellow faunus for once. (3) is Blake running away back to a support system she already had--her parents, who are pretty loving and accepting of her. The fact that she ran away might be the best thing Blake did--yeah, it wasn’t perfect, Yang was hurt--but objectively, Blake reconnected with the people who love her unconditionally and she was also there to save her parents from being murdered by Adam.

To pile on to these instances, Blake’s personality is actually rather confrontational. She constantly gets in arguments with Weiss in volume 1, and in volume 2, her character arc is basically her freaking out because they weren’t doing enough about Torchwick. 

But but but--! I hear the objection to this statement--Blake in volume 2 herself said that she always runs away from her problems! Checkmate atheists!

Well, dear reader, it’s not. Self-perception isn’t necessarily always true, especially if you’ve been emotionally abused before, as Blake has been. In volume 2, Blake sees herself as a coward who runs away all the time even though this is directly contradicted by her personality and actions.

Now, who in her past might benefit from framing “running away” as a bad thing? That leaving him to “run away” to other people means she’s a coward?

If you bothered to remember the quote I told you to remember earlier, it’s Adam! Adam stands everything to gain by telling Blake that running away is Bad; stay with me, Blake, don’t run and abandon me like your parents did. This would be the most striking and lasting example of emotional abuse, directly related to Blake’s self-perception and tying into a lot of the things she does in the show.

Would be. But the show sort sides with Adam here--running away is Bad. Adam is, according to the explicit messages of RWBY, what the show wants you to believe, right in saying that Blake always runs away. 

But she doesn’t. Hell, she doesn’t even run away from him when the going gets tough, and Adam himself doesn’t even believe that Blake is a coward. Remember the first time she him saw in in volume 3? They were really far apart and Blake could have just ran, but Adam stabbed a random civvie knowing that Blake would rush in to protect him. And like clockwork, Blake indeed did attack Adam to try to prevent harm.

(And yes, Adam used the exact same trick to lure Yang into attacking him, except instead of stabbing a nondescript extra, he stabbed Blake. Connections!)

This kind of stuff partially why I’ve always been uncomfortable with the abuse backstory, because much like the racism stuff that I have a problem with, the show just... ignores the big elephant in the room. Blake already had this self-image discrepancy going on in the first 3 volumes, but it never properly gets addressed again. Like with the violent-but-not-extremist White Fang and Sienna, it gets a throwaway line to explain its absence: “Yeah, look, Adam called Yang a coward! We’ll just vaguely nod at this!” But Blake’s arc proper? There’s nothing about coming to terms with her running away or using it as a concrete in-story example of her untangling Adam’s abuse--that might actually get people uncomfortable, you see--so it slowly gets morphed into the safer and easier plotline of “see, you just need to let yourself rely on people!”

And it’s weird that it got dropped so easily because “running away” is pretty much a... not a theme, but a thing three of the four main girls have going on. Yang has abandonment issues because her mother up and ran away--in fact, the language of how Running Away is Bad and Cowardly is brought up in the talk-ju-jitsu scene with Raven. 

This is probably the easiest connection in the world to make--Raven and Blake both ran away, but as far as Yang is concerned, it’s okay with Blake because... “she came back,” which... uh??? uhhhh???? It uncritically accepts that Running Away is a Bad Thing--it’s the coming back part (which wasn’t even an intentional thing on Blake’s end; she didn’t even know RWBY would be there) that “redeems” Blake’s sin--see Yang’s “you came back!” and Weiss’s “she will [come back.]”

Which... is actually kind of weird in light of how Running Away vis-a-vis Blake is handled (ie, she gets the notion that it’s a bad thing from Adam--but certainly she shouldn’t go back to him). The show didn’t need to do everything in its power to frame Running Away as a bad thing; it could acknowledge that while it may hurt somebody, running away is sometimes the best thing you can do, and this could actually tie into Yang’s abandonment issues, because if there was a character that also needed untangling with the concept of Running Away, it was her. 

But it seems like Blake and Yang won’t really talk about any of this in the future, because we can’t have conflict because of people’s differing experiences with running away, apparently. Blake’s act at the end of volume 3 did hurt Yang and potentially... swept under the rug, because Blake Came Back, Guys! We can put a ring on it now. Because getting over abuse is always straightforward, you will never make mistakes trying to heal yourself, and there are never hard decisions to make! 

I never see people talk about this, so maybe it’s worth a mention. But Weiss is also technically guilty of Running Away--from an abusive household, in this case, much like her sister. And here, much like with Blake, it’s a good thing. But with Weiss, the narrative actually admits that leaving was the right thing to do for herself and her character arc is actually about that. So it’s exceedingly strange for me that Blake doing the exact thing Weiss does is a “flaw” she had to get over, instead of something that could be looked at and digested.

Blake’s experience with abuse is an element that never seemed to really resonate with me personally, because what I saw on screen and what was implied didn’t add up perfectly. I like the message of “support systems matter” of Blakes volume 4-5 arc in concept, but it never felt exactly right, because what Blake actually resolved and what was visibly her problem never felt 1:1 to me. 

[mininky]

Tainted Souls (Taehyung)

Summary: Vampires were no longer a myth, the world knew that they were very very real. The world wasn’t ready for it, and they really weren’t ready to find out that all those whacky conspiracy theorists finally got something right. A lot of celebrities were, in fact, undead. Including BTS. Touring constantly, always on the move it was painfully difficult to ensure that they received their meals. Until their manager learned of a business that specialized in vampire fine dining.

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (female/male receiving), biting, multiple orgasms, swallowing of bodily fluids, no condoms (don’t do that!)

Word count: 6.3K

Series list: Prologue, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

   "What book are you reading?" You look behind you on the plane to see Taehyung standing up at an awkward angle so he can peer over your shoulder.    "Dracula." You move your sights back to the book in front of you, trying not to smile at the laughter ringing out above you.    "Dracula, really? So, does that make you my Mina?"    "If I was your Mina then I would have gathered a group of men who would have become so completely infatuated with my kind, sincere, and oh-so-innocent character that they would murder you for me. Well, technically for her fiance, but let's be honest they all did it for Mina." You try to go back to reading but close the book when you realize your eyes have been dancing over the same page for the last few minutes. You put your bookmark in and look up again to see Tae giving you a boxy grin.    "Yeah, well I suppose in a sense you are Mina. You could definitely have a bunch of dudes do your bidding."    "Is that so?"    "Yup." You watch Tae whip his head back around and can barely hear Namjoon saying something about 'sit down' over the hum of the engine. Tae, however, stays up anyways. It can't be comfortable, he's having to stand at an obscure angle/crouch in order to avoid banging his head on the overhead. "But I appreciate that you aren't trying to kill the vampire and you aren't really Mina. Besides, cute and innocent gets boring really fast, doesn't it (y/n)?"    You watch Jin's hand clasp around Taehyung's collar and jerk him back into the seat before you can even respond. So instead you have to settle on pulling up your KKT (and paying the outrageous WIFI fee) so you can have the last word. "Why kill the vampire when it's so much more fun to fuck them?" You wait a few moments, praying that Tae also paid for in-flight WIFI before you hear him sputter and cough behind you. Checkmate.    You and Tae have been playing a game of cat and mouse from the moment you met. It's hard not to be drawn to him. He's charismatic, handsome, sweet, and he has this air of unflappable confidence that comes close but never fully crosses the line into arrogance. And you...well you've found your new favorite past time but you never thought about the implications it would bring about later in time. You and Tae flirt back and forth with each other constantly, but you've never crossed the line. Come close, dipped a toe over, sure...but you refuse to be the first one to break. Oh no, Tae will be the one to break.    He's not like the normal fuck boy type, you'll give him that. In fact, he's not even really a fuck boy, he just has the tendencies. He's got this really sweet, sensitive, kind side to him. He's also very intuitive, the type of person to know exactly what you need or want before you ever say it. But he's also the type that's unapologetically himself and it's naturally an easy attractant for women. He could have any pick of the litter, and he knows it. He walks like he knows it, talks like he knows it, but he never actually comes out and says it. And the thought of conquering him, of being the one that he begs for. The one that gets the cocky side of him to bow down before your feet. Oh yes, you'll break him. Unlike Tae, who flirts shamelessly possibly just for the fun of it, you do it for more perverse and personal reasons.    You're attracted to him. More than you'd care to admit too. You want him, you want all of him. You're not sure where in the game that started happening, but you know it's far earlier on than you care to admit to yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Not until he's worshiping you, and then you'll bare your heart and soul. But he needs to break first. You want to wash off that cocky grin from his face, you want to see him vulnerable and bare to you. And as much as you'd like to pretend it was just a game of conquering the man who can conquer all it was now much more than that. So you've been pushing harder than ever, trying to get him to cross the finish line. You think he probably understands what you're doing. And it seems to you that he's drawing it out to see if you'll break first instead. You've had to slow back down in retaliation. Well, that and the fact that you had been so caught up in the thrill of the chase that you've had witnesses. Technically just one witness actually, just on a few occasions.    Unfortunately, poor Jungkook has been caught in the crossfires of your little 'chases' a few times now. So now you have to be a little bit more careful. Poor Jungkook. The last time he walked in on the two of you had been the worst. He'd found Taehyung feeding from your thigh when he came over to see if Taehyung wanted to play a video game of some sort with him. As if it wasn't bad enough of a position with your dress hiked up and your expensive black lace and chiffon underwear on full display it of course just had to happen right when he finally started looking you in your eyes after he accidentally saw the racy photo you'd sent Tae a few weeks prior. It wasn't that bad, but you're pretty sure that he's maybe seen boobs in real life a handful of times and that didn't help anything. He's a shy, innocent thing under all that bravado he puts on stage. Jungkook still refuses to talk around you, he just turns into an awkward statue and runs away which has caused his blood type endless entertainment recently. She's been using you just to chase away Jungkook, and it's only made you tread more lightly in your game with Taehyung.    Your thoughts are brought back to the present when you hear your phone buzz. You glance over at Jungkook's blood type on your right and Jin's blood type on your left to see both of them sound asleep before pulling up the text. It wasn't a dick pic per say. It alluded to it, but the angle cut off right after the thatch of well-groomed pubic hair. Interesting, so he doesn't shave completely. Somehow, you kind of anticipated him to be an all or nothing kind of guy. Not that you're complaining. The real question is how to respond?    You take a moment to ponder your options before a text pops up.

[Tae-Tae] Speechless? [you] No, I'm just debating if you shave and trim or just trim.    What a cocky little shit. You'll break him one day, you swear it. [Tae-Tae] Care to find out? [you] Hmm... [Tae-Tae] I'll show you if you ask me. ;) [you] Nah, I think my own imagination is probably better. [Tae-Tae] :( It's not tho [you] Whatever you say, babe. [Tae-Tae] babe? I get nicknames now? What can I call you? How about baby doll? [you] Gross, veto. [Tae-Tae] Princess? [you]...I can work with that one, but it's not my favorite. [Tae-Tae] My queen? [you] Much better. I accept from you my humble servant.

   You try to stifle your laughter as Taehyung suddenly appears down the aisle. He shoots you another boxy grin and leans over for a moment to whisper in your ear.    "See, I told you. You can get guys to do their bidding. All you have to ask and your wish is my command. My queen." You look at him for a moment before staring back straight ahead.    "I'd rather hear you beg." You watch his pupils dilate for a moment when you spare a short glance back his way, his head cocked to the side before he finally moves back over to his seat when a stewardess starts walking by.

---------------------------------

   A few days later and you're finally back in the comfort of your own home. In a strange way, you aren't actually that happy with it. Being out and exploring and...being with Tae...well it's fun. But meanwhile back at the ranch you just go through tedious monotonous tasks of daily life. Not that it's that bad, it's really nice to be able to catch up on all your favorite shows and finish a book in your favorite spot on the couch. It's just...well it's boring.    You've been going and traveling nonstop for the last couple of months, and sure it could be stressful. Especially trying to get through an airport while not being caught with BTS and the constant reminder of 'no scandals, we hired you to be discrete' from the ever so lovely management. (Honestly, with some of the stunts you've seen the other girls pull you're surprised that there hasn't been a scandal yet. It's not that they aren't discrete, it's more that...well there's zero tolerance for bullshit from some of the other girls when fans get out of hand.) But with all its rules the job is still worth it. You got to explore museums and sites and food all over the world. Your bank account is certainly not a concern any time soon. But more importantly...with Tae. And when you're back at home...well you're just a regular old girl again. When you're with Tae it's like everything is an adventure, his optimistic boyish charm is infectious. When it's back to just you in your apartment though it's like everything is slightly muted.    Your thoughts wander back to Taehyung for a moment. The tour had ended with things getting...slightly awkward between the two of you. You're pretty sure that both of you are getting tired of this little game, but both of you are too stubborn to try for something more. Each conversation with him lately has kept you on edge, both of you seem to be daring the other person to just say it first. You know you're in deep shit, you don't just like him...you love him. And that puts you in an odd spot. This is after all your job. And he is after all famous and under a microscope constantly. And then there's his personality. It's almost like there are two sides to him. The flirty grand charismatic face he shows the world and then the much more serious, sometimes stoic side he'll occasionally give you a glimpse of. But what's real with him? You can't help but wonder if he actually likes you, or if he more just enjoys teasing you. And this dilemma really isn't his fault, it's yours. You started this. You were the one challenging him, instead of just coming forward and being honest. But being honest is scary. Rejection is a serious possibility, and you're not sure if you'll ever be able to recover from it. I mean, sure you will, but...man it won't be easy. And let's say he does reject you, do you have to go back to your old routine at Tainted Souls all over again?    You're in the middle of a deep True Blood binge under the confines of the pillow fort you've made when a knock at the door interrupts your thoughts and has you pausing the show. You have no clue who it could possibly be. Your friends rarely show up unannounced and all of them have day jobs so considering that it's only 1:00 in the afternoon it couldn't possibly be them. And you didn't order any food, you actually forced yourself to cook for once just a little while ago. You peak your head out the pillow fort and squint at the door (not that it's helpful in any way but you're hoping you can somehow will the person away if you do this long enough.) Another round of knocks, louder this time, ring through the apartment before the doorbell is rung no less than five times in under thirty seconds.    You grunt as you crawl out of the fort before marching over to the door. Swinging it open you're ready to give an earful at your intruder before seeing that damn boxy grin.    "Tae?"    "Hiya, my queen. I was just bored and in the area and-"    "How do you know where I live?" Taehyung stops for a moment and you see a mischevious glint in his eye.    "I have my ways. Are you going to invite me in?"    "What is this, some old-timey vamp shit? Yes, please, I invite you in oh undead one." Tae chuckles as he steps in, his shoulders brushing against yours momentarily before he steps aside to take off his shoes. "You aren't off the hook that easy though. How did you find out where I live?"    "It's on your resume, duh." You watch him survey your small apartment before his eyes light. "Is that a pillow fort???" He skips with glee over to the area, a childlike innocence and enthusiasm taking over as he crawls down and shuffles into the area. "What are we watching?"    "We're not watching anything. I was watching..." You stop yourself short. How do you explain to a vampire that you're basically watching a vampire porn show that got a disturbing amount of things about vampires right? I mean, the Dracula thing was already a bit embarrassing enough but hey, it's a classic!    "What, cat got your tongue? Come on, come join me in the fort, my queen!" You glance over to see him patting at the side next to him before finally giving in with a reluctant sigh. You didn't exactly make enough space for two people though, so you're squeezed rather tightly next to his side. "So...were you watching porn?"    "...no..." No that would almost be less embarrassing, unfortunately.    "That...that wasn't the answer I was expecting. Oh...oh my god. You WERE weren't you?" You're struck with horror as he moves to press play. Why god? Why you? Why didn't you destroy all the evidence before opening the door? Why didn't you hide the remote? Why couldn't you have been watching anything else other than-    The sounds of moaning fills the room. Of fucking course, this just had to be the worst possible scene for it to start on. And of course you just haaaad to watch the whole series over from the beginning and this is the part where they find the tape of the girl who died after sleeping with a vampire who chains her up has very rough sex with her and then drains her.    "Holy shit, this is...this is really kinky. It feels like I'm watching some of Hobi-hyung's stash, but worse. Wow. It's always the ones you least expect I guess." His eyes are glued to the screen as it finally cuts back to the police.    "No!!!! No, no no no no no no no!!!" You're smacking Tae repeatedly on his arm, hoping that you're somehow making your illiterate rant get across to him. "No, it's a TV show. It's called True Blood! It's about vampires and okay it's honestly trashy and kind of awful but I mean, they got so much right. A lot of it wrong, but so much right too! Like synthetic blood, and vampires coming out of the coffin! And and and..." You stop at the sound of Taehyung laughing maniacally at your outburst. "Oh fuck off Tae. Even if I was watching porn I'm allowed to do so! Who died and made you my dad? Also, what ARE you even doing here? Don't think I bought that 'I was in the area' bullshit! You're not getting off that easy mister!"    "Mister, really?" Tae sighs before cuddling closer into your side, his face pressing into your shoulder. "I just missed you, if you really must know."    "Oh." What does that admission mean? Does it mean...no he couldn't possibly be throwing in the towel.    "Oh?"    You glance down to see Tae looking up at you through his messy fringe. You hadn't really paid attention when he first came in, but he looks paler, tired. "OH, you're hungry." He rolls his eyes before he cuddles even closer and throws a leg over you. You pray that your heart will stop thundering soon because you know for a fact he can hear it.    "Not really. I still have two more days before I need to eat. I told you, I just missed you. Is that such a crime?"    "You look hungry. Tae, you don't need to lie. If you just came because you need to eat that's fine, I'm sure you've been working harder now that you're back and-"    "I told you that's not why I'm here!" His face snaps up, and you're suddenly reminded by his inhuman speed that he is indeed a creature not to take lightly as he's straddling you. His eyes bore into yours, flickers of annoyance tracing over his features. "Why don't you believe me?"    "What?"    "Why, why do you do all these games? You fuck with me, and you play these games, and god I can't get you out of my fucking head. Your taste, your smell, your laugh fuck it's like they're just running through my mind all god damn day. And then you have the audacity to act surprised? How could I not miss you? Is this all it is to you, just some game? Because I swear to fucking god if it is I'm-"    "It's not just a game. I mean, it kind of started that way but..." You trail off, your eyes refusing to look up at him for longer than a few seconds.    Tae relaxes at your admission, but his gaze never wavers. He's clearly waiting for you to continue, but you're too stubborn. After a minute of the two of you daring the other to speak first, he finally gives a small chuckle before throwing his face into your neck. "God, you just really want to make me say it first, don't you?"    "Yes." Your words come out tiny and small, and you suddenly feel incomprehensibly stupid for just not being honest with him sooner.    "Why?"    "Because you're you. You could get anything, anyone. And...I don't know at first it was just to get someone as great of a catch as you to look at me and I was kind of bored with having just one client. But then...it just morphed into something more. The more time I spent with you the more I wanted you to really like me. Like really really like me, not just want me...you know? But...I guess...I'm also just really afraid of rejection. A game of cat and mouse keeps things easy and light-hearted, feelings don't really have to be involved."    "I fell for you so long ago it's ridiculous. I just figured it was all just fun and games for you so I didn't admit anything. We're both idiots aren't we?"    You find yourself grinning up at his words. "Yeah but...we can be idiots together."    "I like the sound of that, a lot." For a minute silence just fills the room, although it's not uncomfortable. It's more the two of you basking in the realization that there are no more games. Both of you are finally being honest with one another. And then after that warm and fuzzy glow starts to ebb away do you realize the rather compromising position you're in. He's still straddled over your hips, his hair falling down and eye's just barely peeking out, his hands resting on the side of your head and face just a few inches away. You're not sure what to do in this situation. Do you ask him to move? Do you kiss him? Do you touch him? What would be the most proper? Because really all you want is to feel his lips, but you're not sure if that's what he wants.    You're pretty sure he can see each thought playing out based off of the way he cocks his head to the side and lifts an eyebrow. You've never been very good at concealing your inner thoughts. (Note to self, work on your poker face.) So you steel your nerves and finally say in a voice you hope doesn't give away your anxiety, "Tae?" When he hums in response you finally lift your eyes to him. "Tae, can I kiss you?" His smile stirs something in you, a frenzy of joy and something slightly more carnal caused by his fangs shining down at you.    "Of course, my queen." He doesn't however budge. Clearly, he's going to make you work for it, and your stubborn side is starting to roll back in. You weave your hands into his hair (you'd like to note that it's oddly soft for all the chemical damage it's taken and you really should find out what shampoo he uses) to bring his lips down onto yours. The force of the movement causes a rather awkward clash of teeth, but neither of you seems to pay any mind. There's been too much build up, too much tension, to really care about little details like that.    His lips are slightly chapped and he tastes faintly like mint. It's not long before the kiss deepens into something less chaste, tongues roaming and exploring and hunger starts to drive both of you. Your hands untangle from his hair and move to his arms before snaking around his waist to flip him over. There's something so euphoric about seeing him under you, at seeing the shift as his eyes start to shine red and the way his breathing starts to stagger under your touch. And it hits you, really hits you then, that he's yours. Maybe the world gets a lot of him, but right now you get a side of him that they don't. Your lips trail down his neck as your hands slide up his shirt to feel the cool skin underneath. The way his muscles clench under your touch coupled with his soft panting has desire pooling into your underwear.    "You look so pretty like this." You grin as you peel his shirt off before leaving a wet trail of kisses down his torso.    "Pretty, really? Wouldn't handsome be a more apt description?" His hands are wound into your hair, pushing you slightly further down as you get steadily closer to the waistband of his sweats.    "Well, you are plenty handsome. But...I think you look pretty right now. Delectably pretty. Like a perfect meal presented to me." You linger at his pants, hands resting on the button before your attention flickers back to his face. "May I?"    "Please. But I mean, really? If anyone is the meal here it's you."    "The big bad vampire routine is unbecoming of you. Be a good boy though and you might just get a treat." The glare he levels at you has a giggle of elation bubbling up in your throat.    "Really, still with the games?"    "Do you want me to suck your dick or not Tae?" His head whips up as you slide down his pants and boxers, freeing his rapidly hardening cock only a mere few inches from your face. You'd like to note that he does, in fact, shave and groom. Guess the question is finally answered now that you're finally seeing the perfectly shaped triangle of hair in person.    "Fuck, no I do."    "Then just lie back down and be a good boy." He groans as he throws his head back, biting on his lip to stay quiet. You've always wanted to be the one to get under his skin, to make him fall apart, and now that you're finally here it's better than you ever imagined. You take a moment to just enjoy the site of him laying under you, twitching with barely controlled impatience. Your fingers ghost over his dick, lips coming down to pepper small kisses up along his thigh before halting right at his balls. His hips flex and shake the closer you get, precum beading up and falling onto his stomach.    "Jesus, please (Y/N), please just fucking touch me. This is just torture, cruel and unusual punishment. I'll do whatever you want just please, please just touch me."    "Whatever I want?" A cheshire cat grin is on your lips as you look at him. You get that technically you guys already agreed to be together, but hey you've been thinking for a long time about just what you would do when he finally breaks. And right now you're finally about to get what you've always wanted.    "Fuck, yes, just please fucking touch me."    "Hmm, okay, since you begged so nicely." You finally grasp his dick in your hand, tongue snaking along his balls before trailing up and enveloping his velvety head. The tangy precum smears over your lips as you lock eye contact with him, your smile growing wider at the long musical moan that falls out of him. Oh-ho, if Tae is already moaning he might just not be able to handle what you have prepared for him. You give him just a moment to calm down as you keep him resting in your mouth before finally sliding down to the base in one go.    "Oh, holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, oh god. You weren't fucking kidding when you said you were a pro at sucking dick, oh my god." You stay stationed at the base for a moment before working up, setting an easy rhythm for yourself to breath in as you go up and exhale slowly as he reaches past your molars. The dull ache in your jaw is worth it for the sweet sounds he's gracing you with. You can feel your panties clinging onto you, your own need beginning to cause a different dull ache. But that's not important, what's important right now is staying in charge. You aren't about to pass up this opportunity that you've worked so hard to finally get. "(Y/N), if you don't stop I'm going to ah fuck!" Your hands massage his balls gently before his hips buck with force into your throat and his cum is filling your mouth in hot white ropes.    His eyes are locked on yours as you finally pull away from him, giving small licks to clean up anything left behind before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.    "All clean, my what a good girl you are." You can't help but preen a bit under the praise. There's something about hearing the words from Tae that make the (honestly almost unbearable) taste worth it. "But it's not fair, I'm almost completely undressed, and you're still in all of your clothes." His words come out whiney as he tries to grab the hem of your shirt, but you're quicker than him. You scooch your way out of the pillow fort, ignoring his whines of protests.    "Come on Tae, you promised that you'd do whatever it is that I ask." You glance behind you to see Taehyung behind you, a deviant smirk plastered to his face as he tugs his pants back up.    "Well, my queen, I'm hoping that your wish is for me to eat you out like a five-course meal."    "No, but nice try. No no, I'd like something far less sexual, sorry to burst your bubble." You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at his nape. "I'd like for you to take me shopping."    "What?"    "Shopping, I want to go shopping with you. More specifically I'd like to go out on a date with you. I think it would be fun to pick out some clothes with you. Oh, but I suppose I should tack on that I'd like to go to the new exhibit at the museum with you too if you have the time this month. It's not a permanent collection so I suppose that might have to take priority if you can manage the time."    "You...you could have me do anything and you choose a date? I thought for sure you'd have me sit there and beg for you or something, or literally kiss your ass, or make me do something really embarrassing. But you...choose a date?" His shoulders are shaking with poorly contained laughter before he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out you pull something like this. You're a weird one, you know that?"    "Well at first I thought about making you beg, in fact, that was my original goal. But the plan changed a long time ago. I realized I didn't want to make you beg, I would never want to hear something like that forced out of you. I want to hear that you want me because you want me, not for any other reason. So then I started thinking about what I really wanted, and I realized that even though it's selfish and even though you can't technically go out on dates or be seen in public with me I'd still really like to go out on a date with you. I understand though if it's not really possible." You say the last words quietly as you reflect back on your contract and the firm words from management. Dating and scandals were absolutely not allowed, and while you wanted nothing more to be with Tae you also understood the precarious place dating would put him in.    "Hey, don't worry about it. We can definitely go on a date. I can wear like a fake beard or something."    "What?"    "Ooh, or maybe I'll learn how to do some special effects makeup and turn myself into an old man. With a big beard." Tae is talking animatedly, his hands smoothing down his imaginary beard.    "No fake beard, please."    "Why not, I thought girls like beards."    "Yes well I don't. Especially not fake ones. That's just weird. But I'm sure we'll figure something...less...abstract out." You watch his gaze flicker back down to you, his fingers tracing over your jaw before dipping lower until they finally grip at the soft flesh of your ass.    "Well, I suppose that we can figure it out some other time. I don't have enough time for a date tonight, I still have to be back for practice in a couple of hours. But that does leave me with enough time to continue where we left off. What do you say?" His breath is warm on your neck and the fire that had begun to calm down is roaring back. That familiar ache, the need to finally be one with him begins driving all action again. You try leading him to the bedroom, but his hands pull your hips back flush to him. "Always so impatient. Let me take my time with you."         His tongue trails slowly down your neck, over the prominent vein before he nips down slightly on your collarbone. Each movement is slow, precise, and it already has you wanting more. You're not normally so greedy, you usually enjoy dragging things out more. But Taehyung is masterful at this slow, erotic torture and it's quickly becoming too much for you. Each touch to your skin tingles and burns, his hands lazily roaming and groping has your hips rutting into his. "Tae, don't be a fucking tease."    "Oh please, you've spent enough time torturing me let me have some fun." His eyes lock onto yours before he finally strips your shirt off of you before his mouth latches onto a nipple. His tongue swirls around the bud before he's tugging it in between his teeth with enough force to have you cry out. His mouth twitches into a grin at your moan and suddenly he's off of your breast and picking you up. He doesn't, however, take you down the hall into your bedroom as you initially guessed. No, instead he's leading you into the kitchen and placing you on the counter. He just gives a small chuckle at your cocked eyebrow before explaining. "Listen, this might sound ridiculous to you but I've always wanted to have sex in a kitchen but considering that I live in the dorm or I'm always in hotels I don't exactly get that chance often. Also, I really want to fuck you in a bathtub while we're on the subject. Honestly just about every surface of this apartment, but the kitchen is a good place to start. Don't you think?"    Before you can respond his hands drag your ass to the edge of the counter and his mouth is on your thighs. Each wet kiss, each small nip, closer to your clothed and dripping core has you shaking with want. "Tae, please. Please, come on baby, please." You're not sure if it's the begging, or the use of the pet name, or just his own desires that finally cause him to peel away your panties but you really don't care. You just care that you're finally getting relief.    "God, look at you. You're dripping all over the counter. What a pretty fucking pussy, and it smells so sweet." He licks one long stripe over your folds before clamping down on your throbbing clit. Before you can even react he has two fingers slipping into you, strangled moans bubbling out at the dual sensations. With each loud suck on your clit, his fingers prod deeper inside you, scissoring and stretching in all the right ways. You can feel that familiar coil tighten and lurch at his ministrations. Each time his tongue brushes against you, each time his fingers prod in just the right spot, you can feel yourself start to unravel. You want to tell him how good it feels, how amazing he is, but words get lost in your throaty moans. "You're going to cum already? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Come on (y/n), cum for me." That's all it takes to have you finally fall into your orgasm. Thighs clenching, abdomen tightening, toes curling. Faintly you know you're screaming his name loudly, but you're too far gone in bliss to fully register that it's you who's making those noises.    By the time your opening your eyes back up he's finally pulled away from you. His mouth is still shining with your release and you can't help but groan at the sight of him slowly fisting his leaking cock. His mouth is on yours in an instant, both of you groaning at the taste of both your orgasms. Your hips jut into his, the desire to feel filled by him is starting to drive you into a frenzy. You need to feel him, one orgasm isn't enough. Never really has been for you, but especially not when it's finally with Tae. "Tae, come on, please fuck me."    The way he groans low and sweet has you clenching around nothing and desire trickling out of you once again. You watch, entirely entranced, as he finally enters. You're well prepped enough that there's no burn, just sweet sweet satisfaction. His head rested in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses along the vein as he stayed still before slowly pulling back out. His hands wrap your thighs around his waist before he starts moving rhythmically. Each movement is harsher, faster than the last. Each thrust has both of you groaning at the sensation. You can feel him everywhere, so utterly full as he prods away at the right spot that has nerves on fire.    "God, you're so fucking tight. And wet, holy shit. Can I...can I feed from you?" You can't help but moan at his words again. He looks so perfect, almost like a sculpture has come to life. The sweat is making his hair cling to his face, casting a glow to his tan skin. "You have to say yes, I'm not taking a moan for an answer."    "Yes, please Tae." At the green light, he nuzzled back into your neck, his tongue snaking along the pulsing vein before his fangs sunk in. There's something about the mix of pain and pleasure that almost feels like a high each time. Sinful, dirty, perfect. And it has you tumbling into another orgasm around him. Clenching, moaning, milking Tae to finally come to his own. His tongue laps up the last of the blood, seeling away the bite as his hips begin to rut sloppily through his own completion. He stays lodged inside as he starts to soften and presses a few soft kisses on your lips. You feel not just satisfied, but somewhere into a place of warm and fuzzy bliss.    "You know, it was worth the wait." He sighs at the sound of his phone going off and grimaces as he finally pulls out to look at his phone. "I have to leave now so I won't be late to practice. Can I...come back over tomorrow? I don't have the day off, but I do have a break in the afternoon."    "Of course, just text me when you're on your way over. Don't push yourself too hard."    Tae gives a boxy grin as he pulls on his clothes before weaving his fingers into your hair and pulling you into a heated kiss. "As much as I love seeing you naked, you should probably put on some clothes so you don't catch a cold. I'll see you tomorrow, my queen."    You watch him leave silently, a smile plastered to your face. You certainly weren't expecting for this to happen when you took on the job. You weren't expecting these blossoming feelings of love to take over when you started to first tease Tae. But the world works in mysterious ways, and you couldn't be happier with the results.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 23

For story masterlist and AO3 links, see the “my tags and fics” page on my blog. This is part of the Human Connection series.

Tumblr removed my last chapter from the tags and I’m not sure why, so I won’t be reblogging myself this time or tagging anyone. We’ll see if that works.

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.7k

Summary: Dick recuperates, Tiger has a visitor, and Jason engages in some very healthy coping mechanisms.

Notes: Warnings for alcohol abuse, allusions to the previous torture

***

Chapter 23

It was difficult to concentrate on anything while Dick was laid up in bed. Tiger found the manor stifling most days due to the problems with Bruce and the affections of an overbearing family. Add in the argument and Dick's condition, and he couldn't breathe while surrounded by those walls.

So he found himself outside again, by the back door, leaning against a stone railing likely older than most American architecture he had seen. The roof covered the area, which was fortunate, as it was raining today.

It rained often here, cleansing the air until it was cool and fresh. Tiger leaned over the railing, catching raindrops in his palm.

He was in no hurry to return indoors and face the consequences of that conversation in Dick's bedroom. Where would he go if he had to leave this time?

“Yes, Tiger,” came a familiar woman's voice. “Water is wet.” Helena threw a duffel bag at Tiger's feet. “Your things.”

“Thank you.” Tiger wiped his wet hand on his pants. “Who let you in here?”

“The old man who answered the door,” Helena replied, leaning on the railing on the other side of the stairs down to the manor grounds. Tiger was certain Helena knew Alfred’s name, but sometimes she didn’t like to reveal exactly how much she knew. “He mentioned Dick is suffering some side-effects from the machine.”

“Migraines,” Tiger replied. “Is the machine destroyed?”

“I made sure of it.”

“And the prisoners?” Tiger had been too worried about Dick to give them much thought, but now Bannon was on his mind. Death for that man would be ideal, but Tiger would settle for a lifetime in a high-security prison.

“I've been talking to Batman about that.” Helena gazed out at the manor grounds, frowning, which could either be a bad sign or utterly meaningless. She frowned often. As did Tiger. “Checkmate is our best option for dealing with them. They will likely recruit some who can be rehabilitated.”

“And Bannon?”

Helena sighed. “I don't know. I've been in touch with Checkmate to make sure they have all the information. They know he's a piece of work. But you know them better than I do.”

Tiger hadn't spent much time with Checkmate in several years, given the deep immersion required for his mission in Spyral. They were more principled than Spyral had been, but they were still a group that believed the ends justified the means. Tiger had once thought the same.

“They might want to use him,” Tiger mumbled. Bannon had an uncommon set of skills and an even less common temperament to match. “People like that are hard to find... and control.”

“I could still make him disappear,” Helena offered.

“Do not tempt me.” The thought of Bannon being allowed to keep working made Tiger feel lightheaded. The scar on his shoulder burned.

“I can make it look like an accident.”

“Helena, please.”

Helena held up her hands. “Okay. But if you change your mind...”

“Matron.”

“Message received.” Helena joined him at the railing, nudging the bag aside with her foot. “Checkmate wanted me to bring you one of their own.”

Tiger wasn't sure he wanted to hear Checkmate's message. He sighed, and waited for her to tell him.

“Apparently you never officially quit,” Helena said. “They want you to report to their Gotham headquarters for evaluation and potential reassignment.”

Tiger sighed. “Very well. I can resign in person.”

“Not so fast. You might need their resources to research Dick's condition.”

Tiger hated that she had a point. “Fine. I will debrief with them and ask for assistance. They owe me.” The thought of what would happen when Dick's family discovered he had been a double agent this whole time, however, landed heavily into his mind. “I may not be welcome here for much longer, even if Batman is unconcerned about my allegiances.”

“Oh?”

“He knows I shot Alia.”

“Well, shit.” Helena nudged Tiger's bag with her foot. “Listen. I got Gloria home to her family, so I have no more commitments. I'm staying in Gotham a while longer. If you need a place to stay, my couch is free.”

Tiger didn't know what to say to that. Helena had already helped him run from his problems in the past, and she was offering to do it again. But Tiger would not leave without a fight this time. The thought of being separated from Dick was unbearable. He could barely tolerate being in a different room out of necessity.

“I'm using an old Spyral frequency on my communicator,” Helena said. “Your first one, remember?”

A long time ago, but Tiger remembered. “I will contact you if needed.”

“How do you rate your chances of staying here?”

“I don't know.” Tiger leaned heavily against the railing, weathering a wave of exhaustion. “Bruce can be... stubborn. But the rest of the family likes me, for whatever reason. Dick and Jason won't let me go without a fight. If the others become involved, I can count on Damian at the very least. Possibly the others.”

“You could be okay,” Helena said. “It's hard to blindside somebody twice in a row.”

“Even if I am able to stay,” Tiger muttered, “Bruce can make life unpleasant. I don't know how I can...” He sighed. “Dick is not well. I cannot leave him.”

“Remember that when it gets hard,” Helena said. “Is he up to visitors?”

“Not right now.”

“All right. I'll just have to visit another time, remind Bruce I'm watching. Maybe I'll bring the new uniform I'm working on, since I no longer have any director duties to distract me.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there. And stay in touch.”

“I will try.”

***

The pain ebbed away after several hours of suffering, but Dick had to move slowly or risk his shitty leg crumbling beneath him. He couldn't quite figure out where it was sometimes. But there were plenty of walls in this place, and Dick knew how to drag an injured body.

Also, he was just plain bored. Reading and watching television were both out of the question; his head split with pain whenever he tried. The rest of the family was likely at dinner, but Dick's stomach hadn't quite settled yet.

Pain memory was a pain in the ass, but he had managed to hold onto enough of the conversation right before he'd been knocked flat. Bruce knew Tiger had helped shoot Alia, and that Jason had practically torn out his own heart on the process of defending him.

Dick still had his communicator, so he tuned it into Jason's frequency, not quite ready to put Tiger through the pain of seeing him in only a semi-recovered state. Jason could take it, and they needed to talk... well, as much as Dick was capable. Words still took time to form in his mouth.

“Jay?” he said into the communicator, leaning against the bedroom doorway. His arm wasn't too bad as long as he was looking directly at it.

“Up already?” Jason let out a long breath through the link. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

“Bored.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“Where are you?” Dick couldn't quite enunciate the words as well as he normally would, but he got the point across.

“Shouldn't you be asking Tiger?”

“Not yet.”

“Still look like shit, huh? I'm on the roof. No way you can make it with half your limbs out of commission.”

“Help me, then.”

“Fuck's sake,” Jason muttered. “Fine. Hope I'm not too drunk yet.”

Of course he was drinking on the roof. Dick would've loved to make a smartass comment, but he couldn't quite get his mouth around the words.

“Tim's room has the easiest foothold,” Jason said. “Kid should still be at dinner. Meet me there.”

Dick didn't comment on the use of Tim's name, rather than 'the replacement' or any of the similarly asshole-ish varieties Jason had used over the years. Jason would backslide the instant he said anything.

Jason sat sitting on the windowsill when Dick staggered his way into Tim's room. “Hey, loser. You look like shit.”

Dick rolled his eyes, grateful that the migraine hadn't affected his eye movement; that would be too far. “Thanks.”

Jason slid outside and helped Dick climb through, keeping a tight grip on his bad arm as they picked their way across the sloped surface and up to a flat point with a bucket full of beer bottles, some full, some empty.

Jason set him down in the middle of the flat section, up against a chimney, and sat opposite him with his back to a slope, snagging a half-empty bottle from the bucket. “Okay. You're up here. Now answer me this: the fuck, dude?”

“Should you be that close to the edge while drinking?” The sentence came easier than Dick expected. Good.

“Fuck off.”

“I can't.”

Jason grumbled under his breath and took a swig of his beer. Dick glanced down at the bucket. More than half the bottles were empty; he'd been here a while. It was just as well Jason could hold his liquor, then.

Dick waited until he'd finished the bottle and started on another before asking, “What happened while I was down?”

“I'm not drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Give it thirty seconds.”

“Were you always this much of a smartass?”

“Yes.”

“Ughh.” Jason took several more gulps and wiped his mouth. “Okay. Fine. Bruce kept being a shithead until I told him to shut the fuck up. Then Tiger disappeared to fuck knows where. He's still in the house, though. Don't freak out. Then Bruce tried to talk to me about shit.”

“How'd that go?”

Jason raised the bottle. “How do you think?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I really fucking don't.”

“Drinking hasn't improved your temperament.”

“How would you know?”

Dick could feel his headache coming back just from this conversation. “Jason.”

“Don't Jason me.” Jason drained the rest of the bottle. Dick was really starting to worry about him. This thing with Bruce had been going on for years, ever since Jason came back. They'd never resolved it, and Dick was starting to wonder if they ever would. Maybe some things just weren't fixable.

That wasn't something Dick was prepared to accept, though.

Jason slammed the empty bottle into the bucket and opened the next. “Why are you even out here?”

“Didn't feel like dinner,” Dick replied. “And Tiger doesn't need to see me like this.”

“You're looking better already. Or maybe I'm just getting drunker.”

“It's both, Jay.”

“Yeah.” He took a long swig. “So, you've come to keep the family fuckup company.”

“You're not a fuckup.”

A laugh burst out of Jason, most definitely louder than he had intended. “Bullshit. The only reason Bruce hasn't been on my ass as much is because he's been busy with your boytoy.”

“Call Tiger that in front of him. I dare you.”

“Get me drunk enough and I will.” Jason reclined on his side, propped up on his elbow. It was probably a more stable position given his inebriation. “God damn it. You just had to go and get yourself injured, didn't you?”

“Wasn't planned.”

Jason wasn't listening. “Here I was hoping you'd come back in one piece and step back into being everyone's annoying big brother so I didn't have to do it anymore. But nooooo.” He tipped his head backwards and emptied the bottle into his mouth. “You go ahead and make everyone think you're gonna fucking die. And, like... you don’t die. But you're too damn sick to be yourself, so I'm stuck here filling your shoes in Bruce's house and none of us even know if this is a permanent thing or...” Jason dropped his face onto his arm. “Fuck, I'm an asshole. Pass me another bottle.”

“I think you've had enough, Jay.” Dick didn't trust himself not to drop the damn thing anyway.

Jason groaned into his arm. “I forgave him, you know. For not saving me.”

“I know, Jay.” Dick had reminded Bruce of this on several occasions in the past.

“But letting the Joker live... fuck. I don't know. It's just—it's a lot, okay?”

“I know that, too.” None of this was new information. Dick had struggled with this before, with what happened to Jason and Barbara. There were times he had been so angry he easily could've killed the Joker himself. He'd come close on several occasions.

“He would've done it if it had been you, you know. All his bullshit about how he really did want to kill him and had to stop himself or he'd, like, keep killing or whatever... he would've done it.”

“You don't know that, Jay.” Dick wasn't in the mood to fight over who was the favourite tonight. “He loves you.”

Dick was getting to the point where he hoped Jason wouldn't remember this in the morning. He wasn't great at comforting Jason even at the best of times. He tried, but he didn't have the frame of reference to truly understand where Jason was coming from. Bruce had made mistakes with both of them, but in different ways. Jason's death had altered the trajectory of his life, put him in direct opposition to Bruce and the rest of the family. They'd reached an uneasy equilibrium, where Jason didn’t involve them with the more homicidal aspects of his vigilantism and they didn't dig too deeply anymore.

That didn't work for Bruce. He took responsibility for Jason's actions, especially those that occurred within Gotham. Dick couldn't see a solution without one of them giving in, and Bruce and Jason were two of the most stubborn people he had ever known.

Jason wasn't a bad person. He just had very different ideas about how to deal with the worst criminals they encountered. In a way, it had prepared Dick for Tiger and, in turn, experience with Tiger had given Dick greater patience with Jason.

It was still hard to reconcile, even when Dick wasn't coming down from hours of pain.

Jason flopped onto his back. “Jesus Christ, I'm drunk.”

“You're just noticing now?”

“Ughhhhhhhh.” Jason threw an arm across his face. “Why the fuck are we talking about this? You trying to make me cry?”

“I won't tell.” Even if Dick was strongly tempted to tell Bruce that Jason was still really messed up about this. “Nice to know you care that much about the kids, though.”

“Someone has to. And you're...” Jason gestured vaguely in Dick's direction. “You know.”

“Why, Jason, you're almost responsible in your old age.”

“Fuck off.”

“I told you before: I can't.”

A chill wind picked up, jabbing through Dick's coat. The tip of his nose was turning into an icicle.

Jason groaned and sat up. “You should get inside. Don't need to get sicker on my account.” He had to put a hand down to stop himself from pitching sideways. “And I'm way too drunk to help you.”

Dick put in a call to Tiger, who didn't arrive alone. Tim had tagged along.

“You've got to stop using my window as an escape route,” Tim complained, pulling Jason to his feet. “How much did you drink?”

Tiger helped Dick stand, peering past him at the bucket. “That... looks like many empty bottles.”

“It is,” Dick confirmed.

Tim and Jason went down first. Despite his inebriation, Jason was steady on the slope, more so than he'd been on the flat section. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

Tiger pulled Dick close, kissing the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Dick pressed his cold cheek to Tiger's shoulder for a moment. “Come on. Talk more inside. Tim'll get the bottles.”

Jason had sprawled on Tim's bed when they got inside. Tim slipped back out to grab the bucket of empty bottles, muttering under his breath the whole time. Dick lowered himself into the desk chair.

“Have you eaten?” Tiger asked.

“No. Still a bit queasy.”

“Better than I feel right now,” Jason muttered, pressing his hands over his eyes. “God damn, why did I drink so much?”

“We'd all like to know the answer to that question,” Tim replied, dumping the bucket by the window, slamming that shut. Dick flinched at the sound.

“I don't pry into your shitty coping mechanisms,” Jason mumbled.

Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the windowsill. “What'd I miss?”

“A lot,” Dick replied. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to tell Tim, or how much Tim suspected already. He was a smart kid, smarter than Dick by a huge margin. There was no shame coming in second to a certified genius. Well, third, behind Bruce... and possibly some of the others. Definitely Barbara. Dick knew a lot of smart people.

“Three shooters took down Alia and I was one of them,” Tiger said.

“Oh, I know. Jason did a really bad job hiding the evidence.”

“Had no time,” Jason muttered.

“Bruce knows, too,” Tiger added.

“Yeah, because you told him,” said Dick. He still wasn't sure how to feel about it. Some tiny part of him had been hoping Jason was gonna pull off something spectacular and throw Bruce off the scent.

“He already suspected.” Tiger fixed Tim with an odd look; Dick had a vague pain-fogged recollection of Alfred telling him they had spent some time together while everyone still thought he was having a stroke. “This doesn't bother you?”

“I heard what happened,” Tim replied, giving Tiger a steady stare in response. “It doesn't sound like you had many options. Or any. I hate killing as much as anyone else in this family, present company excluded, but I would've made the same decision in your shoes. I mean, if I had quick access to a gun. Which I normally don't.”

Tiger's expression was hard to read. Confused, maybe?

Tim shrugged. “I'm glad I didn't have to make that choice. Would it help if I talked to Bruce about it?”

“Maybe,” Dick said. “Jay and I have obvious reasons for being on Tiger's side. You don't.”

“I'll catch him after patrol tonight,” Tim promised. “If it helps, I think the others would understand, too, especially if they knew how close it was. Damian and I don't always see eye-to-eye on things, but I think this might be an exception.”

Dick really didn't want to think about close he had come to either dying, or being possessed and then eventually dying anyway. Judging from the way Tiger's body language had completely shut off—crossed arms, rounded shoulders, mouth set in a thin line—he didn't either.

Tim held up his hands. “We can deal with that tomorrow. You should go to bed.” He walked over to Jason and kicked his foot. “You, too. Thanks for putting us a man down tonight.”

Jason snored loudly. Tim watched him for a moment, before sighing.

“Bastard,” he muttered, shoving the bucket of bottles into Tiger's hand. “Go stick those in his room. I'm not catching the blame for this.”

Tim headed down to get changed for patrol, leaving Jason asleep in his bed. Dick and Tiger made their way to their room, detouring to put the bottles in Jason's room.

Upon entering their room, it became clear that Alfred had been in here. The bed was made, the whole room dusted and a bowl of fresh fruit sat on the desk. Dick grabbed a banana, recruiting Tiger to open it for him.

They sat on the bed together, Dick leaning into Tiger a little. Holding his body weight up with only half his limbs working properly was damn exhausting.

“Helena visited today,” Tiger said.

“I missed her? Damn it.”

“She'll be back.”

“Did she say anything interesting?”

“She said... many things.” Tiger ran a hand over his face, drawing attention to the dark circles under his eyes. “She returned my belongings. I think Alfred was going to... ah. There they are.” There was a duffel bag in the corner. “Checkmate has taken the agents who did not cooperate with us, including Bannon. They may recruit some of them.”

“And Bannon?”

“He might be one of them.”

“Fuck that.”

“Helena told them what he did.” Tiger closed his eyes, head downturned, and Dick was surprised he hadn't fallen asleep yet. “They also want me to report in for a debrief. And possible reassignment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That depends. If they can help research your condition... I can be friendly. Otherwise, I will resign.”

“I didn't think you wanted to go back.”

“I do not.”

Dick rubbed his forehead, willing a stab of pain to go away. “Bruce has resources. We can—”

“Checkmate has other resources,” Tiger said. “I want to give you the best chance to recover.”

“You don't even want to be a spy anymore.”

“I want you to be in pain even less.” Tiger grabbed an orange from the bowl, digging into the skin to peel it. “They owe me for Spyral.”

“You think Maxwell Lord will see it that way?”

“I will make him see it that way.” Tiger plucked out a segment and handed it to Dick. “You missed two meals. Eat.”

Dick was nowhere near well enough for this argument, not after dealing with a very drunk, very emotional Jason. There was still a good chance he could puke all this fruit up anyway, which made talking a rather unattractive proposition.

“They will make me do a psychological evaluation,” Tiger said, passing Dick another segment. “It is unlikely I will pass, and therefore will not be cleared for field work anyway.”

“About time that PTSD was good for something.”

Tiger almost smiled. Almost.

Neither of them really felt up to sleeping yet. They'd tended more towards insomnia than nightmares recently. Talking about what happened hadn't really been on the radar, either.

Right now, it was just easier to lie side-by-side, hands intertwined, staring up at the ceiling. The whole thing hung heavily between them, a thick pane of glass pressing down on their chests. It would eventually shatter, and there was no telling how much damage it would do, but maybe they could start breathing again once it was done.

They weren't ready to take that chance yet. Dick still felt too damn fragile, and Tiger, though he'd fared better physically, was just as messed up on the inside... if not more.

They needed more time, and now they had to make sure they would have it.

[completeoveranalysis]

TRC Translation notes Volume 18 (Chapters 133 - 140)

Even more incredible translation notes from the wonderful @giniroangou? I got you covered!

Highlights include: acid punk chapter cover mysteries finally solved, soul/body separation foreshadowing, oaths!, Lantis and co. actually becoming competent, character motivations making sense, intentional ambiguities, fun chess vibes, and Sakura’s heart breaking in slow motion.

Chapter 133

Cover page - Per the art book commentary, the panels in this picture were intended to be things the characters either threw away or decided they no longer want.

p.8 - The word “kokoro” comes back here, this time translated as “mind.” The description of Sakura’s body as a “vessel” is from the original text. There’s definitely been a theme of the mind/heart/soul being a separate (though not necessarily unconnected) entity from the body running through both the plotline and the language the characters use.

p.10 - As in previous scenes, the original text preserves the distinction between the two Syaorans by only placing Lava Lamp’s name in quotation marks.

p.14-15 - There were no exclamation points in these lines originally, which I feel implies more of a defeated tone.

p.19 - Yuuko’s line here isn’t necessarily about creation, though it could be interpreted that way. In the original text it’s, “For the sake of two futures.”

p.20 - Yuuko says that it is both the price Lava Lamp and the others paid, as well as their hearts (“kokoro” again) that will ensure Watanuki doesn’t vanish.

p.24 - The wording in the translation was a little confusing, but I think the concept got across. Just in case, Yuuko explains here that worlds are able to endure precisely because everything maintains a balance. If a world loses that balance, it will fall apart.

Chapter 134

p.35 - Sakura’s lines have been mistranslated here. She’s asking if Fai is hiding what he really wants to do because she said she was going to go. Essentially she’s worried that Fai is prioritizing her desires over his own, that he would have made a different choice without her influence.

p.36 - The original nuance is a little different in a couple of Fai’s lines. He says to Sakura, “I’m a wizard who can’t even heal your wounds, but will you allow me to stay with you?” As a side note: the English “wizard” is the actual word Fai uses to refer to himself - it’s written in katakana as the reading above the kanji for “majutsushi”/“mage.” (I feel like this has come up before, but… it’s been a while.)

p.37 - Just to clarify how this line appears in Japanese, “My only Princess” is written in kanji in a much more formal manner than Fai would normally use (我が唯一の姫君) with the reading above in katakana as “Vi la princia” (ヴイ・ラ・プリンシア). Additionally, the entire phrase is in quotation marks, enhancing the impression that it is an established oath of some sort.

p.38 - Kurogane could be referring to one thing or to multiple things that have changed - the word in Japanese is non-specific.

p.39 - I’m not sure why there’s a “But” in front of Kurogane’s line in this translation, since this follows directly off of his line from the previous page. It should be more along the lines of, “I guess it’s okay to make more than one promise.”

Chapter 135

p.51 - Sakura’s thank you feels super extreme in the official translation, but originally all she said here was, “Thank you.”

p.53 - The promise Fuuma mentions is presented in contrast/in addition to the jobs he does for Yuuko - after describing his payment process to her he says, “Well, I made another promise too, though.”

I interpreted Fuuma’s last line here not as a reference to the needs of the group, but to the fact that they’re probably going to have a hard time getting Sakura’s feather back from Seishirou.

p.62 - Yuuko says she’s going to purify the egg before she passes it on.

p.65 - Yuuko isn’t talking about a single unchanging feeling here, but saying that people’s true feelings cannot be changed.

Chapter 136

p.74-76 - Fun fact: The “READY…. GO!!” on these pages was originally written in English.

p.79 - Eagle remarks that BOTH Sakura and her pieces are incredible. The word for piece is written with the kanji used for shougi and chess pieces and the like (駒) but the reading is given in katakana as the English word “piece” (ピース).

p.81 - The point Geo’s making here should be that all three “pieces” DON’T seem to be amateurs.

p.82 - After pointing out Fai’s defensive technique, I’m fairly certain Lantis is saying that it seems unlikely Fai has always fought in that style.

P.84 - Lantis doesn’t describe them as “useful,” but as “masters” (of fighting).

Chapter 137

p.97 - The translation covers this up a bit, but Fai’s first line here is expositional - he’s just saying that they know there’s a feather in this world, not really asking about it. He is also still referring to Syaoran as “Syaoran-kun,” they just missed the honorific in the English version.

p.110 - I just want to drop another quick reminder here about Lava Lamp’s speech style, because the translation doesn’t do it justice at all. What’s been translated as “You too. Please get some sleep yourself,” was not actually a polite request. Lava Lamp refers to Kurogane directly as “you” (“anata”) and ends his sentence in a casual imperative (“yasundekure”). Despite the father/son vibe in the preceding scene, he speaks to Kurogane as an equal.

p.111 - Once again, there are quotation marks around Kurogane’s name when Fai says it, so it’s even more in-your-face in the Japanese version than the italics of the official translation.

Chapter 138

p.115 - Fai’s line is a bit less clear-cut in the original text. This is another case where there are no pronouns used, so from the line itself you can’t tell whether he’s speaking for himself alone or not and you also can’t tell whether he’s vowing to keep the whole group from getting hurt vs, say, just Sakura. However you choose to take this line is up to the context of the scene and how you view Fai as a character in this moment.

p.116 - Clow doesn’t ask if Sakura is looking at the ruins - she offers that information herself.

p.117 - Sakura’s description of the ruins is a little different in her original line - she says that there may be precious items from the country’s past buried there. (The word she uses for what might be buried is “mono,” which could be either singular or plural, but plural seems the most logical in this situation.)

p.118 - The word that’s been translated as “that special someone” is “daisuki na hito” in Japanese, which can mean, “The person you love,” but also alternatively, “Someone you love.” It doesn’t necessarily imply a romantic partner.

p.121 - A couple little tweaks here: The word “eye” has quotation marks around it in the original text. It could potentially be plural or singular, but given the context and the quotes singular seems more appropriate. Clow doesn’t specifically say anything about a message, just an inability to reach (so this could refer to a message, but also to feelings, to someone reaching out for something, etc.) He speaks only of a desire to protect, rather than a need or the actual act occurring: “But even so, you want to protect (insert missing pronoun here).” Basically, Japanese is the ideal language for a scene like this, because its ambiguity gives many of these lines a versatility they don’t have in English and allows them to apply to multiple situations at once, as you discussed in your liveblog.

p.123 - Again, the implication that protection is an obligation wasn’t in the original text. Lava Lamp is stating what it is he’d decided: To protect no matter what.

p.124 - Another punctuation tonal shift here: instead of “Sakura!” this was originally “.... Sakura.”

p.127 - Fai’s original line is a bit less flippant than the translated version, just, “Those look like they’d be painful if you hit them.”

Chapter 139

p.141 - “Becoming lost” is one way to translate this line, but it might be more natural to say that Sakura is hesitating or wavering.

Chapter 140

p.161 - Just for fun: the original text on this page is kind of wild aesthetically. “Checkmate” is written in katakana, what’s been translated as “black team” is just the word “black” written in kanji with katakana above it giving the reading as “black” in English, and then “WIN!” entirely in English.

p.162 - Fai’s lines on this page are spoken with more certainty - he’s not supposing, just stating facts. He describes Lava Lamp’s experiences as, “He’s lived through the same days as Syaoran-kun.”

p.169 - Significantly (maybe?) there shouldn’t be any quotation marks when Mokona says “Syaoran” here. It feels less alienating this way.

p.170 - Kurogane actually asks if Mokona is planning to drink the whole thing, bottle and all. I-is she trying to send it to Yuuko?

p.171 - Sakura’s line here isn’t, “I know!” but “.... I know.” (Once again, I’m not mentioning nearly all of these punctuation differences, but when they seem to drastically change the tone I can’t help pointing them out.)

p.172 - A couple of Sakura’s lines were changed in the translation. She originally says that even if Lava Lamp served as Syaoran’s basis, she knows that “just like those we’ve met in various worlds up until now, his appearance is the same but he’s a different person.”

p.173-174 - Since this was apparently confusing (and partially mistranslated) Sakura says here that each time she sees similarities between Lava Lamp and Syaoran (and there are many) she can’t handle it. Each time she notices these things she can’t help lamenting that the person in front of her isn’t her Syaoran.