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ultravi0lence14 · 7 months ago

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Rhiannon

dean winchester x hippie!reader

1.4k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: as stevie nicks once said; wouldn’t you love to love her. dean could agree with that statement. one hundred percent.

*based on this request

the early morning sun shined in through your window, arrays of pinks, purples and blues mixing in from the multiple coloured crystals and little stained glass designs you had bought. this is why dean loved coming to your apartment. the atmosphere. all the comfort and peace the you had brought into it.

you were the calm that dean needed in his hectic life. the anchor the held him down when things got too much.

he met you when sam had left for stanford, the wounds fresh as he threw back shot after shot in a dingy bar. you were just passing through, a couple of miles away from your apartment and needing to quickly stop somewhere to use the bathroom.

dean’s eyes caught you moving across the bar, the way your jeans hugged your lower half and the flower pattern on your tank top drawing him in. when you retreated from the ladies room, dean was on you like a predator on prey, attempting to elicit a little one night stand.

but you politely declined. though when you tried to walk away from the beaten down man, you saw something else entirely in his eyes.

he looked sad, and you couldn’t help but a feel a bit of empathy for the guy in front of you.

that is how you were raised. your parents telling you to always look for the good in people, being aware of emotions. you weren’t stupid, you understood when people were trying to take advantage of you. but you just liked to be helpful, wanting to make an impact one person at a time.

for the rest of the night, you sat with dean in a booth as he rambled on about his brother and what had happened. he told you that he understood why sam wanted to go on to get a higher education, but he just couldn’t understand why it had to be so far away; why it made their father so angry.

you comforted him the best to your ability. explaining that sometimes people needed a change in their life, and just because his brother left for university doesn’t mean he stopped loving him.

when you both went your separate ways in the parking lot, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble in dean’s step. he knew he was too intoxicated to drive, and was fully prepared to sleep in the impala stationed in the parking lot of the bar.

something inside of you believed that you needed to be of help to this man. and in hindsight, you did the stupidest thing you possibly could’ve done. the one thing parents always warned their kids not to do.

you invited dean to crash at your place.

it was dumb, you knew that. you had just met dean, and he could be an axe murderer for all you know. but the guy was really going through it. and he was so drunk, that you believed the weight of any harmful object in his hands would probably knock him down.

that night, dean slept on your couch, peaceful snores leaving his lips as you slept comfortably in your bed. when he woke up in the morning, dean completely forgot where he was. and then it all came back to him. seeing you in the bar, trying to sleep with you, you turning him down, which then turned into a therapy session that landed him to crash on your couch.

dean was fully planning on leaving, but he couldn’t help himself in taking a peak around your place.

from the couch, he could see the multitude of plants and flowers the covered your living space. it was like a garden, a comforting vibe that also warranted a lovely smell to the home.

there was colour all over the place. from the stained glass lamps on coffee tables to the rows of crystals hanging on string in front of your window. everything was so bright and colourful, and dean couldn’t help himself but stare at the moving colours across the wall.

he also smelt a lingering lavender smell, which was then over powered by the aroma of bacon and pancakes coming from somewhere else in your home. dean couldn’t help himself, he loved bacon. so like a man hypnotized, he followed the debilitating scent of bacon that lingered throughout the air.

as he made his way into the kitchen, he found that the rest of your home was just like the living area. adorned by breezy light pink curtains was a small window over your sink, housing mini plants a crystals alike. there were flowers everywhere. an arrangement by the stove, on the counter, even in the sink. it was overwhelming, but in a good way.

“wow,” he mumbled, groggily slumping into one of the bar stools in front of your counter. “that’s a lot of flowers.”

dean’s voice brought a laugh from your lips, making him look over to where you stood by the stove, stacking pancakes possibly as tall as he was. to this day, dean doesn’t know what it was in the room. all the flowers and greenery, the slight breeze from the open window, maybe it was just your intoxicating beauty. but at that very moment, you looked absolutely ethereal.

you just looked so pretty. the long white skirt falling loosely on your hips. the simple black t shirt that made a perfect canvas for the two braids you put in your hair. he looked down to notice that you were wearing crazy coloured striped socks on your feet, and dean couldn’t help but smile at the little pop of colour that you added to your otherwise basic outfit.

bringing over two plates of breakfast, you sat beside dean at the counter and ate together, just talking and getting to know one another.

it was a simple morning, filled with laughs and weird fun facts that you two threw each others way. when you told him you planned to go to the farmers market, dean couldn’t help himself in taking your offer to come with.

he had never even been to one, not even caring in the slightest for what they had to offer. but some part of dean didn’t want this day to end, and in his heart, he knew he wanted to get to know you more.

you two spent the late morning walking around the farmers market, you grabbing some fresh produce and more crystals as dean took in his surroundings. some of the people he saw looked a little weird, but he knew they probably meant well, and that everything here honestly wasn’t so bad.

when you had grabbed a couple assortments of flowers, telling dean you planned to make some flower crowns at home, he also couldn’t resist in coming back to your place and weaving the stems together by your side.

you two were in a comfortable silence, weaving the crowns in synchrony when dean couldn’t help but break it. “why do you like flowers so much? i can’t help but notice how many you have in your living room alone.”

his words elicited a gorgeous smile from you, and you then went on to explain why you held them so dearly to your heart. “there is just something so beautiful about a flower. they start from a simple seed, then grow into something amazing. i know that probably sounds dumb and i might sound insane, but i just love the whole ideology of it.

“that isn’t dumb, and you most definitely don’t sound insane.” dean had placed his flowers on the ground, slowly reaching out to grab your hand. “in my life, i have to look for the good things at any chance i can find. it’s sometimes nice to have a flower grow out of a bad situation.”

his words brought a soft smile to your lips, and you squeezed his hand before going back to your weaving. “you know, i didn’t expect you to go so philosophical on me there winchester.”

dean grinned back, grabbing his flowers again and following your motions. “well, i’m just full of surprises, flower.”

after that, you and dean spent so much time together. and when dean finally got the courage to kiss you for the first time, it was like everything was more clear to him.

he understood sam’s leaving, and he even tried to reach out to him. he started coming into his own, becoming his own person and even fighting back to his father when he called you a temporary distraction.

that was all years ago. and now, as dean laid beside you, checking his phone to see if sam texted him about any cases, he couldn’t help but silently thank you for all that you’ve done for him.

with a kiss on your cheek, and a mumbled, “i love you, flower,” dean peacefully fell back asleep with you in his arms, completing him in ways he never knew he needed.

#supernatural #dean winchester #imagine #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fanfiction

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stemms · 9 months ago

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I believe that c!Tommy’s kleptomania is one of the most fascinating and heartbreaking parts of his personality, as it adds layers to his character, and explains certain parts of the lore that some people seem to consider a simple bad habit and display of his childishness. I would like to elaborate on that further and explore the way it changed in the exile arc.

To begin with, c!Tommy has been suffering from kleptomania ever since s1, but contrary to popular belief, he had no malicious intentions. From the very beginning of the server, he was already severely traumatised to the point of having PTSD and lacked self-worth. So, understandably enough, he was craving something to make up for his self-hatred, and robbery became that thing. c!Tommy would mostly steal insignificant things because what truly mattered was the amount of things he possessed, not their value or rarity. After all, if he had a large number of objects in his possession, it meant that he was worthy, and nothing else truly mattered.

Since the very beginning of exile, despite his need to acquire items to stabilise his extreme self-hatred, c!Tommy adamantly refused to accept anything from his visitors because he couldn’t help but assume that the gifts in question were “pity items”, and being pitied was one of the things he hated the most. As his exile went on, the belief that no one cared enough to offer him a gift out of genuine care, only grew stronger due to c!Dream’s manipulation, c!Tommy’s severe loneliness, and the heartbreak of the Beach Party. However, with time, the blond has grown to trust someone other than c!Dream — c!Ranboo. Eventually, he allowed the enderman hybrid to offer him things, as long as he promised that his gifts came from the heart. As much as c!Tommy attempted to hide his true feelings, he cherished every single object received from c!Ranboo. These weren’t just objects, like the ones he’d often steal from people to feel worthy — these served as a reminder that there was something to live for, and at least, someone other than c!Dream genuinely cared about him.

Considering that c!Dream has been obsessed with c!Tommy ever since s1 (which included living in his walls and stalking him) and used his kleptomania and “destructive nature” as an argument to get him exiled from L’Manberg, he certainly was aware of the boy’s insecurity, and was looking forward to exploiting it to the fullest to break- no, shatter him :)

The daily routine of discarding his objects hurt c!Tommy far more than we could’ve imagined, because if we keep his deep self-hatred in mind, he didn’t simply find it upsetting due to being stuck in the cycle of obtaining and destroying his items — it was something more than that. Every lost item equaled a tiny shard of c!Tommy’s self-worth, and soon enough, there was almost Nothing left; he was nothing but an empty shell.

Understandably enough, with time, the teenager has grown to believe that he wasn’t worthy to possess anything valuable of his own — he was meant to earn every little thing, and his best friend tormentor couldn’t be more pleased :) :) :)

#my c!prime thoughts #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp exile arc #dsmp analysis #c!primeboys #c!primeboys (derogatory)#discduo #c!alliumduo #c!tommy #tommyinnit #c!dream #c!ranboo #tw abuse #tw manipulation #tw trauma bonding #tw conditioning

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msfantasy-comics · 2 years ago

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The Perfect Match

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how Y/n is the perfect match for Jason.

Warning: this contains references to heavy topics, so if you are easily trigged, then please read at your discretion.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Jason is one of the most complex people.

His life experience has set him up for some incredible challenges.

By the grace of god for everything that is good, you walked in and made him whole.

You were, Jason’s perfect match.

Understanding and Reliant

Jason has had an incredibly traumatic past, the death of his father and loving step-mother, becoming homeless, feeling rejected by his adoptive family, having his birth mother sacrifice him, being killed by the Joker… seriously… what HASN’T this poor man been through?

With that, Jason needs a partner who can at least, understand that he has a lot of pain to bare, and that Jason had his own unique way in processing that trauma.

Dick: “He tried to force Bruce into killing the Joker.”

Y/n: “Was it wrong of him to get someone else to do his dirty work? Yes, absolutely, however, the Joker did kill him and his mother… need I say more?”

Damian: “He kills criminals- not turning them into Arkham as we are required to.”

Y/n: “Firstly… hypocrisy. Secondly, Arkham is fundamentally broken and objectively not effective as we have established numerous times. Jason has found a permanent solution to criminals who hurt without cause or resolution.”

Tim: “You’re literally excusing his actions.”

Y/n: “I’m not saying I agree with everything Jason has done, but I can understand why Jason has done what he did and why he thinks that way. Agreeing and understanding are completely different words.”

Jason sitting smuggly with his arms crossed.

Jason: “Yeah! Tell them off babe.”

Jason at times feels like you’re the only person who understands him.

But even more so, Jason loves that you defend him in front of others with unwavering support.

But in private you reason with him gently.

Y/n: “Baby, I see why you feel Bruce should’ve avenged your death, but it’s just not part of his philosophies, punishing him for someone else’s crime wasn’t fair… you really should apologise for torturing him, I truely believe Bruce was doing what he thought was best.”

Jason: “… I’ll think about it.”

Loyalty

Jason has severe abandonment issues.

His father and step-mother dying in quick succession, with no extended family willing to take him in.

Meeting his bio-mother, who bargained her own life in exchange for Jason’s. Which Jason graciously accepted despite how undeserving it was.

Bruce ‘replacing’ him quickly after with Tim.

Bruce not avenging his death with the Joker.

Jason was constantly making sacrifices for others and as far as he was concerned

No one returned the favour.

So Jason really values loyalty to the highest degree.

As he believes it’s a rare trait.

Your unwavering love and support is everything Jason could’ve asked for and more.

However…

Jason: “Would you leave me if I ever cheat on you.”

Y/n: “Yes, absolutely.”

Jason: 😲

Y/n: 😐

Communication Skills

Jason, is generally, horrible at communicating his feelings and needs.

His feelings are expressed through action. Not words.

This can often be frustrating but this just means you have to come up with creative ways in which Jason can express himself.

Jason: “Fuck, fuck, fuck everything is fucked!”

Y/n: “Common grumpy pants, let’s go for a drive.”

You’ll often drive Jason to scenic places and you’ll both wonder around in silence before you take him home snuggle up and just watch a movie.

You do all the right things without being asked.

You know what he’s trying to say without him saying a word.

You know that the last thing Jason needs, is to explain himself.

All he needs is reassurance.

Which you do perfectly.

Supportive in his Endeavours

Jason has a … unique take on justice.

He is the lawyer, judge and executioner.

If he finds a criminal guilty of a heinous crime and said criminal is not sorry.

Then that criminal is typically never heard from again.

Whilst you may or may not agree, you both have a burning passion for the betterment of your community.

Don’t forget you both call Gotham your home.

Jason just loves how passionate you are at making the city better for everyone.

His focus is on cleaning up the crime whilst yours is to build a better foundation to better your community and home.

Jason loves that you hold the same values as his own.

#dc x reader #dc imagine #batboys #batboys imagine #batboys x reader #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #batfam x reader #batfam imagine

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jaggedamethyst · 3 months ago

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golden boy (prequel) ⭐️💫

jayce talis x f!reader, 4.4k words

content: the story of the day you met jayce talis two years ago...immediately after the worst moment of your life. (can be read as a one-shot, but is a prequel to my golden boy short series!)

notes/warnings: 18+ minors dni, angst, f!receiving oral, m!receiving oral, swallowing, brief handjob (wtf is the tumble phrasing for this bruh), unprotected p in v, pulling out, bondage?? (with a tie, i got creative), sub!jayce/dom reader, lmk if I missed anything as always, not proofread...my head hurting girl

ps: golden boy is still my favorite thing I've written ever...I'm happy i got to revisit them and hopefully answer some of the questions people had. even sprinkled in some of their habits that i liked and you can tell that it started from their very first interaction...its messy and somewhat unrealistic but i do think they're insanely in love. I've heard it makes people insane CTFUUU. crazy how this started over a hextech vibrator too. wtf. - amethyst 💟

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

Living in the shadows wasn’t something you had to get accustomed to, but was rather born knowing. Life as a girl in the Undercity was unique but altogether riddled with the stench of an undeveloped community—as Piltover would say at least. You loved the stench. It was more than a foul smell—an always present layer of grime. Existing in the Lanes was to always have a film on you. Whether it be of the societal norms placed on you or the physical distinction between those living above you, you were in every way considered an other.

So it stayed the same as you grew up. Unfortunately, though, there was always an intrigue that pulled you from your hiding. No matter how hard you tried to fight it something pulled you to Piltover—to him.

It started innocently enough. You went on dates, got to know each other, and spent inexplicable amounts of time together. It would always end, though.

“I’ll miss you.”

You would smile back, searching for any indication of a lie. You never saw one.

“Can’t I stay? Just-“ you huffed at the break in your voice. “Just this once? Please?”

“It’s best you don’t.” A hand would find your face or arm and rub it reassuringly, “I couldn’t live knowing anything happened to you.”

Lie.

You wished you could’ve picked up on it—how truly deceitful this man you’d grown to love had been.

Time passed like a whirlwind; you let yourself be swept up in the idea of a hidden romance, one that was for the two of you alone. You didn’t tell him but you would watch him sometimes, sneaking glimpses into the parts of his life you could never be part of.

He was a known man—not on the council but a close acquaintance of the renowned families. It made sense, then, that he kept you tucked away. Its okay, you’d reason. The only way to stay safe is to stay hidden. After all, it was what you were born to do.

This day was like any other, you slightly covered, hooded, and watching while the object of your adoration smiled in conversation. The difference came in the form of a woman you’d never seen, more importantly the newborn that lie between her hands.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that he had another life—one that he so skillfully kept you unaware of. The prospect only made your interest pique—your mind wandering to how he could do this so well, to be this pathological.

You didn’t confront him. In fact, you weren’t supposed to be here at all—in a sea of people waiting on an announcement. Today was progress day. You’d heard rumblings of there being a huge announcement coming to Piltover which admittedly you didn’t want to miss. Everyone had the same idea—to pack in and hear from this new scientist.

You pushed and squeezed. You mumbled apologies and excuses to snake your way through the now suffocating crowd. It was futile, though. You were forced to stand and stare.

Jayce Talis wasn’t unknown to you. You were an observer at heart, so you’d seen him around before. It was often that he was lingering, just in the background but doing nothing of significance to catch your attention—not when it was elsewhere. He looked comfortable, not with his speech but rather on stage. Jayce had the essence of a man who belonged in front of people—presenting on a day so great at this one.

You heard of this new boy, this man who would propel both cities alike into an unimaginable future. Seeing him there, speaking with a fluidity that enticed you, you knew he had to be him. He had to be the golden boy of Piltover.

Blinking your eyes, you darted them over to search for him. His stare had already been on you, his entire frame slouching in guilt. You had nothing left to offer him but you figured his wife and child were enough. You wouldn’t afford him the luxury of seeing you ever again—let alone touching you.

The end of Jayce’s speech allowed you some relief, the crowd slowly dissipating as they dispersed. You avoided eye contact, squirming into the tight spaces between people having small talk. The breeze of the outside hit you—the door opening and closing in an irregular rhythm of people entering and exiting. You were almost there, out of his life for good.

“Got somewhere to be?”

You froze at the sound of a man talking to the side of you. You perked up a bit, attempting to disguise yourself as someone who should be here, belongs here.

You cleared your throat, “I have to get home. Lots of work to do—progress day doesn’t stop…the progress.” Your face twisted at the awkward joke.

The man chuckled anyways, teetering on his feet. He let his hands clasp behind his back—exposing the tightly bound buttons of his clothing. He wore crimson and white, hints of gold and black lingering at the hems. It suited him.

“Did you enjoy my speech?”

“It was nothing short of inspirational.”

Your eyes stared into one another, daring the opposing pair to look away, and yet they didn’t.

“I should be going,” you swallowed and turned to go, a quickness in your step.

He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t let you leave. “It’s raining,” he blurted out. “Is that all you have to get home?” He examined you, the lack of protective wear, and a small hood over your head.

You glanced down at yourself, a crease in your brows. “Trust me, I’ll live.”

A million things flashed through his mind, one of the first being how disappointed his mom would be to know that he let a woman walk alone in the rain. After this his mind lingered, though. He felt a chill at the recollection of your sharp features—the darkness there. He racked his brain further, cursing himself at how quickly he seemed to forget the intricacies of your face already.

You were almost gone.

“Wait!”

You heard him call behind you, a low hum of surprise escaping you.

“I have an umbrella, I can walk you.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” you continued to move, “But I’m good—great!”

You wanted the emphasis to say leave me alone but it screamed at him to continue, matching your hurried steps away from the building. He didn’t speak, but moved closer and let his frame tower over you. You looked up at the sudden lack of rain pelting you, finding solace in the small shelter.

“Jayce, you’re getting yourself wet.”

He perked up at the sound of his name on your lips, secretly languishing in the sweetness. He almost forgot to acknowledge you, but settled on a shrug.

“As long as you get home unscathed.” He continued to walk, a step for your every two. You noticed how much longer his legs were than yours, twisting your lips at that. “Speaking of,” he spoke again, “Where are we headed?”

You paused, only just now realizing you were walking toward the outskirts of the city.

“I’m-“ You looked around, searching for an excuse. When one didn’t find you, you gave up. You offered him a slump in your shoulders and a following shrug, “I’m not from Piltover.”

“I know.” Jayce turned to resume his stride, slightly splashing into puddles on the ground.

“You know?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

Without missing a beat he kept his eyes forward and pinpointed the error. “Your shoes.”

You looked down, eyes meeting your worn footwear. “I see.”

He nodded like it was the most simple thing—like there wasn’t such distance between you already. It made you look away, arms folding in on you as you huffed to yourself.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” It was too quick. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m used to it—always have been.”

He was reading you, with a skill that came as second nature to him. Your body language, the falter in your face, the slow in your step—he noticed it.

“You shouldn’t be.” He gripped the umbrella, “You shouldn’t be used to it. I’m sorry.”

He looked down at you with a sincerity—you hoped it was true. You simply nodded, letting your feet lead him to your home.

“Thank you. This was nice of you…considerate.” You paused again, thinking better of continuing, but you had to. “You should come in.”

“Really?”

“It’s raining.” You stated plainly, like your reasoning was obvious.

“It is.” He matched your monotone.

A deep inhale resonated between you, “You can’t walk back in this weather. Besides,” you finally pushed your door open, “the least I can do is offer you somewhere to wait this out.”

He surveyed you, the way you kicked your shoes off and placed them neatly by the door. He did the same, smiling softly at the action; his mom never let him walk around with dirty shoes on either.

The effortless way you moved proved how long you’d lived here—how you could grab for something without looking or push in a piece of furniture with your hips. It was comfortable, it was home.

“I can hang your clothes for you if you like.”

You interrupted his thoughts, a pile of clothes in hand for him to swap into.

“Thank you…” He paused, kicking himself. “I don’t actually know your name-“

You interrupted him, offering your name, letting it roll off of your lips in a way that he enjoyed more than he expected. He repeated it, too, training himself to enjoy the melody—the way it lingered there.

He moved then, pushing his now dripping blazer off of his shoulders. You swallowed, looking down at the now drenched white of his clothing clinging to his skin. His shirt was the most restrictive, settled beneath his waistcoat and attached to it from the moisture of the rain.

He noticed your focus wandering across him. He moved slowly, loosening the buttons around his torso first, then the tie on his neck. “Hope I’m not too much of an intrusion-“

“Absolutely not, no.” You shook your head, “I surprisingly enjoy the company.”

“Well,” he undoes the buttons on his wrists, “It helps to be in good company, I guess.”

You nodded, reluctantly peeling your eyes away from him to head for the nearby kitchen. Water, you thought. Gosh your mouth had gotten so dry.

In the second it’d taken you to grab and fill a glass, Jayce had stripped majority of his clothing.

He spoke quickly, slightly frightened by your shocked look. “I’m sorry, I figured I shouldn’t leave a trail of my wetness all over the floors…better if there’s just one puddle, right?”

“Right,” you blinked at him, “I’ll uh-“ You motioned behind you, a thumb waving at nothing in particular. “I’ll grab the mop.”

Approaching him felt daunting. In the moments you saw him around you wouldn’t have assumed this quiet man was hiding beneath fabric. There was a sheer magnitude to him that even left his muscles to flex with little effort. You observed the movement of his body with every breath.

He reached out to you, motioning to grab the mop and clean the mess he’d made. You weren’t paying attention, more focused on the way his arms looked so powerful. You completely missed him pulling the mop stick toward his own chest, and you with it. He moved with such ease, gliding you through the puddle of water, maneuvering you like it was the most minuscule thing to do so. You didn’t let go of the mop when he thought you would, and he internally thanked himself at that. Jayce was able to look at you again finally; he observed your features intently.

Suddenly a tingle shot up and down your left side, as if it were hitting your heart and exploding outward. You could tell he felt it, whatever it was.

The feeling brewing between you was begging to be explore…bubbling like a kettle settled on a stove. It was as if the metaphorical boiling tea started to whistle then, a high-pitched screech in your ear drums telling you to just go for it.

Jayce was more of a coffee person, relishing in the wafting scent of the thick drink. He couldn’t go a day without it…and it seemed the same was true about his desire for you.

You hadn’t noticed how your breath had become short as it met his chest, completely bare against your own. Jayce watched you look down, taking in the sight of him.

He gulped and discarded the mop beside him. His hands grasped yours—replacing the mop handle. Your cluster of hands remained between you, an invisible rope forcing you to stay together.

Jayce continued with a croak, dipping his head to meet your eyes, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you replied with a shy smile.

His brow arched as he dipped down more, silently questioning if this was okay. When you met his slow movement in, he internally rejoiced.

You’d kissed people before, but this was an entirely new sensation. The man in front of you was intentional. He moved slow and showed an attention that you didn’t know was missing.

You’d gasp, overwhelmed by the gentle pressure of him. He’d make it his mission to capture that sound in his mouth, working over you to create the sound again. The rhythm in his ears of your low groans was one he could live off of—the only thing he needed for the rest of his existence. It was inexplicable the way he need to do this for you, to be good to you, to show you that you deserved only great things.

You saw that in him—and it immediately made you want to repay him. It wasn’t often that you would first sink down to your knees in front of a man, ready and willing to have all of him…but this was different—confusing.

You let out an exaggerated pop as you pulled away from Jayce’s mouth, licking over your own. His skin burned as you let a hand trail his chest, lingering as you found your way in front of his belt buckle. With a single hand you let him free of the confines of his pants. A second hadn’t passed before your hand latched onto him, smearing the wetness on the tip of him down his entire length. You watched him as you did, loving the choking sounds escaping his throat.

“I-“ He gasped, writhing a bit, “I’ve never done this.”

You arched your brow, confusion clearly covering the entirety of your face. “Never?”

He shook his head in a tight declaration, hardly visible had you not been looking so closely. “Not after just meeting, I mean.”

“Do you want to?”

You offered him an out, acknowledging how intense this must be. You’d just met him—and you knew how it felt. You understood the intricacies of always being connected in that way—feeling tethered to someone despite how little you seemed to know them. He had been that for you…before the wife and child.

Jayce didn’t want an out. In fact his face almost mixed with something of bewilderment—that he’d ever deny you. He let that feeling spring him into action, pulling you back up to your feet. Despite that sudden motion, he seemed lost…as if he didn’t know what to do from here.

“Where do you want me?” You spoke softly, hands nestled behind your back. He watched your eyelashes bat at him, the way they were intentionally spurring him on.

You observed the way he remained in a shell—reacting to even the smallest of motions by you. His blinks were slow. His shoulders straightened, his posture stiffening. His breath even hitched at the way your chest rose slightly, a bit higher with your hands behind your back.

Letting your voice lower and your head tilt, you looked him up and down slowly. “Where would you like me, Jayce?” You repeated it, keeping eye contact with him. Finally, you started to strip, removing all of your clothing. You backed up as you did so...legs eventually hitting the couch near the side of the room.

He stayed stuck in place as he watched you. Jayce was entirely focused on your frame, how much more beautiful you looked than he could’ve imagine in his own mind. His knuckles paled, fists pressing in on themselves. You sat down into the couch cushions, then, not hesitating as you let your hands sink down to play with yourself.

“Should I,” you hissed as you already felt yourself pulse around nothing. “Would you like to contribute or should I do this myself?”

There wasn’t a sound in the room beyond the slick of you and the abrupt strides Jayce made across the room. The ran pattered to offset his movement. He was eager, immediately settling on the floor in front of you.

The roles had reversed so fast.

He pulled your hips slightly, earning a yelp from you, even more so when he immediately latched his lips onto your clit. It went on like that for a while until he flattened his tongue on you, moving up and down slowly. His nose pressed just beside your clit, a sensitive spot you didn’t know you had.

It was his turn to look up at you and the way your head fell back.

The air got stuck in your throat as you moved to grip his hair. The tug didn’t stop him, only motivated him more. The thought that his tongue alone could bring such aggressive reactions from you was the reward he needed. He clawed at your thighs, the softness there a grounding sensation so different from the sting as his scalp.

He hummed into you, letting the vibration add to the feel of him on you.

“F-fuck…” your voice dragged, stuttering over itself at that. You gulped as he did it again, a hand letting go of his head to wipe over your own—your palm hitting your face in surprise.

He made a mental note at that, smiling briefly into you before pulling away.

You looked around the room, mind spiraling at how he’d worked you up so well. Your sight settled on the clothes on the floor, his discarded tie in particular. You nudged Jayce, planting a soft kiss to his temple and moving him to lean back into the couch. He smiled to himself, at the fondness of such an action.

He let himself be immersed in that feeling. You let the distraction work in your favor as the tie found its way around his wrists. You left some slack so he could be attached to the makeshift bars on your window. They sat just above your couch, a much needed addition to combat the weather and occasional rogue projectiles that seemed to make their way into fights. The Undercity was undeniably rough but it was home. The metal over your glass reminded you of that, how the path to something so amazing remained guarded at all times.

The last bit of fabric rested in your hands as you moved to straddle Jayce, a strained hiss resounding from you at the sheer thickness of his thighs. You lifted yourself a bit before sliding over the back of him, not letting him into you just yet. You rutted over his tip, letting it swirl between your folds. He could only breathe into you as you raised his hands—relinquishing any control he had.

You continued up and down him, pressing his wrists above his own head. He felt around, his fingers curling around the lowest horizontal bar. Jayce used it for stability but also as an outlet simultaneously. His grip was firm at the restriction. His arms were unable to move now that you’d tied a knot behind him—the realization only riled him up more. He was sensitive—he couldn’t take much more.

You slid your hands on his shoulder, finally leveling yourself just above him. In a slow movement—eyes locked with him—you sunk onto him about an inch. Only letting in the head of his length was torture, an insatiable need only partially fulfilled. It was worth it, though. The lack of him was driving the man just as crazy, if not more so. Observing the pinch of his brows and the slack of his jaw, low whimpers now escaping him, was enough to make you hold out a bit longer.

You smoothed a finger over the scar below his brow, an attempt to relieve the tension in him. “Be good,” you slid up and back down onto him. “Keep your hands there, okay?”

His nods were fervent, his grasp holding tighter into the pole above him.

Jayce’s words came out sort of erratic, an urgency you didn’t expect. “Please…just please,” he didn’t continue the thought—overwhelmed by you sliding down another inch onto him. “I just want to be in you…feel you.”

That was enough for you.

Inch by inch, you slowly sat into him. The mix of both your whines were almost drowned out by the rain; it was even louder now, the wind gusts swirling into a frenzy of sound. It didn’t compare, though. Not to the two of you completely wrapped in each other.

You leaned down, letting your lips fall into the crook of his neck and his onto your chest. He sucked down with all he could, it being the only way he could touch you now. You leaned back at that, squeals escaping you as you writhed into him quicker now. Your chest reddened, the burst of heat traveling up your neck. He took advantage of your nipples in his face, alternating between both as he saw fit—only letting them go when he glanced up at you, how stunning you looked.

There was a sheen of sweat on you now. You were feeling him everywhere, mostly just between your thighs where his girth filled you so much it burned. Despite this he was still long, hitting your guts with every motion into his lap. You were getting tired; the flapping of you onto his thighs became even more lewd, the space underneath you dripping in wetness from him and you.

You could feel his stares on you but settled for keeping attention on his hands, the way they struggled to stay on the bar. You let your hands meet his, ignoring the tingle that sent through your own, and wrapped it around his own. Your hands were interlocked, keeping him on the metal.

Your words slurred at him piercing into your groin over and over, that spongey spot feeling completely weak now. “C-close…are you?”

“Almost,” his voiced bobbed. “Can’t go much longer—fuck.”

The heat in you rose quickly at the weakened tone of his voice, the pure lack of control. Within a few more circles into him you were finishing, hand moving to your own clit to drag it out.

Jayce looked between you, the mess you made. He gasped at your hands soaked on yourself, applauding his own work—he was proud to serve you this way. You could use him, he didn’t care. Couldn’t care less, even.

“Shit—“ a hiccup from Jayce, “Can’t—“

Reluctantly you slipped off of him, a whine filling the room. It didn’t last long, though.

Suddenly your head was in his lap, bobbing up and down his length as you kept rubbing yourself. He heard your cries, muffled by the sound of your mouth wrapped around him. Your free hand pressed into his balls, urging him to let go. You hummed, too, letting the vibration touch his tip as it grazed the back of your throat.

His hips snapped up into you, ropes shooting into your mouth and down your throat before you could even process. It didn’t afford you the time to taste him, really, but you’d assume it was sweet. Like him.

Your legs shook beneath you as your hands slipped away. Letting yourself fall back, you surveyed your work—the consistent lingering pulse inside your walls and the way Jayce remained motionless. Your chest heaved, matching the way his rose and fell.

Your eyes fell closed, allowing you to sit in the feeling of bliss within you now. On the floor, you started to drift—only cognizant of the warmth on you.

The faint sparkle of the Sun began to shine onto your face and stirred you from sleep. Immediately grimacing, you looked over to the man beside you. He sat on the couch, not moving you from your spot but covering you snugly on the floor with a few of your blankets, a pillow under your head.

Craning your neck back allowed you to see the puddle gone, too, his clothes hanging on your laundry line.

“Hi.” He smiled, already awake and observing your every move.

You didn’t reply but instead felt something brewing in you, disgust was the closest thing to come to mind. Disgust at how quickly you’d turned this around. The same day you found out—heart completely shattered by something you thought was real—you let yourself be with a man you hardly knew. It stood to reason then that this wasn’t and could never be real. Not when you so quickly fell into it. Not when you tainted any opportunity you had at building toward something healthy.

You hated yourself, even more so that you could see a future with Jayce. The thought of him was so close, yet out of reach when you fully considered. You couldn’t do this, shouldn’t really.

“You should go.”

Jayce moved to counter, to speak and question you.

“Don’t come here anymore.” It sounded harsh. You didn’t mean for it to be. “Just…I’ll come to you, okay?” You nodded, assuring yourself that this was the right way to go—the way to be with him. “You can’t come back here, never again.”

He moved slowly, clearly stunned by your abruptness. The motions with which he pulled his own clothes off of their hanging positions and onto his body was methodical. Jayce was a machine—working step by step and assembling pieces to get a final result. It was true, though, that he’d never be whole. He wouldn’t be himself again without you beside him and couldn’t explain why that was.

He didn’t know you.

He wanted to.

He kneeled down as you sat up, slowly gliding his hand into yours. He let his fingers rub over your skin; he fought to reassure you.

The knot in your throat made you swallow and pull away.

There weren’t any words exchanged between you. You felt bad, but not enough to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach. Jayce looked at you with a clear hurt, like he’d been physically torn apart.

He huffed at that and simply asked, “When can I see you again?”

part one

#jaggedamethyst #angst #arcane #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce league of legends #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x y/n #golden boy #arcane x reader #jayce talis angst #jayce talis arcane #jayce arcane

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xoxochb · 11 months ago

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⋆·˚ ༘ * ten things I hate about you

warnings: longggg as helll and it would’ve been longer too but I cut half the ending and I’ll put it in the next part so the chapters aren’t years long AND credits to lynn painter the story isn’t mine along with quotes!!!

pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

series master list

your day started off great today! your cat mr. fitzpervert left a hairball in your slipper, you burnt your ear with the hair straightener and when you walk out of your house you see your long time next door nemesis sitting on the hood of your car

“hey!” you slide your sunglasses up your nose, hightailing in his direction, making sure you’re careful not to ruin your new floral flats “get off my car, you weirdo!”

percy jumped off, holding his hands up in a I’m innocent pose, even though his smirk said differently. regardless of his current demeanor you knew him since kindergarten, he’s never been innocent a day in his life

“what’s in your hand?”

“nothing” he put his hand behind his back “you’re so paranoid”

you walk up to him, squinting your eyes up at his face. though he claims to be innocent his sea green eyes twinkle with mischief. you knew you we’re screwed because mischievous percy always won

you poked him in the chest. “what did you do to my car?”

“I didn’t do anything to your car, per se”

“per se?”

“woah. watch your filthy mouth, y/l/n”

you roll your eyes, which made his mouth slide into a grin before he said, “this has been fun, and I just love your granny shoes, by the way, but I’ve gotta run”

“percy-”

he turned and walked away before you could finish speaking. when he got to his porch he opened the screen door and yelled over his shoulder, “have a great day, y/n!”

that’s not a good sign. that could’ve been legitimate. you and percy had been enemies since forever, in a war over the one available parking spot. percy only won because he was a dirty cheater, thinking it’s funny to reserve the spot by putting miscellaneous objects in the spot to difficult for you to pick up yourself

yesterday however you won. you called the city after he had left his car in the spot for three days, earning him a parking ticket

you checked all four tires before climbing into the car and buckling your seat belt. you heard percy laugh, and when you went to glare at him through your passenger window his front door slams shut

then you saw what was so funny

the parking ticket had now been on your car for all to see, stuck to the windshield with tons of clear packaging tape. you got out of the car and tried to pry it off but it wouldn’t budge

what a tool

💌

when you finally made it to school after scraping your window with a razor blade and doing hard-core deep breathing to reclaim your zen, you entered the building with the bridget jone’s diary soundtrack playing. when your music was playing this loud it was easier to walk through the crowded hallways, ignoring rambunctious teenagers

you headed to the second floor bathroom where you met annabeth every morning. your best friend was an insane over sleeper so every morning she would rush to do her makeup before the first bell rang

“y/n, I love that dress!” annabeth threw you a side glance between cleaning up her eyes, then opening her mascara and swiping the wand over her lashes

you went over to the mirror to straighten out your vintage dress, making sure it’s not in any awkward position. you catch sight of two cheerleaders vaping behind you, giving them a closed-mouth smile

“do you try to dress like the leads in your movies, or is it just a coincidence?” annabeth asked

“don’t say ‘your movies’ like I’m a porn addict or something”

“you know what I mean,” annabeth said as she separated her lashes with a safety pin

you knew exactly what she meant. you watch your mothers beloved rom-coms every night, using her dvd collection you inherited from her after she died. annabeth didn’t know about how close you had been with your mother, although you lived on the same street for many years, you were never really close until sophomore year. she always thought your love for romance movies was due to you being a hopeless romantic

once finished, annabeth put her makeup back in her backpack and grabbed her coffee. “come on”

you take a last glance in the mirror. “wait- I forgot lipstick”

“we don’t have time for lipstick”

“there’s always time for lipstick”

you search your bag until you grab hold of your new favorite shade- retrograde red. “you go ahead, I’ll catch up”

she left and you rubbed the color over your lips- much better. you tucked the lipstick back in your bag and exited the bathroom

when you got to class you sat in the desk between annabeth and drew tanaka

“what’s the answer to number eight?” annabeth was writing fast as she tried to complete her homework. “I forgot about the reading and I have no idea why gatsby’s shirts made daisy cry”

you pulled out your worksheet and allowed her to copy your answers. your eyes shifted over to drew. if surveyed, everyone on the planet would agree that she was beautiful, her whole appearance extremely appealing to the eye, an absolute indisputable fact. however her soul was the complete opposite

you disliked her so very much

on the first day of kindergarten she’d caused a scene when you got a bloody noise, the entire glass gawked at you in disgust. In third grade she told your crush at the time your notebook was filled with love notes about him (which was true but he didn’t need to know that). In fifth grade, after your mom died, drew sat next to you at lunch, displaying the perfect lunch her mother had made. sandwiches were cut into adorable shapes, homemade cookies, brownies with sprinkles; it had been a treasure trove of kiddie culinary masterpieces

to this day everyone thought drew was an angel, but you knew. you knew all the awful things she’s done

you turned your attention to the front of your room where your teacher began collecting last nights homework. you passed your papers forward and began talking about literary things. you took glances around your eyes until they stopped on a boy you went out with a few weeks ago. he gave you a chin nod from his desk, you returned a smile

he was nice but the relationship wasn’t it. this is how most of your relationships went though. you would see a cute guy, daydream about him, think he’s your soulmate, then you got the ick

annabeth always said you were browsing not buying. she ended up being right- as always. this messed up your prom potential. you wanted to go with someone who would make your breath catch and heart flutter, but who was left in the school that you haven’t considered?

technically you had a prom date- you were going with annabeth. the problem was that going to prom with your best friend felt like a fail. you knew you’d have a good time. but prom was about poster/board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you like in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball

andrew mccarthy and molly ringwald pretty in pink sort of shit

My phone buzzed, snapping you from your trance

annabeth: I have BIG tea.

you looked over at her, but she appeared to be listening to the teacher you glanced at her before responding: spill it

annabeth: FYI I got it via text from kate.

you: so it might not be true. Got it.

the bell rang, so you grabbed my stuff and shoved it into my bag. annabeth and you started walking toward your lockers, and she said, “before I tell you, you have to promise you’re not going to get all worked up before you hear everything”

“oh my god, what’s going on?”

you turned down the west hall and before you had the chance to look at her, you saw him walking towards you

jason grace?

“aaaand there’s my tea” annabeth said, but you weren’t listening

jason had lived down the street when you were little. you’d loved him as far back as you could remember. he’d always been next-level amazing, smart, sophisticated- totally dreamy

jaosn came over and wrapped me in a hug, and you let my hands slide around his shoulders. your stomach went wild as you felt his fingers on your back

oh. my. god.

you was dressed for it; he was beautiful. could this moment be more perfect? you made eye contact with annabeth, who was slowly shaking her head, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered

jason was back!

@fratbrochrisgf @maybxlle @lastolympus @lara20aral

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #pjo hoo toa #pjo spoilers #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jakson #percy jackson x reader

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notalittleatall · 8 months ago

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Regents power is really neat. He got it from his upbeinging under heartbreaker, which left him traumatised and permanently emotionally damaged. His power lets him reclaim what he’s lost, at least partially. When he controls a person he can feel emotions at full force by taking them from others. He gets to feel joy (not just satisfaction but actual genuine joy), reducing the effect his childhood trauma has on his life, and in the process he traumatises another person horrifically. If he chose he could live almost like a vampire, duplicating his trauma and passes it to others in exchange for temporary relief from his own. If he lived like his father, he could experience life with about 75% the intensity normal people do, rather than the 5% that is his baseline. He could never fully recover what his dad took away from him, but it would help. The other option is he just takes his beating in silence. He accepted the trauma that was given to him and lives with it. He lived the first way while he lived with heartbreaker, but he stopped specifically due to spite. He despises his father with intensity more than anything else he feels, so he chooses to not be like him out of spite. This is essentially where he’s at at the beginning of Worm.

The other thing his power gives him is empathy. By default he’s a sociopath. He’s not completely devoid of empathy but it’s at about the 5% intensity the rest of his feelings are at. But using his power he can experience the purest form of empathy, by literally stepping into another persons shoes and feeling what they feel. He can fully understand a person but the process is destructive. He needs to grossly violate their autonomy and leave them both traumatised and hating him. By using his power he can recover everything he lost and everything Heartbreaker took from him, but he needs to continue the cycle of abuse to do it. It also doesn’t help that he can only fully relate to people who hate him. Until Aisha.

Aisha is the exception to both the rules above. Through her Alec can experience joy without traumatising anyone or continuing the cycle of abuse his dad started. He can empathise with another person without permanently destroying the relationship between them. He forms a unique bond with her, as in literally unique. It is physically impossible for a regular person to empathise with a person like Alec can with Aisha. It’s like that one reddit post about a guy who formed an emotional bond with his girlfriend strong enough that he said he could feel her periods except not fake. Alec can literally feel what Aisha feels. I think that at some point in Worm in the background it came to be that Alec absolutely loves her in a platonic romantic ish way that he is in no way equipped to understand. I always thought it was funny that Alec, introduced as the apathetic sociopath, died in such an objectively noble way. He sacrificed his life on purpose in order to save his best friend/crush from a giant monster. But the thing is Alec wasn’t a sociopath towards Aisha. He could empathise with her 100%. She trusted him enough to let him control her and let him actually recover from his upbringing in a way that wasn’t completely evil. Poor little puppet boy finally grew a human heart, and the moment he shows it beyond a doubt he gets obliterated. It might have been the best outcome. I don’t think he could’ve recovered if Aisha had died there.

#regent #alec vasil #wormblr #worm web serial

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kikyoupdates · 3 months ago

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Goddess Wink ⭑˚💘⭑ 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

Ever since your Quirk first manifested, you’ve been the apple of everyone’s eye. With the goal of becoming a hero, you enroll to U.A. and soon find yourself drawing the attention of many. Will you form genuine connections with others, or is this all just your power's will?

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The morning of the Sports Festival, your class was gathered in the waiting room, just minutes from entering the stadium.

Your chest was tight with anticipation. Your classmates were reacting in different ways—some of them were gathered around the tables, trying to chat and psyche each other up; others were quieter and more withdrawn, and then there were those whose anxiety and nerves were clear as day. The freckled boy fit into the latter category.

You smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay to be nervous, Izuku-kun.”

“N-N-Nervous is an understatement!” he squeaked, placing a palm over his chest and trying to calm his breathing. “Even though I knew this day was coming, there’s just no way I could’ve fully prepared myself…!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay. It’ll probably be a little overwhelming at the beginning, but once we get going you’ll be so focused on the task at hand that you’ll have forgotten all about the crowd.”

“I-I sure hope so…”

You gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Izuku blushed, and for a moment, it looked like he’d forgotten his pre-stage jitters. You spotted Katsuki sitting at one of the tables and smiled at him. His eyes met yours, briefly, and then they fell to the hand resting on Izuku’s shoulder and immediately narrowed. He looked away without acknowledging you, which you’d pretty much expected.

“Midoriya.”

During your little pep-talk, one of your other classmates had walked up to you. Todoroki Shouto. You’d never really talked to him before, and what you knew about his Quirk you’d only heard from others, but he was one of the strongest in the class.

“Yes?” Izuku blinked. “What is it, Todoroki-kun?”

“Looking at it objectively, I think I’m above you in terms of practical strength.”

“What? Ah, um—”

“You’ve managed to get All Might’s eyes on you,” Shouto continued. “While it’s not in my place to pry into that, I wanted to make one thing clear. I’m going to beat you.”

It was a strange situation. Shouto hardly ever spoke to anyone, at least not from what you’d witnessed over the past two weeks, so to see him stroll right up to Izuku and declare war was surprising to say the least. It was also a bit rude. Sure, it was fine to have confidence in his strength, but to tell Izuku that he was above him?

“This might be a little unnecessary,” you spoke up, lightly pulling Shouto back by the sleeve of his training jacket. “We’re all feeling pretty nervous, Izuku-kun included. I know we’re technically rivals as soon as we step out there, but we may as well try to keep things civil, right?”

Shouto looked back at you over his shoulder. It was your first time being so close to him, and you’d never realized just how cold his eyes truly were.

“I didn’t come here to make friends,” he glared, pushing your hand away.

You felt your temples throb. A small part of you was tempted to charm him right on the spot and make him apologize to both Izuku and yourself, but then there’d have been no point in you hiding your Quirk this long.

“It’s fine, [Name]-chan.” Izuku clenched his fists together. “I definitely do think you’re stronger than me, Todoroki-kun. I mean, the vast majority of people are probably no match for you, but still… everyone—even kids from the other department are going at this with all their might. I… I can’t afford to let myself fall behind the rest.” He furrowed his brows, eyes bright and resolute. “That’s why I’m going to do my best, too!”

Shouto narrowed his eyes. “I see.” He turned and walked away, leaving a crowd of wide-eyed students in his wake. The signal to enter the stadium had begun to go off. There wasn’t anything left to say, or any time to do so, but you couldn’t help but smile at your friend.

“You’re really cool, Izuku-kun.”

His lips pressed into a wobbly smile, and then it was time.

The second you entered the stadium, you were surrounded by the cheers of countless spectators, spread out as far as the eye could see. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that these people were all here to see students like you compete. You were blinded momentarily by the spotlight that was seemingly affixed to you and your class, but you inhaled deeply and smiled. It was okay. You were used to being the center of attention, whether you wanted to or not. There may have been countless people watching right now, but just like you’d told Izuku, it would hardly make a difference once you got down to the competition.

“Wow, there’s so many people!” Kirishima exclaimed. “I’m kind of getting nervous now… what about you, [Name]?”

“I think I’ll be alright. It’s definitely exciting, though.”

It was clear that a lot of emphasis was being placed on your class, having encountered the villains back at USJ and made it out. You hadn’t even been there, so you felt a little guilty piggy-backing off all the fame. The other classes didn’t seem all that happy about Class 1-A getting all the attention. You caught a good deal of them muttering and glaring your way as you all lined up in front of the podium.

“Now, now, everyone settle down!” One of the teachers and pro heroes at U.A, Midnight, was the one officiating the festival, it appeared. She unfurled her whip and looked down at the crowd of students. “First, let’s have a word from this year’s student representative! Bakugou Katsuki of 1-A!”

Oh?

You hadn’t been expecting for your representative to be the hotheaded blonde, of all people. Then again, he had placed first on the entrance exam. You watched as he strode up to the stage, hands buried in his pockets, not looking the slightest bit fazed or nervous. His confidence was definitely something, you’d give him that.

“Sensei,” he spoke, addressing the crowd before him. He paused for a moment. “I’m going to place first.”

“Oh man!” Kirishima wailed. “I knew he was gonna pull something like that!”

As expected, the students went crazy, heckling him and yelling out long strings of insults. Of course, Katsuki didn’t stop there, declaring that he would use them all as his “stepping stones” on his way to victory. When he came down from the stage, his expression was just as solemn as before. You looked over and smiled as he passed you by.

“Very bold. Though I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“Doesn’t make a difference as long as I take first, does it?”

“You have a point there.”

By now, you were itching to get started. It didn’t matter if Katsuki had gone ahead and made you a bunch of enemies—it was every man for himself anyways. You were finally about to get the chance to put your powers to the test. You’d been waiting years to use them on something big like this.

“An obstacle race…?” Izuku frowned.

That’s what the screen overhead was currently displaying. The first round would apparently be a race between all eleven classes, a near 4-kilometer course around the stadium. As long as you remained within the course, anything was fair game.

I hope Mikael’s watching me right now.

You took your position at the starting gate, flashing Izuku one last smile. Everyone was crowding and trying to get as close to the front as possible. You could already tell that the second that signal went off—

“STAAAART!”

—you would all be going elbow-to-elbow to break through.

“Oh, that’s cold!” you cried out.

A chill had broken through the air, and there at the front of the crowd was none other than Shouto, rushing ahead and leaving frozen students in his tracks. You were suddenly glad that you hadn’t been so far up to start.

“It’ll be bad if I get frozen here.” You hurriedly glanced to your side, and practically leaped onto a few nearby male students. You pressed up against them, eyes glowing pink, and mumbled out. “Carry me through so that the ice doesn’t get to me, okay?”

Your powers were quick to take effect, and they nodded their heads without sparing a moment, letting you ride their shoulders and racing forward while avoiding the patches of ice. Shouto was definitely strong, being able to generate so much ice so fast, not to mention how quick he’d been to take advantage of the situation. You would need to conserve your energy, though. If you charmed too many people too early on, you’d be useless before long.

“Hm? Isn’t that… Shinsou-kun?”

Lo and behold, you weren’t the only one who was apparently making use of others to navigate the icy terrain. The indigo-haired boy was also riding on the shoulders of other students. By their vacant expressions, they definitely weren’t helping him consciously. Did he have a Quirk similar to your own? Was he also a descendant of Aphrodite? It was highly unlikely, but not entirely impossible.

No time for that right now. Shouto was still heading the crowd, and a cluster of giant robots had gathered before him. For a second you were actually worried he might have some trouble, but he crouched down and sent a flurry of ice that froze them whole. He made it look like it was nothing, and the way they’d been frozen had the metallic hunks tumbling forward and crashing down. In just a matter of seconds, he’d placed even more distance between himself and the rest of the students. He was cold, calculating, and unforgiving. More gigantic robots had collected and taken the others’ place.

I don’t have any way of fighting them myself.

You hopped off the students carrying you, and they wobbled on their feet before falling hazily to the ground. Katsuki was the second closest to the front, and he was unleashing explosion after explosion and veering straight towards the robots. You wondered how even he would manage to face them all on head-first, but he changed his trajectory at the very last second and vaulted over their heads instead.

“Oh! In that case…”

You ran forward as quickly as you could. Tokoyami and Sero from your class were looking like they were about to tackle the robots themselves. You’d made sure to memorize what each one of your classmates’ Quirks was. Right now, you could make full use of that.

“Sero-kun!” you cried out, jumping onto him piggy-back style before he could unfurl a line of tape. “Carry me over top,” you smiled. “Please?”

His face went crimson and his eyes glazed over. “Y-Yes.”

You got over with ease, and you made sure to put enough distance between the two of you before undoing the effects of your Quirk. If the output was high enough, you probably could’ve made him faint like the other students from earlier, but you really needed to pace yourself. This was only the first stage, and you had no idea how many other people you’d be needing to rely on. You glanced around as you ran, taking in your surroundings. You didn’t see Izuku anywhere. Was he still stuck behind? Ah, dammit. You were getting distracted again.

“What’s the point in holding back? If you wanted to, everyone on this course would bend to your will.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who was that?” There’d been a voice in your head just now, but it wasn’t a voice you recognized. For some reason, your temples had begun to throb. Your body felt a bit weird, too. Mikael, Freja, Rui… everyone back home. They were definitely watching right now. You weren’t about to let them down.

Pink flickered in and out of your irises. You pressed your lips together, a wry smile forming.

“If there was ever a time to have people kneel before me, it’s definitely now.”

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

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thechildofshadows · 3 months ago

Text

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

masterlist · ao3

Toby Hawthorne x Hannah Rooney, Toby Hawthorne & Avery Grambs (father-daughter platonic) - 2.4k

So I did end up pushing this fic back, but it's only been .. a lot of days. I'm well aware it's a Tuesday, but honestly who cares. I'm dying for the Same Backward as Forward to come out, because I desperately need to know how Toby felt when he held Avery for the first time. But I guess we'll js fanfic our way out. I put a link to this story on Ao3 if you're into that. The Vault just showed back up, which means this place will stop being empty. YAY. This fic stars our favorite father-daughter pair throughout the couple of years we see Avery in TIG. Therefore, in this fic, Hannah (Sarah) isn't alive. So back out anytime, this is HEAVY ON ANGST. HEAVY. SO DAMN HEAVY. There's a few time skips, but that's when we canonically see Toby, so it's fine, just read THL, TFG, or GU if you miss him. TRIGGER WARNING - Eve (that asshole) shows up for a bit. If you're on dark mode, pls switch it rq, I'm sorry this blue is so painful. I'm on dark mode, too, but apparently light mode is more common. The rest of the fic is normal colored soo.... Read and have fun!

Hannah ... the Same Backward as Forward ... it's been a while. About 18 years.

I should've visited you earlier, I just couldn't.

If you were here, you would've told me to not avoid it.

Well, I stopped avoiding it.

Toby kept an eye on everyone: the Hawthornes, Jackson Currie, and even the Laughlins.

So of course he kept an eye on Hannah.

Sarah. He reminded himself. She’s Sarah now.

Toby didn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to refer to her otherwise, in fear of compromising her identity.

And then he started seeing medical documents.

For her.

It all happened so quickly, he couldn’t even say goodbye.

Cancer? The Hannah Rooney, his Hannah Rooney, so bold and brilliant and brave, dead because of cancer?

To the rest of the world, it was just another day, and yet, Toby felt his heart crack.

That was how he found himself in the park near New Castle the day after she died.

Hannah had left the earth, but she had left behind the one gift Toby had managed to give her.

And Toby needed to make sure that she was okay.

Well, I didn't avoid one thing. I finally did it. A while ago actually.

I me your daughter.

Toby felt a crowd surrounding him, but he kept his eyes firmly shut, until he felt a gentle touch to his shoulder.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light-

And he blinked again.

“Can you play chess?” A familiar voice surrounded him, and he could’ve almost cried, because she sounded like a younger Hannah.

Avery.

She played just like Hannah as well. Toby’s head hurt. She had been buried the day before, and yet it was like she had never left.

“Checkmate.” He trapped Avery’s king with a bishop.

Her eyes widened, and Toby almost laughed. She probably never lost.

“Who are you?”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Win tomorrow, and then you’ll find out.”

Avery’s eyes lit up. “Alright, old man. Thanks for the game.” She shook his hand, and he watched as she left.

We played chess together three times a week for almost a year, Hannah.

She's a brilliant chess player, she plays better than you. She plays better than me.

She's incredible, so incredible.

But I wasn't the only one who thought that.

From an objective viewpoint, and even a biased one, Avery was definitely one of the best chess players Toby had ever met. He had only ever been beaten by his father, and on occasion, Hannah.

But Avery had won so many times, and his heart filled with joy each time.

Though it quickly soured when she insisted on wasting money for his breakfast.

Generous. And definitely much less pissed about it than Hannah.

But one day, she didn’t show up to play, or the next.

Toby was suspicious, but tried to convince himself her sister Libby had finally put a stop to playing chess with random strangers thing.

He went to Hannah’s old diner, where he knew Avery worked after she died.

The manager had tried to kick him out, but he surprised her by pulling out a wad of old bills, enough for a meal and tip with money to spare.

“Tobias Hawthorne's death shocked the world earlier this month-“

Toby turned to the TV. He knew his father had died, but he wasn’t aware any recent news had come out regarding it.

“Mr. Hawthorne was a revolutionary name in oil, and he is one of the richest men to have graced this planet, with over 46.2 billion dollars to his name. His will was read earlier this week, and his family released a press statement today.” A picture of the Hawthorne family before Tobias’ death was shown on screen.

Toby had left his old life behind, but he still kept tabs on Skye and Zara. He harbored (very little, but just enough) love towards his siblings; they had helped him live a happy life, and he wished they were all equal in opportunity, for he might have stayed longer.

He had no other reason to watch; his father was dead, and hadn’t found him before his death, and his mother had died long before. If Toby was in the will, he would’ve been found by now, and if he hadn’t been found, the will likely would’ve been void.

“Tobias Hawthorne shocked the world when he left all of his wealth to who the public has given the moniker ‘The Hawthorne Heiress.’”

Toby raised an eyebrow. He had expected it to be split equally among the Hawthornes, or for Tobias to have had some sort of elaborate formula determining the division. Or even to go majorly to one Hawthorne specifically.

Toby didn’t remember any female grandchildren, and a quick assessment of the photo proved him right; all of Skye’s sons would’ve been heirs.

Bear with me, Hannah. I'm so, so sorry this had to happen.

I didn't want it, and neither did you, but does my father care? Does he listen?

Unless …

Toby felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Tobias Hawthorne I was capable of everything and anything, and he wouldn’t have put it past his father to have found Avery’s birth certificate.

With my original signature.

Or had it been before that? Had he put a satellite on the lighthouse, found Hannah?

“We’re fortunate enough to have her on today as a guest,” the newscaster continued. “Please welcome the Hawthorne Heiress, Avery Kylie Grambs!”

Toby grimaced and he watched, as Avery, with different hair and makeup, but undeniably Avery, showed up on the screen.

Something inside him shattered, and he felt himself fade away in pain. He had promised Hannah that his distance would keep the Hawthorne’s away from them, and yet, here he was, watching the consequences as he failed again.

He sat back numbly, and called a waiter over, asking for a drink.

Whiskey in hand, he watched the interview.

O Hannah, My Hannah, the Same Backward as Forward, how I have failed you.

I’m so sorry.

My father chose her to inherit his fortune.

I shouldn't have signed her birth certificate, but I did.

Maybe this happened because I signed it. Maybe that's why he went for her. I should've stayed.

I would've fought against it.

She's been through too much. She's gotten kidnapped, almost blown up, placed in too many dangerous situations.

I'm a Hawthorne. I like danger. I don't like my daughter being put in danger.

She's my daughter. It's what you wanted for her and me.

I wish I hadn't been so gallant that day. I wish I hadn't been away for her whole life.

A lot could happen in a year.

Within a year, Toby had gotten addicted to drugs, set an island on fire, killed two people, gotten barbecued, gotten off drugs, gotten back on drugs, gotten un-barbecued, back off drugs, fallen in love and run away once more.

Within a year, Avery had gone from nobody to the richest teenager in the world, gotten put in a coma, kidnapped, watched a man get murdered, and out-maneuvered William Blake. And also fallen in love. (Not necessarily in that order.)

That makes us very similar, I suppose. And yet so different.

Toby had delivered Avery. He had given her her name, and signed her birth certificate. But she wasn’t his biologically.

He hadn’t seen Hannah for over three years when she’d gotten pregnant. And he kept avoiding her afterward. It was pure chance that brought him to the apartment that day, and it resulted in him helping her bless the world with a beautiful baby girl.

But he hadn’t even known Eve existed until she was almost fully grown. Remorse had engulfed him when he found out, and he made an attempt to reach out- desperate to not repeat past mistakes.

Look where that got you.

Eve was a manipulative, cruel girl, but she was his daughter, his flesh and blood. He had 50% of the blame for her existence, and despite all of her actions, he had a little shred of love in his heart for her, and it prevented him from trying to set the whole place on fire.

By an incredibly small margin.

Vincent Blake’s health began deteriorating, and his condition began getting worse and worse to the point where he couldn’t move for days.

Toby watched as Eve’s panic rose enough to send Blake to a hospital, and she grew more stressed as she began taking on the duties of money and society.

“Help me, you useless old man!” she had yelled. “You’re my father, and you’re stuck in this house!”

Toby had never been in greater pain in his life, but he forced himself up, lit a cigarette, and began filing taxes at an absurdly slow pace, fighting the urge to set the papers on fire.

He’d dug his own grave long ago, and now he was forcing himself to lay in it.

But his punishment was for him and him only.

So when he saw Eve repeatedly dial Grayson, and leave the house with Slater, he took note.

After she had been gone for three days, he picked up his phone and dialed.

Nothing I touch ever comes out well.

Look at Eve. She's part-me, and I'm not proud of what she's done.

Look at Avery. She got into this mess because of me, and she's been near gunshots, bombs, the paparazzi...

Look at you. You're ... not here anymore.

Avery’s phone rarely ever rang; only a few people had her number, and she lived with almost every single one of them.

Jameson gave her her phone. “Unknown number, and three missed calls.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you know this number?”

He shook his head. “Are you going to pick up?”

“Alisa would say no … so-“

She picked up.

“Go for Avery Grambs.”

“Oh, you horrible girl.” Toby’s voice cracked slightly with emotion.

Avery almost dropped the phone. “Toby?” She saw Jameson’s eyebrows fly into his hair, and he left the room, giving her a little bit of privacy.

“I am he, nice of you to notice.”

She could’ve cried, and she could tell that he wanted to as well. “I’m doing as good as I can be, how about you?” she asked, answering his earlier question.

“As well as I can be, given the whole … situation.”

Avery clutched the phone. “What situation? Do you need help? Are you in danger?”

“I’m always in danger, I’m supposed to be dead as of twenty years ago.”

“Toby.” When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “Toby. Harry!”

That garnered a reaction. “Your mother gave me that name, did you know that?”

“What?”

“She didn’t want anything to do with Hawthornes and my amnesiac self didn’t know my own name. She called me Harry, I called her Hannah, and now she’s Sarah, and I’m Toby again. Life is funny sometimes.”

Jameson had left the room earlier, and she was wishing he didn’t; it sounded like Hawthorne code, and Avery was not privy to this one. “Please tell me you’re not dying.”

“Horrible girl.” Avery’s heart beamed with the sentiment. “I’m fine, and so is a certain Blake, though a certain Hawthorne may not be.”

Avery’s happy mood soured. “Jameson?”

“Grayson.”

Avery let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in- and then she processed the statement. “Grayson?” she asked incredulously. “Explain.”

And he did. “Eve called him a few times earlier this week, and she's trying to convince him to forgive her, I think."

Avery scoffed, and she heard Toby chuckle through the phone. "I don't think he's that susceptible to her anymore."

"Neither did I. But she left the house a few days ago, and -" she heard some keys clicking and some shuffling as Toby opened a computer. "-she came back a few hours ago, she's driving here right now. I think she went to visit Grayson."

Avery nodded, and then remembered he couldn't see her through the phone. "Grayson's in the house right now. He looked fine earlier, but I honestly cannot tell with him." Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered what Toby had said earlier. "Wait, is Eve okay?"

Toby sighed. "Eve is fine. Maybe a little stressed, but she's doing okay."

And if she's fine, and Toby isn't lying about being alive ... then ...

"What about Blake ... Vincent?"

"Right on the money, princess." Avery smiled. "He has some heart problems, and unfortunately for him and me, they aren't bad enough to send him to my father yet. He entered surgery yesterday- they performed a double bypass, and he's set to make a full recovery."

"Good for him." Avery gritted out. "Hopefully a woman led that surgery."

"The main surgeon and two assistants were women."

Avery laughed, but sobered when she heard Toby talk. "Eve is going to be back in five minutes."

"What would you rate the chances of her being okay with us talking?"

"From 1-10 ... a very risky gamble."

Avery could hear his proud smile through the phone, and she grinned. "Jameson would take that bet."

"Hmm." Both of them were avoiding the goodbye and they both knew it. "When it could put your life at risk? Check again."

She sighed. If Eve got angry enough, she would try to harm Avery, money or not. "Will I ever-"

"We run in the same circles, I would be more surprised if I don't see you in person."

She could've cried. She hated saying goodbye to Toby, especially when each time it came closer to being the last time she ever said it. She opened her mouth to say something and heard a door slam on his side of the call. her phone beeped, signifying the end of the call, and Avery stood for a few seconds, her phone still pressed to her ear.

I'll see you next time, Toby, she thought. And maybe then you'll stay.

I don't know if I'll see her again, Hannah. I could die before that. Knowing the Blakes, I will die before she does.

But I've seen you now and for that I'm eternally grateful.

There was a before you, but there was never really an 'after you.'

There was just ... you.

You started my story. You created a better person than I ever could have been.

I met you when all I knew was pain, and now that you're not here, I only know pain.

But you showed me love.

I owe you my life.

Toby knelt in front of the gravestone, and leaned his head against the cold stone.

Thank you, Hannah the Same Backward as Forward.

fin.

ENDING NOTES That was the saddest thing I've ever written. There is a reason I specialize in angst. Sad characters are somehow easier to write than happy ones. There will probably not be a single fic I write where someone isn't drinking or smoking. AHem not true Thanks for reading - please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw blackberries at me. Anything works. This fic is BLUE! Because blue is sad, and so is this fic. It's an eyesore in dark mode, so it should be good in light mode. in honor of the vault reopening, and GR having a Grayson POV, am I writing part two of Partners in Wine? (Genuinely I have no idea if I can even finish it, let's see) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, which is always open and taking new additions at all times of day.

Taglist: @inmyheaddd @alwaysthefangirl @talahsaudiobooklibrary @taylorswiftfostersitagain @aquamarinemoonlitreader31

#averyjameson #not really #my apologies #tobyhannah #HAHA YES #hannah rooney #toby hawthorne #avery grambs #jameson hawthorne #that's basically it #except for eve and mattias

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maxdibert · 1 month ago

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The only difference in the "what if Snape was a Gryffindor" scenario regarding James Potter is that he might've made an effort to befriend Severus first... to get close to Lily and find a better opportunity to sabotage their friendship covertly, rather than using blatant hostility and bullying. I think people really underestimate how manipulative and posturing James Potter could be underneath his lackadasical jock persona when he really put his mind to it. I don't believe he made friends with Lupin (who he secretly mistrusted enough to believe he'd rat them out to Voldemort) and Peter (who is characterized as an unpopular tagalong to their gang) for any reason other than Sirius liked them and they were both easy enablers to his bullshit, being socially disadvantaged themselves and unable/unwilling to hold him accountable.

No, I actually think the whole Remus and Peter thing is the other way around. I genuinely believe James liked them, or that they simply ended up in the same dormitory (which honestly makes the most sense to me), and James just wanted to form a group with his roommates. I mean, James is an only child, and after spending his whole life alone with his parents doting on him, suddenly he has the chance to live away from home and be surrounded by other boys his age.

I’m the number one James Potter hater, but I’m also an only child, and I remember that what I loved most as a kid was going to summer camp, specifically because we shared rooms and all slept together in the same space, that was the best thing ever to me. What might seem normal or even annoying to kids with siblings (because they’re already sick of having to share everything at home) is a totally new experience for only children, because growing up alone can be super boring, especially at that age.

So I genuinely think the idea of the four of them sticking together came from James, while it was Sirius who couldn’t care less about Remus and Peter in the beginning, and who honestly could’ve done without them altogether, as long as he had James. Sirius was in that group because of James, since the friendship he actually valued was the one he had with him, and he was much more indifferent to the other two. Case in point: the way he doesn’t treat Remus like a human being but rather as a means of entertainment.

James isn’t clever enough to come up with some elaborate plan to befriend Severus and then stab him in the back, don’t give him that much credit. He’s not that calculating. He would’ve acted like a jerk regardless, out of jealousy, because what he is is toxic as hell, and he treats women like objects. Or at least that’s how he treated Lily, with the whole blackmailing her into going out with him, or not being able to stand her friend simply because he was her friend.

#james potter #james potter headcanons #james fleamont potter #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans #peter pettigrew #severus snape #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs

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socksracoon10 · 7 months ago

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Hii!! This is in response to you asking what charles and carlos both did in the vegas gp!

I'm just gonna be completely fully objective here, bc rlly they didn't do anything wrong.

What happened was, a series of radio msgs between the team and Carlos occurred, in which they told him they were going to stay on Plan A (one pit-stop I think) instead of Plan C (2 pit-stops). Carlos argued back, saying they should be pitting and how he wanted to pit right now/ next lap. They said no.

At this point, Lewis is pressuring Carlos, and Charles is behind Lewis. I'm pretty sure george had already pit his second time and was still leading. Max and lando had also pitted a second time.

Anyway, the team finally listen and tell Carlos to come into the pits. However, they mess up and weren't ready and then tell him to stay out. Obv, Carlos is mad now. No matter, they pit him in the next lap.

4 laps later (or 2 I can't exactly recall) they pit Charles. The team tells Carlos not to pressure Charles. The team tells Charles that Carlos won't overtake him. You see where this is heading, don't you.

Charles comes out PARALLEL to Carlos (I think the team thought he'd come out ahead). Carlos' tyres ate 4 laps old. They're heated up. They're faster. Charles has absolutely new, dead, cold tyres. Carlos doesn't pressure him. He simply drives around.

The real dram started after the race when we all saw Charles' radio😭 Honestly, this is just a team problem not a driver problem.

Alot of ppl are saying they would've gotten better results if carlos let Charles ahead— they really wouldn't have. There was no way the ferraris would've caught up to those mercs.

ANYWAYY, there's my most objective views. Maybe, I'm.missing a few things but I'm negl the race was honestly so boring to ACTUALLY watch, like now there's drama but literally nothing was happening apart from this😭

Thank you for this! Cuz this was what I saw during the race and what I thought happened!

I find it frustrating that people are blaming Carlos when it wasn’t Carlos’s fault at all, and I also find it frustrating that people think Charles’s meltdown was wrong. I keep saying this in every post but its clear as day that this was a ferrari problem not the drivers!

Mercedes was on a different level this weekend, they sure as hell were going to be 1-2, no doubt about that. And I get that Charles was trying to get p2 in the driver standings, but… 3-4 for constructors is literally phenomenal? I don’t see how Carlos isn’t a team player when this was the best outcome that could’ve happened. Besides his did better in qualifying anyway.

And I hate people mentioning old races like oh well Carlos moaned about this once… forget the past races, only focus on this one. Ugh, ferrari screwing over their drivers isn’t new but god, as someone who loves Carlos and Charles, I really hate seeing the fans tear each other apart.

Once again, thank you for the explanation!

#cheeto answers #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc #ferrari #anti-ferrari

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lookingthroughmirrors · 11 months ago

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Opinion on how annabeth punches and pushes percy, the judo flip and percy being reduced to a himbo malewife in hoo (can't make his way out of a paper bag without annabeth).

(Please note most of knowledge comes from PJO and HOO as I have not read much of the later series, but I do know the main points and events that happened and have read certain pages *cough* judo flip *cough*

I’ll start with the first part, Annabeth punching Percy (which happens the first time long before HOO) and the infamous Judo flip, which is for some reason very controversial.

Most of the arguments I see are one of these few things.

1. Annabeth was worried and did it out love

2. They were raised as demigods (child soldiers) so it’s not the same/ they are used to violence therefore it excuses her actions

3. There is nothing wrong with her hitting because it wasn’t like

First off, all of these arguments and any other ones I’ve seen when it comes to this topic and defending Annabeth are bullshit. Why? Because there is no excuse to hitting a partner. Slapping someone’s shoulder while joking or something in a similar context is miles different to what was happening here. Annabeth hit Percy hard, and she did it with the intention of making it hurt. There is no excuse for that. Sure, they were raised as Demigods and violence has always been a large part of their lives, but then shouldn’t Percy also lash out and hit Annabeth if that’s the case? And shouldn’t that be fine too? You don’t hit someone out of worry or concern either, not hard enough for an army to believe you to be a threat. Annabeth has never been nice to Percy, she canonically say in TLT that she doesn’t care if he dies, only that she can go on the quest. And ok, maybe that could be written off as an immature twelve year old, if her actions in later books didn’t continually prove that she hadn’t changed or developed. I think another fundamental issue in her relationship with Percy is that she can never be wrong, Luke being the biggest example of this.

Percy, even with his history and past friendship with Luke, was able to look at things objectively to an extent. He says multiple times that Luke had a point. I honestly think if it had’ve just been Luke, if titans hadn’t of been involved, that Percy would’ve joined Luke. But that’s a whole other thing. I only bring it up because I think Luke particularly is the best example of Percy having far better judgement than Annabeth, who refuses to be wrong. Something that again is addressed within BOTL, when she challenges the Sphynx because of her pride, and is an asshole to Rachel because she doesn’t want to rely on another person and is jealous. She likes being the leader, she wants to be the person people rely on, but that has always comes naturally to Percy despite how much he himself hates it.

I personally would’ve far preferred Perachel to be canon than Percab*th. Percy is always stressed about Annabeth, about doing the wrong thing where with Rachel feels like he can be himself, not like he has to live up to some invisible standard he can’t ever hope to meet.

I also, as I’ve written about before when discussing Percab*th is that Annabeth is not an essential character to HOO, and that she could’ve easily been interchanged for someone more interesting and dynamically different. I think Percy was sidelined to try and give Annabeth more purpose in the story. I also think Percy is consistently put down, berated and underestimated. He literally has people thinking he’s a god when he first meets them, that isn’t someone who lacks power. I also think Annabeth has always been a little bit scared of Percy to certain degree. Or at least acutely aware that she would not be able to put a fight if Percy turned on her and he put in a tiny bit of effort.

I also Percy is never given enough or really any recognition of everything he did. That he took the prophecy so it wouldn’t go to Nico. That he turned down immortality, not for Annabeth, but because of a promise he made to Luke and his years long stance that nothing is worth living forever for. I think the nuance of Percy as a character, and his ability to connect with and understand characters like Like and Ethan is severely underdeveloped. He has never been blind to the gods faults, he didn’t do what he did in the name of the gods. He did it for the campers, for the demigods who’d carry out their parents burdens simply because they had the audacity to be born. Demigods doomed to die from the moment they’re born because of their parents, like him. I particularly think Percy is too far often used as a scapegoat for Nico’s issues and often either villainised or dumbed down into a himbo.

It’s ridiculous, since Percy has repeatedly shown himself to have both better judgment and better strategising skills than Annabeth. Percy is better than Annabeth, and he has far more power than she ever will.

Percy is such an amazing and nuanced character with so much room to explore different characteristics he’s shown at different times and he is too often sidelined to boost another character (most often Annabeth and Nico)

Overall I don’t really like Annabeth, and I’ve yet to hear a viable reason as to why what she did should be ok. And I truly believe HOO did a disservice to Percy by dumbing him down, and making him reliant on Annabeth.

I hope you like my answer! Thank you so much for asking I absolutely love getting questions and I also love a chat so please feel free to keep it coming!

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neuroticbookworm · 8 months ago

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Love in the Big City Part 2: Go Yeong and Umma

I was chased around, threatened, bullied and emotionally manipulated for months to write this piece, so @lurkingshan, this one's for you. *please release my family*

When I was reading the book, in Part 1, I remember being frustrated with Young as a narrator because of how standoffish he seemed with his descriptions of the people in his life (except Jaehee – Mi Ae in the show). I wanted to understand the emotional distance I felt in his words. And I got my answer in Part 2, where the relationship with his Umma was laid bare for us to see. The structure of this section was so smart, for it established the roots of his behavior in his childhood with Umma, and linked it to how it shaped the relationship he currently had with Hyung. Seeing it come to life on screen in the episodes this week was a treat to watch.

It becomes evident that Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma is complicated as soon as we see them interact on screen. She is steadfastly religious, someone who believes that miracles can cure things that humans sometimes deem incurable, like cancer. We could easily infer from what we’ve seen of Go Yeong so far that she would not approve of his life.

Before I get into how her opinions and actions affect and influence Go Yeong, I wanna fully break down some of the objective facts we know about her:

She divorced her husband after he stepped out of their marriage and didn’t even have the courage to tell her about his infidelity

She is a single mother

She is an entrepreneur (in fact, we see her working from her bed in the hospital in multiple scenes)

She is religious and believes in the power of God

She is proud of her son

She loves her son

The last two points come with the biggest asterisks, because if she loves and feels pride for her son, how could she make him feel so alone? And now I shall try to explore this woman’s psyche to the best of my abilities, with a little bit of help from my personal experiences and therapy sessions I’ve paid money for over the years.

When we try to picture a homophobic parent, the image that our brain usually conjures up is often one-dimensional. (Note: This is NOT AN EXCUSE. I’m not trying to justify her actions. I am simply trying to understand why she did the things she did, by placing the context of the events of her life around them.) It is easier to process our emotions re: bad parents who hurt their children when we view their actions as simple. “They could’ve chosen not to do it and yet they did, so I hate them” is the conclusion that is the easiest to arrive at. That doesn’t make it untrue, but oftentimes, it is not the whole truth. Life is rarely, if ever, that simple, and our parents can truly love us while also rejecting fundamental parts of who we are, and never reconcile the two.

We see in the show the circumstances under which Yeom Eun Suk (Umma) finds out about her husband’s affair. She and little Go Yeong observe him from the sidelines, hidden, and see him smile like he had never done in all the time he had spent with them. We see Eun Suk feeling crushed by the implication that whatever love and happiness she thought she had had in her life with her husband was all potentially a farce. The fact that she chose to separate from him implies a couple of things: 1. She had strength and resourcefulness to provide for her son as a single mother in a restrictive patriarchal society like South Korea, and 2. She understood that staying in the unhappy marriage would only make her bitter and would affect her son more negatively than him growing up with a single parent.

She was brave enough to make those choices, and yet was still bound by her sense of propriety molded by society, and her faith. I’ve had a dynamic relationship with faith throughout my life, but I understood pretty quickly that questioning one’s faith is a particularly painful experience. Faith is supposed to be the solace one could turn to during trying times. When one is forced by circumstance to question their faith, it leaves them unmoored on the inside and further isolated on the outside. Eun Suk was already isolated to a certain degree by her divorce and her single motherhood. From what we learned in the book, there’s a history of cancer diagnoses in her family, so I would posit that she had been in Go Yeong’s shoes before, caring for her terminally ill parents in the past. Which is additional trauma from caregiving in her young adulthood that would’ve shaped her life. So I understand Eun Suk not questioning her faith when it was shaken.

She rebuilt her life and community by pursuing her faith—attending church, making friends who shared those values, and idolizing the Christian heteronormative lifestyle even after it failed her. She followed the rules dictated by her faith and community with utmost devotion, including building an entire business around heteronormative romance, in part because she had already transgressed by breaking up her own family and needed to prove she was not bucking that ideal or rejecting the church’s teachings with her choices. We see her take care of her appearance over and over when she is in the hospital after her first diagnosis and surgery, and it is yet another sign of her conformity and dedication to presenting a certain picture of her life. I understand why she would see her teenage son kissing a boy as a blemish on “a life deemed beautiful by God” and panic. I understand why she would think a psychiatric facility would help her son, and that it was her duty to try. (Note: once again, I am not justifying her actions, I am trying to understand them. Conversion therapy is deplorable and my heart goes out to everyone who has been subjected to it, including Go Yeong.) Eun Suk’s faith saved her by giving her purpose and community after her husband’s betrayal, but it also told her that her son, in his queerness, is fundamentally flawed. And like most people in this world, she chose not to rethink her entire life, and instead chose to believe that it is her duty to save her son from homosexuality and guide him to righteousness via the same path that saved her own life, ultimately traumatizing him. Hello, intergenerational trauma, my old friend!

@lurkingshan has already discussed the kdrama-fication of Part 2, with the increased intensity of Go Yeong’s romance with Hyung/Yeong Su. Expanding on that, I think the show’s depiction of Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma rounded out the sharp edges of Young’s cynical tone from the book. We see her enjoy spending time with him. We see her joke around with him. We see her read her child with uncanny precision that mothers seem to have when she asked him “Why are you sulking like a child?”, when he was, in fact, sulking like a child. We see her observe and deduce that her son is probably seeing someone, and that someone is likely a man. Which then leads to her asking “Must I meet them?” when Go Yeong suggests a meeting with Yeong Su in the park. She runs from direct confrontation of her son’s sexuality, and yet diligently copies Bible verses, hoping for a miracle.

Eun Suk sees her son’s queerness as her own failure, and Go Yeong, in turn, sees his righteous anger towards his Umma, as his. She is so proud of him that she saves newspaper clippings of his achievements, but she is also ashamed that she couldn’t “save” him. She loves him within the confines of her faith. It’s not enough for Go Yeong, but it’s the best she can do; their relationship remains at an impossible impasse.

Yeong Su’s presence in this section is interesting because in addition to his primary role of serving as the broody, tortured creative who swept Go Yeong up in a whirlwind romance, he also serves as a parallel to Umma’s traits. When Yeong Su exclaims that “someone like [Go Yeong] couldn’t even imagine [his struggles]”, it rang eerily close to Umma telling her son “Don’t try too hard. Everyone must go sometimes”. The expression of disdain is the same, but in Yeong Su it reads hollow, as a pretentious assumption, while with Umma it registers as tired disappointment that Go Yeong would’ve surely felt as heavy as a boulder.

After finishing the book, I found myself going back to a particular paragraph:

...[I] was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life. She just happened to be unlucky. In other words, the fact that our relationship had been so terrible was as natural as cancer or fungus or the rotation of our planet or sunspots. I knew this, but the feeling that she was the source of all my problems kept nagging at me. I kicked myself for thinking this about a dying person, someone who was only skin and bones at this point, but the thought refused to leave my mind.

It took me a long time to reach the acceptance Sang Young Park has put in words here. The fact that my trauma is an unfortunate byproduct of the life my parents had lived, and was not premeditated or fuelled by hate, was a hard and unfair pill to swallow. I want to grab Go Yeong and tell him that it is okay if he can’t ever forgive his Umma. Time will wash over his hurt and let him love her, even without the apology he deserves from his Umma. And I hope that, one day, he can learn to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his mother.

#love in the big city #litbc book club #kdrama #korean bl

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neiptune · 1 year ago

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a series of (un)fortunate drivers

cw: 1k wc, gender neutral reader, fake dating trope, roommate to lovers, they're both idiots (affectionate). sponsored by the ever generous @yellow-sword-lily who decided to trust my writing and contribute to the wonderful @ficsforgaza initiative!

“Does it hurt?”

Atsumu is met with a familiar, stubborn silence that prompts an exasperated sigh. You’re being awfully quiet for someone who’s chest is pressed to his back, close enough he can smell the shampoo that actually acts as shampoo (he learned that, apparently, a 3-in-1 body wash is indicative of not knowing how to take care of his own needs on approximately day two of living with you).

He knows you’re perfectly capable of not uttering a single word the entire way home, just as you know he’s keeping his pace slow to minimize your bouncing and reduce the discomfort to the best of his ability. It makes you want to strangle him.

“Blink once if it hurts” Atsumu turns to the side and his caramel gaze takes yours by surprise for just a second before you decide to resolutely focus on a specific spot on his shoulder.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know” he balances you better against him with a small hop and you swallow the petty comeback already dancing on the tip of your tongue.

Truth is, it does hurt. Your ankle is swollen, probably about to bruise, an annoying circumstance that could’ve been well avoided if not for a couple of drivers that worked against your luck to progressively fuck your evening back-to-back: a) Hinata convincing you that a pair of chunky sneakers would be an excellent investment, b) the decision to wear said inappropriately chunky sneakers, c) Atsumu ignoring how excessively flirty the woman at the bar was being (one can estimate the impressive size of his biceps without necessarily squeezing his arm multiple times), d) the spirit of an immature six year old that decided to suddenly possess you at the sight, causing you to make up a dumb excuse to storm out before Suna and everyone else could even get there to begin with.

The heated march was soon and quite harshly interrupted by your ankle turning in an awkward way, causing you to even more awkwardly tumble onto the goddamn sidewalk right as a bottle blond pro athlete was forced to drop everything (drinks, friends, excessively flirty woman) to chase you down the street.

You insisted you could’ve walked (not true) or called an uber (also not true, you forgot your phone on the kitchen island) but, with the utmost care and deaf to your objections, Atsumu collected the things scattered on the asphalt the same way confusing thoughts are dispersed around your brain still, checked your ankle with furrowed brows and sentenced you to a piggyback ride home.

He refuses to let you slip off his back as he kicks off his shoes, rolls his eyes when you scoff and makes his way to the couch by which he carefully bends down to gently place you against the throw pillows.

“Don’t” Atsumu swats your hand away when you attempt to lean forward “I got ya” he rolls your sage green linen pants all the way up to the knee and attentively unties your shoes. You suck in a sharp breath between your teeth when he removes the sneaker, warm hand supporting your leg by the calf. A fluffy pillow is placed on the coffee table and underneath your foot, an admonishment to hold still mumbled with affection as he disappears into the kitchen to rummage through your freezer.

“I can do it” you accept the ibuprofen but protest firmly when he sits on the table, ice pack in hand.

“I know ya can” Atsumu offers a smile “but let me”

Defeated, you hiss at the contact: the skin feels so tender even grazing it with a finger would hurt. He knows, he’s had his fair share of injuries throughout his career.

Atsumu is more observant than what people give him credit for. He knows exactly when everything changed, the night that shifted the precarious equilibrium of your roommate relationship. It wasn’t when he suggested you’d fake a relationship for a while, just to get his PR team to shut the fuck up and stop trying to pair him up with some unknown model just for the sake of it. Can’t, I already have a partner. You were happy to accomodate his request: some pics for social media, a few shots of intertwined fingers and steaming bowls of ramen. Always his treat. Atsumu promised he’d take over the cleaning activities you hated the most for two entire months in return. You would’ve been free from dusting, scrubbing the bathtub and washing dishes (he’d insisted on laundry too but you simply weren’t going to risk all your whites turning pink).

No, it was Suna’s birthday that changed everything. The night you both had a little too much of that fancy wine and ended up sharing a drunken kiss with you perched in his lap, eager fingers in his hair, kissing with little to non existent restraint. It felt so good, so right, he could only think he wanted to do it again, when sober. And now, after acting like that never even happened for an entire week, your little tantrum makes him think that perhaps you’d like to do it again too.

“I think we should stop, ‘Tsumu” you murmur, eyes kept low when he looks up from your ankle.

“What are we stoppin’?”

“The whole thing. Tell your team you’ll do what they want”

He cocks his head, seemingly imperturbable. ‘Samu would be the only one capable of sensing how fast his heart is actually beating. “Why would I do that?”

“Why would you not do that?” you finally meet his stoic gaze “let’s just stop now before anybody’s feelings get hurt, okay?”

“Ya think I’d do that?”

“I didn’t say…”

“What are you saying, then?” Atsumu leans forward to gently grab your jaw, forces you to look at him “all I’m hearing is you’re worried about yer feelings. Whatever we are going to do with mine, right?”

You jump a little at the unexpected words and he rolls his eyes. It’s just so typical of you to be all lost in your own head, too buried in futile concerns to notice just how unnecessary they are.

“Let me tell ya what I think we should actually do” Atsumu makes sure the ice pack stays in place or is at least balanced enough to stay on as he slides from the coffee table onto the couch “I think you should stop assuming I’d be interested in anyone who's not you” he offers a grin that suppresses your heated remonstrance before you have the chance to voice it “and I should take you out on a proper date. Maybe to one of those museums ya love so much. Blink once if you agree?”

He’s ridiculous. Maybe ‘Samu’s initial warning “it will rub off on ya” wasn’t such a senseless prediction after all, because you do blink. Slow, deliberate. And Atsumu smiles the most beautiful smile: it’s much better than the ones that win him magazine covers and sparkly photoshoots. This one’s all yours.

You lean forward first, the ice pack slips from your ankle to the floor.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #fics for gaza

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iuseatranslator · 11 days ago

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* I originally meant to write a reflection on Trevor, but somehow it turned into a reflection on Ian’s S8 story arc.

** But you know what? I really only watched Season 8 half-heartedly. So honestly, all of this might be totally off. lol. Just think of it as a whining and read it. 🤪

Let me talk about Trevor. This will probably be the first and last time I write about him. (Maybe there’ll be one or two more posts, but still, lol.)

I think Trevor can be summed up in just three ways.

1. He’s a “good person.”

2. But he’s not a “good character.”

3. And most importantly, he’s not a “good boyfriend for Ian.”

Sometimes (really, very rarely), people say things like, “Trevor and Ian should’ve been endgame,” because “Trevor is a good person and had a positive influence on Ian.”

But I think those people often confuse two separate ideas: being a good person, and being a good boyfriend for Ian. Those aren’t the same thing.

The reason I don’t think Trevor could’ve been a good boyfriend for Ian is simple: he only liked Ian’s “good” sides. He had a tendency to avoid or ignore Ian’s darker parts. A lot of people criticize Trevor over the “Monica incident” (which, yes, is one example of that tendency), but I want to talk about S8.

I’ll put it simply, and honestly, you all probably know this already. Trevor barely cared about Ian’s bipolar disorder. He noticed Ian was becoming manic but didn’t do much about it. As someone who claimed to love Ian, he should’ve had honest conversations with him, grounded him, and helped him find stability. But the most he did was ask if Ian had taken his meds and vented to Fiona about how hard it was to be with him.

(Oh right. And Trevor suggested that Ian cope with the grief of losing Monica by crying in the arms of a chubby guy—and Ian actually went along with it. So yeah, things were already getting... pretty weird. Whether or not they themselves thought it was a good idea, objectively speaking, it really was. Now, I don’t think Trevor was in the wrong here. In his own way, he was just introducing what he saw as the best coping mechanism to an ex-boyfriend who had once cheated on him. But still... yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it? It really is.)

He knew Ian had bipolar disorder. At some point, he clearly saw signs of mania, but instead of helping, he just slowly grew disappointed in Ian. Eventually, Ian blew up a car, and even then, Trevor wasn’t really worried about Ian’s well-being—he was worried about his charity being ruined. He told Ian to turn himself in and then completely left.

Of course, Trevor didn’t do anything wrong! If my partner did something that reckless and ruined my work, I’d probably react similarly. (Though, maybe I’d be more concerned if I already knew they were bipolar?)

Anyway, if your partner commits a crime, encouraging them to turn themselves in is the most ethical thing to do. That’s what makes Trevor a “good person.” But it’s also exactly why he couldn’t be a good boyfriend for Ian.

Ian inevitably needs emotional support—not physical, but mental.

As I said earlier, Trevor loved only the “good” sides of Ian. His looks, masculinity, sense of justice, gentleness, willingness to learn and grow... basically, the Ian we all know when he’s stable.

But what about the rest?

To be extreme, just on this point alone, Trevor might be worse than Caleb. (Though I get that opinions might vary here.)

To simplify even more. Ian has done plenty of reckless things in his life, but the only time he ended up in prison was while dating Trevor. Of course, that’s not Trevor’s fault!🤪 But as I said earlier, Ian needs care, and Trevor didn’t provide that. So yes, he may be a good person, but he couldn’t be a good boyfriend for Ian.

(Actually, maybe Trevor did take care of Ian as much as he could within his own limits. Considering how much he was involved in the Gallagher family affairs, that interpretation might seem reasonable. But when it comes to what Ian needed most critically, Trevor was almost completely unable to provide it. This, too, is connected to what I’ll talk about later.)

Even if they had stayed together, Trevor still wouldn’t have been able to handle the darker sides or mental health struggles of the person he loved. He already had too many people to care for including himself. That’s something people often miss,Trevor also needed emotional support like Ian. Just because he ran a charity doesn’t mean he was emotionally healthy and stable. Trevor carried a lot of emotional complexes about his identity. Even so, he tried to overcome them and worked to help others like himself. That’s why his partner—especially his romantic partner—needed to be someone who could support him unconditionally, no matter the situation. Even if Trevor himself didn’t realize it, that was the kind of person he truly needed. Not someone he had to take care of, but someone who would take care of him. That’s what he expected from Ian, and Ian knew that and tried to match it. But Ian couldn’t. He wanted to, but he just couldn’t. It was inevitable. And the same goes for Trevor in return.

Trevor is a “good person,” and Ian is someone who “wants to be a good person,” but they both have emotional vulnerabilities. Maybe not to the same degree, but I think Ian also only liked the good parts of Trevor. So Ian may have admired and liked Trevor, but I don’t think he ever felt intense love for him. People might disagree, but I personally think they had some fundamental similarities, and that’s exactly why they couldn’t last.

Honestly, if Caleb hadn’t cheated on Ian for such a ridiculous reason, Ian probably would’ve stayed with him longer than he did with Trevor. (Don’t get me wrong—I don’t even like Caleb. Seriously.)

Let’s talk a bit about Ian in S8. At the point when he had permanently lost both Monica and Mickey, it was painfully clear that his mental state would become deeply unstable. And Trevor… well, I think he ended up being a kind of emotional scapegoat for Ian at the time.

While Monica was dying, Ian was on a road trip with Mickey, planning to go to Mexico. But in the end, he didn’t even cross the border—he left Mickey behind and came back home alone. The guilt and longing Ian felt were layered twice over, if not more. And he desperately needed something that could help him withstand that emotional weight.

More than that, he needed proof that coming home had been the right thing to do. Proof that saying to Mickey, “This isn’t me anymore”. He needed to ease the guilt of turning his back on Monica and walking away without a proper goodbye. had been the right decision. Proof that he was now living a “normal and righteous” life. And conveniently, right nearby was someone who could serve as that proof a “good instrument.” yeah. Trevor.

What Ian needed was something—or someone—that could provide emotional stability and reaffirm his belief that this new path he’d chosen was the right one. And to me, that’s the heart of S8. Put differently, I think Ian didn’t truly love Trevor at that time—he used him. Or more precisely, he inflated whatever feelings he had left for Trevor (which were probably still there in some form) and lied to himself. That’s what I think led to the spiral—the mania, the cult behavior, the car explosion. It was his overwhelming need to believe he was right that turned into something destructive.

Anyway, you could say that Ian didn’t deserve to date Trevor. (Honestly, that sentence is kind of funny in itself. But at the same time, it’s not wrong.🫠) Trevor was a “good person,” but Ian simply couldn’t meet him where he was. He was barely keeping his head above water, just struggling to breathe. And Trevor had no idea that was the case. Because he had no idea at all, then yes—he probably would have suggested that chubby guy bar. yeah. definitely.🤪 It was the same when he looked at Ian’s relationships with Monica and with Mickey. He never really understood the depth of Ian’s feelings for them, and I don’t think he ever truly tried to. Trevor just doesn’t understand the depth of the darker emotions Ian feels. So he comes up with solutions based on what would seem “normal” to most people. (well, though I’m not sure a chubby guy bar is exactly normal, but still. Yeah.) And that’s why I believe Ian and Trevor’s relationship in Season 8 was flawed from the very beginning.

Looking back at S7, if Mickey (and maybe even Monica) hadn’t shown up, Ian and Trevor might’ve been able to continue their peaceful and gentle relationship for a little while longer. (That doesn’t mean they would’ve been endgame. I've already explained all the reasons why above.) But Mickey did show up, and the relationship got derailed. so I think the ending we saw in S8 was ultimately inevitable. In a situation where things were already broken, there was no real momentum for them to rebuild what they had. Why? Because they only loved the good parts of each other. The relationship they restarted in S8 was already built on Ian’s “dark side,” and that’s why it was never going to work.

p.s. what I wrote above isn’t just an interpretation limited to Ian’s story arc. I think the writers probably felt the same way. After completely breaking Ian and Mickey up, they seemed to believe that Ian needed a totally new turning point. They had to prove that separating Ian and Mickey was the right decision. (They had been trying to do that since S6, but failed every time.) So they brought Trevor back and tried one more time, but it didn’t really work. Personally, I think Ian’s downward spiral in Season 8 reflected the writers’ own thought process. They tried to make things work between Ian and Trevor again, they put in some effort, and even managed to create a few good scenes. But in the end, “it didn’t go well.” So, in S9, they had to bring Mickey back—again. And that’s what ended up giving S8 the meaning it holds now. Maybe the writers never intended for Ian’s new love interest—that is, the “new character introduced in the later seasons”—to be explored in depth in the first place. That might explain why none of Ian’s later partners ever truly confronted his darker side (like his bipolar disorder). I’m not sure. In S5, they poured so much emotional weight into Mickey as the one who embraces Ian despite his bipolar disorder, only to send him away abruptly in S6. Maybe that left them with a sense of narrative fatigue. It’s clear they still wanted to explore Ian’s bipolar arc, but perhaps they didn’t want to get new love interests too deeply involved. Maybe because the story would’ve become too deep, too complicated… So that’s possibly how the S8 storyline came to be. Honestly, even just looking at the ending of S8, it’s hard to understand Trevor’s return from an external, narrative-driven perspective. Was he really just a device to push Ian into becoming the so-called “gay Jesus”? If the writers truly wanted to prove that “Ian can be okay without Mickey,” wouldn’t it have made more sense to introduce a completely new love interest and let Ian start fresh? Like they eventually did with Tami, for example. Or if they were going to bring Trevor back, shouldn’t they have explored his relationship with Ian in more depth…? But they didn’t. So... I really don’t know!

#mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #trevor shameless #S8 doesn’t make much sense on its own #but S9 is what finally gave it some meaning.

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