#this whole post is me finding out new things I could have easily found out earlier

[booasaur]

Booasaur, have you seen this Gotham Knights teaser? (Twittercom/TheCW_GothamK/status/1652070244356182018?s=20

Clickable: https://twitter.com/TheCW_GothamK/status/1652070244356182018?s=20

WHAT!

Well! I expected something, but I wasn't sure. I mean. Well. No show would do this and not go there, right?

So, like, this teaser is from April 28th?? And nobody mentioned--you know, I SAW this frame, in the Twitter tags, I just assumed it was an edit and scrolled by... Okay, some of the comments make more sense now, lol.

But so it wasn't in the next two eps that have aired since, and it really doesn't feel like the next ep leaves much room for this kind of thing? Let's see... Oh, here's the summary:

After one of their own is captured by the Court of Owls, the knights find themselves in a race against the clock; Stephanie and Harper work together to locate a crucial piece of material that could save their team member.

Welllll, so it's actually featuring them teaming up enough to be in the summary?? Well, that makes sense, after an ep so heavy on Turner and Duela, probably these two were were taping this ep. Maybe they'll be in a situation where they have to blend in...? Lol, I don't know.

Oh, this is a 13 ep season? I thought just 10 and we were about to finish things off. Well, then, I'm not sure when this clip fits in. There seems a lot we haven't seen yet and also doesn't feel like it'll fit into the next ep, maybe this is covering the whole second half of the season?

But anyway, thanks for sharing, anon! I kind of wish this was a surprise in the ep itself, but it's not revealing that much, and it gives us something to look forward to and more confidence in the ship, so yeah, I think I'm happy to have seen it. :)

[ravenalla]

Okay I swear this will be my last rant post before the next episode airs but I have to get it off my chest cause I keep seeing the argument made that people disappointed Din gave the darksaber away are forgetting the lack of plot in the previous seasons, which I very heavily disagree.

I can’t speak for everyone, but at least for me when I’m saying I’m disappointed Din did not become Manda’lor I am not saying I hated the adventure of the week side quest format they had. That’s what I liked best about the show! It was great in season 1 feeling like Din was just the random guy off on his own adventure with this baby he found, I would have loved for it to have kept that small space western feel. Season 3 becoming this big interconnected universe with a corrupted New Republic plot connecting to the sequels is what I was most worried about just because I personally don’t like that direction. The more they’ve tried to go the Andor route and make this show about the Galatic politics, the worst it’s become imo (we literally have two white dudes writing a plot point about droids liking being underclass and serving the soft democratic people that is ruled with the help of a former Nazi, but ohh it’s okay it’s Jack Black and he’s funny and the Space Nazi and the Space Nazi doctor are really sorry for what they did, look the New Republic is just as bad as the fascist imperials 🥺🥺)

What some people are not getting is that the darksaber is ALL. DIN. HAD. LEFT. There was no driving force or goal for him after episode 2, they reunited him with his child in a spin-off show, they have him redeem himself fairly easily without any emotional impact, and now they took away the opportunity to do one last interesting thing with him. Din does not have his own actions or thoughts throughout most of the season, and when he does it’s just retracing the character development they already gave him in previous seasons (i.e. the whole droid fiasco). He’s a plot device, meant to further Bo-Katan’s character and help her with her goals or have him in danger so she can save him. It was okay if Din did not become Manda’lor, but they can’t just make him having the darksaber out to be a huge deal, show him trying to learn how to train with it, and give it up so stupidly through a loophole just so Bo-Katan can lead again when she has done nothing to actually earn it or apologize for the way she disrespected Din’s entire culture again and again. She was a terrorist who has done a 180 into suddenly being an honorable character just because of a few action scenes, no introspection or interesting conflict between her and the covert about their differences, nothing about her actually thinking about her past mistakes, just the covert being there to look like dumbasses who settled on a dangerous planet where their children get eaten so Bo can lead missions, look a million times more competent in comparison, and suddenly be the one who deserves to lead.

There doesn’t have to be a big plot each episode, but it’s not being executed well like it was in the first two seasons. The goal was getting Grogu to a Jedi, and we were given the interesting side adventures on that journey. Din needs to find somewhere he can lay low, he goes to Sorgan and becomes tempted by a domestic life. Din needs credits, he takes a job with some old acquaintances and sees what kind of slimy person he could have been. Din needs to find other mandos to help him find a Jedi, he runs into a small town desperate for help with a Krayt Dragon and showcases his pride in being a Mandalorian but his respect for other cultures and his willingness to do the right thing. He travels to a planet ruled by an former Imperialist because the Jedi he was searching for was there and helps her to save a town both for their sake and his need to give his son the best life he can have. See the pattern? They were side adventures, but they weren’t a random hodgepodge of ideas, they fit the story and the tone, giving us interesting side characters and helping to develop our main characters. Din showed his leadership, his growing kindness, his frustrations, his annoyances, his fears, Grogu becomes more adventurous, vocal, and attached to who he’s starting to see as a father figure. They both aren’t talkative characters, but they had feelings and personalities we saw. They had moments between them that wasn’t just exposition for the plot or a push towards an action scene, it showed their lives and values, their relationships. Little moments like Din being happy to hear Grogu’s name, Cobb sharing his story and why he valued the armor, Omera talking with Din about his life and wondering if he could stay, Frog Lady wanting to get her eggs safely to her husband and Din comedically trying to make that happen. The story was driven by these characters decisions and their personalities.

Season 3, on the other hand, has taken away all the life of these side adventures in its goal to tie in a larger Star Wars narrative that connects to other shows. They are not character driven anymore, and instead the characters are being twisted and molded to do and say stuff that’ll get us from point A to point B instead of the other way around. The point of Din breaking his creed is not to see what that would mean for his identity or how he wants to live with Grogu by his side, the point is to take him to Mandalore so that he can ultimately get trapped and fall down a hole so Bo-Katan can see the Mythosaur. The point of Bo-Katan’s crew leaving her and her staying in a random castle for no reason doing nothing all day isn’t for her to recognize her past failings or show us what their relationship was like and what it meant to her, it’s to have an easy offscreen explanation so that she can come to the covert without anything challenging in the way. The point of Din’s coverts staying on a monster-infested planet where Paz’s son is kidnapped isn’t because it makes sense they’d be there or that Paz suddenly even has a son we’ve never seen before, it’s so they can put in CGI monsters they thought were cool and have Bo save the day so they can have a flimsy reason she does need to be leader again. The point of spending time with the covert and having random pirates attacking Nevarro wasn’t to develop the other mandalorians as actual characters, it was to have them accept Bo easily so that she can “walk both worlds” and give Carl Weather’s character more screentime. And so much more.

Things are happening, but it doesn’t matter whether they make sense or fit the characters anymore, because all the side quest are focused on is bending over backwards trying to make you believe this Bo deserves the darksaber narrative. Before that it wasn’t like the Covert was planning to take back Mandalore, Din wasn’t planning to take back Mandalore, Bo didn’t tell anybody what she saw so there was no real stakes for anybody. Nobody in the main plot has had any purpose as more than side characters besides her. Din may have been the main character, but the people he met on his journey didn’t just do stuff to contribute to his own character or finding a Jedi. Omera had her own goals, Cobb had his own goals, Fennec had her own goals, Boba had his own goals, and they all still worked well with the narrative without diminishing each other, Din developed on the way by learning from the other characters and them him. What the fuck does Din want this season? Paz? The Armorer? The answer is whatever will make it easiest for the plot to retake Mandalore and have Bo be the Manda’lor for these writers, despite it being shown previously they have no reason to care or like Bo-Katan.

Like, some character moments are there. Bo is changing. I’m not saying that’s not happening at all. But it’s being done in a way that is sabotaging every other aspect of the show to force this plot that they wanted, the sidequest are feeling duller because they aren’t for these characters to have fun adventures we get emotionally invested in that simultaneously furthers the actual main characters goal, it’s let’s just have a CGI dragon, let’s have Lizzo and Jack Black guest star, let’s have Zeb from Rebels be in there for no reason. Unless again you count Bo as the main character, but like honestly she’s not even having natural character development. She went from being an antagonistic ex-terrorist to suddenly being kind and charitable with hardly any buildup or insight into her feelings. It doesn’t feel organic. I know she lost everything, but they still made it seem like she blamed Din for it only to have her rescue him once and completely abandon that hostility. The best we really have gotten is Grogu remembering his past while with the armorer and setting up his future as a Mandalorian, but even that feels cheapened when the armor he was given isn’t even talked about with the person who he shares the symbol with him that signifies their relationship, making me think it’s just another merchandise decision.

We wanted Din to learn to rule because, even if we did have to say goodbye to the adventure of the week type format, it would have been in service of his character evolving into something he doesn’t think he deserves or is good at. It would have been the next step in his journey, accumulating everything he has learned, the growth he went through using both diplomacy and his skills as a fighter time and time again. Instead, they chose to really quickly ditch any of the conflicts he had so they could have him free to do this instead. If they had waited one more season, this could have possibly been done well imo. Din’s arcs could have been brought to a meaningful and satisfying conclusion, and then you could have made him and Bo-Katan become co-leads. It wouldn’t have mattered as much then if they decided to focus a little more on her. But instead they essentially abandoned Din’s story they’ve spent two seasons creating to go ahead and tell her own.

The side quest aren’t what people are complaining about. It’s that they have no meaning for our characters other than having everybody circling around Bo most of the time or creating some big connection to the sequel triology and setting up the Star Wats MCU, which wasn’t the style of writing this show did. I don’t care how many ways people want to argue against it, Din is not the main character in this season, which is not what they have been selling us all year, and he doesn’t even have any engaging story or arc as a side character either. That is the problem, and that is why these side quest and the lack of an actual plot do not work.

[panlight]

I just read your post about how easily Bella was able to adjust to vampirism, and do you think it was has something to do with she had already tasted human blood before she turned?

like if we go for the eternal damnation angle, where after you're turned you're supposed to drain the life of the kind you belonged to but that doesn't happen to Bella nor does she suffer through it as she had already tasted Blood and thus had already damned herself therefore making her immune???

I mean I know Smeyer didn't go for that angle but this adds an added layer of depth and darkness to the whole "Eww Bella drank Human Blood and LIKED IT" and " Wow, Bella has adjusted so well to being a vampire" like i feel like it ties the whole thing up in a neat lil bow

I could get behind this! She's already tasted human blood, "screwed her total," as she said, before she even becomes a vampire, and so she's primed for it, she's already doomed. There's no angst because the vampire essence had already taken root. I could also accept that the James bite did something to her, or even the pregnancy had changed her in a way that made the adjustment to vampirism less of a shock to the system.

I still wouldn't love that it was such an easy, non-event though. I don't, personally, feel like becoming a supernatural creature with an insatiable blood thirst is something you can really "mentally prepare" for. Like sure, making the choice beforehand and being informed might take the edge off; it could remove a few of the layers of chaos and fear, and that could help. She's not waking up in a strange world surrounded by strange people like the others were. But it should still be hard. You're still dealing with all-new senses, all-new instincts, all-new painful bloodthirst. "I just thought about it and made up my mind not to eat people!" is such a boring explanation.

And also, for me, the whole thing I found compelling was this sort of impossibly difficult and painful self-denial the Cullens had going on. It's only interesting if it's difficult. Newborn!Carlisle banishing himself to the woods and trying to starve himself for months and then spending centuries perfecting his self-control enough to be a doctor is just WAY more interesting to me than Bella hanging out with her human dad on day 2 of vampirism. Alice wandering alone and trying to make sense of her visions and having only "sporadic success" at not eating people is a hundred times more interesting to me than newborn!Bella dressing up all sexy and going to meet a lawyer. The mental image of Carlisle, Edward, Esme and Rosalie ALL having to tackle newborn!Emmett to try and keep him from eating someone because he's so outrageously strong is way more compelling (and scary! and sad!) than Bella just getting "distracted" by Edward and not eating the hikers. Jasper still struggling with the bad habits he picked up in the vampire wars; Rosalie killing her attackers without spilling a drop of blood because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist that; lovely gentle Esme slipping up and killing people and having to come home to Dr. Perfect Record with red eyes. Edward going on his rebellion because he didn't want to be in pain any more. THAT's the stuff I find compelling, that's the stuff that sucked me into this series.

But totally! At least explain her success with some actual lore. She's already tasted blood, she's already been bitten, she's been somehow changed by the nightmare pregnancy. All of that is better than "mentally prepared." Or at the very very very least really make it clear her success was about her circumstances. It was easier for her because she was informed and supported, not because she's innately magic or unusually self-controlled.

[overshelter]

A very simple explanation of why SV, The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, doesn't contain Noncon or any of that shit

WARNING: It's full of SPOILERS, so CAUTION!

I decided to come and waste my time making this thread/post because I've seen a lot of discussions about it. I'm even doing it in English and not in my official language for the simple reason that I've seen more foreigners talking about it than Brazilians.

Well, let's start by making something clear. SV is a BIG, HUGE, SCANDALOUS satire on novels with harem in which EVERYTHING can be solved with SEX.

Did we get that point? Good.

Moving on.

SV, for having this as a central point, often brings criticism and scenes that prove it. I could easily take several, but at the moment I only have the novel in Portuguese with me, and I'm not going to go after the English version just for a thread/post. So you can go and get it for me if you think I'm talking shit. We'll discuss it if necessary.

Back to the point... These parts are scattered throughout the reading and are easily found if you just pay the slightest bit of attention.

Now, you might be asking yourself: "Why the fuck is this crazy woman bringing up all this talk?"

Context, my dear. Context.

Context to talk about the problem I've been seeing: the issue of noncon, lack of consent and 500 other issues.

It's been said that Shen Qingqiu says no and asks Binghe to stop at various points in the novel. And, indeed, he does.

Only he does it at moments that don't involve ANY, I REPEAT, ANY SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP! In fact, if you go back and read it again, and if I'm not remembering wrongly, in their first kiss, he pushes Binghe away and Binghe himself doesn't insist, he just complains a bit, saying that it was unfair that he couldn't do something like that even in a dream. In other words, he basically RESPECTED and didn't FORCE Shen!

Another part to comment on is that, most of the times when Shen scolds or pushes Binghe away, these are times when they are fighting like two primary school children. Their actions, words and everything else carry an incredible childishness.

That scene of them fighting in the demon realm shortly after Binghe finds out that Shen is alive is one of them. (bonus: in it we also have the narrative of Shen UNILATERALLY hitting Binghe, and at NO point does he hit back. He just threatens, trying to scare, but always without actually doing anything.)

The second kiss I honestly don't remember very well when it happened, but I do know that Shen didn't say no or even push Binghe away completely. I vaguely remember him scolding a little, but not explicitly denying it. Which, in my opinion, shows that he himself was perhaps confused by this possible new dynamic in their relationship and was a little afraid of how such uncertain feelings could end up affecting them both.

Now let's move on to the central point: Maigu Mountain.

My novelistic trauma and also SV's most suffocating chapters, where you see just how human, broken and entirely unstable Binghe is. Both thanks to his own mind and Xin Mo's corruption.

The whole Maigu Mountain scene is made to be uncomfortable. It's not supposed to be something nice, something memorable or even enjoyable, whether for Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu or anyone reading.

This scene is the pinnacle of satire and criticism, making it clear how unrealistic it is to expect sex to magically solve all problems. But the important thing here is the fact that Shen Qingqiu KNEW what was going to happen and was WILLING to go through it. Only because he BELIEVED it would work and also because the system pushed the whole situation in that direction.

And please don't even bring Luo Binghe into this discussion. He is one of the biggest victims in this scene. He has NO conscience whatsoever and is completely screwed up and lost in Xin Mo's corruption, even going so far as to ask Shen why he didn't kill him, drive him away or something. In fact, he was completely willing to die, both because of this and because he thought Shen would sacrifice himself for him again.

Apart from that, we also have an extra where the author brings back The Resentments of Spring Mountain and the fanfiction made by the three sisters, making BingQiu read it and bringing us a scene where Luo Binghe himself and Shen Qingqiu themselves read it and say that it's TOTALLY OOC and impossible for Luo Binghe to force Shen Qingqiu to have sex with him. Luo Binghe even makes it clear that he would walk away or kill himself at any sign of discomfort or denial that Shen Qingqiu showed, in whatever form it came.

So, in short... NO NONCON IN SV, RAPE OR ANY OF THAT SHIT! LUO BINGHE IS A CHUNNY WITH TRAUMA AND A BEAUTIFUL CRYING LADY! NOTHING BUT THAT!

I believe we're clear? (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

[transtalesofdoom]

The Egg Years and being Cis-Adjacent

I originally made this blog to talk about my new and exciting trans experience, so let's go do that. Long post, obviously and I just figured out how to do the Keep Reading thing

I didn't have any inherent dysphoria growing up, I was just a bit of a not-like-other-girls tomboy. Jeans were comfier than dresses, boobs and bras were sooo inconvenient, make up just meant more effort. Books and video games were more fun than going out to party. I wasn't good at dancing anyway. And don't even get me started on shaving your legs.

It became obvious to me that I wasn't strictly cis pretty much as soon as I learned that gender wasn't binary. It was common sense, really. If gender is a spectrum, very few people would actually find themselves on the very end of either side. So most people were just close enough to either end of the spectrum to consider themselves cis. Including myself.

As my understanding of gender grew, it became more and more ridiculous to assume anyone was 100% cis. There's always some criterion you don't fully meet. Of course, people could still use and identify with the label of cis, clearly there was some sort of leeway. But calling myself cis started to feel wrong. It felt like I was ignoring the very nature of gender as a vast spectrum by picking a label rooted in the binary. I was cis, but in a queer way. I started calling myself cis-adjacent when talking to other queer people.

I never had a "problem" with my assigned gender at birth, outside of the patriarchy and sexism and periods, but those weren't trans reasons to resent being a woman. Being a woman suited me well enough. I wouldn't have cared if I wasn't, if I woke up one day without boobs, I'd just go on and fit into shirts much more easily. I considered "gender-apathetic" as a label, but ultimately it felt like too much hassle for something I was indifferent about.

Really, that was what it came down to. I was close enough to being cis, I didn't have any internal problems with calling myself a woman or living as one. Sure, there probably was something more accurate for me out there, but I knew about the struggles trans people faced. A good friend of mine had come out as trans and started his transition. I was happy for him, but I also got to see the difficulties it brought to update paperwork and book appointments and constantly emailing professors about your new name and pronouns. Not to mention the whole coming out to family thing. Or transphobia. There wasn't enough suffering in me to submit myself to this much effort and misery. Or force everyone in my life to learn a new set of pronouns and name for me, irrevocably changing every single relationship I had in the process. I didn't even want to be a man anyway. Just look a little more like one.

And I could easily present pretty masculine without transitioning. I only wore pants anyway. And hoodies were super comfy. I cut my hair short more than once. I considered buying a binder, just to see what that would do for me, but every time I tried looking into it, I just got overwhelmed and, like I said, there wasn't enough suffering to justify spending 50 bucks and at least one extensive research session on it. Ironically enough, during my last year as cis-adjacent, I finally reconnected with a part of my femininity and wore dresses to special occasions again.

However, a new problem had found my body: The unstoppable passage of time. I wasn't a perky teenager anymore. My body gained weight, my boobs succumbed to gravity, and I had very little in common with what was considered a beautiful woman. Even a beautiful butch woman didn't look like me. No one beautiful looked like me, really. I told myself that I had a lot of internalized misogyny and fatphobia to unlearn. That the reason I started disliking my reflection was social conditioning. I was right about that, of course. But there was more to it that I, in my self-righteous blaming of society, didn't acknowledge.

Until the last full moon night of 2023, when my mirror reflected a ghost back at me.

[rash0mon]

reason of living: akutagawa ryūnosuke

debatably, bungou stray dogs is easily the most existentialist anime out there, as the main premise of existentialism (in a rough sense) - that reason of living is something individual to man, is an underlying compartment of the series, making it as awe-inspiring as it is. each character is seen to either have, or be striving towards finding their distinct reason for living. now, i wanted to retrospect a bit into akutagawa's character and how his reason affected him, his actions, morals - as well as how it possibly shifted (especially in recent chapters of the manga and anime episodes). keep in mind that at i am just laying down my opinion and observations of akutagawa`s character - some things may be fairly obvious, some uncertain or not matching your opinion, which is why i leave space for conclusion, theory, discussion.

pre-mafia

generally, we know little about akutagawa`s life before the mafia, other than small snippets shown throughout the main manga as well as in beast (although beast is an AU, it can still effectively aid in understanding his character in the canon universe). as akutagawa's companions were annihilated, it seemed that he had no reason to live. where, as we all probably know, this soon happened afterwards. from then on, everything changed.

mafia

after that night in the forest, akutagawa's life completely shifted - or moreso, he got a new life. his whole new reason of living being - pleasing dazai, getting validation from the person who gave his life a new meaning. exploring the relationship and dynamic between these two is a whole another post, which is why i shall keep it short. now, i would like to note that even if akutagawa has an unhealthy attachment to dazai, and is being emotionally manipulated by him - he is very much sensible of it. in fact, akutagawa is remarkably self-aware and perceptive, especially of the people around him, just more subtly, through his cold layer of stoicism. he is not the cold-blooded murderer with no sense of morality that many like to paint him as. yes, he is intently focused on achieving dazai's approval, pursuing that ideal in a way familiar to himself. he knows that it is not what is considered "right" by general moral rules, but he does not do much about it, as his reason of living would then diminish. dazai leaves him with a looming sense of inferiority, as he feels he is worthless no matter what he does, unless he is to achieve dazai's attention and approval. this sense of inferiority haunts him, and guides his recklesness and death-or-glory actions.

he sees the ethical issues in his own actions, and he knows there is a better life for him. he just doesn't pursue it. this is also portrayed well in his relationship with kyouka, which could have been yet another repetition of the abuse cycle started by mori and continued by dazai - but it was not, as kyouka found the world of light. he is even happy for her, as we can see. this is one of the few snippets where we can see his sensibility when it comes to others. when he stated "i knew a man with the same eyes as yours", referring to himself, in a way, he sees that he also could`ve found the world of light. but at that point, it seemed to be too late... or at least that is what he thought.

akutagawa doesn't hate atsushi. he sees him as a reflection of himself, himself if he had a different reason of living, if he met dazai a bit later, if he pursued the world of light. he is jealous of him in a sense, yes, but he does not blame him for the fact that he didn't get dazai's approval as many like to speculate. atsushi is the first person who challenges akutagawa's "way", philosophy of living. as he sees himself in him, he fulfills their promise of not killing anyone for 6 months... perhaps because of a faint hope for the world of light? he holds onto this even as a vampire, which shows his pure determination. and it makes me think, that he did not go and protect atsushi only because of dazai, as often speculated, due to the points stated beforehand. as dazai stated: “Akutagawa—he’s like a sword without a sheath.” Dazai grinned from ear to ear. “He’ll surely become the Mafia’s strongest skill user in the not-so-distant future, but for now he needs someone who can teach him how to put that sword away.”

perhaps, atsushi is that person for him rather than dazai.

chapter 88 and vampirism

as stated beforehand, akutagawa obviously does not go to save atsushi only due to his wish to be approved by dazai. there is something deeper underlying, and we have seen numerous times before that akutagawa genuinely cares about, and admires atsushi in the same way he admires and is happy for kyouka - although he would not admit it explicitly, of course. akutagawa fights fukuchi alongside atsushi, leaving himself in a completely vulnerable state, in a simple wish as to redeem, or prove himself in a way. to fulfill his meaning. he is in a special rush to do so even so because of his lung disease, which has a severe impact on the intensity and ruthlesness of his actions throughout entirety of the series. he lays his life down, but he does not go down without a fight. he stays true to his purpose...until his last moments.

at his last moment, in the given panel, however, something changes. we see a different vision of akutagawa. as he lets go of his coat, and is able to manifest his ability without it, i would say that his reason shifted. he states "i don't need words, but only actions", which is the most important sentence in understanding his character and development if you ask me. words being dazai`s words of approval, which he lets go of, like the coat he gave him. a new reason emerges, "actions". he does not need dazai anymore. he only needs himself, raw. this is further emphasized as his coat is lost in the sea by atsushi, who he gave it to. there is no reason to hold on to the past anymore... as a new era emerges.

a new era where akutagawa is not alive, apparently. he is a vampire. however, we can still see that he holds on to some of principles that caused him to change in the first place, such as not killing aya, and keeping the promise he and atsushi made. even when not concious of his actions and controlled by fukuchi, he still holds on to it. which leads me to believe, that there is truly hope for him. atsushi shares the same line of thought... as his perception of akutagawa gradually shifts to a positive one, which is why he wants him to snap out of his vampirism. atsushi understands akutagawa to the core, as they are two sides of the same coin. which is why he hopes for him. if possible, i wish for him to let go of the vampire curse and continue on developing his new reason of living... his new life. we can only long for that at this moment.

we have seen the gradual evolution of akutagawa's character throughout the series in terms of seeking his reason of living - something that is central to each character in bungou stray dogs. which leads me to end this post with what dazai stated to kyouka, which quite well describes his, and all of the other characters ordeals in striving to find a reason to live:

Your anguish isn’t yours alone. What should one do, when what they want to be isn’t what they’re best at? Everyone fights, searching for the correct way to live their lives. What do they seek by fighting? How ought they live? No one can say. All we have is the right to waver. Like stray dogs that have hit rock bottom.

[milfthrawnuorodo]

Safe in my Arms (Ascendancy!Thrawn x Reader)

Pairing: Ascendancy!Thrawn x Female Chiss Reader 

Summary: Csaplar, the capital city of Csilla, has been attacked by alien warships. You are a Syndic of the Mith family, forced to seek shelter from the attack along with the rest of the Syndicure. Thrawn, senior captain of the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet, is able to easily defeat the enemy targets, but finds himself struggling with something new: the sudden feelings of concern and panic at the thought of you in danger. These feelings are a first for Thrawn, always so confident in battle, seldom so confident when it comes to his feelings for his lover. When you two are reunited, Thrawn is forced to confront his feelings head on. His relief at seeing you alive and well quickly turns into something almost animalistic, and passion ensues, followed by the dawn of a crucial revelation. 

Warnings: Sliiiight angst, but I promise it all works out. SMUT!!! Oral (female receiving), P in V, feral Thrawn is it’s own warning, fucking on a countertop (will I ever let him fuck in the comfort of a bed??? Only time will tell). And watch out because this ending is FLUFF CITY. Like Goddamn call this bitch cotton candy the way it makes me so wet and then absolutely MELTS me. (too much?? Yeah, probably). 

A/N: So the original idea for this came from my head canon’s with my Chiss Syndic OC, Theta, which can be found here. I did originally post this as a Thrawn x Theta, but I know how beloved a solid Thrawn x Reader fic is, so here’s the compromise. Sigh,this fic is so self indulgent it should be a crime. But I hope you enjoy it!

This fic is spicyyyyy so 18+ only, minors do not interact. 

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The aroma of fresh caccoleaf was the only thing getting you through this never ending meeting. You gingerly took a sip, cherishing the slightly sweet flavor as you forced yourself to focus on the argument at hand. The Syndicure was in full session, meaning your days had been consumed by meetings just like this, speakers for various families vying for exchanges and favors to bolster their own needs above others. 

“What we are proposing would completely revitalize this meager farm area and turn it into a beacon of prosperity, attracting people from all around the Ascendancy, which could boost the local economy and present other long-lasting positive impacts. If you’ll look at the document that has been shared with each of your questises–”

The Ufsa speaker hadn’t even finished his obviously well-rehearsed speech before a representative from the Chaf family made her own grievances known. “That land rightfully belongs to the Chaf family,” she butted in emphatically. “You’ll have to pry that land straight from our hands.”

It took all your years of experience to contain your eye roll. You were proud of your position, honored by your duty to both your family and the Ascendancy, and, yes, you lived to serve your people in any way possible. But you also had a tendency to get frustrated at how selfish and self-serving members of the Aristocra could be. Your whole mission as one of the few female members of the Syndicure was to inspire unity amongst the families and encourage compromise and support over supporting self-serving needs. Though, with so many of the Aristocra being dead set in their old-fashioned ways, you more often than not felt like you were fighting an uphill battle. 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, preparing to interrupt the argument which was clearly not making any headway, when a resounding alarm began to blare throughout the meeting room. The room was silent for a single heartbeat, before the Syndicure erupted into noise and chaos, each person trying to speak over the other to figure out what was going on. A voice projected over the loudspeaker.

“This is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola. I repeat, this is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola ”

The announcement hadn’t even finished before people were scrambling towards the doors and filing down the hallway towards the emergency exits that would take them to the shelters. You stood from your seat, making sure to grab the questis from the table before turning to navigate the throngs of people. A quick scan of the room told you that a majority of the Aristocra were well and able to take care of themselves. However, your eyes landed on a lone straggler, an elder from the Irizi family, struggling to make haste towards the exit, having long been forgotten by members of his own family in their own rush towards safety. Without hesitation, you crossed the short distance between you and loop your arm in his, wordlessly offering him your support. A look of surprise flitted across the man’s face, but was quickly replaced by a nod of respect and gratitude before leaning on your for support as you both made your way to the exit. This image, two rival families coming together to support each other in a time of crisis, this was what being a member of the Chiss Ascendancy was about: above family ranks, above political rivalries, above all else, you were all Chiss.

Joining the rest of the speakers, syndics, and various members of the aristocra in the shelters, you found an empty seat, getting a moment to collect your bearings for the first time. You spare a look down at your questis as a barrage of notifications lit up the screen. You could hardly process the words, having to reread the same sentence multiple times. 

Csaplar, capital of Csilla, is under attack by alien ships. Seek shelter immediately. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had dared attack the Ascendancy. It certainly hadn’t been in your lifetime, and from the looks of the faces around the shelter, you decided it most certainly hadn’t taken place in the lifetimes of even the eldest members of the Syndicure. You furiously refreshed your notifications, hoping for another update, but there was none to be found. With a worried sigh, you crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to get comfortable. “Stars only know how long we’ll be stuck down here,” you thought to yourself.

“Alien warships,” a nearby Syndic scoffed. “And they have the audacity to attack us?” His voice increased in pitch to emphasize his incredulity. 

“I’m sure the expansionary defense fleet has already lasered them to stardust by now,” another Syndic reassured. 

The words settled like a lead weight in your stomach. Thrawn. The adrenaline, which had just begun to wear off, peaked again and you worked to control your breathing. He was supposed to be coming back from his mission today. You had just spoken over holovid the night before once Thrawn had retired to his quarters, and you had been looking forward to having him planetside with you. Now, with this latest attack, if he was in the middle of it…your thoughts trailed off into the unknown. You knew it wouldn’t do any good to panic now, but the thought of Thrawn being up there, facing off against three enemy warships was enough to get your heart racing all the same. 

_______________________

Thrawn stood on the bridge, staring out the viewport at the sight before him. The alien warships were gone, blasted into rubble too small to even make a dent through the atmosphere. Always the calculated and stoic Senior Captain, Thrawn had kept a level head throughout the unexpected ordeal. The Springhawk was returning home from its mission, coming out of hyperspace just outside Csilla’s gravity well, when the foreign ships began firing on the planet’s capital city. It took less than a minute for the Chiss ships to return fire, and within fifteen minutes the battle was over. Thrawn stood motionless, staring into the empty space where the ships once stood, a sudden anxiety settling into his bones. His chest felt tight and your name fell off his lips in a silent plea. He knew you were there, in the capital. He knew the aliens had to be targeting the capital city–it was the most logical conclusion. Unfortunately, it was also the conclusion that sent an unfamiliar wave of panic through Thrawn. He forced himself to take exactly one deep breath, steeling himself, and forcing his feet to take him back to the Captain’s chair. “Continue course to Csaplar,” Thrawn announced, thankful to hear that his voice didn’t betray an ounce of the worry that plagued him. “The likeliest conclusion is that you are fine,” he thought to himself in an attempt to regain his internal control. You have to be fine. 

_______________________

The defense force had you waiting two hours in the shelters, to be sure that no further threats arose. Two hours you spent sick with worry about what was going on in the skies above. You fully believed that Thrawn was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, and the Ascendancy as a whole was far safer for his role in the expansionary defense fleet. But that didn’t mean you never worried about him every time you knew he was going into a dangerous situation. More than anything, it was the not knowing that was tearing you up the most. You tried to distract yourself with your colleagues, who, in typical syndicure fashion, all seemed to be trying to one-up each other in outrage, as if they were personally defending the ascendancy’s honor. If there was one thing that could bring together the Aristocra, it was a common enemy. 

Shortly past the second hour mark, you got the all-clear to evacuate the shelter. There would be a briefing with General Ba’kif in one of the meeting halls, and it was clear the Syndicure would be out for blood, demanding answers that may not even be available yet. As the sea of individuals rushed to assault the general with their questions, you strode right past the door of the meeting room, instead heading straight for your office. You had just shut the door behind you when you realized you weren't alone.

Thrawn stood in the middle of your office, and the familiar sight of him in the black uniform was nearly enough to bring tears of relief to your eyes. 

At the first sight of you, relief flooded Thrawn’s body and for the first time in over two hours, he felt as though he could breathe again. It took all of two strides for Thrawn to close the distance between you, his strong arms taking you into his grip, pulling you to his chest. You gripped him just as hard, breathing in the familiar scent.

You stood like that, embracing each other for several heartbeats. “I’m relieved to see you unharmed,” Thrawn’s soft voice broke the silence. You tilted your head back, looking into the eyes of your beloved. “Thrawn,” you started, but your voice broke, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You forced a deep breath before continuing. “What happened?” With a final press of his lips against the top of your head, Thrawn stepped back and motioned for you to take a seat as he began to recount everything they had found out over the last few hours. 

_______________________

That night, You rinsed off the last of the dinnerware, passing the dripping plate to Thrawn, who methodically dried it off and set it amongst its freshly clean counterparts. The dinner had been a simple affair, but you cherished these nights the most. They were too few and far between. Though, you supposed you were somewhat in luck–the estimated repairs for the Springhawk were to take between four and six weeks, and you’d soak up every ounce of time together you could get. 

Thrawn had been unusually quiet tonight though, and you watched as he gripped the edge of the countertop, clearly lost in thought. Thrawn’s focus shifted as a pair of soft arms wound their way around his midsection. “Tell me what’s bothering you, love,” your voice was barely above a whisper. Up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to Thrawn’s neck, “And don’t bother denying it. You know I can read you as easily as a data cylinder,” you quipped, trying to ease the tension. 

With a small sigh, Thrawn turned to face you. His lean body propped up against the countertop, arms crossed at his chest, and though he was looking at you, you could feel that his gaze was far away. 

“There was a moment today, after the attack,” Thrawn started, then paused, thinking over his words. “I had a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.” You waited patiently through another extended pause, giving Thrawn what you hoped was an encouraging nod.

“As soon as the battle was over, I was hit by this strange sense of terror. There was this sudden, overwhelming dread, and I was convinced something had happened to you.” Thrawn paused, his throat working. “I don’t know what I would have done. What I’d do if–” Your features instantly softened, and you interrupted the thought, stepping up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to Thrawn’s lips. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, pulling away momentarily. “I’m fine.” You pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’m okay,” you reassured, murmuring against his lips, and it was as if upon hearing those words, feeling your soft lips against his, something within Thrawn broke. His hands were off the counter, gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him as his lips crashed against yours, gripping you in a fierce kiss. You hardly had a second to react before Thrawn picked you up, twisting your positions so he could place you on the countertop, not even breaking the kiss. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, though you certainly weren’t about to stop him. Thrawn’s grip on your hips tightened as he deepened the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Suddenly, you understood where Thrawn was coming from. The relief at having him here, the knowledge that you were both safe, both together, it was enough to have you mirroring his intensity.

Your hands were desperate, clumsily trying to undo Thrawn’s uniform. Stars damn all the regulation zips that made these things so damn hard to remove. Eventually, Thrawn took pity on you, stepping back to remove the rest of the jacket, discarding his undershirt as well, letting both fall to the floor. You had only a moment to appreciate the toned, muscular skin, biting your bottom lip as you took in the view, and then Thrawn’s lips were back on yours and your fingers went straight to tangle themselves in his hair. 

“I need to—“ Thrawn gasps out between kisses. “I need to taste you.” 

You nodded your head fervently and spread your legs, leaning back on your hands as Thrawn pressed sweet kisses along your neck and down your still-clothed chest. Pushing up your skirt, you lifted yourself just enough for him to slide your damp panties down your leg. Thrawn let out an audible groan. “I do believe you’ll be the end of me,” he growled in a low voice, before falling to his knees. 

The sight of Thrawn on his knees before you was almost enough to push you over the edge. Thrawn slid your legs open, resting them on his shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your core. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could even beg for more, he dove right in. 

He ate like a man who had been starved for days, unable to get enough. A single finger joined his tongue, and left you squirming on his counter. Your hips thrust up into his face, a second digit joining in, stretching you. He curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot deep inside you, and stars danced behind your eyelids. “Thrawn!” you exclaimed, panting. His fingers moved faster, harder, expertly dragging your orgasm from you. “Thrawn, I’m going to—“ before you could even finish that sentence, your orgasm ripped through your body. Your back arched, cunt tightening around his fingers. His tongue lapped up your juices, which only prolonged the orgasm. Gasping for air, you slowly came down from her high, coming to just in time to spot Thrawn trailing soft kisses along the inside of your thighs, working his way back up to kiss your face. Thrawn pressed himself up against your soaking core, and you could feel how much he enjoyed that experience as his rock-hard member pressed against your sensitive mound, eliciting another moan from you, his name dancing on your lips. “Thrawn.”

“I need to feel you,” he moaned against his kiss. “I need to be inside you.” His kiss was frenzied, his need was unmistakable. You had never seen the man so undone, and you could hardly believe it was on your behalf. It felt like a dream. All you could manage was a breathy “yes,” in response, but it was all the approval Thrawn needed. 

Without missing a beat, Thrawn’s hands were on his belt, quickly undoing it, his pants falling to the floor soon after. You let out a sigh as he freed his cock and gave his member a rough couple pumps. Your mouth watered at the sight of it–thick and long, and deliciously veined, as if it was designed purely for your pleasure. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction as you took in the sight before you: 

Thrawn, his typically meticulous hair now a disheveled mess, his impressive member in hand, and a look of absolute feral need in his eyes. 

Thrawn held the tip of his cock, teasing your opening. Even when he was overcome with need, he still took the time to savor this moment. In a moment of impatient desperation, you thrust your hips up off the counter, which Thrawn rewarded with a swift thrust of his hips, his cock finally filling you to the brim. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust. A breathless moan of approval from you is all it took for him to lose himself. 

His thrusts were hard and his pace was quick. He needed this. He needed to feel you beneath his fingers, to know that you were safe in his arms. You threw your head back, the pleasure radiating through your body. In and out, in and out. Thrawn’s breathing was labored, letting out breathy moans. His pace quickened, and he could tell you were nearing another orgasm. Your cunt tightened around his cock as you neared her edge, and Thrawn let out a gasp and another moan, your name on his lips. It was enough to send you over the edge once again, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer into you. Feeling your pussy pulse around his cock was just enough to cause Thrawn to lose any remaining composure. “Fuck,” Thrawn grunted, grabbing your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting his hips even harder. With a final groan, Thrawn’s hips faltered and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside you.

Thrawn pressed his forehead to yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. He loosened his fingers from their iron grip on your hips, and he was surprised at the slight shake that unsteadied his hand. “That’s new,” Thrawn remarked to himself, still perplexed at how thoroughly you had undone him. He was enamored with you. His hands absentmindedly trailed along your side as he pressed tender kisses along your neck and jaw, still soaking in your scent. He paused when he reached the apex of your neck and he relished the feel of your pulse beneath his lips, further proof that you were alive and well. 

“I love you.” The words tumbled from Thrawn’s mouth, his deep voice barely above a whisper. You froze beneath his touch. Even Thrawn seemed momentarily taken aback by the words which he hadn’t even meant to say out loud. But with every moment that passed, Thrawn realized how true they were. He was in love with you. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had been for quite some time. “I love you,” you whispered back, the softest smile on your face. Thrawn couldn’t help his smile as your lips met again, but this kiss was different: full of passion, yes, but something softer. Love. 

“Damn,” you breathed out, breaking the kiss after several moments. “Maybe warships should attack the ascendancy more often,” you said with a playful smile on your lips. 

Thrawn bit back a growl and, with a scowl, took you into his arms, lifting you off the countertop. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said in a low voice, immediately followed by a soft press of his lips to your temple. Thrawn started towards your bedroom, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into, but knowing that he was in too deep to turn back now. 

[agentravensong]

i've had a fic in my drafts for multiple years now (first version of it is from shortly post witch in the web) about paul becoming something of a surrogate dad for hannah (or, more accurately, just beginning on that journey, and then the events of tgwdlm happen). and now i have an idea for a similar story that i think i'm even less likely to finish, so i'm gifting it to tumblr:

bill becoming grace's new, better dad (potentially leading to, depending on how much you want to balloon the scope, the full ccrp gang (minus ted, for timeline reasons we'll get to shortly) becoming psuedo-parental figures for the full npmd protag gang)

to start: bill and grace. i think we can all agree that grace deserves better parents, right? well, there's one reason i think bill is the prime candidate to step into that role for her: they're canonically the same denomination and go to the same church. meaning that a) bill has seen this girl once a week for probably her whole life, so he's got to at least know her a little bit by now, and b) grace probably has a baseline level of respect for and willingness to listen to him, at least compared to any of the other ccrp adults (who are all different denominations).

them having their church in common gives them a starting point, but we also know just how different bill is from grace's parents (for one, he has no problem with his daughter being gay and dating). so being around him could give grace another perspective on life, one she wouldn't be so easily able to dismiss out of hand. there's a chance, however slight, that grace might actually believe him when he shows her there are other ways to be good. other ways to Be.

i guess there's also the possibility that grace's family (and thus grace) could secretly despise bill for not adhering to their version of their denomination's beliefs? but i still think it could work given the right circumstances.

what would be those circumstances, you ask? here's what i think:

the workin boys timeline, post workin boys (gals).

think about it: bill was there, and he has to know grace was there, since she's the one who Dealt with hidgens. imagine being him, and going to church the next sunday, and seeing her there. you'd be at least a little concerned about how she's doing, right?

now, answer me this: do you think grace's parents would be at all equipped to give grace the emotional support she would need after that experience? do you think they'd react at all rationally when they found out about this whole thing?

do you think grace would be able to fully keep up appearances the next time she went to church, after smiting someone in the name of god?

which is to say, i think bill, for as obtuse as he can sometimes be, would notice that she's not okay. and knowing how much he misses alice when she's not around, and how much he always worries for her... i think it's a fair jump to make that bill's fatherly side would start coming out. that he'd offer to be there for grace, and maybe start looking into her family on his own.

and grace, after a short while doing her best to hold things together on her own, cracks, and decides to take him up on that offer.

i think bill would have to do some more developing himself in order to really help grace, because we do see in his relationship with alice that familiar strain of overprotectiveness, even if it's much less dominant than in the chasitys. in that respect, i think setting a version of this idea in the watcher world timeline could be easier, because bill goes through some serious development there... but overall i find that version less interesting for grace, so instead, bill is gonna have to learn the longer way.

it would take a while for bill to start getting at the heart of how grace got messed up by her parents. but i think, with enough time — and maybe some help from a certain social worker and his specially gifted (girl)friend, if we say this timeline is one of the better 50% — he could get there.

now, i mentioned the other npmd teens up top. for the sake of this story, i like imagining that ruth actually survived; she hid when hidgens started murdering and he didn't get to her before the curtains went up. so she gets to be here! yay!

but, uh. none of them are doing too hot. obviously a ruth who lived through that would be traumatized; it might even ruin her love of theater entirely. ritchie saw it all, and i figure ruth wouldn't come out of hiding until after it was all over, so there were a good few minutes at least where he genuinely believed his (maybe best) friend was dead.

and, pete... he wasn't there, but, ya know. he lost his brother. so.

all the kids need help, is the point. and if bill is starting to look after grace, then it's basically inevitable (heh) that he'd start seeing some of ritchie (since he and grace were already kind of friends in this timeline, and i can imagine them developing a trauma bond in the aftermath of the event) and then, by association, ruth. i can even imagine him encouraging grace to hang out with them more as part of her healing, and then they could start having hang-outs at his place, and... plus, i figure the other ccrp adults probably at least vaguely knew about ted's younger brother, so bill doing at least one courtesy check-in on pete makes sense. and pete is friends with richtie and ruth, so, it all comes together!

and at some point, if bill is gonna end up helping out all these teens to some extent, it'll probably become part of his small talk at work, and that's how, if you wanted to, you could get the other adults involved. like, we know paul has babysat for alice before, so i think bill could probably convince him to help out here too... eventually. i mean, it's not like he'd ask him to take them to a musical, given Everything. if paul has started pursuing something with emma, then she can be here too! and charlotte... well, i don't know if we know anything about her opinion on children, and i don't want to stereotype her given she's the only woman of the group. but she's at least generally a nice person; i think she'd be willing to help out when she sees bill starting to get overwhelmed.

which basically just leaves the question of how steph gets involved. my answer: she hears about what happened, then learns that pete's brother was one of the casualties, and through some combo of feeling obligated and having a spark of an interest in pete, reaches out to him to ask how he's doing. so she gets pulled in through him. with this set-up, tho, i figure she probably wouldn't be a major player (though she definitely also deserves a better parent... that can be its own story).

to kind of wrap this up, the point of this whole story concept is that bill accidentally gets a second daughter, figuring out how to be a better dad in the process; and grace, on the precipe of entering adulthood with some fresh trauma, gets a real chance at salvation. a chance to be, relatively, normal. or, whatever she wants to be when free of her parents' expectations and religious standards. anything else for any other characters is a bonus.

(there can also be some alice — bill drama when alice next visits and starts noticing how much bill is devoting himself to this girl that isn't even his daughter. drama that, eventually, results in the two of them becoming closer, and grace getting an honorary older sister!)

(also remember that duke and holloway can be here helping with the kids, if you want them to be. and why wouldn't you?)

like i said up-top, i have no plans to actually write this. y'all can take it and do whatever you want with it. i just hope at least one other person gets something out of this bain blast i had :D

[saerins]

Girl, you don’t have an idea of how much interesting i found the argument/ angst between Mirin & Sae(? idk only if u want, u think u could give us some “extra” (it can be just a single short post) about them? Like, I think Mirin was A LITTLE right to be mad bc he was practically the love of her life and let’s be honest 😭 it’s heartbreaking that ur first love that promised u everything now is in a arranged married AND ACTUALLY loves his wife😕 idk THEIR ANGST IT’S SO GOOOOODDDDDD😢😭😭😭😭

ok hi nonnie !! lemme preface this by saying i was gonna write a whole part of mirin’s pov but it will just be centred around the same scenes and i don’t think you guys want that haha so here’s some extras for you, some small parallels between sae/mirin and sae/yn :) + my own opinions on them mwahahaha

fun fact: sae fell for mirin first. imagine the rich cold guy awkwardly trying to get closer to her & eventually winning her over because she gets to see all the sides to him that nobody else can.

+ mirin was always cautious with relationships because well, her family’s own personal issues. & sae was always patient with her, always entertaining her little ‘tests’ - think something along the lines of: continuously pushing him away and expecting him to always come back (which is exactly why she acted that way abroad). <- this was obviously very tiring to sae but he always did it, but that was why her dating other people was considered a huge blow to him and honestly made him feel like giving up on her altogether.

would he and mirin have worked out if yn wasn’t in the picture? maybe. a hugeeeeee maybe. pros: if yn wasn’t there, then mirin wouldn’t have acted the way she did and sae would still think the world of her. cons: they had their own issues that weren’t so apparent only because sae is laser-focused on making it work with yn.

would he and mirin work it out IF yn and sae don’t work out? nope. HUGE nope. he finds out she slept with oliver? done deal bye bye <3

also, mirin and sae never made their relationship too public :) they were always sneaking around because mirin wanted it private. aside from their inner circles, to everyone else, the most that they were were rumours.

did sae mean what he said to her back then? absolutely. 100%. it’s the kind of love where he realised “shit what is this fucked up feeling and why am i willingly diving into it?” and she taught him a lot, tbh. a lot of which helped him personally when trying to communicate with yn.

anywho !! i feel that given the context of what happened between sae & mirin - how she insisted on the breakup, dated other people while abroad and both of them naturally drifted (because sae didn’t really have the heart in him to keep trying since it looked like mirin was kinda trying to move on, even if she said in the end after that that she couldn’t forget about him) - for me personally his only fault was not offering her closure when he knew her intentions. that night at the karaoke bar when she was there, he should’ve set things straight (not that it would change much but still 😭).

mirin had a right to be angry - she didn’t get any closure and it’s easy to spiral but she knew he was married. didn’t even bother to ask him why he agreed or nothing and just tried to win him back. in comparison, we have yn who wants to try to understand him, who goes along with what he says because despite now it being sae who’s trying to push her away, she’s still there. despite him knowing she’s a passive person and easily scared, she stands her ground and covers for him even when he’s being an ass. that’s a huge part of the reason why he so easily faltered - fron personal experience he knows it’s not easy.

when sae fell in love with mirin, it felt more of chasing after something seemingly unattainable. it was a new, first love that exposed him to any such feelings. but with yn it was subtle. it was him noticing little things and growing to love them. it was him realising the beauty in trying and understanding yn will be much more of a bigger person than he could ever be. his respect and admiration for his wife grew with each day and that is why ultimately in the end, from sae’s pov, he has to learn to catch up with her in order to be able to give her the kind of love and support she deserves.

[measuredingold]

to be in love and to be loved

chapter two: changes

authors note: welcome back! we have successfully made it to chapter two. this one was a bit hard for me to finish because i wanted to get the ball rolling on some things. this chapter switches povs throughout it, but it’ll make sense. was proofread at 1 am so if there’s any mistakes i apologize. as always, enjoy and feedback is always appreciated <3 (p.s. to the person who asked if the title was from a 1d song… it sure is 🖤)

pairing: noah sebastian x ofc x nicholas ruffilo

masterlist / cross-posted on ao3

word count: 9.4k (another doozy)

cw: depicts of anxiety/anxiety attacks, mental health struggles, ~kissing~, lots of angst, 18+ (minors do not interact.)

After his sudden realization, Nicholas learned quickly that he's very good at avoiding things. Like… scary good, actually.

He convinced himself it was the right thing to do, to push those feelings so far into the back of his mind, to the back of his heart, closed off away from the world so things don't get complicated. He can't sit here and say that he hasn't thought about it, because he has, the possibility of him coming out with the truth. It's wishful thinking, but it always makes something stir inside Nicholas, his chest fluttering with excitement. In another life, he thinks, maybe it could work out. Maybe he could be happy. Maybe they could be happy. Together.

He doesn't think this life is as lucky.

So, he avoids it. Acts like it's not there. Things remain the same, for the most part, and Naomi doesn’t bring up the almost kiss. He knows she wants to. Sometimes he finds her watching him when Noah’s not looking, eyes pleading but all he can do is give her a sad smile and look away. As time goes on, she doesn’t silently press anymore, doesn’t give him that look. That’s when he decides that this was the right decision. This is what he needed to do to keep things the same, to keep them here. With him. Even if it wasn’t in the way he wanted it.

He gazes up from the table to find Noah staring at him and glances to his side to find Naomi doing the same. He has to swallow down the impending sadness that seems to be lingering more often these days and puts on a smile, one that they easily return before going back to their conversation while they wait for their food. He feels Naomi's hand settle on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as she speaks animatedly to Noah, and he finds himself leaning his head against her shoulder.

He glances over at Noah again, finding the younger boy staring at him with such softness that it almost makes him feel sick, and all he wishes for right now is to reach over and grab ahold of Noah's hand that's laid across the table. His fingers twitch, but he doesn't move.

Nicholas knows he can't keep living this way and knows that one day this might blow up in his face. This won't last forever, but he's content for now and that's all that matters. He'll let himself live in this moment just a little longer, even if it slowly breaks his heart piece by piece. 

…

If you had told Noah that in three years he'd leave his old band, start a whole new project that would lead him to his new band, get signed by a pretty popular label, and end up touring for said label well before their debut album is released, he probably would've called you a fucking liar. 

Then he’d have to smack himself when he found out it was true.

Sometimes he has to sit and think about how he deserved all of this; despite all the hard work he’s put into this project. It was his baby, at least that’s what Nicholas liked to call it. And yeah, it was. He put his entire being into Bad Omens, working his ass off for months - years, almost - for this to work out, and as his eyes scan the room to find his bandmates and crew turned best-friends, he likes to think it’s worked out so far.

He can't say he's made it yet, but he has a feeling it’s not too far from his reach.

Noah's gaze snaps towards the back of the room where he hears laughter erupting, and warmth spreads itself across his chest and down his arms, all the way to the tips of his fingers. Naomi and Nicholas work together to bring in boxes of merch for tonight's show, and for some reason he has to try and stop himself from smiling as he watches them.

Nicholas was his first supporter, long before Noah had even roped him into being in the band with him. Naomi came next and Noah was forever grateful for them. He wasn't sure where he'd be without their support, love, and patience, and he tries not to think about it too hard, because he knows he wouldn’t be anywhere without them. Well, anywhere good. They kept him anchored.

Naomi wasn't even supposed to be here originally, but she had surprised the whole crew a few days ago with saved up time from work. She took the whole week off to be with them because she knew an extra hand would do them some good. When she told Noah that he remembers how giddy he had felt, and how excited he was to have her there with them.

"Anything for my boys." She had said on the phone. The memory makes his face heat up and his heart thud wildly against his chest.

Noah perks up, eyes narrowing as he watches Nicholas' hand brush against Naomi's back, leaving it there a beat longer for it to be deemed casual. He can see Naomi's cheeks flush all the way from where he stood, and she leans back, tilting her head up to say something to Nicholas. Noah has no clue what she says, too far away to be in ear shot, and his whole body warms at Nicholas having to bend down to whisper something in her ear. He can hear Naomi's laughter.

He’s sure his face is flushed, and he has to force himself to look away. It's so hard, though. He's not angry, not at them at least. He's not even jealous. He's something he can't exactly explain, and he thinks that's what frustrates him the most.

The way Nicholas' touch looked so delicate even all the way over where Noah was made his head spin, especially with how Mimi leaned into him almost instantly. His mind starts up again and before he could stop, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have the girl pressed up against him... and Nicholas.

He halts his movements when he almost lost his grip on the box he had been carrying but he finds his footing again, slowly sitting the box down on the stage. 

This isn't the first time his mind has gone somewhere that's uncharted. The thought of Naomi pressed in between the two boys has slipped through his mind more than a handful of times, and maybe even some with himself in between them... 

He shakes his head to make his thoughts stop and he finds Jolly watching him, a brow raised.

"You good?"

Noah gives him a nonchalant shrug that's far from convincing and his eyes find their way back to the merch table before looking back at Jolly. "Yeah, I'm good. Why?"

“Just wondering.” Jolly follows his gaze and his lips quirk up. "You ever going to tell her?"

Noah crouches down to open up the box he had brought to the stage, quickly glancing at Jolly. He regrets having told the boy his feelings for Naomi one drunken night months ago.

"Tell her what?"

"Dude." Jolly looks unimpressed, lips pressed in a line and all Noah can do is sigh.

"What am I supposed to say, man? Hey, I have feelings for you."

"You can literally say that." It's Noah's turn to look unimpressed and Jolly rolls his eyes. "Seriously! That's all you gotta say."

"You make it sound so easy." 

"Because it is easy." Jolly shrugs. " She flew across the fucking country to see you. The feeling is mutual." 

"If it was that easy, don't you think I would've done it already?" Noah hisses through his teeth, eyes narrowing at Jolly. The older male rolls his eyes, a huff passing his lips. “Plus, she’s here to see all of us. Not just me.”

"Listen, all I'm saying is that you should do it now before someone else comes along." Jolly's gaze shifts between Noah and then the merch table, before looking back at the younger boy.

Noah's jaw tenses and as he glances that way for a second time just as Mimi reached up to mess with Nicholas’ hair. He says something to her, pulling a goofy face, and she throws her head back in laughter. Noah's stomach drops and he forces himself to look away, feeling Jolly's eyes burn against his skin.

"And it’s starting to look like someone already has."

He can't stop the way his heart pounds rapidly against his chest, the sudden wave of anxiety filling his body. Jolly’s just speaking out of his ass, right? There’s no way that that’s true, though, as he continues to watch Naomi and the way Nicholas is looking down at her, the pit in his stomach begins to grow.

He swallows thickly. "Shut up."

"I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Shut up, Joakim.”

Jolly frowns. “Noah-“

"Please for the love of god," He sucks down a deep breath, and he can feel his throat tightening as each second passes, "shut up." 

"When did you become so pissy?" Jolly grumbles, mainly to himself, but Noah hears him. 

His jaw tenses and he has to shut his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath. He stands from his crouched position and glares down at Jolly. 

"Maybe because you’re always in my fucking business." 

Noah can't explain why he's so... pissy, as Jolly put it, but the males words have wormed their way into his mind and it’s making his skin fucking crawl. His hands have balled into fists at his sides and he has to squeeze his fingers together, taking another deep breath before he turns.

"Where are you going?" Jolly calls after him after he hopped off the stage.

"Away from you."

He doesn't know where he's going, but he knew he needed to get out of there. He keeps his head low and just keeps walking, avoiding the worried glances from their crew. He turns a corner and finds an empty hallway, looking around to find that it’s just him and a few empty boxes. 

He lets out the breath he had been holding. 

Because it is easy. Noah scoffs. Jolly doesn't know what he's talking about. He doesn't see the bigger picture here, because this is more than just Noah having feelings for Naomi. It's about the change that'll follow. Sure, what if Naomi liked Noah back, but Jolly’s words lingered in the back of his mind. What if someone had already beat him there? He groans.

Noah doesn't like change all that much, which is kind of hilarious when he thinks back to his life, but it's true. He likes consistency. He likes stability. Besides Bad Omens (so far), Naomi and Nicholas were the only consistent things in his life. He couldn't risk messing up what they have, the tiny little world they created with just the three of them, for something like this. He's heard stories of people falling for their best friends and everything fucking up, and he'll be damned if he ever lets that happen to him. 

"Noah?" Naomi’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he jumps away from the wall, turning to face her. She’s frowning, eyes scanning him up and down before they meet his gaze. “Is everything alright?”

He doesn’t bother answering, slumping back against the wall and running a shaky hand down his face. He hears her shuffle closer and he squeezes his eyes shut. He can't look at her - he refuses. He's embarrassed, ashamed, because the reason he's so fucking upset is because of her. Well, sort of. He's upset with his feelings for her and how he can't convey them properly like a normal fucking human. He lets out a frustrated, shaky breath and runs his hands through his hair and tugs at the ends, something he tends to do when he's anxious. 

"Noah, baby, look at me. Come on." Naomi's voice is so gentle, and Noah's throat tightens.

Baby. 

The word itself is almost enough to send him spiraling and definitely did not help the pit in his stomach at all, but he looks at her anyways, swallowing down the lump that's beginning to form. Her lips are settled into a frown and he can see the crease in her forehead, the distress on her face. She hasn't seen him like this in months, he thinks.

"I'm gonna need you to take a big deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth.” 

Her fingers wrap around his wrists and gives them a hard squeeze, trying to bring Noah back to the present but he just can't. He can't breathe, he can't move, he can't fucking do anything. His chest feels like there's a ten-ton brick placed right in the center of it and there's nothing he can do about it.

"Noah. Breathe."

He tries to suck in a breath, but it just sounds ragged, and he barely notices the tears that slip down his cheeks. He feels his arms being tugged and looks down to find Naomi crouching to settle into a sitting position, trying to bring him down with her. He follows on shaky legs and automatically crosses them. Naomi squeezes his wrists again and he tries to take another breath.

"Lean your head back for me and take another breath." She says quietly and scratches her nails against the inside of his wrists. He visibly shakes, as if he wasn't already, and he has to suck in another ragged breath, but it goes down a little easier than before. "Good. You're doing so good, Noah. Keep going."

So, he does. He takes another deep breath, and another, and then another after that. Noah doesn't know how long they sit there for, Naomi's eyes piercing into his own as she takes the breaths with him. He has to drop his gaze when it starts becoming too much and his chest feels tight again, so instead he shuts his eyes, trying to focus on getting his breathing normal and the soft touch of her thumbs rubbing circles on the inside of his wrists.

It takes a few beats of silence before he finally feels like he can finally breathe slightly normal, his glossy gaze finding hers. 

"Oh, Noah. What happened out there?” He almost breaks at her voice, the sadness seeping through as she sits up on her knees, leaning towards him. Her hands cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears that seem to still be falling. "Think you can tell me what's going on?"

He whines in response, head shaking in her hands. Naomi's frown deepens.

"Jolly’s just being an asshole." 

“…Are you sure?” She brushes a few strands of hair that's fallen away from his face, "You know you can tell me anything, bub." 

"I can't-" His lips press together to try and hold in another whine, eyes brimming with tears again. "I can't tell you this. If... if I do then it could fuck everything up and I can't do that. Not now when things are just starting to work out.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion as she smooths back his hair, fingertips trailing over his cheek. “I’m sure whatever it is it wouldn’t fuck up everything.”

“You don’t know that!” It comes out louder than he anticipated, and his stomach drops at the way Naomi flinches, but she doesn’t pull away from him. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

"Noah, relax." She grips his face gently and tilts his head up to look at her. "It's just me."

He swallows before shakily replying, "That's why I can't tell you."

That has her stilling and he can see the moment her mind comes to screeching halt, body deflating. In the three years he's known her, there's never been a thing he couldn't tell her. Well... a thing he couldn't tell her that he wanted to, and this was one of the things he did not want to tell her. 

"Well," She finds her words again, coming back to herself. "I hope that as your best-friend that I've given you a space to always be open and honest with me. Whatever it is, good or bad, you can tell me. We can work it out, whatever you want." Naomi pauses again, lips dipping into a frown. "And if you can't... I understand. I won't pry."

His eyes sting with tears again at her words and he sucks down another ragged breath, throat tightening again. Noah has always hated how understanding Naomi was, and how gentle she can be. It was one of her best and worst attributes because now he feels like the asshole for not telling her how he felt.

"You have to promise me that this won't fuck everything up." He manages to get out. Naomi nods immediately. “Say you promise.”

"I promise."

They stare at each other for a second, then two, then three before Noah's letting out a defeated sigh. Here goes fucking nothing.

"I..." He swallows harshly. "I love you. More than just a friend or whatever and it fucking terrifies me because this... god, this is the closest to normal my life has been in a really long fucking time. Probably the first time ever." Noah lets out a watery laugh. "You... and Nicholas... and this fucking band are so important to me, Mimi, and I'd never want to jeopardize that." Something in Naomi's eyes shift and Noah has to squeeze his shut, too overwhelmed to look at her now as more words tumble from his lips. "That's why I couldn't tell you, because I didn't want to ruin what we have now. I could never forgive myself for doing that."

The silence that follows is deafening. He doesn't dare open his eyes, so he keeps them shut, and he tries to not imagine Naomi's face. He wants her to say something, anything, even if it's to let him down, which is what he's expecting. His heart pounds against his chest when he feels her hands slip from his face and his eyes spring open, preparing to apologize for just ruining everything between them but it never comes.

Instead, he's met with Naomi's lips pressing against his own.

His eyes widen. He doesn't move, can't, not even when she's pulling away, face mere inches from his own. Naomi stares at him expectantly, waiting, full lips slightly swollen from the pressure of the kiss and face a light shade of crimson. Noah can only blink - once, twice, and then a third time before dropping his eyes to her mouth. 

He's thought about what it would be like to kiss Naomi, to feel her lips against his own just once. He knows it's corny, but he thought it would be like the movies where fireworks would erupt inside of him, body buzzing from excitement that he's practically shaking, but it was none of that. Actually, it was something better. In those brief moments he's never felt so... at peace. Instead of buzzing with excitement it was a warm feeling that spread throughout his body, starting from his toes expanding all the way to the very top of his head. 

"Noah..." 

Her voice breaks him out of his head, and he doesn't miss the slight waver to it, like she was on the verge of tears. His eyes find hers again and they're brimmed with tears, but her lips are slowly tugging into a smile now. His chest swirls with excitement and he reaches for her, hands settling on her waist as she slowly climbs into his lap, her legs resting on either side of his hips.

"I know I'm a really good fucking friend, but I hope you know I wouldn't cross this damn country just for anyone." She says through a watery laugh and has to pull away to wipe at her face as more tears fell. Noah's fingers dig into her hips, scared to let her go. She's never been so close before.

He looks up at her with a dazed expression. "...Huh?"

She laughs again, this time much louder, and leans forward to press her forehead against his. Her hands come up to cup his cheeks again, her nose nudging Noah's. 

"I love you, you dumbass. I thought it was fucking obvious." 

Oh.

Oh.

Naomi tilts her head forward to brush her lips against his again before pulling back all too soon, acting as if she was too shy to continue even further. He digs his fingers into her hips again without really thinking and loosens his grip, scared he was hurting her. He just needed to make sure she was real. That this was real and not just his fucked-up imagination trying to hurt him. Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out her own shaky breath, her hands moving from his cheeks to the back of his neck.

Noah's the one who leans in this time, lips slotting against Naomi's. He gets the same feeling that he did just seconds before, the warmth filling his veins, and the feeling of peace engulfing him whole. Naomi lets out a tiny little noise, almost like a whine, and that spurs him on. It's overwhelming, the way her lips feel against his and how natural it feels to have her in his hold, and his arms circle around her waist to bring her that much closer to him.

He needs to feel her everywhere.

"Noah? Mimi?" 

Folio's voice has Mimi pulling away from him, eyes glossed over, and lips swollen from the contact. She gives him a sheepish smile before crawling off his lap and he feels himself physically deflate at the loss of contact but knew that the position they were in before would raise a few questions, especially from Nick. Plus, he can't keep his mouth shut, so the second he sees Naomi in Noah's lap it's game over. Everyone in the damn building would know in less than 5 seconds.

She stands and holds a hand out for him which he gladly takes, legs shaky as he stands. He feels better, he thinks, rummaging through his mind for any of those previous anxious thoughts. He finds none and instead realizes the jitteriness is from the kiss, and his face flushes at the thought. 

"There you are." Folio sounds relieved as he rounds the corner, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile as he steps into the hallway. "Everything alright?"

Noah glances at Mimi from the corner of his eye and finds her nodding, giving Folio a bright smile.

"Yeah, I think so." She looks up at him now, her smile changing to something softer.

"Uh, yeah." Noah finds his voice finally, clearing his throat and stares at Naomi a beat longer before looking off towards Nick. "Sorry about that.”

Nick shrugs and rubs at his neck sheepishly. "You're good, man. Jolly and I were just teasing you, and we're sorry for, uh... causing this." 

"Nah, it's fine. Don't apologize." He waves him off and relief washes over Nick.

"Cool." Folio's eyes scan the two of them briefly before looking up and down the hallway, confusion written all over his face. "Where's Nicholas?"

That has Noah stilling and his eyes dart to Mimi.

"What about him?" She questions, eyebrows scrunching. 

"He said he was coming to check on you guys..." His words trail off, head tilting.

"Are you sure he came this way?" Her tone stirs something inside of Noah.

Even if he had come this way, Noah wouldn't have noticed. He was too immersed in Naomi and the way she felt in his hands, in his arms, and the way her lips easily slid over his... His fingers twitch at his sides, the urge to reach out and grab her becoming stronger by the second. 

"Huh. I swear I saw him walk this way." Folio says, almost dumbfounded, and his shoulders go up into another shrug. "Oh well. Maybe he's in the bathroom, I don't know. Anyways, glad everything's alright. Do you need anything or...?" 

“Uh, nah. I’m good now.” He throws a thumbs up for added emphasis and Folio laughs, giving him one back.

“Sweet.” He looks like he’s about to leave and the stress in Noah’s shoulders drop for just a second before Nick is turning back towards them. “Would I be a dick to ask you to come back and help? We’re kind of struggling without you and Nicholas.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I can come help.” He’s almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. They literally have a show in a few short hours. Mimi looks as if she’s just remembered that as well, eyes widening, and Nick laughs at their reactions.

“Thanks, man.”

They all shuffle out of the hallway and back into the main room, seeing only Jolly and a few people from their crew working at setting their gear up. Noah feels bad for running off like that and knows he’ll have to make it up to them tomorrow. He notices Naomi walking the opposite direction out of the corner of his eye and he stops her, fingers circling around her arm.

“We’ll talk later, yeah?” He tries to keep his voice low when he notices Nick stop for a second to watch them before wandering back to the stage. Mimi’s eyes gaze up at him, lips quirking up.

“Of course. If you want.”

“I do.” His hand drops from her arm and briefly brushes her hand, and he has to bite his lip to stop his own smile from growing. “Catch me before the show?”

He doesn’t miss the flush in her cheeks when their fingers brush together and she turns her head. “Okay.”

The pull from each other and Noah can’t help but watch her walk away before finally making his way back to the stage to find both Jolly and Folio staring at him.

“What?” He questions as he pulls himself up on the stage.

“What the hell was that?” Jolly questions, but Noah doesn’t miss the teasing grin on his lips. He blushes.

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

“Bullshit.” Nick whistles, eyeing Noah before glancing across the room. “I knew something happened in that hallway. You could cut the tension with a fucking knife, bro.”

He laughs it off, but his cheeks beat up even more. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Alright, alright. Enough teasing Noah. We’ve done enough of that today.” Jolly gives Noah a sheepish smile before clapping his hands together. “Let’s hurry and get this shit done.”

…

Nicholas is the first to notice Noah jump off the stage, head down as he practically runs out of the main room. Mimi notices next, back straightening as they both watch Noah run into a hallway, away from view. Something inside him turns and his eyes snap towards Jolly who's already looking at him, lips turned down. The older male shakes his head and mouths "I don't know" before going back to unloading their equipment. 

"I'll be right back." He hears Naomi mumble, and before he could respond she's already placing whatever shirt she had been about to hang up down and rushing off.

Nicholas drops the shirt he was holding and turns the opposite direction, marching his way towards the stage, eyes narrowing at Jolly's back.

"Dude, what the fuck did you do?"

Jolly turns around. "Why do you think I did something?"

"Well, you were the last one to talk to him before he fucking ran off." Nicholas throws his arms around before placing his hands on his hips, almost like an angry dad. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing." 

"Oh, bullshit-"

"Nick, calm down." Folio cuts in, coming out from behind his drum set to look down at Nicholas from the stage. "It wasn't anything bad - Noah just freaked out. You know how he is. Mimi's with him so he's probably fine now."

Nicholas presses his lips together and breathes deeply through his nose, trying his very best to calm down. He hates being upset, especially with his friends, but when it comes to Noah, he can't help but be protective. 

"I swear it wasn't bad." Jolly's swinging his legs over the side of the stage, sitting in front of him now. "I just... told him to get over whatever he was going through and to tell Mimi how he felt. He kind of freaked out and just... ran off."

His eyes widen at Jolly’s words. 

"You wanted him to... tell Mimi how he felt about her?"

Jolly nods. "We're all kind of sick seeing him stare at her like a kicked little puppy and we all know how he feels about her. Why not?"

"And it's not like she doesn't feel the same. We all see how she looks at him. It's kind of gross." Nick says before going back to his set up. “Plus, who fucking flies halfway across the country for a friend? No offense.”

Nicholas feels his stomach drop at the others words, immediately shaking his head.

"She came to see all of us." He replies, defensively almost, and both Folio and Jolly give him a look that reads seriously? He frowns. "She told me that."

"Yeah, I'm sure she did." Folio mutters to himself and Nicholas can't stop the way his eyes narrow at the younger boy.

"She told all of us that, man, and I'm sure that's part of it but we all know the real reason why she's here." Jolly points towards the hallway that both Noah and Naomi ran to, and Nicholas feels his stomach turn. 

He doesn't say anything to that. Truthfully, he's not sure what he can say. He stares off towards the hallway, brain foggy as he tries to wrap his mind around the boys words before he comes back to himself, clearing his throat.

"I'm gonna go check on them, see if he needs anything." Nicholas mumbles, almost to himself, and Jolly gives him a smile. 

"Do whatever you gotta do, man."

He gives Jolly a half assed smile before turning on his heels and walking towards the hallway, hands clammy. His heart pounds in his ears with each step he takes, and he swears the turning in his stomach that was once nerves is now nausea. Great.

Nicholas turns the corner and immediately stops, heart pounding against his chest when he sees Noah sitting on the ground, face wet with tears... and Naomi settling into his lap. She says something to him but they're too far down the hall that Nicholas doesn't catch it, and his throat tightens the second they both lean into each other.

He shouldn't have followed. He should've stayed right where he was, unpacking their shirts for the night to hang up, but he couldn't forget the look on Noah's face as he ran past them. He definitely couldn't forget the way Naomi dropped everything and followed after him, running into the hallway in search of Noah. He couldn't forget the rage he felt at Jolly in those few minutes, thinking the other said something to trigger Noah’s anxiety. He should've minded his fucking business, but when it comes to Noah and Mimi, he knows he never could. 

His eyes sting and he swears he feels his heart snap into a billion little pieces the second their lips meet. Naomi's hands grip his face and Noah's fingers dig into her hips, and Nicholas has to force himself to look away. He knew this would happen - he fucking knew it would. He's known the second he met Naomi and saw the way Noah looked at her, like she hung up all the stars in the goddamn sky.

He doesn't stay long, doesn't make his presence known as he was going to, and instead rushes off to the bathroom. It's a single, so he's able to lock himself in there, and leans back against the door. His head hits the door with a thud, and he sucks in a ragged breath, eyes squeezing shut. 

Nicholas knows he shouldn't feel this way - heartbroken - but he can't help it. It's one thing to see the person you love kissing someone else, but when it's both of them... it's a whole other world of hurt. His chest feels like it's been ripped open and someone reached deep inside to pull his heart out, then held it in front of his face and ripped it to shreds.

He hates that there's not a goddamn thing he can do about it.

He’s going to have to stand there, wait for them to tell him that they confessed their feelings and he'll have to put a smile on his face and tell them he's happy for them. And in a way, he is. He's only ever wanted for them to be happy, but maybe a small part of him had a feeling it was going to be him. That he would be lucky enough to be the one making them happy. It was all wishful thinking, a fucking dream that would never happen, and he has to press himself further into the door to hold himself up right, legs weak as he slides down.

Nicholas lets himself cry, face crumbling as the first few tears fall. He pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, burying his face in his knees. His body shakes with each cry and he knows if someone was close, they could hear him, but he didn't care. He's let himself not feel anything about this for far too long, and if he's going to get over it, he should finally let himself feel. 

He doesn't know how long he sat there, body shaking with sobs, but by time he's done he feels... exhausted. He feels sick, stomach twisting with each sniffle and he lets himself stand on shaky legs. He finds himself in the mirror, eyes puffy and face blotchy. He stares at his reflection for a few more moments before he turns the faucet on, splashing water over his face.

He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to ten, hoping to calm himself down some before patting his face dry. He turns to face the door and swallows thickly because he knows the second he leaves the safety of this bathroom, he'll have to put a smile on his face and act like everything's okay. As if he didn't just sob his fucking heart out in this damn bathroom for the last ten minutes. It sucks, but he’s been acting like everything's alright since the almost kiss, so he guesses he can continue to act like nothing's wrong a little longer.

With a shaky breath, he pushes the door open and makes his way back to the main room where everything was being set up. He sees Noah first, who's back on stage helping Jolly out with something, and he turns, almost as if he could feel his presence. Nicholas smiles, hoping it isn't too obvious he's faking, and Noah gives him one back, relieved.

"Was wondering where you went." He calls, hopping off the stage to make his way towards Nicholas. "Folio said you wandered off like 15 minutes ago."

"Oh, uh." His voice cracks and Noah's eyes narrow. Nicholas clears his throat. "I was going to look for you, but they told me Naomi got to you first, and then I uh. I had to pee! So, I went to the bathroom. Then got distracted by my phone." His words come out rushed. “Twitter is so addictive.”

"...You were on Twitter the entire time?" 

"Yeah, but that’s beside the point," Nicholas quickly responds, "are you okay?"

For some reason this surprises Noah, eyes widening just a bit and Nicholas doesn't miss the glance he casts in Naomi's direction. His stomach drops.

"Uh, yeah. I'm good. Mimi helped a lot." 

"Oh, cool. That's... that's great. Awesome. I'm glad. " Nicholas rambles on. He holds in a breath and Noah's eyes scan his face, his lips slowly dipping down into a frown. 

"You promise you're alright?" 

"Of course," He finally takes a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. "I'm just... tired. Didn't sleep well last night. The van's cramped as shit and I can never get comfortable."  

Nicholas thinks he's convinced him well enough because instead of replying Noah wraps an arm around Nicholas' shoulder and tugs him into his side, walking off towards the stage. He feels like his eyes are bulging out of his fucking head the second he's wrapped in Noah's embrace and he tries to pull away, but for some reason this skinny little bastard's hold is way too strong. 

He's rambling on about something, he thinks it has to do with Jolly and their equipment, but Nicholas is barely listening. He's too focused on the way Noah's arm feels wrapped around him and he gets a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, eyes darting across the room towards Naomi. She's already looking at them, eyebrows scrunched together but the second her eyes fall on Nicholas her face relaxes in an instant. His heart leaps into his throat and he tries swallowing it down, but the smile she gives him is enough to bring it right back up. 

This is going to be a lot harder than he thought.

…

Naomi watches the two boys interact, her skin buzzing with nerves. She's still not able to process what just happened, the kiss, the confession... her head is reeling. She should be excited - happy – and she is, swear. She's never denied her feelings for Noah, always knowing that they were there somewhere inside of her, but she can't help but feel almost... sad.

Her eyes land on Nicholas and her mind wanders back to a few years ago to her first tattoo session with him. She thinks back to how he took care of her, making sure she was alright the entire time and the tenderness behind his touch. She remembers just how badly she wanted to kiss him in that moment, to feel his lips against hers. She also remembers the look in his eyes, and the way she knew that he wanted it just as much as her. 

She shivers and has to shake her head from the thought. She can't be thinking of kissing her best friend after she had just confessed to her other best friend. She groans to herself, head already aching from her thoughts. Mimi knew that she couldn't help how she felt. It does happen - falling for two people at once. She's not the first person to do it, and won't be the last, but it just makes things so complicated.

Almost to the point where she doesn’t even want to deal with it.

"Ready for tonight?" Folio's voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she whips around to look at him, lips pulling into a small smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She looks over the merchandise before her before looking at Nick. "I've never been a merch girl before, so we'll see how it goes."

"It isn't too hard." He says with a shrug, leaning against the table. "Plus, you'll have Nicholas here to help.”

Shit. She forgot about that. 

"I'll be fine." She decides to say and gives Folio a tight-lipped smile. "Nicky is always the best teacher, so I'm sure I'll have it down in no time." 

He smiles at her and even gives her a pat on the back, hand sliding up to grip her shoulder gently. "We really appreciate you coming out here. More than you know."

Mimi gives him a real smile, not all tight-lipped, and leans into his touch. She hadn't lied when said she'd do anything for them to Noah on the phone weeks ago, because she would. Not even just for him and Nicholas, she'd even offer a hand to Jolly and Folio, people she now considers some of her closest friends. 

"That's what friends are for. Don't thank me."

"Whatever." Nick laughs and gives her shoulder another squeeze before he turns to leave back for the stage. "If you need anything, let one of us know."

Naomi waves him off before she gets back to unboxing and setting up the merch for tonight's show. What happened with Noah was a bit of a setback and she wishes he hadn’t whisked Nicholas towards the stage so she could have some help, but she knew she could do this on her own. She'll just have to talk to him before the show starts and make sure she did everything right. 

Her stomach twists as the thought of also talking to Noah crosses her mind, and she lets out a sigh. She brings a hand up to rub at her temples as the dull ache in her head grew. Why was this so complicated? Why did she feel so fucking guilty? She didn’t exactly understand why, but a part of her isn’t too keen on figuring it out anytime soon.

She quietly gets everything set up for the night, going through the instructions in her head that Nicholas told her earlier in the day. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the bands go through their sound check, trying to hurry before the crowd is let in. With too much going on, she doesn't end up getting to talk to Noah or Nicholas before the show. With all the rushing around, they barely even were able to stop and say hi.

Before she knows it, the show is starting, and to her surprise she has a steady line during Bad Omens set. She was able to catch a glimpse here and there in between talking to a few fans, but she was mostly kept busy throughout it all, which she was thankful for.

Naomi feels like she can finally breathe by the time the nights over and they were packing up to set off for their next destination. Her and Nicholas were wordlessly putting away the merch for the night, the older male being much quieter than normal. He's barely even said a few words to her since he came back to help after getting off stage, only giving her strained smiles when she said anything to him. She figured he was just tired, which worried her, because it was his turn to drive tonight.

"Feeling alright, Nicky?" She questioned as she closed up one of the last boxes. He looks over at her and there's something in his stare that she can't place, but it makes her blood run cold.

"Yeah." He replies shortly, and she watches his throat bob as he swallowed harshly before closing up his own box. "Just tired."

She frowns. "Do you want me to drive for you tonight?"

"No."

It's a short response and his back is turned towards her now, which makes her frown deepen even more. She takes a step towards him and opens her mouth to say something but comes to a stop when she feels a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey."

She turns quickly to find Noah behind her and her worry from seconds ago vanishes the second their eyes meet. Naomi can't help but smile and Noah does the same, leaning against the table beside her. 

"Oh, hi."

She feels giddy, almost like a schoolgirl, and she mentally scolds herself at how embarrassing that is. This is Noah, her best friend... that told her he loved her and then they kissed. No big deal, right?

"How'd tonight go?" Noah questions. She shrugs.

"Alright, I think."

He snorts and looks over at Nicholas who still has his back turned. "Think she's merch girl material, Nicky?"

"Sure."

They both narrow their eyes at him, and confusion wraps itself in Noah's expression. He stares at him another moment before looking down at Mimi, and she can only shrug. 

"Alright." He sounds unconvinced but a smile finds his way on his lips again. "Think you got it down for tomorrow? I could probably come out and help, too, if you want."

"I think she'll be alright, Noah. You don't need to hover." Nicholas lets out an annoyed huff as he gathers up their things and both Mimi and Noah stare at him before glancing at each other.

What the fuck?

Noah looks like he's having an internal battle with himself, lips slowly tugging back down into a frown. All she wants to do is wrap him up in a hug, but she stays where she is as she sees him step forward.

Noah moves over to Nicholas now and places a gentle hand on his back, lips pursed into a pout. "Dude, if you’re tired, I can drive the first half for you.”

Nicholas jumps at the touch, and Naomi assumes he just wasn't expecting it, and turns his head to look at the younger boy for a second.

"I’m fine, Noah." His words are clipped, and she sees the moment when Noah's face falls, but he recovers it quickly. 

"Well, okay. I got you a few extra red bulls, they're in the front with your stuff." His hand lingers on his back for a second too long before he takes a step back, giving Nicholas a gentle smile. "Also got some of those skittles you like. Hopefully all the caffeine and sugar will keep you awake."

Nicholas pauses and he returns the smile Noah gives him, but it looks pained. She’s starting to think he’s more than just tired.

"Thanks." Is all he responds before he picks up a box of shirts, nodding his head towards the exit. "I'm gonna start hauling this stuff back to the van."

Noah nods and takes another step away from him to make room, and they watch Nicholas wordlessly walk away. He doesn’t even look at them and stares straight ahead. She’s not sure what’s going on, and she’s positive it’s something more than just being tired, and the fact he hasn’t told her or Noah what’s wrong is starting to worry her.

"So..." Noah clearing his throat snaps Naomi out of her thoughts, finally looking away from where Nicholas once stood. Her eyes flicker up towards him. "About earlier..."

Her mouth drops into an O and her cheeks burn, probably already beginning to flush. 

"Oh, yeah. That."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "That?"

"What else am I supposed to call it?" She says in a hushed tone, stepping closer to him. She looks around before continuing, "Like, oh, when we made out in the hallway? Yeah, I remember that." 

Noah laughs fully now, eyes scrunching as he throws his head back. A few people stare but Naomi doesn't mind, too busy thinking about how much she's always enjoyed his laugh. She smiles.

"We don't have to call it anything." He says once he's calmed down and looks around himself before his eyes fall back to hers, reaching out to take her hand. She blushes but lets him lace their fingers together. "And we don't have to talk about it right now, but I'd just... I'd like to know where you stand on it."

He looks nervous now, eyes casted down to their hands. His thumb brushes against the back of her hand and she has to stop herself from smiling at the gesture.

"Where I stand?" Her head tilts. "What do you mean?"

Noah shrugs but doesn’t respond, staring down at their connected hands.  

"Dude. I cried and told you I loved you. I feel like that should tell you where I stand pretty well."

"Okay, but like I need you to verbally tell me again or else I'm just going to think you did all of that to make me feel better." He whines out and looks away from her bashfully.

She can't help but frown, chest twisting at the thought of Noah thinking she did all of that just to make him calm down. She pulls her hand away from his and steps forward, taking another quick glance around the room to find absolutely no one paying attention to them. She reaches up to cup his cheeks and pulls his head down to stare at her.

"Noah," She hums, thumbs brushing against the tops of his flushing cheeks. "I wasn't saying that just to say it. I love you." 

Noah chews on his bottom lip and she can feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to search for any indication that she may be lying. Her heart breaks at that. She can see the worry and doubt in his gaze, and it stays for just a beat longer, but it finally vanishes. 

“That was kind of corny.” Noah finally says, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. She lets out a groan, hands dropping from his face.

“We were having a really nice moment and you fucking ruined it.”

Noah laughs, the doubt his face once held long gone, and all Naomi wants to do is lean up and kiss that stupid grin off his face.

“10 minutes till curfew!” Someone yells from across the room.

They finally pull apart and pack up the rest of the boxes, hauling them off to the van. It's a fairly quick process and before she knows it, they're all piling into the van for the night, getting into their designated seats for the next few hours. She practically begged for Noah to let her sit up front, so the other boys can have the backseats to at least try and get some rest. She even asked Nicholas if it was alright but all he did was shrug, buckling himself in the driver's seat. 

The beginning of the drive was loud, Jolly and Noah talking about tonight's show with Folio chiming in every so often. Nicholas didn't say much but did say a few things here and there, but never once looked away from the road. Not even an hour later, though, the only thing that could be heard was silence.

"Everything alright?" Nicholas' voice is quiet over the hum of the radio, and she can faintly hear someone snoring in the seat behind her, probably Jolly. She has to stifle her laughter as she looks over at him.

"Yeah," She hums, shifting in her seat. "Everything's peachy."

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. "You know I can always tell when you're lying, right?"

She freezes, glancing up at Nicholas. He's already looking at her, briefly, before he focuses back on the road. Her eyes drop to his hands and watches as they grip the steering wheel, and she's surprised they're not turning white with how tight his grip is. She shifts in her seat again, pulling a leg up to rest underneath her.

"I wasn't lying." Her eyes drop to her lap and she picks at her nails. "Everything is alright, Nicky. Promise."

"Okay." She looks up and sees his grip loosen around the wheel before his gaze catches hers again. "Next question. If there's something going on, you would tell me. Yes or no?"

This one catches her off guard and the air gets stuck in her throat, only for a moment, and she tries to swallow it away.  

"Elaborate." 

She's stalling. Naomi barely had any time to sit and talk to Noah about what happened earlier, let alone think about what she would tell Nicholas. Oddly enough she's scared to tell him, scared to see his reaction because for some reason she feels like it's going to screw everything up. Just like Noah had mentioned. 

"Like..." He drags the word out. "Let's say something happened earlier... and it was kind of huge... because it could change everything, you would still tell me.”

Oh.

She feels her heart pound against her chest, and she looks down again. It shouldn't be this fucking hard to tell Nicholas that she and Noah kissed. It shouldn't be this hard to tell him that she loves Noah and wants to be with him. These are things you share with your best friend, so why does it feel so wrong?

It's the same reason you never told Noah about your almost kiss with Nicholas, her mind yells at her. She swallows thickly and ignores the voice in her head.

"Well," Naomi starts, picking her head up. "If something did happen, and it was something that could change everything, maybe I'm trying to find the best way to tell you." 

Another moment of silence washes over them and she tries to read his face, tries to see how he handles her words, but there’s nothing. Not even a twitch. He just stares blankly at the road, lips pressed in a line.

“If that’s the case,” His voice was much lower than before, “then I want to remind you that you’re my best friend. You should be able to tell me anything.”

She sighs. “It’s complicated, Nicky.”

“How so?”

That she can’t exactly answer. With another sigh she looks out the window, barely able to see the world passing by with how dark it was.

“The second I say something, it’ll change everything, and…” She shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want anything to change. Maybe I like the way things are now.”

“How do you know things will change?”

“God, you are so full of questions tonight.” She tries to keep her voice light, but the sharpness is heard from a mile away. She hears Nicholas sigh next to her.

“Mimi.” Another long sigh. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, right?”

She finally looks at him again, lips dipping into a frown. He’s focused on the road, eyes never wavering, but she knows he’s waiting for her to respond. She nods.

“Of course, but-“

“Then if whatever happened could end up making you happy,” Nicholas cuts her off, eyes flickering towards her before looking back to the road, “then why should I let that come between us? That’s kind of ridiculous.”

She doesn’t respond, letting his words sink in. He’s right, in a way, but she still thinks he doesn’t fully understand. For the last three years it’s just been the three of them – Noah, Nicholas, and Naomi. If her and Noah make this thing official, it could change the entire dynamic, and for some reason the thought of losing this type of bond with the two boys makes her sick to her stomach.

“You don’t have to tell me now.” Nicholas continues. “But as long as you’re happy, and as long as Noah’s happy,” She doesn’t miss the emphasis on the younger boys’ name, “then I’m happy.”

His words make something in her chest ache, eyes burning with tears. She stares hard at the side of his face, begging him with her eyes to look at her, but he never takes his gaze off the road.

“Nicky.”

“Mimi.”

He finally looks at her now, and she swears she sees tears brimming his eyes, but the van is so dark she probably just made it up. She tries to swallow her own away, throat tightening as a fresh new set burned at her eyes.

"I know change can be scary," Nicholas starts off slowly, a sigh slipping out after his words, "but sometimes... change is good. You shouldn't stop yourself from experiencing this because you're worried about what other people think."

He looks at her now and she has to bite her lip to hold back the tears burning at her eyes. When the hell did she get so emotional? Nicholas' eyes dart to her lap and then back up to her, and they're both reaching out at the same time. She laces their fingers and squeezes their hands together. He smiles, though it's small.

"I know I keep saying it but it’s true… all I want is for you to be happy. Can you do that for me?"

She pauses. “I can try.”

“Good.” That answer seems to satisfy him enough, eyes dropping to their hands one more time before he focuses back on the road.

For some reason she feels relieved by his words and gives his hand another squeeze. She tries telling herself that this was the universes way of letting her know that things will be alright, but something twisting in her gut is telling her the complete opposite.

She chooses to ignore it and holds onto Nicholas’ hand tightly.

[ktficworld]

Tale of my heart

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f! Reader

Summary: your heart belongs to him. And he shatters it in the most beautifully cruel way.

Warning: ANGST

A/n: who wants a part two 😏

Part 2

Main masterlist

Bruce Wayne masterlist

Tags: @the-house-of-auditore-frye @maharani-radha-writes

You always dreamed about your soulmate.

Since you were little, you always fantasized about meeting them. The stories your mother told, the mythologies that persisted, the meetings you witnessed. All made it seem so beautiful.

You looked out of the window. The stars twinkling and the half moon glowing in the dark, resembling your mark.

You lifted your left hand. Your crescent tattoo coming into the peripheral. You touched it gently, smiling you stared into the navy night. "We will meet someday. "

🌙

When you reached middle school. You started to focus more on your studies rather than your supposed soulmate. It was more important then.

As you reached high school. You saw several of your friends meeting their soulmate. You thought you would meet them too, but you didn't.

You envied them. They got their love so early and so easily. They would be together and for each other in some of the hardest times.

Where were your soulmate? Were they dead? You quickly shook your head to get rid of this horrid thought. No they'd be alright. You consoled yourself.

"How long are you going to make me wait? "

🌙

When you were in college you still haven't found your soulmate yet, and it was starting to drive you crazy.

So, you asked around. Looked for some advice, suggestion.

Some said to post your tattoo's picture online. You didn't have large numbers , so that didn't work.

Other said to go to soulmate forums and ask around. You did just that, but no luck their.

Some also told you to travel around the country. Maybe then you will find them. And... You did that also. You travelled from kashmir to kanyakumari, Gujarat to Sikkim. But you didn't meet them. You could however become a tourist guide by now.

"Let the fate work, baby. "

Your mother had said when you were on the verge of a breakdown.

"But, how maa? " You had asked tearfully.

"It has it's ways. They would come sooner or later. But you need to focus on your self now. I know you have been dreaming about your soulmate since you were a child, but you need to learn to love yourself. If you would not be able to love yourself, how are you going to love them?"

She was right and you understood her. Soulmates always meet unexpectedly and you can't go around searching for them.

You need to start searching yourself.

🌙

And you did just that. You found a good job, started taking care of yourself, started learning new things.

You were at a point where you were content with yourself. You did think about your soulmate, but it was rare. You didn't feel incomplete or were desperate. It was as everything has fallen into place, except your mystery mate. For whom you were waiting patiently now.

But most importantly you started travelling the world, which you realized after travelling the whole country that you liked that. Liked meeting new people, eating different food, knowing about different cultures.

That's how you found yourself in Gotham City. You were already travelling new Jersey, so the prospect of Gotham wasn't unrequited. Plus, you were running out of places to travel and Gotham's thrilling vigilante wasn't helping either.

After the arrival in the Gotham you wandered around the city. Locals were nice but a little reserved. It wasn't a hellhole of crimes, not like how media had depicted. But crime was still high, that was undeniable.

You learnt that there was an annual fair tonight and you were like, why the hell not? Let's go!

It was beautiful. Lights sparkled as it brightened the gloomy Gotham sky. Rides surrounded every corner accompanied by laughters and squeal of everyone. Toys, clothes, food everything imaginable was there.

There were also a lot of Batman merchandise. Since no one knew Batman's identity, everything was unbranded and local. But with the increase in Batman's popularity this sector would definitely grow. Some Gotham socialite should patent this brand... Or you will.

You chuckled at the thought and decided to leave the fair. The night was growing darker by every minute and even though coming to Gotham was a risky step in itself. You weren't that courageous to wander late at night in Gotham.

You called the cab and waited for it to arrive. But after awhile when the cab was still stuck at the same location for 20 minutes. You decide to call the driver.

"Hello, where are you? Is everything alright? You're stuck in the same spot for quite some time. " You voiced your concerns as soon as he picked up the phone.

"I'm sorry ma'am. I'm stuck in the traffic." The driver said.

"I need to go back, it's getting late." You said nervously. You really didn't want to stay this late.

"If you can, you can come to the cab. I'm only two blocks away. " He suggested.

You took a deep breath and decided to walk up to the cab. After all it would be safer in the confines of the car rather than standing alone.

"Alright, I'm coming. " You said.

🌙

You had safely crossed the two blocks and was mere minutes away from the location when you came across a dark valley you needed to walk before finally merging into the main street.

You swallowed hard at the realization. Don't worry, it's going to be okay. It short, just quickly jog out of here. You encouraged yourself as you took a deep breath and starting moving forward.

You were in the middle of the alley when you heard the sounds of footsteps. Your heart sunk. You didn't stop, as to not create suspicion but slowed down your pace. You listened as the steps became louder. You clutched your handbag in a death grip as you awaited the attack.

When you sensed them near. You turned around and hit the man with all of your might, using your bag. The man cried out and swiftly you kicked with in the stomach repeatedly, till he was on his knees.

You quickly sprinted into a run but more man appeared from the shadows. As if waiting for you to move. They were too many, tall and had weapons. You couldn't fight them even if you wanted to.

Is this the end? You thought as you were backed into a corner. A bulky man raised his hockey stick, making you scream as you braced yourself for the blow.

But it never came. You waited for moment, then trembling you opened your eyes. The man was nowhere to be found. Your ears then registered the sounds of groaning and grunting. The sounds of punches!

Now you fully opened your eyes and saw him, vengeance. You watched as he effortlessly took down all the goons. It took him sometime to dismantle everyone and you just stared at him the entire time, amazed and speechless.

"Are you okay? " His deep voice rang out in the alley as he stretched out his hand towards you , where you were crouched. You softly put your hands in his and he helped you back on your feets.

That's when you saw it. The crescent moon on your hand glowing in the dark, indicating your soul mate was near. Your eyes darted around the area to check of he was one of the goons. Your filled with relief when you didn't find any glow near them.

Realization struck you that the man dressed in Kevlar was your soulmate. You turned to him. Who was watching your mark, jaw clenched.

"You're my soul mate. " You said breathlessly. Maybe this explained your obsession with the Batman.

He still hasn't said anything to you. Eyes staring blankly at you, face unreadable.

"Vengeance." You asked as you moved closer.

"You should go now. " He said flatly

You faltered a little. "What do you mean? "

"Go home, it's late. " He said coldly.

Your heart thumped in your chest. What was happening? Why was he not... Happy?

"Why should I go back? I'm your soulmate-"

"Don't." He cut you off and looked away. The silence was deafening. As emotions swirled through you.

Suddenly he pulled off his left glove. His hand shining the same as you.

"See it's glowing, it's me. "

He screwed his eyes shut as if trying to close off his current situation. "Look closely. " He said gravely.

You slowly took his hand and brought it closer to you. Glancing down your heart dropped into your stomach. His mark was the same as you glinting, but it was scorched. As someone tried to get rid of it but failed.

"But I have waited for you my entire life. " You said, your voice wavering as you tried to swallow back your tears. Was he- was he rejecting you? Did he reject you even before meeting you?

He took a sharp intake of breath and told you something that broke your heart into pieces.

"I don't want you. Go away. "

It felt as if someone poured melting lava in your ears and freezed your heart into ice before shattering it into million shards. The person you loved since you were born, the person for whom you travelled the whole world, the person who was meant for you. Had rejected you.

You felt so much pain that everything felt numb and you felt nothing.

"Thank you for saving me. " You absently said and blindly walked away. Your body working on autopilot, dragging you to the street.

You spotted the cab. Standing in between cars. You reached the cab and got inside, still dazed.

"Ma'am, are you okay. "

You nodded and stared from the window blankly. After a while the traffic dispersed and the car started move.

The cold air of Gotham slapped you and that's when the reality came crashing down. Your soulmate had rejected you.

You burst into tears as they tried to subside the pain in your heart. But those flames kept raising, fueled by his words " I don't want you. "

He was so beautifully cruel.

🌙

Bruce's POV

Bruce has been in a daze since last night. His words still ringing in his ears.

"I don't want you. "

he internally flinched at these words. And yet, he had said those same words to the woman who waited for him her entire life. Waited for her soulmate her entire life.

He didn't even tell Alfred what happened. And how could he? What would he say? That he pushed yet another good thing because he can't love someone while his parents were buried under the ground. He knew, his words were bad at the least and heart wrenching at the worst.

He looked at his left arm, where the tattoo has started to heal. He didn't know his soulmate could heal such a deep wound.

He still remember the day he scorched the mark. It was after the Gotham's flood, he realized his life was too dangerous for his other half. So, he tried to break the bond, to take off the mark. But, destiny didn't let his attempt succeeded. All he could do was disfigure the tattoo.

He felt the pain, which he knew he had no right to. He was the one who sliced her heart in two pieces. But, she deserved better. It was not her fault that he was too broken to love. He just hoped that she would find someone. Who could love her.

"I'm going. " He said to his manager. He couldn't focus on anything so it was just a waste of time. He didn't wait for his reply and walked out of the building.

His heart sunk when he saw you outside the building, taking pictures. Did you figured out his identity?

He slowly approached you. You focus unwavering from the camera. "Why are you taking pictures? "

You jerked and looked at him wide eyed. Your eyes were red and swollen and his heart squeezed tightly. You gave a smile, but he knew it was fake.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne. I'm a tourist and that's why I was taking photos. But if you want, I can delete them. " You hastily explained.

Did you came all the way from your home to Gotham just to meet him?

God. Now he felt even more guilty. "It's okay, it's a public property anyway. "

"Thank you." With that you resumed your previous task and Bruce quietly left you, again.

No, it was for the best. His life was too dangerous, what he was doing to Alfred was a good example of that. This pain was going to be worth it. He tried to comfort himself as a tear ran down his cheek.

[impossiblesongs]

something borrowed, something blue (dhawan!master x reader)

Summary: Becoming lovers isn’t new, for him, but it is for you. He’d gluttonously taken to ravaging you as soon as you were in reach when he was Missy, but he finds he simply cannot abide gorging himself on you, not until he’s courted you efficiently.

Disclaimer: Not my characters. This is a disclaimer.

AN: tiny bit of a drabble for you this evening, master's pov AN2: title from 'every you every me' by placebo AN3: the thought of the master trying to be a stand-up guy after marrying reader and inadvertently sexually frustrating the hell out of her was hilarious to me and i hope it is to you too

✍️✍️✍️fic masterlist

something borrowed, something blue dhawan!master x reader master timeline: post OG fic (just married)

It doesn’t seem sensical to have waited, to draw out what is so evident in the ways you both dance around each other, here, after everything. He’s taken you to wife but he maintains that the performance is tantamount to where this is leading. Every heady glance, every lingering touch. It’s electric agony, a lush form of torture, and it’s mutual to be sure.

Becoming lovers isn’t new, for him, but it is for you. He’d gluttonously taken to ravaging you as soon as you were in reach when he was Missy, but he finds he simply cannot abide gorging himself on you, not until he’s courted you efficiently. Not until you’ve been dined and doted on and lavishly adored in every way you deserve, all but the one way that tests his virtual lack of self-restraint to the point of utter lunacy. He even wonders if he’s perhaps going too far, too tied to being a gentleman for you. Especially when you make him feel anything other than gentlemanly, you make him feel like an active predator, but even that’s putting it tenderly.

“You’re a terrible nuisance,” he breathes hotly into your mouth, body trapping your own up against a wall.

He could easily bash your head in, here in this alcove he’s trapped you up against, truly, because of the impertinence. Don’t you realize he’s just shy of losing his resolve? This precariously close to swallowing you whole?

“Our dinner is going to go cold,” he says, shifting his weight to alleviate his own suffering. You fit together so well already, clothes and all.

“Fuck dinner,” you say, unnervingly coarse in your frustrations. He could even dub you openly hostile, sitting sullenly at the dinner he’s gone through so much trouble to attain. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but beheading a noble to attain a reservation is child’s play, it’s utterly of no concern.

What is concerning, is the lengths you’ve gone to, to thoroughly distract his plans. The dress, for instance, a shimmering translucent slip of a thing, is hugging every curve superlatively. You’re a woman with a cause, with cruelty. He shouldn’t find that so devastatingly enchanting.

He follows the goosebumps on your chest, the flush covering your neck. Your hands grip his biceps through his black tux, fingers pinching as they clutch him tighter in your desperation.

He’s all but crushing you between the wall and himself and you dare to groan pathetically against him. Is it alluring, he wonders, pinning you up like a butterfly that he’s oh, so tempted to rip the wings off of? 

He would laugh, if only he weren’t so desperately hard, his lust cloying and blotting out any sense he’d probably decided upon earlier, whatever it may have been, it’s hard to grasp now.

“Please,” your lips tremble and he can spy the glassy look in your eye. You are so very tempting; you are perhaps the most tempting thing he’s ever found in this godawful excuse of a universe. Nothing has ever managed to hold his attention more or for as long.

“Is that what you truly want?” He frowns, begs. “Do you want me to ruin you? You have no idea what you’re asking for, dear.”

“Master,” your body writhes in his hold, hips shifting against his just right, with determined purpose, “Just what are you waiting for?!”

He curses, slots his lips over yours and indulges, rocks his hips into your core, and feels the shudder pull throughout your whole body, inviting him further towards reckless abandon. If he takes, he will take until there is nothing left you can claim as your own, no part of you that he will not seek and conquer, he will fit himself so thoroughly, will have so you ruinously, that not a thought will occur in your mind other than the sounds he pulls out of you for days.

You bite down on his lip viciously but there is no pause in either of your assaults. He tastes his own blood on your tongue and every attempt at his composure is lost.

Oh, how he loathes you, how you are a sickly thing that fills his lungs that he will obediently always choose to suffocate from. You could crush him, hurt him, betray, and kill him, with your bare hands preferably, and he’d beg for more, more, if only it meant that you’d never take your hands off him. God, he loves you, he adores you, annoying and determined as you are, changing his entire course with the pliant temptation of your body.

But fine, he'll give in, and he’ll take, and you’ll enjoy every second.

[darsynia]

Ephemera | Steve/F!Reader Smut Oneshot

This really resonated with me, thanks for the request! Sent to DarsyWrites, so I hope you don't mind that I took a screenshot to respond.

Summary: You and Steve both survived the Blip, and each of you are trying to offer comfort to your fellow survivors in your own ways. When Steve shows up at your studio to create one of your signature grief pieces, you are faced with the fact that you're not over the way he'd disappeared after your memorable first date, weeks before the disaster in Sokovia.

Warnings: Smut, including mentions of oral (male receiving), fingering, and vaginal sex. Vague reference to suicide (post-Endgame) MINORS DNI

Pairing: Steve Rogers/F!Reader

Square filled: 'Betrayal' for @avengersbingo

Length: 3,132

Note: ‘ephemera,’ something temporary, fleeting, delicate, easily lost; also collectible memorabilia

Tags: @ronearoundblindly @starryeyes2000 @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @munstysmind @nekoannie-chan

Excerpt:

“Do you want the folder part back?”

“No ma’am.”

You set the whole thing inside and shut the door securely. “Still ‘Miss.’ Feels appropriate, I guess.”

“Rough way to build a life,” Steve observes.

“Oh, good, a six-word lecture from the perfect man!” You turn your back on him and walk over to the only piece of furniture in the room, a kitchen-style counter that takes up an entire wall. The resin and frames are already all set up, so you rest your palms flat on the empty stretch of marble and try to channel its cool implacability.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what brought me here.”

You push out an abrasive laugh. “Everyone feels guilty about what they bring to burn, Steve.”

Suddenly he’s against your back, hands coming down beside yours on either side. “I brought myself to burn. Hours of coming here and pushing myself to find something worth drawing, just so I could watch the strip of skin at your back when you lifted your arms up to get more paper.”

Ephemera

Your art is different now. Everyone’s is.

The project angers some people, but that’s not your problem. Everyone deals with the decimation their own way, and yours is particularly bare. Bleak, even. It’s probably good that you lost so much business (some gone, and some gone), because you’d drive people away, no question.

Every week, you see a new, familiar face. They look different now, sporting more lines, more gray, more sorrow, few smiles. After four months, their seedlings have finally taken root in this dust-driven world, begrudgingly seeking out the harsh sunlight. Many have heard about what you’re doing and find it cathartic. They come into the studio with folders, notepads, photo albums, all with looks of raw determination. Some are looking forward to the process, others just want the result. They walk in looking for examples on the walls, but you’ve kept them bare.

Something feels off about that, something’s missing, which is the point. A world of uncreated masterpieces.

Not everyone makes appointments with their name, but that’s one of the beauties of this shitty new world. It doesn’t matter. Either they’ll show up or they won’t. You don’t need someone’s mother’s maiden name to hold a timeslot, you’re not doing this for the money-- if you were, no one would come.

The front door opens as you finish prepping the woodstove, and you straighten, wondering how long to give them. People walk in and need a minute, sometimes. They’re looking for catharsis, to quite literally refine their grief into something new, and those seconds before you greet them are important, you’ve found.

“Hello?”

You suck in a breath. It’s Steve Rogers, you’d recognize that voice anywhere. Not because of his day job, but because of the hours he’d spent here, steeping humanity into the lines of his sketches. Weeks before the tragedy in Sokovia, the two of you had done dinner on Coney Island, talking for hours on a darkened patch of beach, far into the night. You’d stood and stretched, fingertips reaching for the stars, and when you’d turned around, you had offered to show him what touching the stars felt like.

You’ll never forget the mix of tactile sensation of that night. The power of his cock on your tongue, the way Steve had drawn claw marks in the sand beside his thighs to prevent himself from gripping your hair. Barely seconds after he came, a couple walking at the edge of the water spooked the two of you, and then you’d just… never seen him again.

“Coming,” you call out, your voice thready with longing. During the brief walk to the storefront, you wonder what the hell he’s brought, whether you’re going to have to do an Indiana Jones to keep it out of the fire.

Steve stretches out his hand to shake yours when you get out there, like he doesn’t remember what it felt like when you’d stroked him. 

“No ink,” you chastise, turning his hand in yours to check.

“No inspiration,” he counters.

You can’t help the self-deprecating laugh as you let go. “That’s never been my problem!” As soon as you say it, you wish you could snatch the words back. It’s gauche to imply that you enjoy any part of this process.

“All evidence to the contrary,” he says, regarding you with warm, professional favor. “I’ve heard good things about what you’re doing. It’s kind of you. Important, even.”

“You haven’t heard from everyone, then.”

Steve purses his lips thoughtfully. “I have. People say it’s disrespectful. That you should be preserving this stuff, not destroying it.”

“The time for preservation was before the blip. I’m just giving people back their agency.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” He holds up a folder. It’s a centimeter thick, which is more than you’re used to, but not a problem. You can’t even imagine what could be in there. Multiple recruitment rejection papers? Howard Stark’s schematics for his shield? The mission debrief after the Attack on New York?

“Am I going to have the Smithsonian on my ass if we do this?”

“Don’t worry about it. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you fought like hell to prevent the inevitable.”

Your throat clenches painfully, because it would be clear to anyone in earshot what Steve-- what Captain America is saying.

Sometimes you can’t protect the things you want most to keep safe. Even if you give it your all. 

It’s the heart and soul of your new life’s work, so you nod.

“I won’t look,” you promise.

“Looking won’t change anything.”

“I still won’t.”

You lead him down into the burn room, and he looks around appreciatively. “I wondered how you’d protect against fumes and all that.”

“Yeah, we got in on the first round of improvement funding.” You hold out your hand for the folder. “I’m still supposed to ask you if there is photo paper in here from before 1985.”

A wry, amused look transits his face as he nods.

The rest of the run-down doesn’t take long, and you don your heavy protective mitts as you rattle it off. “Most of the wait time is taken up by letting things cool down. I will warn you that I deliberately leave a small amount of material behind each time. It’s difficult to get everything, and the overlap--”

“It’s part of what connects us,” he finishes for you.

“Yeah.” You open the woodstove and pick up the folder. “Do you want the folder part back?”

“No ma’am.”

You set the whole thing inside and shut the door securely. “Still ‘Miss.’ Feels appropriate, I guess.”

“Rough way to build a life,” Steve observes.

“Oh, good, a six-word lecture from the perfect man!” You turn your back on him and walk over to the only piece of furniture in the room, a kitchen-style counter that takes up an entire wall. The resin and frames are already all set up, so you rest your palms flat on the empty stretch of marble and try to channel its cool implacability.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what brought me here.”

You push out an abrasive laugh. “Everyone feels guilty about what they bring to burn, Steve.”

Suddenly he’s against your back, hands coming down beside yours on either side. “I brought myself to burn. Hours of coming here and pushing myself to find something worth drawing, just so I could watch the strip of skin at your back when you lifted your arms up to get more paper.”

“I figured as soon as you knew what my head looked like in your lap you were on to the next one!” you shoot back. It’s instinct borne of rejection; the full comprehension of his gentler words drift down like ash, too little, too late.

“Was given a mission the next day,” he says, mouthing the words along the cotton seam on your shoulder. “It felt cheap to call. What would I say? ‘Hold that thought for when I get back’?” Steve grazes your ear with his nose, and you shiver, pressing back against his solid bulk.

“I held it anyway, you asshole.”

Steve strokes his hand up your arm to your neck, angling your head to the side so he can drag his lips along your throat. His hand keeps going, sliding down past your collarbone and into the loose neckline of your shirt, stroking just shy of your nipples with each wide caress.

You’re conflagrating, partly in anger, mostly in lust, but you dredge up enough breath to say, “Never thought I’d see the day Steve Rogers forgets to say please.”

The monumental troll pulls back, lifting his hands up and stepping away. You’re left without anything to moor you, your sweaty palms sliding on the marble as you turn around to glare at him.

Steve’s standing there, chest moving with the force of the large breaths he’s taking, both hands fisted at his sides. “I wanted to be a soldier. Point me toward the danger, send me to batter it down with the strength they forged me with, fine.” He spreads his hands, looks down at them, his face twisting. “Our collective strength was never going to be enough. Across the universe, fields aren’t harvested, books go unwritten, homes aren’t built, children left unfed, art not created-- as if that somehow enriches those of us left behind."

You get it, you’re sympathetic, but you were so hurt when he ghosted you that you say the first thing that pops into your wounded brain.

“So, what? You decide to fix it by going to find the women you left unfucked?” 

Steve Rogers’ every molecule is made of sheer, unmitigated righteousness, so he says, “I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

You want to forgive him. You want to throw yourself at the man, kiss his chest, his neck, his lips, all the while explaining away the crunched-down diamond of abandoned misery you’ve been harboring in your heart. You’d set it on fire when you finally realized he wasn’t going to call, he wasn’t coming back, and now the coal of that hope is a fossil fuel polluting your ability to trust him again.

He whispers your name, and you break, turning your back on him again.

“Fuck you, Steve. If that’s what you came for, get on with it. Take what you want and get out of here.”

“I wanted to touch you that night. I had sand embedded in my fingerprints for days after.”

You hear him approach, and shit, all you can think about is cutting yourself on the glass shards of his regret. “So why now?”

“I run a support group,” Steve murmurs, and you let out a knowing breath. Of course he does. He touches your back gently, easing up behind you, his thumb tracing the bare skin he’d mentioned. This presents an aching possibility: Steve is telling the truth. He’s wanted this, wanted you , and he’d held back until the world was torn apart.

“Go on?”

“Lost two this week alone. Another one three weeks back. I find myself advising people to take joy where they can, to stop trying to look to the future.” You reach up, dragging your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and Steve relaxes, dropping his lips to your shoulder, sliding an arm around to fit your hips back against his. “I don’t recognize myself anymore, in the language I’m using to support people. Can’t live in the past, can’t promise any kind of future-- and the here and now?” He lets out a frustrated breath, and you get it. What kind of world is it when asking how to live in the 'here and now' feels like a rhetorical question?

“Goddamnit, Steve… I’m here,” you sigh, starting to turn toward him. Are you angry? Yes. Do you want him? Always. You can pick up the pieces later… or not.

At least you have practice with the ‘not.’

His lips are on yours almost as soon as they’re within reach. The kiss is frantic with longing, a bonfire of grasping caresses, nips and soothes. Steve tugs at your neckline, and you nod, kissing his jaw as you back away just long enough to take off your shirt. You lose it somewhere on the floor as he herds you back against the counter, thumbing open the snap of your pants.

“Yes,” you groan, and Steve cups your face in both of his hands to kiss you, gliding one hand down your arm to anchor himself on the flat surface behind you. With the other, Steve trails his fingertips down your chest, catching the imperfections of his skin against the delicate lace of your bra. The feather-light touches remind you, incongruously, of the ash collecting in the woodstove in the middle of the room. You and Steve are banked fires, but you come together as ephemera, moments cherished but quickly lost, destined to exist only in memory.

He starts on your pants, and you rest an alarmed hand on his. “The windows--”

Steve looks over his shoulder; this room has high, square windows that catch the sunlight from the open lot next door, but since it’s partially underground, they’re technically at street level. Someone could lean over, look in, and see the two of you.  “Just keep your eyes on me,” he says, stepping closer. You can’t see past him, meaning you’re visible to no one but Steve. “On me,” he repeats, cupping the back of your head in his free hand and taking your mouth even as he pushes past the lace of your panties with the other.

There’s confidence in the movement of his hand, in the just-right motions of his fingers, and you’re combusting, held up by the desperate grip you have on the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepens as Steve’s tongue translates the flamewrought runes he’s painting between your legs, thickening your blood to lava. You feel your orgasm approach, and it’s too intense, you can’t breathe and kiss and come all at the same time, so you pull back, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes hoarsely into your hair. The gravel in his tone is so fraught with desire that it sends you over, the honey-soaked pleasure blazing through your veins. Steve gentles you through it, whispering nonsense syllables that sound like ancient words of praise.

When you finally stop shaking, he lifts you up to sit on the counter, which is good, because your muscles are wrecked, and so are your emotions. He starts to pull back, and you rest your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You give away too much. It’s why you didn’t come back. It’s why you’re struggling with how to support those people. The ones who died, they took some of you with them, didn’t they?” you ask. His brows furrow and his eyes close, and you know you’re right. “It’s why we’re going to do this, and when we’re done with both works of art, you’ll move on, and so will I.”

Steve opens his eyes, blue eyes shocked, determined. “That’s not what I came here to--”

“You did. It’s untenable, Steve. Intangible.” You breathe in, and the adrenaline of telling the absolute truth to this avatar of honesty tastes acrid. “It’s symbolic. You didn’t want that night to end, and you knew if we did this, it would.” He’s still denying it, so you reach out and start to unbuckle his belt. “It’s okay for things to be fleeting, you know. Admitting that isn’t betraying how hard you fought.”

He sucks in a breath, letting out a little noise when you turn your hand just the right way to reach into his pants. Just as you make contact, Steve leans down and kisses you. It’s almost chaste, this kiss. Respectful. The operative opposite of the motion of your wrist. You understand that it’s his answer, his acquiescence, that he can’t bring himself to vocalize the awful finality.

The moment flames on, Steve trembling against you as you work him, brushing kisses on your lips, your cheek, your hairline, his hands alternately clutching at your hip or feathering caresses on your arms. Suddenly he sucks in a breath and stops you, a low groan answering your quiet query about his well-being.

“Can-- I want--” you whisper, and he nods, hand dipping into his pocket to come out with a condom. Minutes later you’re both naked and he’s walking you over to the far corner, out of sight of the windows, out of sight of the doorway. “Chivalrous to the end?” you tease, and he leans you up against the smooth wall, blocking you in with his palms flat on either side.

“I don’t feel chivalrous,” he says, taking your hands and resting them on his chest. “I feel like Zeus. I want,” --and here, he pulls you close, nipping at your ear. “But, I know I can’t stay, not with my life as it is. It’s not the moral choice, but--”

“As long as your Hera isn’t grief, Steve, there’s no shame in this,” you whisper. That unlocks something in him, and he’s lifting you, lining up and then, right before he thrusts home, he presses his forehead against yours. It’s everything-- lust and sorrow, lamentable solidarity. 

The pleasure is almost secondary to this understanding, this connection, this-- it must be said, goodbye. Even so, it’s ruinous, the way Steve locks eyes with you, one hand on the wall, the other splayed on your face to hold you steady when he turns his head to kiss you. Searing sweetness races across your whole body from the places where you’re joined, bittersweet and glorious. You’re both vocal, he with deep, satisfied groans and you with moaning cries that he tastes from the outside of your throat.

All too soon, Steve’s grip grows tighter, the snap of his hips more vehement. “I can’t-- I don’t--”

“Let go, that’s what this is about. Grief, catharsis, ashes, pleasure, all of it,” you murmur, your kisses sloppy and imprecise. Steve pulls you from the wall and turns, holding you impossibly close as he ruts up into you, face buried in your neck. 

Though you’d expected to go without a second climax, the power of what he’s struggling with drags an unexpected shockwave through you. It shocks Steve, too; you can feel the wave of goosebumps crossing under your hand on his arm.

“That was…” Steve looks shaken.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

You cradle each other in your corner for a long few minutes, two naked humans with naked emotions, until inevitably, the reality of your humanity comes to the forefront, and you need to clean up and dress. The timer will go off in a few minutes, so you prep the resin for the ashes, throwing glances over at where Steve is standing staring at the woodstove.

“How many people have you done this for?” he asks.

“Oh, I call that my Fuck Wall over there, why do you ask?” you say, hating the edge of vulnerability in your voice. Instead of lashing out, instead of challenging you, Steve just walks over and pulls you into a warm, comforting hug.

With the words muffled by the fact that his face is buried in your hair, Steve says, “Were any of those people you?”

The alarm for the stove goes off, and you pull away. “Stop trying to fix everyone, asshole,” you say affectionately.

“You first.”

Neither of you will, of course, but as you and Steve work together to take the ashes of his former life and fashion them into an avatar of what he’s lost, you’re maybe, finally glad you have the chance.

[bettsfic]

How do you know when it’s time to move up from post it note, to index card, etc…? What if we can’t objectively dictate we improved or you are the kind of person who needs a lot of space from a work to even like it a little? This isn’t me trying to be extra I truly mean these questions.

And could you use the same technique of lifting small weights by writing a novel that isn’t as complex as I’d prefer

Responding to latest ask

but that's the challenge. learning how to love small, imperfect things. it's not about writing. it's about revising.

here's another analogy:

visualize yourself in a factory. this factory has a number of machines, and each one helps take a raw material and turn it into a finished product. you have to run all the machines. you know in theory how to create the product; it's a product you use so frequently that you're intimately familiar with it. and you want to make a big, intricate, beautiful version of this product, just like the kind you buy. the problem is that when you walk inside the factory, all the lights are off. you don't know how big the space is or how many machines there are.

you stumble around and find the first light switch. you approach the first machine. you have the raw material in your hand and you put it into the machine and turn the machine on. you want this thing to be enormous, so you shove a whole lot of the raw material into it. it takes forever, and the machine doesn't do a great job. like the first batch of pancakes, you have to throw it out. so you try it again and maybe this time the machine more or less does its job.

before you can find the next machine, you have to find the light switch. it takes a while, and you get tired quickly from carrying this huge amount of not-quite-raw material around, but you do and you put the material from the first machine into the second. the second machine mangles it. you have to start over. but that's not a huge deal, because you've already found the light switch. you return to the first machine, and this time you know not to use so much raw material because you don't know how the second machine is going to work. the third thing comes out even better, and when you return to the second machine--much more easily!--it does an okay job. okay enough to look around for the light switch over the third machine.

but you're so eager to make the thing that it never occurs to you to stumble around for an excessively long time finding *all* the switches. that seems like a waste of time when you're making so much progress with this machine right here, and anyway, knowing all that work you have ahead of you might freak you out, and so it's best for all that to stay in the dark until you get to it. and that's fine. god knows that's what i did.

there's one machine that just won't work. you need to fix it but you don't know how. so you leave the factory. maybe in your frustration, you burn it down. you find a new one. in this factory, you know from the previous factory to find the first three light switches before you begin, and make sure that weirdo machine from before is working fine. you also know to use a smaller amount of raw material so you can get through it faster and waste less in the long run.

do you see what i'm saying? when writers tell me they're disappointed in themselves for not finishing a novel-length project when they haven't even taken something shorter and simpler through the revision process, i just imagine them in a dark factory in front of the first machine, shoving in tons of raw material, not knowing how many machines there are or what they do or how to fix them when they break. you swear you'll take it through the whole factory on the first try by feel alone. some people think they can skip right to the final machine.

the light switches are important, because once they're on, they're on forever. that's what it feels like when you're ready to write a novel. you can see the full process lit in front of you. and even with all the lights on, it won't go perfectly, but you've worked with broken machine #4 before and you know how to fix it, or maybe you call in a repairman (editor) to take a look at it and give you some advice.

i've been writing for ten years, i have 1.5 graduate degrees in writing, i teach writing, i've been published and i've earned more accolades than i ever thought i would. and i still don't have all my lights on. i'm still taking raw material through the machines i'm familiar with, and i have enough lights on that starting all the way at machine #1 with new raw material, knowing how many machines there are and how long it takes, has become more daunting than it used to be.

i've gotten to the point where i'm happy with the product that comes out of my lit-up machines. i'm even happy giving it to others. but i'm missing that final machine that will turn it into a product that can be sold. a lot of writers think that last machine in the dark is overrated, and i'm inclined to agree. you don't need it, you know? it's more fun and satisfying taking new raw material through the process than it is to light up that last machine and put in an agonizing amount of work, when you don't even know if the product will sell. but here i am, getting closer and closer to finding the last light switch.

perfectionists know they're in a factory, but they don't know how big it is. they don't know what's ahead of them, and instead of turning on the lights and playing around with the next machine, finding out what works and what doesn't, throwing away raw material because they believe it's precious, they move into a new factory hoping that this one only has one really good machine, an intuitive one that they already know how to use, so they can turn on the light, shove in all the raw material, and the product will come out perfectly.

[chuuya-fan-page]

hello it’s me again (anon who asked if this is a character analysis account, if the answer’s no then just ignore this ask)

ok so. I am absolutely desperate to read some hot takes on one specific Chuuya topic that I never see anyone posting about.

what are your (‘your’ plural, if there are different opinions among the mods) thoughts on Chuuya and his relationship with his own social class status?

He went from homeless to extremely wealthy in a very short span of time. How does he feel about that? Does he enjoy the luxuries of his new life or does he feel like a class traitor? A bit of both? neither?

I feel like I’ve posted this exact thought word for word on my own blog, so there isn’t much of a point of me being on anon. but whatever I still haven’t found any analyses on this in all the time since then

THIS IS SUCH AN INTERESTING TOPIC, ILY ANON

(Stormbringer spoilers ahead!)

I've always imagined that Chuuya would care about different parts of his new found luxury in different ways.

We see from the opening of Stormbringer that he has a large closet filled with expensive clothes, but there's no awe around it, he's so casual about getting dressed, despite how different his street clothes were from the things he now wears. He chooses a shirt at random and chucks on a pair of emerald cufflinks, like...sir????

We also know from this part that Chuuya doesn't care about money, but I do wonder if he cares about other things, other things that would be more difficult to find on the streets, for example; food, medicine, shelter, basic hygiene products, etc etc.

In general Chuuya's focus in Stormbringer is entirely on finding out about his past, so it's difficult to get a read on his approach to most things as he's laser-focused in on that one target.

I do think he feels a level of shame for ascending so quickly in class, just an extra splash of guilt on top of the betrayal of the Sheep that he was told was his own fault, but less so focusing on his higher class but the fact that he has more than the Sheep ever had, and yet they gave him more than he ever gave them (given that the Sheep never treated Chuuya's protection as something he was giving them but something they were owed).

I find Chuuya's outfits throughout the arcs as a possible exploration into his perspective of his newfound wealth.

Stormbringer Chuuya wears a plain black suit, no discerning features to make it him, he's lost in this world of silk ties and dress shoes, all he's ever known is the streets, and yet he's simultaneously unimpressed by it all. His appearance in Stormbringer also heavily resembles Verlaine, but that's a whole OTHER can of worms.

DHC Chuuya's outfit differs the most from the rest of the one's we see him wear whilst in the mafia; it's quite rough and tough compared to what he had worn just a few months ago, including his hair which is suspiciously short (unlike a certain SOMEONE previously mentioned). I believe DHC Chuuya is trying to regain some of his individuality, he's rejecting the rich clothes of the mafia and leaning back into his many-layered outfit of Fifteen.

Chuuya's outfit in the current canon show that he's embracing the riches he's found in the mafia. He's come to terms with it as a part of his identity, although he still wears the Hat (yet another Worm Can yet to be opened), as well as his many layers we see him donning in Fifteen (Seriously bro was wearing like three shirts, are you not sweating under all that????)

So, to summarise, I do think he feels some guilt at suddenly having so much more than he once had, he is initially uncaring for symbols of wealth but comes to appreciate them (and I think part of his rejection of the appearance of wealth could easily be because of the death of the Flags and Verlaine as well as his own issues with identity).

-T

[basilibino]

Season 8 was like 6 years ago(I feel old) and I know ppl have differing opinions on the Mr Echo thing (but it was intended, made it to storyboard and blocked animation and then dropped, soooo) but. I can see his recruitment p easily tbh. Bc the whole reason Dr J was in that lighthouse was because he was resurrected, forced there, and ordered to build Skulkin vehicles by Samukai. But Samukai in the flashback we see has already been deposed as leader of the Skulkin/Underworld. Which means the orders to do so most likely came from Garmadon.

And since Mr. E is one of the head honchos, he's likely an early arrival to the team, so I don't think Harumi has a whole lot figured out at this point, she's just got her Trauma and some Bad Influence Friends and an obsession with Lord Garmadon. So. Like. Plausible deniability road trip that she's just visiting important markers of Ninjago's recent past, all of which involve Lord Garmadon in some meaningful way; its sightseeing, its cathartic, and it gives her time to develop her dream Motorcycle Gang/Resurrection Cult. She's not looking for anyone at the Lighthouse, but she is looking for vehicle blueprints so she can be the Koolest leader on the block. But oops she looks in the basement and there's an Echo.

And she's flipping out bc??? A Ninja???? In the Lighthouse basement??? I mean it makes sense that it would be this one but???

Except this rusty old robot has no idea what she's talking about with this Ninja stuff, he's just waiting for his dad to come back.

And Harumi pauses.

Because how long has he been waiting? He's not sure, he had no proper way to measure time in the basement, and he doesn't have the best view of his clockwork heartpiece. But it was after his father saw a strange ship docking; Echo was worried it was the People who had locked up his father in the first place, but instead his dad sounded happy when he saw whoever was out there. It could have been a front, though, as clearly it was never safe to let Echo back out. Then Dr J popped down briefly, while everyone above was resting, to tell Echo he was desperately needed elsewhere, that it wasn't safe to bring Echo, but that he'd be back in no time.

And the pieces are fitting together for Harumi. And she's like. Your dad's dead, bro.

And he's like. What? Did he die doing what was needed of him?

And she's like. Oh, no. He died a few years later.

And he's like. Why didn't he come back for me????

And she's like. Probably because they kept him away.

And he's like. Who's they?

And she's like. The Ninja I was talking about earlier.

And it surely can't be hard in universe to find pictures of Zane and Dr J post s2-pre s3, so she pulls one up and shows Echo who is freaking out bc why is that one kind of like him and Harumi explains that that was the droid his father created first, that he became a Ninja, and that hes probably the one who took their father away and kept echo waiting for years.

But Echo has doubts, shocked as he is abt a new older brother, he wants to believe the good in the situation so he's unsure. But Harumi mentions that the Ninja's failures to uphold more than their self preservation/interests has led to uncountable losses and devastation in Ninjago time and time again, before delving into her own story. And she seems so kind, and so hurt, and I do think there's a genuine connection btwn these two that forms from this shared emotional torment that they decide came from the Ninja, and now Echo is more receptive.

And then Harumi gets to start her Garmadon pitch because wait! If Echo was made here, then that could only have happened because of Lord Garmadon. And she reiterates that he's the reason she and her city could have even survived The Great Devourer. And maybe Echo's family-by-creation left, maybe they were untrustworthy and lacking, but that's OK bc if you look at it all a certain way, Garmadon is more of a father to Echo than Dr J was. And Echo is a vulnerable, overwhelmed mess who just found out his dad fucked off for years without him and also died, and also he has a brother??? Who their dad clearly seems to have favored??? Did they even know about Echo??? Did they delight in their life free of him???

Basically. Kinda Spinel-core but getting abandoned and left completely alone does that to you. Especially when the first person to find you after being abandoned is a deeply hurt and misguided teen who is probably kinda desperate for someone, anyone else to see the Ninja the way she sees them.