#yes i am fishing for sympathy/attention

[earlgraytay]

I am just having the most morning. Including waiting on a horrible phone call from a medical provider, guilt from having to cut off someone who used to be dear to me, and vomit.

ridiculous quantities of vomit.

hugs would be appreciated.

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

thank you

kieran is a decent shot but is terrifying with a knife (people are not that different to fish). 110% he would win a 1v1 knife fight every time and thanks to army training he's pretty decent at disarming people in hand on hand combat. would take a knife to a gun fight and have a chance of winning

probably taller than 90% of the gang if he actually corrected his posture

his parents died when he was a proper baby only 8 or 9 and he pick-pocketed to survive along with a bunch of other urchins like the saint denis gang. he's still pretty good at it and is really good at being stealthy/light on his feet despite his stature (helpful for not getting noticed by the crueler VDLs)

he also became a pretty good liar and con artist as part of living on the street and getting out of trouble when caught (this is heavily inspired by how differently he treats gang members, happily tells karen he is a baby to get sympathy, people-pleasing 'whatever you say miss with mary-beth, needles arthur back a bit when they go fishing)

probably has a touch of the old imposter syndrome because he never really had the chance to figure out who he was he's just been focused on survival since since day 1. he loves horses because he doesn't have to worry about what mask he has to wear with them

he's frankly not sure how old he is on account of how young he was when his parents died. he enlisted for the army when he looked old enough, in reality he was probs only 17 and barely got in based on his facial hair, which he had never shaved a day in his life since it started growing (hc late 20s/early 30s in game)

he was in the infantry division. consistent food and routine after a decade of fighting for scraps and being spit on? he loved it. very upstanding, attentive, kept his uniform clean and sharp. was there years before he saw active combat. then he fucking hated it. refused to follow orders. was not dying over land. was not shooting at unarmed people. dishonorably discharged. would have deserted if they didn't.

looks like an absolute fucking baby without facial hair and would sooner bite someone than be clean shaven because he hates it

gets very irritable when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while. has picked cigarette butts of the ground for a quick hit. would have broken faster about six point cabin if they offered him a cigarette.

lying through his teeth about his time with the o'driscolls. he was probably with them closer to a year, and a little higher than bottom-rung. got to pick and choose what missions he went on, talk to colm directly, most knew his name ect. i cannot see him having the balls to argue with colm o'driscoll himself unless he had some level of protection/seniority within the gang esp given the circumstances of how he joined. he was trusted enough to ride off on his own without running off?

in saying that. he was definitely considering running off in colter. at no point does he try to fight arthur. no way he wasn't armed. just oh no i am being abducted this is v bad. don't give me food for weeks? still like you more than colm can i stay with you pls

AHHH!!! I READ THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BECAUSE I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY SEND IN THEIR HEADCANONS, THANK YOU THESE ARE WONDERFUL!

:D You explained these all beautifully and I feel like I couldn’t say much more, but I’ll try to “yes and…” everything you said because I feel it is worth exploring these ideas you proposed. Long HC ramble under the divider.

1) I don’t know much about 1800’s military training but I can see Kieran being a knife guy like you said. He has a custom knife in game (at the very least he has a custom pistol). Him being good with a knife makes me think of how he comes off as unarmed from a distance but harbors a wicked knife up close. I am sure he mainly uses his knife for cutting fishing line or whittling sticks in his free time. He used it for cutting up animals he hunted while with his past gang. That knife has gotten him through a lot, it’s practically an heirloom at this point; it kept him alive and is one of the few things he fully owns and kept from his youth.

2+3+4) lanky scary guy is stealthy!! Yes!! I would like to mention how no one in the VDL gang noticed Kieran wandering off and getting a gun belt from a corpse during the firefight in A Social Call Mission. He did all of that AND was swift enough to save Arthur. I agree that he was very young when his parents died. I more so think 11-13 in my HC but that’s just because I feel like the stables would rather kick out a tween/teen than a little kid. This blends into your 4th point about being a con artist. Kieran knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows that people see a scrawny little boy before they see him as a thief. Squirming and squabbling can be enough of a distraction to get away with things.

I don’t have a good explanation for how Kieran did this since he can’t leave camp, but while I was playing, I saw Kieran donated a jewel necklace to the camp funds (and not to brag on his behalf, but he donated WAY MORE $$ than the other members 🤭). Kieran still can pull his weight in pickpocketing, even in game. I imagine he does it without straying too far from camp by pretending he is sick or hungry and thirsty on the side of well traveled paths and getting close enough to strangers to swipe something. It’s subtle enough to not draw attention to camp, yet effective enough to be worth it in the long run.

5+6) I agree on imposter syndrome! One hc I have is that Kieran was raised an only child while traveling westward to California with his parents meaning he had no consistent kids his age to be with. Even in the military (where he SHOULD be surrounded by his peers) he never really connected in a genuine way. Being roughened up by being an outlaw after that just made it harder to emotionally connect since so much required not breaking down if a group member dies. It’s odd; Kieran is unwilling to be vulnerable, but he isn’t this stoic wall. Instead he has this decoy vulnerability?… he’d rather people see him as a weak guy if it gets him out of a physical hurt yet he won’t be vulnerable if it means running the risk of being emotionally hurt.

7) I know very little about 1800’s military (and my cursory research has been shallow thus far) but I imagine it was better than being homeless and orphaned! Food, shelter and routine, like you said. I imagine Kieran was an obedient and hard working kid; helped his family with horses, fishing and hunting. Pre-outlaw Kieran felt conflicted about killing people. I mean… he joined the army so he isn’t clueless that he had to kill, but killing on paper vs actually killing is very different, plus he was a puny teen without a fully developed brain when he enlisted.

Once Kieran became an outlaw, he had to make some sort of peace / find some silver lining to killing. You have to have morally dubious ways of coping with being an outlaw or else you go mad. One way was him (guiltily or not) finding some thrill in gunfights or knife fights. Made him feel good for once about being an easy to underestimate guy. He got to taunt, shout, and watch his enemies faces contort in pain and horror.

8) the facial hair stuff!! I agree that Kieran likely looks like an exhausted young adult under all the scruff. I imagine Kieran has put value into his unkempt looks. He does care for hygiene (source: he says it in cut audio) but he can’t bring himself to trim his facial or head hair because he feels it is the only thing making him a man. Like you said, imposter syndrome, he doesn’t feel like he’s an actual adult who has his life together. I’m sure Kieran has some out-dated ideas of what makes a man (out-dated by modern day standards). Stuff like being strong, a provider, hairy, deep voiced, etc. Kieran isn’t many of those things. Having a snaggly beard is his tiny grasp on meeting what he wishes he could be. I also think he hasn’t cut his hair that much because of a lack of salons while being an outlaw.

9) I honestly forget most of the characters in RDR2 smoke… but I agree! Growing up with a smoker as a parent who tried to quite cold turkey a few times, I know how hellish withdrawal is on a person. While in Colter, tied up, Kieran was the most bellicose because of withdrawals peaking (upon other things). I feel like some point between his parent’s dying and him joining the outlaws was when he took up smoking.

10+11) Kieran was DEFINITELY lying about how involved he was with the O’Drisc, agreed. I see him as being with them for likely 6 months to a year. Maaayyybe more but I feel like Kieran ran with his prior gang for most of his adult life. To me, Kieran is fibbing a half truth when he says he wasn’t close with Colm and he was merely a stable boy. He WAS that, but with being an obedient, hardworking chore boy, he was kept around long enough to make it up little by little till he was on missions out of camp collecting supplies or defending territory/camp. Kieran was always a pawn, never someone Colm actually cared for. Kieran was just the least-annoying gang goon Colm could bring into the mountains to watch the horses in the cold stables. The fact Kieran was even spotted by the VDL gang was bad luck.

I don’t know why he is riding out of the camp solo before Arthur catches him ;-; my best guess would be Kieran was going to meet up with other members but when a fight with the O’Drisc vs VDL broke out in camp, Kieran took it as his chance to get the fuck out of there.

On the topic of getting the fuck out, Kieran didn’t fight as much as he could when Arthur got him, I agree. When his life depends on it, he will fight like a cornered animal, all knife slashing and wild-eyed. Whether Kieran fights or goes limp and pleads pathetically depends on the situation. When Kieran fled from the O’Drisc camp firefight, he knew he wouldn’t last out there unless he got off the mountain. Being snatched and dragged to an enemy camp was better than dying of exposure. I mean… everything in his life sucks. Kieran gets no easy options. Sometimes he just has to go limp and be tied up and see where life brings him.

His relationship with Colm is interesting. I don’t think Colm cares very much about Kieran (keep in mind I don’t actually know Colm’s character well since I haven’t finished the game). From what Kieran describes of him, I feel it was all things Kieran observed or eavesdropped on while doing chores or sitting around the camp. Who knows tho! I am open to the idea that Kieran was of higher rank and indeed had more reasons to talk with Colm directly. I don’t know much about the O’Driscoll gang inner workings.

Ah!! Once again, thank you so much :) I love all your headcanons and it was a blast brainstorming about your ideas.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

One person asked you to and you said it was formatted automatically or something but you would try next time. Very just shrugging it off. Then you didn't try or the formatting didn't work on the next thing you posted. The context is people thought you were either bullshitting and the formatting excuse was a copout so you could keep clogging the tag, or you were telling the truth but just didn't care to check. That's why people didn't come to you. That's why people bitch on discord. They didn't see the point in speaking to you. That one person told you they had arthritis and your response was like who gives a fuck. You post a long post in the tags again.

The fact you had to go back and format all your fic could be construed as very telling. Maybe some people would accuse you of bullshitting. I've never heard of readmore being automatically applied. Long posts are not always cut off, but even then it's just courtesy to always manually apply readmore to long posts. Not every one does so as you know.

Maybe this is just a huge miscommunication thing. Whoever spoke to Murda was well intentioned but it was ill put. They should have spoken to you upfront even as it might have been a waste of time.

To the person worried about posting their writing, seriously, hold up a minute. When did it become about that. When did become about you, anon? Stop fishing for sympathy from a popular writer just to get attention. Nobody is bitching about fic where I am , it's about how it's presented in the tags. Nobody likes being confronted by a huge wall of text when browsing. We are only human and vent on discord. But we don't slag off the content of the fic. Because people don't use readmore we end up losing out on finding good writers and fic because the first impression is so so so bad.

Welcome, anon.

Long post, so readmore 🙃

First of all I do not "shrug off" the anons I get. If it sounded like that, it wasn't intentional.

And yes. 99% of the longer posts I see (me personally, in the app that I use on my samsung phone and iPad sometimes too) do have the app's "see more" button on longer posts.

I do, not joking in the slightest, forget. I forget half of the things I'm supposed to do in life because I have the worst memory ever and it bothers me in my daily life. At work, everywhere. (Not fishing for shit, just stating) and wtf I shouldn't even have to defend myself like this but here we are.

Also why would I clog tags?? I block people who's content I don't wanna see in tags or who spamtag. Wanna see my blocked tags and users? I'll post them for you.

"Maybe this is just a huge miscommunication thing." Please read rhe above statements.

I'm not adressing that anon further. It's not my place.

"Because the first impression is so so bad." Is one I can't wrap my head around. I scroll the tag casually and find cute fluff. I see angst and mayor character death, hell I've seen Dixon insest fics (Not hating, if the writing is good I applaud you for your works) so, where is the "bad first impression" coming from? My posts are not that frequent nor popular to be always at the top of the searches.

I'm running out of words.

[lemony-snickers]

I don’t think anyone here believes you to be pathetic. I certainly don’t leaving anon hate is pathetic. I imagine it was more of what you said that no one wanted to continue to perpetuate that hate and start a fight. I on the other hand will, I just didn’t see these until right now.

wherever that anon is now I find it absolutely disgusting to leave a comment like this on the page of someone you consider yourself to be a ‘fan’ of. You never know what people are going through and struggle with so really who the fuck are you to come in with your unfounded opinions?

I don’t know any creator that doesn’t struggle with their work and or self image in relation to that work—some are just better at hiding it than others. what do you mean promotion? Sharing here or on ao3 is promotion, and yes it clearly is a problem other writers are facing in which a work will receive 40likes and 2reblogs. Or 500 hits and 10comments. People don’t want to engage when they can read it and leave it, tiktok only reenforces that, so I don’t understand why you mention that here. How about you share some of the works your a “fan” of instead?? You’ve read the comments but have you left one? On lemony work or others?

That anon must not be a creator, as they clearly do not know how difficult it is to first find the time and drive to write and second find the courage to share those works.

Lemony do not listen to them no one who is a true fan here thinks this of you 💙

let me be clear about a few things:

no bashing or negativity aimed at an anon is ever necessary to still show support for a person who receives a less than ideal ask;

when i rb a "tell me honestly" ask game, i do not expect every response to be positive;

however, i also only rb those things when i know i am in an emotional space to take potential criticism.

so i was pretty fucking blindsided when i woke up on tuesday morning and the very first thing i saw was a long, fairly aggressively worded diatribe about how i am a "nagging girlfriend" fishing for attention in response to an ask game i had reblogged a whole week prior.

TW: talk of animal death in next paragraph.

and not that it's actually anyone's business, but it was particularly awful given that i spent monday night cradling my cat in my arms as he was euthanized after developing sudden & unexpected heart failure. so i wasn't in the headspace to deal with criticism at all. i could barely fucking get out of bed & was actually considering offering commissioned fics out of desperation to go toward the huge vet bill i had to suddenly pay out of pocket.

and then, to receive another anon ask insinuating that i sent the fucking thing to myself to garner... what? attention and sympathy? (lol if i wanted to do that i would've just talked about my dead cat, thanks!) really fucking cut deep. especially when not a soul voiced any support - publicly or privately - that that is not a thing i would do. because, true or not, the way my super cool nagging girlfriend brain works is to take that as confirmation that people agree:

(see anon # 1, i don't throw all of my insecure complaints onto this blog and here, anon # 2, a preview of what a mean ask i sent myself might actually sound like.)

i spent the whole of tuesday crying - at my desk, on the bus home from work, during my therapy session that afternoon, and long, long after. and maybe it's stupid to feel so attacked by meaningless shit on tumblr or lonely because of the lack of response in its wake, but goddamn, y'all. there are nicer ways to air your grievances with me than to be insulting. and if you think i'm the kind of person who would send a lengthy hurtful message to myself for fucking likes or kind asks or whatever (lol joke's on you, i guess), honestly, why are you even here?

tbh, i don't know why i'm here at this point. maybe another hibernation is overdue or maybe i should've stayed gone, idk. what i do know is i didn't login all day yesterday and it felt pretty great. because it just fucking hurt to watch countless folks like and rb all the fanart from my queue that day with nary a, "hey lem, saw those asks, hope you're doing all right" in the same span of time.

(i will acknowledge that one mutual sent a totally unrelated ask re: an opinion on food & drink to change topics which i answered privately because by that point in the day i was so fucking depressed the thought of trying to be fun & lighthearted made me physically ill & i was of the resolute opinion that not a single person would give a shit what i had to say about it anyway.)

i'm sorry to vent on your ask, anon. i probably shouldn't post this but who even cares at this point, lol. people will think what they will of me and i'm too exhausted to attempt a curation of something better or more well-adjusted or self-assured.

i hope you're having a good week, blue heart anon. for better or worse, i hope the anons who made me cry on tuesday are, too. but i'm down in The Pit now (which is what my therapist and i call my deep dark depression spirals) and idk when i'll claw my way back out.

hopefully soon. take care of yourselves in the meantime, yeah? <3

[izzy-b-hands]

Fish

Wanted cute Rizzy stuff, but also partially inspired by the legend on that one post who gave himself the nickname Fish in college, and then it got sad by the time I came back to this as a WIP weeks (EDIT 3/7/23, make that uhh a month or more lol) later so...yeah. Please heed the TW below. There is some cute and soft and sweet in here, but it's more bittersweet overall than I'd previously planned.

TW for emetophobia and the death of a child.

---

"Ed sent you?"

Izzy frowns. "Yes, Edward sent me. He said you needed an extra pair of hands, then spent about ten minutes joking about how I would be best because-"

"Izzy Hands," Roach finishes with a chuckle. "That is funny."

Izzy shrugs, but a smile almost makes its way to fruition.

"Great, I have four patients here in a two patient shack," Roach sighs. "Come on in."

Inside he has his two adult patients sharing the one cot, the colicky baby in the cradle, and the toddler-

Immediately throws up on Izzy's shoes.

"Hi," Izzy peers down to the toddler. "Bad night?"

Roach watches as the kid looks up, sniffles, and breaks into a wail.

His plan was to have Izzy keep an eye on the adults, but before he can say a word the toddler is scooped up and on Izzy's hip.

"I get it," Izzy sighs. "Feel any better?"

The kid smashes his face into Izzy's shoulder and whines. It's adorable and sad, considering how long the parents said the kid had been sick like that. Long enough to scare Roach and wonder how much he could actually do for him.

But for now, he's being comforted and that means just maybe he can finally get medicine down his throat.

"This is..." Roach frowns. "Fuck, they didn't tell me his name."

"What do they call you?" Izzy asks the kid, a hand rubbing his back. "Hm? Give us a name."

"Fish," the kid mutters.

"That..." Izzy hesitates, and Roach can tell he wants to say something about how that's probably not actually the kid's name.

"That's a nice name. Do you get to go out to the beach and see the crabs and fish?"

A nod as Fish lifts his head from Izzy's shoulder.

And vomits on him again.

"I am so sorry," Roach winces.

"Not the first time I've been covered in sick, mine or someone else's," Izzy sighs. "Won't be the last I'm sure. Just be grateful I don't sympathy puke like Ed."

"What?"

"He's never told you? He and Jack would get horribly sick after a week of drinking nothing but rum, and they set each other off every time they heard the other vomit," Izzy replies. "Then again..maybe don't tell him I told you that."

Roach nods. "Might lose another toe otherwise."

Izzy smirks, but there's fear in his eyes.

"Fish," Roach turns his attention to the toddler. "Can I give you something to make you feel better?"

"No."

"It'll help," Izzy coos. "Roach is a nice doctor, let him help you."

He's almost too much in shock to snag the bottle of unfortunately bitter medicine, as Izzy sits himself and Fish on a chair in the corner.

Fish wriggles not unlike a fish out of water, but Izzy keeps him on his lap.

"I know," he murmurs. "But once it's down, then you can lay down and sleep. I bet you're tired."

"NO!"

Izzy chuckles. "Yeah you are. But okay, what do you want to do after the medicine instead?"

That seems to take Fish by surprise. "...beach?"

"I bet your mum and dad would take you to walk on the beach after this," Izzy says. "For a little while at least."

Roach has a million questions. Clearly Izzy has been around kids before, enough to withstand the grossness and tantrums that came with them. But what was the source? Siblings? Did he have kids like Stede, hidden away somewhere? And with who?

But he shuffles them away and kneels in front of them, bottle and a spoon in hand. "I promise I'll give you some water right away after if you keep this down, okay?"

Fish nods, but a little hand grasps Izzy's thumb tight before he opens his mouth for the medicine.

They both wince as Fish closes his mouth around the spoon, lets Roach pull it out...

And promptly vomits it back onto Roach's face.

"Okay," Izzy says. "Second time is the charm, maybe."

Roach nods and breathes through his nose as he lifts up a corner of his apron to wipe the foul liquid off his face. "One more try."

"Can we put anything else with it?" Izzy asks. "Something to mask the flavour?"

"I don't have anything," Roach replies. "Or I would."

Izzy wraps an arm around Fish to keep him in place before pulling a small wrapped square out of his pocket. "Here. Chocolate, meant to be for Ed, but I'm sure Bonnet's already bought him some."

Roach shakes his head. "I...okay. Sure. Thank you."

The second go around they work like a well-oiled machine: Roach tips the medicine into Fish's mouth, Izzy gently tips Fish's head back with a finger to his chin, and when he bobs back down with tears in his eyes, Roach pops a sliver of the chocolate into Fish's mouth.

"Oh," Fish sniffles, then reaches for the rest of the chocolate.

"A little bit more," Roach hands over another sliver. "Don't want you eating it all if you can't keep it down."

He expects Izzy to ask to leave, patience finally exhausted, or at least to insist on helping with the adult patients instead.

But he walks Fish around the room in his arms, patting the toddler's back and talking about sea creatures in the softest tone.

"Sleeping?" Izzy whispers after a few hours.

Fish is out cold on his shoulder, drooling.

Roach nods. "Let me see everyone else out, then I'll help you with him."

The adult patients head out, sufficiently treated and supplied with additional medicines and instructions. A while later, the colicky baby's mum returns bearing an aunt happy to help them for the next few nights.

Then, it's just them and Fish.

"I'll put him on the cot," Roach whispers as he gently tries to pull Fish from Izzy's arms.

Fish wraps his arms around Izzy's neck in response.

"It's okay," Izzy coughs, a hand reaching up to carefully loosen Fish's grasp. "I've had worse nights."

Izzy winds up sitting up on the cot, with Fish snuggled against him.

Even if it wasn't adorable, Roach would be doing his best to keep awake in case Fish gets sick again, or if his parents should show up ready to try and take him back home.

But as it is, it's surprisingly cute, and Roach can't take his eyes off of them.

--

"Roach."

"Roach!"

Roach stirs and frowns at the sun streaming into the shack. "Shit."

"It's okay," Izzy says, standing beside the chair Roach is slumped in. "I mean...his parents came by."

"They did," Roach sighs and yawns. "Good."

Izzy frowns. "Roach. He passed a few hours after that. His parents seemed to know. They said their good byes and asked if we could cover the burial. I told them yes."

Roach looks over to the cot, and his heart breaks.

A motionless little body, wrapped in a sheet from the cot.

Fish.

"I should have tried something else," Roach says. "I knew that might not be enough-"

"His parents tell me," Izzy groans as he kneels by the chair. "He'd been sick like this for a good month. Sometimes there's only so much that can be done."

"I know-"

"And I know that you know," Izzy interrupts, a hand rubbing Roach's back. "But a reminder never hurts. You gave him a safe place to rest, medicine to try and help, and a treat he might not have had much of before."

Roach nods, leans forward, and drops his head into his hands. "It should get easier."

"It should. But it doesn't," Izzy sighs and stands again. "They marked a spot near the beach. So they'll know..."

Izzy's voice drops, then returns with a slight shake. "So they'll know where he is."

"Who did you hire, for..."

"I didn't," Izzy says. "Not the first person I've buried. Won't be the last."

He carries Fish as if he might break apart in his arms, following Izzy out of the shack and down towards the beach.

There, Fang and Ivan stand with shovels.

Izzy nods and takes both from them. "Help him get the little one ready."

"You did your best," Fang murmurs as he helps Roach sit on the grass and dirt of the little patch just before the beach. "And Fish knew it."

He nods. It's what he can manage. He hasn't lost a young patient in a long time.

He forgot how much it hurts.

"Izzy had us pick up some things from his parents," Ivan adds, setting a burlap sack down beside them. "Things they'd like with him."

Another blanket to wrap him in. Hand stitched, clearly a baby blanket. The name Elias stands out in black thread.

Fang cries with him while they wrap him up further.

A few soft toys, that Ivan tucks into the folds of the blanket with the gentlest touch.

The plush fish is what does it.

"I'm sorry," Roach whispers while Fang and Ivan lift Fish, rather, Elias, into a small wooden coffin.

"You don't have to be sorry," Ivan says as he sits back by Roach, watching Fang argue with Izzy over taking a turn digging. "Mate, you did more for that kid than probably half the doctors that have been through here in the month before us. Don't beat yourself up."

"He wanted to go to the beach," Roach says, as he realises tears are flowing down his face. "He didn't get to see the fish again like he wanted, and we told him if he took the medicine-"

"He's at the beach," Izzy hands the shovel over to Fang mid-argument, and heads over to Roach and Ivan. "See? As close as he can be without the tide taking him."

He doesn't know what to make of this Izzy, who lets vomit dry on his clothes without a second thought, makes up impromptu silly songs about fish and crabs and eels to make a kid smile, and who wraps an arm around Roach now.

But maybe it doesn't matter, for now at least.

He leans into Izzy, and takes his offered hand when they stand again.

"Take a walk," Ivan nods. "Both of you. Then, and I swear I mean this kindly-"

"A shower, bath, something," Izzy finishes. "We will before we come find everyone. Can you let Ed and Stede know..."

"We've got it," Fang calls. "Stop worrying!"

"You know they don't know how to do that," Ivan says, turning to Fang. "Especially Izzy. He worries about worrying."

Fang gives a knowing nod, and Roach lets Izzy lead him on down the sand.

Maybe they'll see some fish. He hopes so.

[proserpina-magnus]

Hiiiiii could I request a Marauders x reader… platonic. Where they are just coaxing her through a bad day/migraine?

Hii! there isn't that much comforting other then them being clingy and sorta protective, but I still hope you like!!

The Marauders When You Have A Migraine

Word count; 1.8k

[ Warning: fem reader, doodles, eating, migraines/description of headaches, swearing, Sirius refers to you as “their baby” ]

Quick note, there’s a scene where the boys draw on the reader with a marker. I didn’t specify what colour the marker was, so depending on your skin colour you can interrupt the colour as you wish.

You slumped at the Gryffindor dining table, hair matted in a low messy hairstyle. You didn't even try and brush it out, you woke up and left it how it was. You couldn't even bring yourself to dress in new fresh clothing, you wore what you slept in.

Eyeing the breakfast options, you felt a pain tingle through your head. The nerves bunching and squeezing together to make it unbearable to concentrate.

" [ name ]! We have class in 15 minutes and you're not even dressed!" James bellowed from across the table, you pushed your shoes against the floor and slumped. Remus gave a confused look, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between Peter and Sirius.

"Come on, we have time to get some food in 'ya," Sirius declared, pushing toast onto your plate. The curly raven haired male even buttered your toast just the way you liked, even filling your glass with fresh squeezed orange juice.

"How 'ya feel-in?" Peter pronounced through mouthfuls of food, James swatting the blonds head in retaliation. "Wormy, don't speak with your mouth full,"

Sirius cackled from beside you, Peter stomped his foot onto Sirius in response. Sirius made a dramatic scene, falling towards the cold stone floor as he held his foot with forced shaky breaths. "My foot! My foot! I've been assaulted!" He whined, rolling from side to side.

Remus lets out a loud sigh from beside you, your head buzzing from the noise of ongoing chatter. You could hear James laugh loudly, like he always does. Usually his laugh was contagious, but it was incredibly annoying at the moment. Along with snickers and loud whines, you gripped your cup and brought it to your lips. Peter swallowed, reaching for another pancake as he watched you take long sips.

" ya never answered my question," Peter rambled before taking a gracious bite. You shrugged, Sirius sliding back into his seat. The boys all looked towards you, your fork picking at the blueberries Sirius pushed onto your plate moments prior.

"Another headache?" James asked, cleaning his pants from crumbs as he pushed his finished plate aside. You nodded briefly, a plain expression adorned on your features. Another hot buzz dangled in your mind, your forehead throbbing along with it.

"Maybe we should take you to madam Pomfry, you shouldn't be getting them this often," Remus responded. Sirius made a pouting face, before he took you into his arms.

"Our baby is hurt!" Sirius exaggerated loudly, causing staring eyes to look towards the group of friends. You flushed a bit, embarrassed by Sirius nature. You pushed him away, going back to picking at your food.

"I ain't nobody's baby," you said while pushing Sirius further away, James and Peter sniggered as Sirius made puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes, a bit grumpy from the constant throbbing.

"Bloody hell, it fucking hurts. It's not even bad, it's just the constant throbbing is pissing me off," you complained, shoving the piece of toast in your mouth. You watched as students finished eating, occasionally leaving for their first class of the day.

The boys all exchanged looks, Remus placing a hand on your back to give it a gentle rub. You push your plate back, your arms coming on the table as you rest in them.

As more students leave, professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to your rambunctious group. She softens at the scene, seeing the four boys rub your shoulder or arms to try and give their sympathy.

You sigh as you hear her shoes click with the ground, professor Mcgonagall stands a few inches away from you all. She clears her throat, all eyes directing towards her except for you.

"Class is about to start... is there a problem with miss [ last name ]?" The older woman asked, trying to mask her worry. Remus had explained earlier to her that you had been having numerous migraines.

"She's having another headache Minnie, our baby is dying!" Sirius exclaimed, Remus reaching over to swat him away from you with an annoyed look plastered on his face. Even though you couldn't see Sirius, you laughed as you thought about his whining face.

Professor Mcgonagall clasped her tongue, about to tell off Sirius for the nickname he'd given her. But instead, she placed her attention on you.

"I'll take her to the infirmary, surely madam Pomfrey has a potion to help," she explained, the boys all standing together in the same motion. You still kept your head pressed into your forehead.

"Can we go with her?" James whispered, hoping that they could be with you. They all hated when you were in pain, it felt like they had to protect you. You were their bestfriend, they surely couldn't let a thing ever bug you unless it was them.

"I'm sorry Potter, but you have class," Professor McGonagall frowned, the boys were about to protest to stay with you. But Minnie quickly shut them down, her hand raising as all the boys shut their jaws closed.

"It's alright, I'll see you later," you told them, raising with a throb as you walked with them all towards the doors. You parted way painfully, Sirius almost crying as he clung onto your leg. The rest of the boys watched, even James tearing up. He took his round spectacles off, dabbing his eyes with a spare cloth he had in his pocket.

"You can't be serious," you retorted at them, an annoyed look on your face as Minnie checked her watch with frowned eyes.

"Well... technically," Sirius began, but he couldn't finish his sentence as you kicked him off of you. You were upset, tired, and in pain. As much as you loved them, they were too much sometimes.

"Just go, I'll see you later," you tried to cover up your annoyed state, but the boys picked up on it. Sirius straightened up, fixing his shirt as they left with their heads down casted towards the ground.

"Idiots they are," you told Professor McGonagall, she only laughed and led you towards the infirmary.

—-

After a few missed classes, it was finally lunch. All the boys scrambled to the dining hall, shoving foods on plates. They ignored the stares, jogging up to the infirmary where you slept.

With the creak of the door, Sirius and James peaked inside. They saw no one, only a lump on the farthest bed. They all skipped over to you with slow whispers, trying to make sure you won’t wake up. Sirius pushed the blanket of your face, all of them relieved to see you still asleep.

“Prongs, do you have a spare marker on you?” Sirius asked, a growing smirk on his face. James put down the plate on a nearby table, fishing through his pockets to try and find a marker.

“Pads, no,” Remus said sternly, knowing what the raven haired male would do. Peter looked between the three boys, a bit unsure of what Sirius was going to do. The blonde boy put his plate near James, picking up half a sandwich as he sat near your feet.

“Pads yes,” Sirius smiled widely, James passing him the thick inked marker. Remus rolled his eyes, not stopping Sirius from his antics. Sirius crawled on the bed, an evil smile on his features as he unclasped the marker. He wrote “baby” with big thick letters on your forehead, giggling when you twitched and tried to swat his hand away in your sleeping state.

“Give me the marker,” James whispers, not waiting for Sirius to pass him it as he snatched it for himself. The bispecticle male drew 4 happy stick figures and a rat on your cheek, his tongue poked out in concentration.

“Why am I the only one in my amingi form?” Peter asked, frowning as James passed him the marker. He began to draw a small smiley face in your open palm, writing a messy “Peter was here” on your arm.

“Because, there wasn’t enough room and plus, you’re cuter in rat form,” James teased, but his words sounded very sweet so Peter took it as a compliment. Sirius and Remus cackled loudly, making you stir awake. Your eyes fluttered open, looking around between the boys above you.

“Uh… hello?” You greeted, stretching slightly as you looked around the empty room. Sirius pushed Peter and James away from the bed, sprawling his limbs out to hog you from their affection.

“Hi!” They all chanted at once, Remus moving closer as he pushed at Sirius to make room. The tall male sat down, rummaging through his bag for a minute before pulling out a chocolate bar.

“Eat,” Remus said, even opening the wrapper for you. He broke off a piece, swatting Sirius's wandering hand when he tried to take a piece for himself. You sat up on the bed, unaware of the markings on your skin. You chewed the gooey chocolate, resting against the bed frame with a satisfied hum.

“Did you bring me food?” You asked, a smile on your face as you realized all the plates. The boys nodded, bringing the plates over for you all to feast upon.

“What’s so funny?” You asked when Sirius started to laugh, James also chuckling. You irked slightly, touching over your face to try and see if there were crumbs. This made the boys laugh harder, making you feel embarrassed as you choke out a “what? Is there something on my face?”

You notice the little doodle Peter left you, realizing what had happened. You pushed Sirius's head, making him bump into James. You laughed at the scene, both boys rubbing their forehead with a pouty face.

“Does it come off?” You asked Remus, a sigh on your lips as you ran off towards the bathroom.

“Nope,” he called out, a small smile on his face. You looked in the mirror, seeing the obvious doodles drawn by your boys. You knew exactly who the culprit was for the big letters written on your forehead.

“Sirius! What the hell is this?” You called, stomping back to the bed where they all sat. Sirius raises his hands, pointing to James and Peter. “It’s not just me! They did it as well!”

“You bitch,” James gasped, a hand on his heart as he held a dramatic glint in his eyes. Peter dropped his head, muttering his apologies. All the boys start to bicker at Sirius, calling him a tattletale. You smile and lean back against the bed, bringing a biscuit to your mouth as you watch the quarrel unfold, this was definitely the entertainment you needed on this shitty day.

[rubysunnday]

Favourite Brother

A/N: not gonna lie, I am terrified to post this because there is no established community for a bridgerton sister like there is with peaky blinders but into the unknown we go

Y/N Bridgerton is based off my own character who is Daphne’s twin sister (there’s a whole thing in my head as to why her name begins with a C, but i digress) and is, technically, the eldest daughter but is never seen that way. 

If she was being completely honest, making her debut into society at the same time as her twin sister was probably one of the worst things Y/N Bridgerton could have done. Ultimately, it was down to her mother to make the decision and no matter how much Y/N - and Eloise - begged for her to postpone her coming out for a year, her mother was insistent (Eloise’s begging had been so that none of the attention next season would be on her). 

Y/N knew that her first season out in society wasn’t going to go well. She had Daphne as a sister for heaven’s sake - despite being older than her by a whole five minutes (a fact her oldest brother, Anthony, seemed to keep conveniently forgetting) - Y/N Bridgerton was merely a twinkle compared to the explosion that was her twin sister.

The Queen had offered Y/N a most gracious remark alongside her sister but it felt as if it was merely to balance out the scales - as if she didn’t truly mean it.

But, deep down, she hadn’t wanted to believe that she was merely a cast off. That she was just Daphne’s sister and was nothing more.

Her first ball, however, solidified the feeling she’d had for a while. That she was nothing more than Daphne’s sister in the eyes of the ton. Daphne was the season’s diamond. Y/N was merely a geode waiting to be split open. Unassuming on the outside but magnificent on the inside. 

Y/N stared after her brother and Daphne as they wandered around the room, eyeing out appropriate suitors (which, according to Anthony, didn’t exist in that ballroom). 

“Dearest,” Violet said, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm, noticing her fury, “shall we go get some lemonade?”

Y/N had a childish urge to grab a cup of lemonade and pour it over her brother’s head but swallowed it down, forcing a pleasant smile to her face. She turned to her mother and nodded.

“Anthony means well -”

“Mother,” Y/N grounded out. She really did not want to talk about her eldest brother. 

“He means well,” Violet repeated, handing her daughter a glass of lemonade, “he’s just fiercely protective of you all.”

“Everyone except me, you mean?” Y/N corrected, giving her mother a hard stare. Y/N sighed and slumped against the wall. “I know he does,” she said quietly, almost not wanting to admit it. “But it’s almost as if he doesn’t realise I’m here.”

Violet nodded. “I know. But he wants the best for you - we all do.”

“Yet the best simply are not here in this ballroom tonight, are they?” Y/N countered, giving her mother a raise of the eyebrows. “He and Daphne are walking around the room, eyeing up every suitor in that room and where am I? Hiding at the back by the drinks table like a wallflower.”

Violet put a hand on Y/N’s arm in sympathy for there weren’t many words she could offer her daughter that would be of any comfort. She knew the feeling of being a wallflower all too well. 

“Y/N! Why are you skulking back here?”

It was almost as if a light switched on behind Y/N’s eyes at the sound of her brother’s voice. She turned and smiled at Colin as he, and Benedict, approached her, weaving through the ambitious mama’s and their debutantes and studiously avoiding making eye contact with any of them. 

“Anthony has eyes for Daff and Daff only,” Y/N replied, standing on her tiptoes to hug Colin and then Benedict. They’d inherited the Bridgerton good looks and the Bridgerton height. Something Y/N and her five foot four height was all too jealous of. 

Colin smiled sympathetically at his sister, knowing full well what she meant. He held out his arm to her, ever the gentleman. “Well, shall we go promenade around the room?”

Y/N giggled as she excepted Colin’s arm. She then looked up expectantly at Benedict who gave her the iconic Bridgerton smile (one Y/N had mastered too) and he offered his arm to her too. 

The three of them began a deliberately slow walk around the edge of the room.

“You do realise everyone’s looking at you?” Colin whispered, a cheeky grin on his face.

Y/N, for the first time that night, felt all the attention on her. Every suitor watched her as she passed by and all offered a smile. 

But, deep down, she knew she was second best. And she refused to settle for that. 

“Not that we’d let you pick any of them,” Benedict added quickly. “None of them are suitable.”

Y/N swallowed her urge to groan, counted to five in her head and looked at Benedict. “You sound just like Anthony.”

“Well, someone has to,” Benedict replied giving her a smile that had made many a woman swoon in the past.

She didn’t understand why. Well, Benedict was her brother. Whenever he smiled at her she just remembered the time he’d left a fish in her bed and she’d retaliated by leaving numerous frogs in his room. 

The sibling prank war of 1805 had been a dangerous one. Y/N had fallen down the stairs and ended up with a concussion and Benedict had ended up with a long, and loud, lecture from Anthony about the dangers of trip wires near staircases. 

“Oh, there’s Anthony and Daphne,” Colin murmured, noticing them on the other side of the room. 

“Daff!” Benedict called, all but dragging Y/N over to the,

Y/n, who’s arm was in Benedict’s, didn’t have much choice to follow and neither did Colin as Y/N wasn’t about to let her buffer leave anytime soon. 

Anthony looked up at them as they approached but his eyes narrowed slightly when he saw Y/N in the middle of them. 

“Have you been looking for suitors?” Anthony asked, his stare narrowing even more when he noticed someone eyeing Y/N over her shoulder. 

“Did Mother tell you yet?” Colin asked Daphne, saving Y/N from having to talk to Anthony and conveniently turning the conversation away from her. “I’m to start my tour in Greece.”

“Oh, Greece, that sounds wonderful,” Y/N said, both her and Daphne making a similar remark. Daphne and Y/N glanced at one another and giggled. 

Anthony’s eyes widened as he looked up. “On guard!”

It was an instant change. All five of them suddenly had anywhere else to be and they all turned around, fully intent on heading to literally any other corner of the room.

“No escape,” Colin muttered as they heard the formidable Lady Danbury’s cane hit the floor loudly.

“Too late,” Lady Danbury called. “I already noted you.”

Her words were followed by a loud thump of her cane. Startled, Y/N stepped back in Benedict and accidentally stood on his foot. She lost her footing, wobbled, and fell even further back into her brother.

Benedict, to his credit, let out a soft grunt as his sister impacted him, but then managed to right her and stand her back up on her own feet without drawing Lady Danbury’s attention.

“Lady Danbury!” Benedict, Anthony and Colin all greeted at once, all bowing in sync as if they were performing.

Y/N and Daphne curtsied slightly at the older woman. 

Lady Danbury’s eyes rested on the two girls. “I’ve yet to see either one of you on the dance floor,” she said, her eyes narrowing even more.

“We’re biding our time,” Anthony cut in. 

“We?” Y/N whispered under her breath, sparing Anthony a glare that would’ve turned lesser men to stone. 

Apparently Lady Danbury had heard that but, to her credit, said nothing. If anything her usually steely glare softened ever so slightly when she looked at Y/N. 

“You poor girls,” Lady Danbury muttered, shaking her head. “I always knew I liked you two for a reason,” she added, eyeing Daphne and Y/N as they both gave Anthony a disdainful, joint glare (one the two girls had hoped she’d missed but, as usual, Lady Danbury never missed anything.) “As for the rest of you.... hmmph.”

And with that, Lady Danbury vanished off to torture some other poor soul.

Benedict stared after her with an offended expression. “Hmmph? Hmmph?” He echoed. “Is that all she could come up with? Hmmph?”

Y/N smiled to herself. “She likes us,” she said, looking at Daphne with a smile. 

Daphne smiled back at her sister. “Yes, it would appear she does.”

Benedict grunted. “You can have her.”

Y/N elbowed Benedict in the ribs and her brother let out a rather loud grunt - one that had numerous nearby partygoers look over to wonder what was happening.

“For that, you can dance with me,” Benedict muttered, grabbing Y/N’s hand and all but dragging her away from the safety of Colin and Daphne and onto the dance floor.

“You hate dancing,” Y/N said as she struggled to keep up with her brother. she was suddenly spun onto the dance floor and somehow managed to keep her footing. 

Benedict put his arm on her waist and gave her a level stare. “I also hate being paraded around by our Mother,” he said, nodding his head behind him.

Y/N leaned past him and saw Colin being unwillingly paraded around the room by their Mother. Colin, ever the gentleman, was putting a smile on and greeting every single debutante. But he did look up at Benedict and Y/N and give them a very ungentlemanly glare.

 Y/N let out a very unladylike snort and laughed. Benedict rolled his eyes. 

The music began and the two began dancing around the obnoxious looking floral arrangement in the centre of the floor. Neither one said anything for a moment - focusing on the music and ensuring they were getting the steps right.

“Thank you,” Y/N said quietly. 

She’d noticed her mother, Daphne and Anthony leave a few moments earlier and whilst Daphne had given her a sister an apologetic look and her mother had ensured Colin was going to get her home safely, Anthony had marched off without a second glance.

Benedict frowned. He twirled Y/N twice and then resumed the proper position. “Whatever for?”

Y/N smiled up at him and for the first time that night, felt as if she was enjoying herself. “For being my favourite brother and saving the day.”

“I’m your favourite?” Benedict asked, tilting his head to the side in a curious gesture.

Y/N hit his arm. Hard. “Don’t ruin the moment,” she replied as the song ended.

They bowed to one another as the dance ended and then moved off the dance floor. Y/N suddenly wrapped her arms around Benedict’s neck and hugged him tightly.

Benedict, surprised by the sudden show of sibling love, slowly returned the hug with a confused expression. 

“Thank you for making this night worth it,” Y/N whispered in his ear. 

Benedict hadn’t been oblivious to the way Anthony glossed over his sister. Whilst it was probably unintentional - everyone knew that Anthony Bridgerton would die for his family - he hadn’t missed the hurt look in Y/N’s eyes. 

Benedict smiled and ruffled Y/N’s hair as best he could without messing up the intricate updo. “Always, sister.”

Colin, impeccable timing as always, then happened to walk into Y/N, backwards, almost dropped the lemonade he was carrying and ruined the entire moment. Y/N fell forward into Benedict and Benedict fell back a step trying to catch his sister and his brother. Benedict had then slapped Colin on the back of the head. 

But according to those around the ballroom, Colin had been clumsy on purpose to try and cheer up his sister. Which had worked. 

[angelic-ish-phantom]

Dannymay3

College years

“So…” Vlad started.

Maddie glanced up from her book with a hum. She was sitting in a beanbag (that was much to large for her) and Vlad was cross-legged on the floor, back against his bed as he fidgeted. The two of them were on the floor of his and Jack’s dorm room.

He could do this; he just needed to be casual. “You know, it’s actually, Valentine’s Day?” He continued.

Unexpectedly, Maddie groaned, throwing her head back in annoyance. “Valentines day.” She spat with none to little contempt.

“Do… you… not like Valentine’s Day?”

“Don’t get me started. It’s a commercial scam of a holiday that makes people feel bad for being single! It’s so inane, Right Vlad?”

Oh. Vlad clutched the placket in him pocket. “Mhm, Yep. Soooo dumb.” He laughed, hearing exactly how unconvincing he sounded.

Maddie raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You don’t have to agre-“

“Speaking of dumb, where is-“ Vlad interrupted, only to get cut off himself as Jack burst into the dorm.

“Vladdie, Maddie! Happy Valentines!” Said man, boomed brightly, a shopping bag in hand.

Vlad took some comfort in the fact Jack had made the same mistake. Not that he wasn’t immediately going to through his friend under the bus, of course.

“Jack, Madeline and I were actually just talking about- OOF!” A bouquet was thrusted into him, and cursed under his breath in Russian, fumbling to hold it.

Jack beamed, shoving one at Maddie too, who caught hers with far more grace, “I got flowers! For the most important people in my life!”

“Aw Jack, these are beautiful.” She said with a find indulgence, only to start a moment later as she looked at the flowers proper. “And they’re hibiscus! You shouldn’t have!”

Vlad noted distantly, that those where her favorite flower. He’d tucked away the information very deliberately, and was surprised Jack had remembered.

“I made you cards too!” The other man cheered, much more sedately, almost nervous. Vlad cringed slightly at the glittery, bright pink, heart covered craft.

“Oh you made them! I wish you wouldn’t support this holiday by buying the flowers, but thanks!” Maddie said, exasperated although she clearly appreciated the gift.

Vlad placed his card and flowers to the side, inadvertently encouraged by Jack’s display. “I- urm- got u something to?” He tried, pulling out the packet of luxury chocolate fudge he’d made and been keeping in his pocket all afternoon.

Maddie looked surprised he had gotten something, but her reaction was dwarfed by Jack’s bright, ever-dense voice.

“You got us gifts? Vladdie, you shouldn’t have!” He gasped.

What. “I meant-“

“Are the chocolates?” He asked loudly, staring at the ornate packaging with the attention that a child might have gazed into fish tank.

“Chocolate fudge.” He corrected automatically, “but-“

“FUUUUDGEE!!!!” Jack cried with an energy he usually only reserved for supernatural studies. He snatched the bag from Vlad’s hands before he could get another word out, shoving a small handful into his mouth, “Vlads, you are my absolute best, best friend in the whole world, I love u!!!” He declared through chews.

“Then what am I!” Maddie cried in mock offense, reaching to take one of the sweets and popping it into her mouth. “Wow! These are actually really good.” She praised and Vlad could stop his face from flushing. Then she sighed, “Well now I sort of feel bad for not getting you guys anything…”

Jack clapped her on the back, and she winced. Vlad couldn’t help but mimic the action in sympathy, “Well you shouldn’t! C’mon Mads, this is just like that thing you were talking about the other day. That grou- peel pressure stuff? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He paused, then added, “And you explained what it was extremely well. Didn’t she, Vladdie?”

Vlad’s frustration at Jack was a shallow thing, and he especially couldn’t stay mad in the face of that earnest enthusiasm. “It’s peer pressure.” He corrected with a sigh, “And yes, most of it was lost on Jack, but I found it quite comprehensive, Madeline.” He confirmed, feeling something in him light up at the confidence in the flattered smile she flashed.

“I understood it plenty,” Jack insisted, “I’m just not built for social studies.”

“Behavioral sciences, Jack…” he corrected warmly.

“See,” Jack said as though Vlad had just proven his point, “This is why we three make such a good team! Maddie knows stuff, Vladdie, you know other stuff, and I know stuff about ghosts!!!” He said brightly.

Maddie snorted (adorably) and Vlad rolled his eyes, “You big, oaf.” He scoffed affectionately.

As the two ate, attacked in Jack’s case, the candy, Vlad glanced down at where he’d dropped Jack’s gifts.

He ran a hand over a petal of his bouquet, eyes widening a little, “Marigolds…” he murmured.

Jack had gotten his favorite flowers, too.

And Vlad couldn’t quite bring himself to fight the fond smile that formed at that.

[strawberry-nugget]

Bnha characters as things I've said or have been said to me

A/n: halfway through writing this, I realised many things have been said to me in a very mean way, I had just filtered them in my brain to the point everything seems funny now. Fear not, these are just super out of context things that are very humorous.

Disclaimer: minors dni, every character depicted is over 18 years of age.

Warnings: mentions of periods, spoilers for the amazing spiderman 2 (I believe), language, mhhhm if you find anything else kindly let me know so I can put it in the warnings

Uraraka (to Aoyama): we don't all have to like Big Time Rush just because you do! 

—

Denki: I'm going to give this dog my lunch

Bakugo: don't, have you ever seen a dog eat cheese puffs? 

Denki: yes... No?

—

Jirou, accidentally leaking during her period

Sero: WHAT'S WITH ALL THAT BLOOD

Jirou: i- ah, cut my hand? Uh? Yeah I guess?! I cut my hand

Sero: SHOW ME YOUR HAND WE HAVE TO STOP THE BLEEDING, EVERYONE! JIROU'S HAND IS BLEEDING

—

Amajiki: how do you tongue someone? 

Kirishima: it's like? An?? Octopus?? 

Amajiki: octopus? 

Kirishima: in like, texture and stuff

Amajiki: wait what? 

Kirishima: just get your tongue in their mouth it's not hard

Amajiki: why octopus tho i-

—

Reporter: Deku, who do you think is going to make it to the next big 5 of the hero charts? 

Shoto oh, oh, can I say? 

Deku: obviously my- well yes shoto you may say your own guesses, 

Shoto: *passionately swaying back and forth while singing 'I don't want to miss a thing'*

Deku: shoto? Shoto uhmm we're waiting

Shoto: OHHHHH

—

Mina, texting Bakugo: I'm never taking you along with me next time I do my nails. 

—

Mirko: stop being so pretty- oh my god did a fucking horse just turn around to stare at you? 

Hawks: I'm pretty sure I just caught its attention while passing by, calm your tits

—

Denki: which celebrity would you sleep with? 

Bakugo: none

Denki: what? 

Bakugo: You heard me. None

Denki: even if they paid you? 

Bakugo: yeah.. I'm never having sex so good luck with fishing an answer out of everyone else

—

Deku: uh that's actually incorrect, the joker doesn't have a backstory and by assigning him one you're taking all the essence away from his character. Justifying the acts of a canonically psychopathic serial killer with a fixation on a bunch of people by giving him a conventionally moral and excusable story to make him relatable is against the idea of why he's still who he is and that's what's wrong with our society. I think we are willing to excuse villains if they have a heartbreaking backstory but the point with Joker is that he doesn't have one so nice try making him be someone who could ever be salvaged. Now if you open the killing joke by Alan Moore and Frank Miller you will see that Batman is also of same nature, although in his face we find someone we can and should feel sympathy for-

—

Tsuyu watching spiderman with Bakugo and Sero: what's coming out of her nose? 

Bakugo: blood. She's literally dying

Sero: BRO!

Tsuyu: And why is it coming from her nose? 

Sero: she hit her head so that's? Natural? 

Tsuyu? Didn't she hit the back of her head? 

Bakugo: LET ME WATCH THIS SCENE IN PIECE OH MY GOD

—

Hawks: First of all, uncross your arms. You're in defense mode and I'm not attacking you… right now. We'll see what happens in a while 

—

Momo: I didn't mean it when I said don't text me back if you don't make a move on them. Text me back I miss you. 

—

Jirou: just because I went to see black Panther with you does not mean we're together

—

Koda: yes, I am gonna carry this dog until we find a place for it to pee and then I'm carrying it back, is that so hard to grasp

—

Tokoyami: I just realised that the joke with not being able to not see John Cena is because it's a pun with his name

Kirishima: I'm pretty sure it's because of a move of his

Tokoyami: you seem to know about this stuff. I trust you

—

Iida: wake up! Now! Were in a club and you screamed that this is a nice piece of broken glass and you run your finger over it? Are you insane? 

Uraraka: but its-

Iida: DON'T FALL ASLEEP, NO DON'T TOUCH THE GLASS AGAIN

—

Mina: wait- deku is NOT your boyfriend? 

Uraraka: no!? 

Mina: I thought you two had SOMETHING going on? 

Uraraka: in his head? 

Mina: HE- ISN'T HE LIKE IN LOVE WITH YOU? 

Uraraka: wait what? 

—

Toga: I thought you were a bitch when I met you, I put on il ballo del la qua and you turned it off. I can't trust anyone who doesn't want to dance to this song! 

Shigaraki: maybe I'm just emo okay? Otherwise I'm harmless. Also. I was dressed as a vampire, I had to maintain my image at all costs

—

Dabi: *sings grenade by bruno Mars in every small gathering of the Lov and forces everyone to listen*

—

Aoyama, only listening to 5sos for four days: momo can you please buy me the 5sos book for my birthday? 

—

If you ask for part two I am simply going to expose how many dumb bitch moments or trauma I have which idk if it's humorous content. Anyways... Who wants to see bnha and shy things I do next?

[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 2)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt:

part 1

Jason and you had completely lost track of time during the bonding session he’d enacted over ice cream, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

It was starting to get dark out, that meant that you’d have to start patrol soon.

“I guess we’d better get out of here.” You sighed while wiping melted ice cream off of your hands with a napkin.

“Yeah!” Jason slapped the table, making you jump back. “Yeah, we do! We’re going to see Bruce!”

“What are you going on about?” You asked while shoving your garbage together, a little intrigued by Jason’s sudden excitement to see Bruce. He was never excited to see Bruce. Ever.

“I’m gonna give that trust fund baby a piece of my mind.” Jason grabbed his trash and threw it away as he stormed out the door, giving you barely enough time to catch up. You rushed to the car and fell into the passenger seat, not even able to close the door before Jason his the gas. He had this look in his eyes, one that you only saw on special occasions. Like when Alfred makes margaritas.

“Wait give me your guns before we get anywhere near there.” You instructed as he swerved around three different cars. “And slow down, for god’s sake. Remember when Dick got in that car wreck? New stations ate that stuff up, we don’t need that kind of publicity again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jason laughed at you as he flipped through the radio stations.

“Guns.” You demanded once more.

“Don’t have ‘em. Came unarmed. Because of the school.” You crossed your arms and stared at him until he noticed from the corner of his eye and groaned. “Under the seat.”

“Thank you.” You perkily answered while leaning over and fishing for his weapons. Crisis averted.

“Okay so, I’m gonna go in the Batcave and give Bruce a piece of my mind,” Jason explained over the blaring speakers, “I need you to stay nearby just in case he decides he’s sick of my shit and like, call’s Ra’s to undo my resurrection or something!”

“What?” You shouted back, trying not to laugh at his plan.

“Are you asking what did I say or are you asking what am I talking about?” You tried to reach for the volume knob, but Jason just pushed your hand away. “Don’t you dare turn my music down!”

“Jay, it’s a commercial!”

—————

Jason had stormed through the Manor full-speed while you loosely followed, wondering how this would turn out. The two of you arrived to the grandfather clock in no-time, Jason rotated the hands to open the wall.

“Why the fuck isn’t it opening?” Jason grumbled as you pushed him aside. “Don’t tell me he changed the code.

“You put in 10:46.” You poked the minute hand a smidge upwards and stepped back as the Batcave entrance revealed itself.

“So fuckin’ tedious.” Jason muttered while rushing down the stairs, leaving you to scramble after him. Your footsteps left an echo each time you hit the metal, which always scared you for some reason. Or maybe it was the fact that there were holes in the steps that revealed a drop into the great unknown. “Bruceeee!” Jason called into the cavern of delusional know as the “Batcave.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The adoptive father that you had in common pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat before the Batcomputer. “What is it, Jason?” He asked, swiveling his seat to face the two of you. “Y/N, you should get ready for patrol.”

“No, no, no, y/n. Stay right there.” Jason commanded with his arm out, halting your from any further movement. “Bruce, are you fucking kidding me?”

“What’s the problem this time?” He asked bluntly, seeming to just barely care about Jason’s anger. I mean, he was usually like this, it wasn’t new or anything.

“This kid right here. This one.” Jason pointed to you. Well, to the right of you. You weren’t exactly where he thought you were behind him. “You need to start giving a shit, because man, this kid is special.”

“I care about all my children equally.” Bruce’s lies rolled right off of his tongue, it was fascinating.

“Bullshit, man!” Jason shouted back at his father, you were beginning to think this was more personal than ever. “I’ve been talking to this kid for like, six hours. Bullied, ignored, talented, badass, and some other stuff! But do you care about any of that? You didn’t even care enough to pick them up from school!” Jason’s face was starting to get a little red, you were contemplating whether or not you shoukd step in and give him a break.

“I had work to do, Jason. You know this.” Bruce was showing absolutely no remorse, it was sickening. Your stomach was literally turning whike you watched.

“If it were Tim or Damian you would’ve sprinted out the door, don’t even lie!” Jason replied, watching Bruce’s eyebrows lift up. “I barely knew y/n before today, and that sucks. That’s my little sibling, I should know more about them. Quick, tell me their middle name.” Your dad was silent, proving your brother’s point. “Uh-huh. It’s m/n.”

“Jason, you’re out of line—” Bruce attempted to scold, but you couldn’t win that game with Jason Todd.

“I’m bot finished yet!” He snapped. “I fuckin’ love this kid. No joke, love ‘em. How can you not?” Listening to this boosted your ego more than you’d like to admit, you weren’t used to all this praise. “That’s my little sibling,” he repeated, “that’s family that gets it.” Before he could go on, a few more of your siblings entered the cave.

“What’s going on here?” Tim asked, triggering a vein-pop in Jason’s forehead.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, replacement?” He rolled his eyes and looked over to you, who was actually doing the same! Heartwarming how that happens.

“Jason has decided to lecture me on how I parent my children.” Bruce answered Tim’s question in such a generalized way that your brother just couldn’t stand for.

“Y/N’s been getting bullied at school and he doesn’t give a single fuck!” Jason announced the the Batclan.

“You didn’t have to tell them that part, Jay.” You whispered while tugging on his sleeve.

“Oh, yes I did. It’s a sympathy tactic.” He whispered back and went on with his speech. “He doesn’t pay any attention to y/n. None of you do! That’s no way to treat one of your own!”

“Get over it, Todd.” Damian clicked his teeth and shoved right past you two, ready to get on with patrol.

“Well, if that’s how you feel then fine! Y/N, pack your shit, you’re staying with me tonight. It’s too crowded in this stupid mansion anyway.” Jason rested a hand on your back and led you out of the cave. “Gonna stop me, Bruce? Didn’t think so.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.5)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Five) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,889 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Notes: This relationship is going to go ~downhill~ from healthy really quick. Please do not read if that is going to offend you.

Part Four || Part Six || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You ate in silence at your dining table. Tears still stung at your eyes, no matter how you tried to hold them back. Your mind was racing, trying to still make sense of what had happened. Steve had never been that aggressive with you. Sure, he had been heated outside the club when he had found you flirting with Joseph. But he had not frightened you; he had not become an imposing shadow, stealing away your ability to speak what you felt.

He had not mentioned children more than a handful of times, commenting he wanted them. It had seemed harmless enough; wanting children was a normal ambition for people. But the way he reacted… he was showing a completely different side. Domineering. Maybe that is who he truly was and your defiance to his desire triggered it.

“That going down all right?” Steve questioned, genuine care in his tone, interrupting your thoughts.

“Obviously,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Steve stilled for a moment, tossing a scrutinizing look over at you. You ducked your head again, taking another bite. He waited a few moments, still studying you. When he turned away, you felt the tension relax in your frame.

You excused yourself to bed after finishing your soup. It was only 8:30pm but you just wanted to sleep. Steve informed you he was staying the night – not to your surprise.

He came up behind you, his strong arm wrapping around you. You sniffled and he peered over your shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently. His fingers came up underneath your chin, turning your head to look at him. “Oh, doll. I know you’re scared. But I’m right here. I promise.” He was calm, caring just like you knew him to be. And that made the situation even more confusing, more tears overflowing. He leaned down, shushing you quietly, laying soft kisses along the side of your face. “You’re going to be okay. I’m not leaving. Okay?”

You licked your lips and whispered, “Okay.”

<> <> <>

Thankfully, you had Fridays off having a four ten-hour day schedule, so you did not have to suffer the embarrassment of calling in for the fourth day in a row. You did not think it was possible for you to keep yourself together if you had to explain to your boss why you were not coming in.

You slept in past 8:00am. How you had managed to sleep almost twelve hours was surprising but you amounted it to the stress.

When you came out of the bedroom, Steve was standing in the living room, staring out the window, on the phone. You saw there was a plate of pancakes and bacon – that is what had initially roused you from your sleep. You were a little queasy but the carbs might help make you feel better.

Steve heard the floor creak and he tossed you a smile in acknowledgment. “Yes, exactly. On Monday would be perfect. We can get everything packed up over the weekend.” You stilled, your eyes moving to his back. “And how much is that going to be? I can have the money wired or if you need a card the day of, that works too.”

You slowly sat down grabbing an empty plate and taking some of the pancakes slowly, focusing most of your attention on his conversation.

“Uh huh. Yep, that’s the address, correct. Steve Rogers.” He paused and chuckled. “Yes, I am. No. No, it’s not my place. It’s my girlfriend’s. Mhmm.”

You realized you had poured too much syrup on your pancakes, not paying attention. You swore under your breath quickly upturning the bottle to place it back on the table.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

He hung up, turning around to face you. “Oh, good. I made that for you.” He began texting.

“What… who were you talking to?” you asked.

“Moving service.”

“A moving service?”

Steve did not spare you a glance as he continued to type, “Yes. I want you to move in with me. It would make me feel more relaxed having you close.”

“I can’t move in with you.” That caught his attention. You swallowed sharply seeing the look on his face, but you pressed on, pointing out, “It’s too far away from work. That is a long commute for me.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You quit.”

Astounded at his nonchalant attitude about your career, you protested, “I don’t want to quit, Steve. I can still work. I’m pregnant, not disabled.”

“I’m sure you can,” he responded. “But I don’t want you to. And you don’t have to worry about doing it yourself. I already visited your employer this morning and let her know you wouldn’t be coming back. So, like I said, you quit.”

You felt like the air had been kicked out of you. You thought he had meant that you should quit, not that it had already been done. And done without your consent.

“You did what?” you asked in disbelief after a few moments of staring at him, gaping like a fish.

He stopped typing again and locked eyes with you. He explained slowly, “I went to your employer and explained to her you wouldn’t be coming back in. She understood.”

“She ‘understood’? What did you do?”

Steve narrowed his eyes, his hands dropping a little. He asked tensely, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Holding back an accusation of him being forceful, you instead switched gears to hopefully garner sympathy. “Steve! You… you probably just ruined my chances of getting a job again in this field. Word travels! I can’t just… quit! After being out of the office for three days. It’s not a good look!”

“This is how it was going to end up anyway. It just happened faster than planned.”

“How what was going to end up?”

“You were not going to be working forever. You don’t need to. Not if you’re married to me and we have children together.”

A scoff escaped, “I don’t remember being a part of that conversation. You’re taking everything away from me! And I’m sorry, marriage?”

He stalked over to the table, tossing his phone down. He placed his hands on the back of the char across from you, leaning on it. “Taking away from you? Y/N, I’m giving you everything!”

“How? By forcing me to have a child I am not sure I want? Or using your power to just up and quit my job – especially without my agreement? Making me move in with you – AGAIN, without my agreement? You’re making all these decisions about my life without speaking with me!”

“About our life, Y/N. This isn’t just about you. That’s a very childish way to think about it.” Your mouth fell open at that, him calling you selfish. He pointed at himself, “I am making all the hard decisions because you’re demonstrating to me you only want to take the easy way out. Is that how you solve problems, Y/N? I thought you more mature than that, but I have been proven wrong. It’s frankly disappointing.”

Scornfully, you asked, “Well, if you think me so immature, then why are you insisting we go through with this? I mean, what immature person could take care of a baby?”

“You’ll have help,” Steve said, piqued. “Pepper is giving me recommendations for nannies.” You scoffed again, looking away from him, trying not to cry from your frustration. Steve growled, “You should be grateful. With how loose you have shown yourself to be, it could have been anyone that knocked you up.” You snapped your head back to stare at him, hurt. He shook his head seeing your expression, his eyes cold. “Even after you showed you were all too ready to move on quickly and have another cock between your thighs as if I meant nothing, I forgave you. I had already fallen for you. I couldn’t let you slip away – I won’t let you slip away.” He pointed at you aggressively. “You should be thanking me, not backtalking me. I won’t tolerate it. Not from you. My patience is wearing thin, so drop the damn attitude! You hear me?”

You said nothing, glaring at him, biting your cheeks.

Steve said more forcibly, “Y/N, I expect a damn answer.”

Tightly, you got out through gritted teeth, “I heard you.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife.

“Good,” he said tersely. “You should think about what I said. I’m doing this for us.” He stared at you for a few more moments, as if he was waiting for you to retort something. You were past that, knowing it was not going to help you right now. He seemed satisfied with your silence, pushing away from the table and grabbing his phone. “Eat your breakfast.”

<> <> <>

Feet tucked up underneath you on the couch in front of the large fireplace, you texted Natalie.

What do you mean you quit?

Steve insisted I don’t have to work. I’m going to be taken care of.

So, you’re throwing your career away because you got pregnant? You do realize you can have both, correct?

Your instinct was to text back that you knew that, but you were afraid to. Because you were unsure if Steve would ask to see your phone and be irked by what he saw.

I know. Having some time off might be good during this though.

It’s going to be more than a year, Y/N. You’re going to lose a lot of time!

I know. But I’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out.

It had been tense with Steve for the last few days, you feigning sickness more often than usual. You thought he could see through the charade but he did not call you out as a liar. It was going to come to a head at some point; his lust seemed to be insatiable. He had told you as such that he was craving you and could only handle so much time apart.

What you told Natalie was true, you were going to figure it out. It was too much at once. All these thoughts had been rushing through your mind. Was what he said right? It had gotten under your skin. At least in the sense that you were immature? There had to have been many people in your situation faced with this decision and so many sucked it up and grew up. Were you afraid of growing up and being a mother? Steve had taken you to the doctor earlier this morning to check on everything. You were over a month along, which means you had gotten pregnant very quickly.

You sighed, thinking for the umpteenth time that day if being pregnant with Steve was actually the end of the world or if you were making a bigger deal out of it than you needed to.

Bucky strolled into the room and you straightened up, quickly tucking your phone underneath your thigh. He noticed and cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. You gave him what you hoped was an innocent smile. Before, you would have welcomed his company with open arms but now you knew you needed to be guarded with them all. They were Steve’s friend’s, not yours.

“Steve around?” You shook your head. “Hmm, he say when he was gonna be back?”

“No,” you answered quietly.

Bucky was eyeing you and you tried to be calm underneath the scrutiny. You were not doing anything inherently bad texting your friends, but Steve had made it clear he did not want you divulging too much. You were sure the other Avengers were aware of this and agreed with him; their livelihood was at stake if you spoke or knew too much.

Coming over to the couches, Bucky sat close by, leaning back, arms draped over the back of the couch.

“How are you settling in?”

You shrugged, “Fine, enough. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It happened really fast,” you offered.

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment, nodding. “Seems that’s how it goes most of the time.”

You did not like it moving fast, that was the problem.

“I’ll give you an update after it’s over,” you sighed.

“You sound miserable.”

You just averted your eyes, giving a slight shrug.

“You’ll get used to it, Y/N,” Bucky said reassuringly. “Steve cares a lot for you. And he’s always wanted a family. This is perfect for him, so he’s going to be a little intense. He’ll chill out. Trust me. I’m his best friend and all.”

Being bold, you locked gaze with him and said coolly, “I just wish I had some say in it. It is my body after all if everyone somehow forgot.”

Let him tell Steve that. Maybe it would sink in differently if it came from Bucky.

Bucky instead of looking taken aback, actually looked impressed. “There it is. That fire Steve said you had.” You were unsure if you should take that as a compliment or not. He shifted forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He pierced you with a serious look, “Some advice though… you did give yourself to him the moment you got in bed with him. He’s going to have final say, and as I’m sure you know, he doesn’t like pushback. And I’m sure not especially from you.”

Wasn’t that the truth.

“I would realign that fire to becoming the wonderful mother we all know you can be rather than resisting him. It won’t end well that way. He’s not a man to cross.” He paused before adding, “He’ll give you the stars as long as you do as he asks.”

You were quiet, letting what he said sink in.

Bucky sat in silence was well, watching you closely.

Was this going to just be your life now? Living in this large house, waiting for your child to arrive and then continue staying here, rearing children for Steve? Bucky’s point was clear: you were not leaving here, let alone him, unless Steve gave you permission to.

“I need time,” you said stiffly. “It is a lot to take in.”

“I’m sure. But you are in perfect hands.” He got up from the couch. “I’ll go wait in his study so I don’t continue bothering you.” His gaze flicked to where your cell phone was hidden for a split second.

You nodded in acknowledgment, electing to stay quiet as he walked past you towards the stairs.

<> <> <>

As soon as Bucky was in Steve’s office, he shot him a quick text.

She’s being sneaky about her phone.

It did not take long for Steve to respond.

Don’t worry about it. I’ll see if she says anything I don’t like. She’s being good so far.

Bucky snorted reading the text. “Sneaky bastard,” he muttered.

<> <> <>

A week later, Steve was at it again. He came up behind you in the bathroom mirror, his arms wrapping around you as you dried your face after your face scrub. His hands played with the hem of your short robe.

“Don’t,” you said, pulling away from him.

Steve’s face darkened and he grabbed your wrist, stopping your forward motion. He yanked you back to him and you winced at the tug. His hand came up to grip your other wrist, holding them in between you.

“What did we talk about, Y/N?”

You tried to pull away again and he held fast. You pleaded, “Steve. Please. I just want to sleep.”

“You had all day to sleep. And you’ll have all night after I’m finished,” he told you, pulling you closer. His forehead rested on yours, his eyes closed. “I haven’t seen you all day. But you didn’t leave my mind, baby.”

You swallowed sharply at his intimate confession.

His hands left your wrist, finding the ribbon on your robe instead and undoing it. He pushed the robe from your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. He hummed in approval seeing the babydoll you were wearing; it was the pink, satin one you had put on when he had brought you home from your first date.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured.

You gave in, letting his tongue slip past your lips. Steve’s hand ghosted up your thigh underneath your babydoll and in between your thighs. He groaned against your lips, his fingers delving past your folds. His thumb caressed you, working you up, despite your initial disdain about being in his arms.

Steve picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. On your back on the bed, he slipped inside you. He did not draw it out, going right for it, panting and groaning above you. Steve always made sure you came before he did, his stamina being superior to yours. He held you close as you tightened around him, your legs quivering. When he came, his head fell beside yours, resting on the pillow. You were pinned beneath his immense weight for a minute before he pushed away from you, hovering overhead.

Steve trailed kisses down your abdomen, causing you to shiver.

“Can’t wait to see you heavy with my baby. You’ll look perfect,” he husked against your skin. “I love you so much.”

He meant it too. He did love you. And that did not bode well for you for whenever you did escape.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters

[carryingpitchers]

1.

All day up and down the shore the

fine points of the waves keep on

tapping whatever is there: scatter of broken

clams, empty jingles, old

oyster shells thick and castellated that held

once the pale jewel of their bodies, such sweet

tongue and juice. And who do you

think you are sauntering along

five feet up in the air, the ocean a blue fire

around your ankles, the sun

on your face on your shoulders its golden mouth whispering

(so it seems) you! you! you!

2.

Now the afternoon wind

all frill and no apparent purpose

takes her cloud-shaped

hand and touches every one of the

waves so that rapidly

they stir the wings of the eiders they blur

the boats on their moorings; not even the rocks

black and blunt interrupt the waves on their

way to the shore and one last swimmer (is it you?) rides

their salty infoldings and outfoldings until,

peaked, their blue sides heaving, they pause; and God

whistles them back; and you glide safely to shore.

3.

One morning

a hundred pink and cylindrical

squid lay beached their lacy faces,

their gnarls of dimples and ropy tentacles

limp and powerless; as I watched

the big gulls went down upon

this sweetest trash rolling

like the arms of babies through the

swash—in a feathered dash,

a snarl of delight the beaks fell

grabbing and snapping; then was left

only the empty beach, the birds floating back over the waves.

4.

How many mysteries have you seen in your

lifetime? How many nets pulled

full over the boat’s side, each silver body

ready or not falling into

submission? How many roses in early summer

uncurling above the pale sands then

falling back in unfathomable

willingness? And what can you say? Glory

to the rose and the leaf, to the seed, to the

silver fish. Glory to time and the wild fields,

and to joy. And to grief’s shock and torpor, its near swoon.

5.

So it is not hard to understand

where God’s body is, it is

everywhere and everything; shore and the vast

fields of water, the accidental and the intended

over here, over there. And I bow down

participate and attentive

it is so dense and apparent. And all the same I am still

unsatisfied. Standing

here, now, I am thinking

not of His thick wrists and His blue

shoulders but, still, of Him. Where, do you suppose, is His

page and wonderful mind?

6.

I would be good—oh, I would be upright and good.

To what purpose? To be shining not

sinful, not wringing out of the hours

petulance, heaviness, ashes. To what purpose?

Hope of heaven? Not that. But to enter

the other kingdom: grace, and imagination,

and the multiple sympathies: to be as a leaf, a rose,

a dolphin, a wave rising

slowly then briskly out of the darkness to touch

the limpid air, the be God’s mind’s

servant, loving with the body’s sweet mouth—its kisses, its words—

everything.

7.

I know a man of such

mildness and kindness it is trying to

change my life. He does not

preach, teach, but simply is. It is

astonishing, for he is Christ’s ambassador

truly, by rule and act. But, more,

he is kind with the sort of kindness that shines

out, but is resolute, not fooled. He has

eaten the dark hours and could also, I think,

soldier for God, riding out

under the storm clouds, against the world’s pride and unkindness,

with both unassailable sweetness, and tempering word.

8.

Every morning I want to kneel down on the golden

cloth of the sand and say

some kind of musical thanks for

the world that is happening again—another day—

from the shawl of wind coming out of the

west to the firm green

flesh of the melon lately sliced open and

eaten, its chill and ample body

flavored with mercy. I want

to be worthy—of what? Glory? Yes, unimaginable glory.

O Lord of melons, of mercy, though I am

not ready, nor worthy, I am climbing toward you.

Mary Oliver, On Thy Wondrous Works I Will Meditate (Psalm 145)

[soranis-sunshadow]

Why Hordak and all of his brothers are cult victims suffering from Religious Trauma Syndrome

A detailed (and very, very, veeeeryy long) explanation on why I take issue with dismissing Hordak’s trauma as “daddy issues” that is frequently done as a way to hand wave his background and the context for his actions all while attributing said cultic abuse and indoctrination narrative to a character that, though has a tragic, abuse-laden past has never actually been part of a cult. *cough* Catra *cough*

Lets see how deep the rabit hole goes shall we?

First off: The Galactic Horde is based on a suicide cult, with Horde Prime as its leader.  

That is irrefutable fact. It has been stated by the show runner and there are plenty of in-show examples of religious speak, religious themes pertaining to Horde Prime and his acolytes and even the interior design of Horde Prime’s ship is that of a grandiose Cathedral.

The source of this is an article by Polygon where the show runner breaks down what went into creating Horde Prime. (link in the notes)

Onto The Etherian Horde – though totalitarian in nature, it is not a religious institution – merely a military operation. Though the argument could be made that propaganda is used to instill an anti-princess agenda, no horde members are ever seen spouting doctrine or discrimination against their very own Princess in the ranks – Scorpia. Not only is she not discriminated against, she holds the rank of Force Captain. She also has the respect of her peers.

The only person that seemed to have taken it seriously is Adora, who - due to Shadow Weaver’s personal attention – has been raised with the specific mindset of a self-sacrificing martyr. After learning of the fact that Shadow Weaver has always known about the Heart of Etheria, it is not a huge leap to assume that in her bid for more power, her plan had always been to have Adora unleash the planet’s magic, possibly sacrificing herself in the process. Shadow Weaver had groomed her for this specific purpose.  (It’s one of the reasons for which the subject of Adora’s martyrdom hurts Catra so deeply –she had been witness to the manipulation taking place but was powerless to do anything about it for most of her life)

The other cadets are more well-adjusted and don’t seem to care much about the horde’s ideology or goals, not even Catra who has suffered the brunt of Shadow Weaver’s psychological and physical abuse and has been subjected to her manipulation too.  

The above exchange proves that even if there had been any indoctrination in The Etherian Horde, it has failed in affecting Catra’s judgment. I am legitimately surprised on how little credit her own fans give her and on how her perceptiveness and intellect is dismissed to have her fit into this “brainwashed victim“ agenda for more “sympathy points”.

With that having been said I’ll start this off with a bit of a definition: Religious Trauma Syndrome is a common experience shared among many who have escaped cults, fundamentalist religious groups, abusive religious settings, or other painful experiences with religion.

The symptoms of Religious Trauma Syndrome are comparable to the symptoms of complex PTSD. The symptoms are as follows.

(link in the notes)

I will discuss all of the symptoms and causes by turn and expand upon them.

1)      Cognitive: Confusion, poor critical thinking ability, difficulty with decision-making,

negative beliefs about self-ability & self-worth, black & white thinking, perfectionism,

Hordak’s whole misguided crusade on Etheria is an act of confusion. What on green Earth had ever convinced him that it would work in proving his worth to Prime? Hordak had been confused on the reason of his rejection, self-delusional even.  Hear me out:

Despite what Hordak himself believes, he wasn’t excommunicated because he was useless, he was abandoned for being born defective, aka for existing as he was created.

His inborn defect, by nature of being an unchangeable fact was not something that he could overcome in order to earn back the acceptance of his Maker. To a certain degree, he was aware of this but had refused to acknowledge it and as such, he has framed it to himself as “his defect makes him worthless”.

By overcoming uselessness and proving his competence in furthering Prime’s goals, he had convinced himself that he would be welcome back into his brother’s flock.

He had convinced himself that by proving his usefulness, it would erase his defect. He had given himself a reason for rejection that, unlike an inborn one, could be overcome - worthlessness.  His logic being that Worthless=Defective, if he were useful, he wouldn’t be defective anymore.

He has framed his accidental stranding on Etheria as a trial of faith, not a chance at freedom or bid for power and self-actualization.

In his confused reasoning, he had not realized that by attempting to prove his worth to Horde Prime, he would be in essence, proving that Prime had been mistaken about his deficiency. This was anathema to Horde Prime’s own doctrine – that Prime is all knowing, all powerful and Horde Prime is Never Wrong. His attempts were always destined to fail from the start, the premise was flawed at the core but Hordak’s own wishful thinking prevented him from seeing the fault in his mission.

This is how Hordak sees himself:

This defect => useless => worthless mentality can be observed when he projects onto Catra. I swear, everyone projects onto everyone else in this series.

This is an example of him emulating the only leadership he’s ever known  - that of Horde Prime and exerting Prime’s judgment over a supplicant or Prime – In this case Catra (what Prime would have done to him in the same situation). He imitates Prime’s way of speaking and even his facial expression during Prime’s “speeches” (look at position of his ears in this scene and that little dimple damnit!!!)

(yes, *sigh* I did a spacebat ear position diagram)

Horde Prime has that ear position even when possessing his little brothers to give his grandiose speeches:

Hordak’s and other little brother’s “default” ear position:

It’s worth adding that perfectionism is not only part of a symptom of his cult trauma but also a tenant of Prime’s doctrine making it a double whammy.

2). Emotional: Depression, anxiety, anger, grief, loneliness, difficulty with pleasure, loss of meaning

As they say, a picture says a thousand words…

To call Hordak depressed is like calling the ocean mildly humid.

He is alone, on a planet of primitive aliens (from his perspective) surrounded by potential enemies and in an incredibly vulnerable position due to his illness with no clear end to any of it in sight. He feels nothing for this world other than irritation at his inability to leave it. His only meaning and purpose is returning to his congregation, a purpose he is no closer to fulfilling than he was when he had started a few decades ago. The only open displays of emotion he manifests are that of anger, self-loathing., frustration, fear – in the blanket scene before he comes to his senses completely and starts masking the fear with anger… at the blanket… there was nothing else in the room to be angry at… ridiculous spacebat.

After Catra deceives him about Entrapta, he openly manifests grief and apathy as well.

3).   Social: Loss of social network, family rupture, social awkwardness, behind schedule on developmental tasks, sexual difficulty (no snu snu for religiously repressed spacebats... yet  *wink wink*)  

This one is self-explanatory.  He is in essence an exile on Etheria, away from all he has ever known. He is the only one of his kind on the planet, even Imp - his attempt at replication is not a proper replacement for the community provided by the Hive mind.

From a social perspective- he is a recluse and is not seen interacting with anyone in anything but a “professional “ manner.  The only exception to this is Entrapta’s interaction to him. Due to her indifference to his posturing, she is immune to his attempts at self-isolation. “Get out!” and vague threats of reprimands don’t work on her. Their shared interest in science allows Entrapta to force the interaction on him. (At least in the beginning of their collaboration)

Later, after having become accustomed to Entrapta’s companionship and having that ripped away, he tries to form a connection – at least of commiseration – with Catra:

 Even after she did this to him:

he still tried to form a connection through their shared need to prove their own worth.  

Did you catch that little detail? : “Victory is ours” not “mine”.

4.) Cultural: Unfamiliarity with secular world; “fish out of water” feelings, difficulty belonging, information gaps (e.g. evolution, modern art, music)

…                                

Do I really need to expand on this one? *Sigh* … he is literally an alien to this world, “fish out of water” would be an understatement.

 As we have established, he fits the bill of Religious Trauma Syndrome to a T. He presents all of the symptoms.

Now let’s move onto the causes of it:

 1). Suppression of normal child development – cognitive, social, emotional, moral stages are arrested

This one is self-explanatory. The horde clones and by extension Hordak are severely stunted in their psychological development and that is by design. They are deliberately kept from developing an adult mentality so as to never become a threat to Horde Prime or ever be able to break away from his control. Prime keeps them in a child-like dependency on him as a way to exert his power over them.  Should they ever develop even a budding sense of self, their indoctrination compels them to submit to correction and erasure ensuring that they never surpass this state of learned helplessness. Horde Prime encourages this self-flagellating behavior, deeming it a mercy, even a favor to be granted – to suffer in His Name.

Hordak shows almost no emotional coping mechanisms and manifests child-like tantrums of frustration as an only outlet for his emotions throughout the show. He attempts to hide any other attempt at emotion, with differing degrees of success.

Wrong Hordak is emotionally unstable and is prone to fits of crying. (However, due to the comedic fashion in which his arc is written, I suppose that this could be taken with a grain of salt)

The clones are not only prevented from growing and maturing mentally, they are also robbed of childhoods –having been born in adult bodies and with the necessary knowledge to serve Prime literally programmed into them so as to make them able to serve efficiently from their first breath. As such, they are robbed of their formative years where one individual grows and develops naturally. Those precious experiences are replaced by Horde Prime’s literal programming through the hardware they have installed in their bodies to facilitate Horde Prime’s control over them (without their consent).  In essence, they are a people born pre-”chipped”

Regardless of their actual age, and despite the fact that they are intelligent, capable and responsible individuals, I see the clones as having the emotional maturity of toddlers.

They never had the chance to develop any emotional coping skills, they were never allowed to have emotions to begin with.

2). Damage to normal thinking and feeling abilities -information is limited and controlled; dysfunctional beliefs taught; independent thinking condemned; feelings condemned

This is The Galactic Horde’s core belief:

Along with:

Incidentally, Hordak does his version of this speech trying to puff himself up in front of his soldiers… buuut Catra pushes the Failure button and that snaps him out of his little Prime impersonation moment.  

More dysfunctional beliefs:

Condemnation of independent thinking:

Results in this:

No further explanations are necessary…

3). External locus of control – knowledge is revealed, not discovered; hierarchy of authority enforced; self not a reliable or good source

Prime exerts his dominance throughout S5 by force,

and coercion:    

He is even petty and vindictive enough to force himself into Hordak immediately after his speech and to kill Entrapta with Hordak’s own body.

As for the self not being a reliable narrator… Hordak believed this about his former position.

He is not prone to exaggeration or deception being woefully incompetent in the latter – both perpetrating and spotting it.  We have to assume that this is the way he saw his position in the Galactic Horde.

Season 5 revealed that all of the clones are equally disposable and interchangeable, there are no ranks. They are all equal tools whose sole purpose is furthering Horde Prime’s agenda. Horde Prime has no need for generals or delegating since he is able to inhabit his little brothers and be in more than one place at the same time. Hordak’s job in S5 was that of hall monitor and planetary acquisitions guy…

@cruelfeline​ goes into detail about the dissonance between what Hordak believes and what is actually his position in The Galactic Horde. A link to it is in the notes because Tumblr is being fussy. 

4.) Physical and sexual abuse – patriarchal power; unhealthy sexual views; punishment used as for discipline

Some people have seen this, ugh… form of penetration… ugh again… as rape allegory.

Not a hard thing to do since Prime himself is rape personified and he consistently forces himself onto and into his little brothers, Catra and later, the chipped Etherians.  Prime does nothing but "bad touch" people all of S5 and is particularly enjoying his disciplining of his "wayward little brother", the most unworthy and unlovable amongst his brothers. (According to the extended scene)

Here’s some more of Prime’s touching with rape subtext:

Here’s more of Prime forcing himself into his little brothers – they all seem to fight it and find it painful to some degree despite the fact that they have been conditioned to accept it and welcome it. Prime’s touch is a good thing, even when it hurts them.

Ironically, the one who fights this violation the least is Hordak himself. (this could be either because he’s extra repentant and wished not to further draw Prime’s ire or that his condition of chronic illness has raised his pain threshold)

The process of possession is not seamless and some of the clones appear to be unsettled by it after prime retreats from their bodies.

As much as this Utter Disaster of a clone wanted to finish his little speech about dirt and as much as he was gleefully enjoying it, after Prime was done with him… he just wanted his task over with…

            The very nature of their indoctrination makes them unable to escape what has been done to them nor change their whole world view without outside intervention – which is exactly the help that Wrong Hordak received immediately after being abducted from the collective by people who slowly de-indoctrinated him and offered him a supportive environment for all of that growth and healing to happen.

When the Best Friend Squad kidnapped him, he was ardent about his service to Prime and he only followed them because they deceived him in believing they were servants of Horde Prime.

By providing clear irrefutable evidence of Prime’s fallibility, deceit and the squad’s (mostly Entrapta and Glimmer)  moral support throughout this moral crisis, they (just Entrapta here *coughs* ) were able to wean him off of his programmed behavior and offer him an informed choice.

This is information none of the other clones, not even Hordak were privy to.

Even with this information, Wrong Hordak is still in emotional turmoil (though the show plays it for laughs – yuck)

The closest Hordak ever gets to walking away from Prime’s doctrine is this moment:

He was considering indefinitely putting it off to stay here, with her, and her worldview that he could be worth something, imperfect as he is. He is offered her emotional support and guidance.

Unfortunately... Catra nipped that in the bud before it could lead anywhere.

 After convincing Hordak that Entrapta betrayed him, her message of inherent worth was rendered null, to him - her unconditional affection and the notion that he could to live apart from Prime were a manipulation. This further radicalized him in his faith and need to prove his worthiness.

Not only did Catra remove Entrapta’s influence over him, she goaded him even further with this cursed little speech and her whole “yass queen moment!”. you know the one...

“Get.Over.IT! You don’t need Entrapta. You never did. You don’t need a Princess in your life telling you what to do. Look at what you’ve done without her. You’ve build an army. An empire! You and me, we don’t need anyone. Forget them all. No one matters, nothing matters but this mission. You want to prove yourself, prove your worth? Then do it! You and I are going to conquer Etheria. And then, they’ll all see!”

Both of them were in clear downfall in S4 and they amplified each other’s most negative tendencies. I will not hold this against her. 

             The last thing I want to mention is that for cult victims, it is incredibly hard, if not, almost impossible to leave their cults by themselves. The first step for leaving a cult in the real world is looking for outside assistance.

It takes enormous amounts of strength – an almost imaginable degree of resolve – to leave a cult, particularly when you may have been born into one and have no friends or connections on the outside world. Cult survivors are often ostracized by everyone they have ever known who remain within the organization. To a cultist, the world outside the cult is a hostile, sinful and dangerous place. The assistance of someone from the outside is crucial.

Only with the assistance of a “friendly outsider” or a support group can the former cultist change the world view with which they had been indoctrinated with (sometime since early childhood).

A cult and set of beliefs warps your whole world view to the point of delusion. Faith in the cultic creeds is more important than factual evidence. As  a matter of fact, the evidence in itself is evil, a contradiction to the creeds of faith and successfully denying it is an act of faith fulfilled. This mentality is encouraged in cults.

Many people in this fandom have claimed that Hordak, once pulled through the portal was free to do as he pleases. (he didn’t chose to come to Etheria – his arrival on the planet was accidental)

This is not really the case. Hordak never decided to leave the cult. He was still part of the cult when he was sent to his death on the battlefield for his defect and he was still a believer when the portal delivered him to Etheria.

In essence, Hordak didn’t leave his cult so much as he was forced apart from it, physically. In spirit, he still believed in Horde Prime’s dogma.  His experience is the equivalent of a religious man getting stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. He is apart from his church, but his faith is still with him. Hordak’s faith hadn’t waned in the decades of separation. His purpose had always been returning to Horde Prime –hence the focus on building a portal and not on levelling towns with an arm laser cannons. He has proven in S4 that, had his main mission actually been conquest, he could have done it with not much difficulty – He wasn’t half bad at it actually. Instead, he delegated the conquest to his underlings and focused most of his attention on attempts at reuniting with Horde Prime via investigating rogue portals and trying to build one of his own.

Due to the nature of his “upbringing”, Hordak’s whole world view is warped. He has not had the benefits of a “moral” education from a human’s standpoint. Why would training cadets to become soldiers in your army be morally reprehensible when you, yourself, had been bred for war and have served your God with your first breath?

This was Hordak’s idea of a “normal” childhood:

What could he possibly know about the healthy raising of children?

Why would conquering a planet be a morally reprehensible thing when his God did this to places?

And this:

Before one ascribes evil motivation, for the sake of evil – one should bear in mind that these creeds were literally programmed into him. This is not a life he has chosen for himself– this is something he was born into, literally manufactured for, this is something that was done to him.

And for those that would have wanted him to regret his actions on screen, keep in mind that it will likely  take a lot of therapy and reeducation before he even comprehends the nature and magnitude of his crimes on Etheria.

(besides the fact that he had spent 99% of season 5 in an amnesiac daze doesn’t help with the whole remembering his crimes bit either)

The show runner has declared in one of her post show interview that he will make reparations for the damage he’s caused.

What more do people want from a person born and flung into an impossible situation besides his head on a plate?

Phew!

Long post was long

[whumpasaurus101]

Arthropod Day

Did I say I was going on a posting break? Yes. Am I using my poor bebe Asher and writing him more than any other of my oc’s? Yes. So, in conclusion, I couldn't resist Nemi’s ( @brutal-nemesis ) Arthropod Day and decided to write this EHE.

(also i would like my medal for barnacle whump tyvm (-even….. Even though it's not the focus….but uhh.. shhhhh)

CW death mention / worms.. Idk if that's a warning but you're getting one anyway XD / alcohol / drowning / past death mention / emeto mentioned / cursing

Asher sat up with a fright as he was awoken once more by a nightmare. He rubbed his eyes as he yawned and stood up. As he washed his face in the bathroom, he heard the bedroom door being opened. The minute Asher saw Rodger, he started to chortle, “HAH!!! Oh my- oh my god!!! You look like an- HAHAH you look like an idiot oh my god!”

Rodger scowled, “What are you talking about?! This is my fishing outfit!”

“FISHING?!?” Asher howled from laughter, “Oh Rodger…. Rodger, honey, you look….” Asher burst out laughing. “Hey! That's enough from you!” As Rodger pointed his finger, his yellow, rubber dungarees squeaked, making Asher snort as he laughed more.

Rodger was quick to slap Asher across the face, “Shut up!!! Now get dressed, you're coming fishing with me.” Asher rolled his eyes, “Oh fuck no, not happening, nuh uh.” “Asher if you don't get dressed right now, I swear to god I will drown you in the fucking lake when we get there.” Asher knew that he would actually do it. “I'm not going fishing with you.”

-

“Pass me another worm, will ya?” Asher grumbled and silently passed a worm over to Rodger, “This is dumb.” “Well so are you, now shut up before you scare away the fishies!” Asher rolled his eyes and sighed, sitting back in the small wooden boat. They were in some sort of lake, a big one. There were stones and rocks at the bottom, some closer to the horizon than others.

Asher watched as Rodger sipped at a beer, “Isn't it a bit too early for that?” Rodger looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “No, not today.” Asher’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You know, for a person who asks a shit ton of questions, you never ask the right ones.” Asher was now doubly confused, “Wh-what?”

Rodger scoffed and chugged the rest of his beer, shaking his head, “Never mind.”

“No, no, if you feel so strongly about it, do tell.” Rodger crushed his beer can in his fist and growled, “Just drop it.”

Asher grumbled but didn't push Rodger. Not yet.

Rodger felt a tug on the fishing rod and he started reeling it in. Asher watched -secretly intrigued- as a fish suddenly splashed out of the water. It danced around, desperate to be put back in the water. Asher watched as Rodger smiled at how desperate to fish was. “Sicko,” Asher grumbled. “What did you say?” Asher gulped, “N-nothing.”

“No, no, if you thought you were so funny, please, be my guest!” “Rodger, it's fine, just leave it.”

“No! You wanted to say something, say it louder!”

Asher was scared, his heart was pounding and a sudden ringing in his ears appeared, “Rodger, please, just drop it!” The fish was soon forgotten as Rodger lunged forward and dunked Asher’s head into the water. Asher was caught in surprise as he was only allowed a quick gasp before his head was plunged in the water.

Asher heaved in breaths as his head was lifted out of the water “R-Rodger please! What the fuck is wrong with y-” His head was shoved straight back into the water. He made the mistake of inhaling as he was underwater. Big mistake.

His arm quickly rushed behind him to slap Rodger, desperate for any air. He coughed under water, making his lungs weaker. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die. And what a fucking way to go. A fishing trip. Wow-ee…

Rodger finally lifted him up and threw him across the boat. Asher coughed up water and groaned. He had whacked his head off of the wooden boat. He still heaved in breaths, coughing and spluttering -those didn’t really help with getting his breath back.

When he looked up, he saw Rodger sitting back down and fucking fishing again, as if that whole scene hadn’t just happened. Asher lay there for a moment, feeling weak. He took in several more gulps of air, trying to relax himself. He then clutched his stomach and slowly stood up, using the boat as a support. His weight affected nothing of the boat, he tried to ignore that.

He silently sat beside Rodger, watching the fishing rod’s line bob up and down in the water. He reached into the cooler and handed a beer to Rodger. He chuckled and took it, “Thanks.” He looked at it for a few minutes before sighing, “My uh, my dad passed away. Today…-” He sighed, “Today’s his anniversary.” Asher sucked his teeth, keeping his eyes glued to the water, “I’m uhm, I’m sorry to hear that I-”

“Oh shut up. I don't want your fucking sympathy!” Asher instantly shut his mouth, “Sorry.” There was silence. The boat softly rocked in the water, the sound of the water hitting against it. Birds flew up in the blue sky. There were tall dark trees that loomed over the water. Causing a cold breeze to appear. Asher shivered.

“You know, we weren't even that close. He barely spoke to me even. But somehow I miss that fucker. He’d go for ages not talking to me and then he’d bring me out fishing. I never understood him.” Asher didn't know what to say. Last time he opened his mouth, Rodger shouted at him. He decided to stay quiet.

Rodger looked at Asher, “What? You finished talking suddenly? Finally decided to shut up for fucking once?” Asher gulped, not knowing what to do. “Nothing?”

“I-I don't know what you want me to say!” Asher whined. “For fuck sake, you truly are useless! You know, I'm sick of you! I really am. You know what?” He quickly grabbed Asher by two fistfulls of his shirt and threw him into the lake, “You can make your own fucking way home.”

So the rocks that were mentioned earlier… yeah, turns out they were closer to the surface than they looked. And guess what else had decided to cling onto them, fucking barnicles. His head whacked against one of the rocks, the barnacles cutting his head along with the injury. He tried his best to kick himself up to the shore but he couldn’t see anything. The water was a mucky brown.

As he kicked more helplessly, dirt filled his vision. That’s when he felt something on his leg. Something sharp. He let out a cry underwater and used his arms to help him up.

Once his head went above water he gasped, “R-RODGER!” The world was spinning, his leg was on fire. “R-rodger -FUCK!” His head went underwater as his arms couldn't keep him up. Rodger cursed under his breath,he grabbed Asher by the shirt once more and hauled him into the boat.

Blood trickled down his leg which caught Rodger’s attention, “Let me see your leg.” “Well there’s not much to fucking see with all the blood,” Asher snapped through clenched teeth. Rodger rolled his eyes and grabbed Asher’s leg, lying it on his lap. He then looked to his side and saw his beer can.

He quickly poured it over Asher's leg, keeping a tight grip on it, knowing full well how much Asher would fight him. “OWWWW!! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Oh, would you calm down! It's just as good as rubbing alcohol, now let me have a look.” He used an old rag to wipe clean Asher’s leg and chuckled, “Blue crab.” Asher’s eyebrows furrowed, “What?” Rodger sighed as if it was obvious, “You got pinched by a blue crab.” Asher took a few breaths before yanking his leg back and sitting up quickly -instantly regretting it as the world spun for a few moments. “B-but why does it hurt so much? How did it even pinch me? I-”

“You must have angered it when you were kicking your legs like an idiot.” Then Rodger saw the blood on Asher’s shoulders and sighed, “You know what? I cant put up with you. Especially today out of all the days. I'm dropping you to Alicia’s” “But-!”

“Ap-bap-bap-bap. I don't wanna hear it.”

Asher slumped and folded his arms as Rodger turned the boat’s engine back on and the boat smoothly travelled across the lake. Rodger saw Asher shivering and silently handed him the oversized hoodie Asher liked. “There’s uhm, there should be a bandage roll in the bag if you wanna put it on your head until Jack can patch you up.”

Once Asher put on the hoodie, he quietly opened the bag and took out the bandage. He wrapped it around his head, making sure it was tight enough to help.

He sat back once more and closed his eyes. “Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open, alright? Just in case you have a concussion.” Asher groaned but nodded. He lay on his stomach and looked at the water which shot out from the motor of the boat.

That night, Asher and Jack were cuddling on Jack’s bed. Jack softly combed his hand through Asher’s hair as he slowly nodded off to sleep. Alicia came in, making Jack’s heart jump. “Please, let him sleep.” He was shocked when Alicia nodded, “Just wanted to check up on you guys.” Another shock. What was going on with her?

“Uhm, we’re good.” Alicia smiled, “Good. Here are some painkillers if he wakes up in pain. And Jack?” Jack looked up. “Love you.” Jack gulped, “L-love you t-too.”

---

Taglist: @likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @appy-polly-loggies @yesthisiswhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @happy-whumper @myst-in-the-mirror @tears-and-lilies @heathenwhump

[loving-daisy]

Cry For Me | George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist | Cry For Me Masterlist 

Chapter 8 - I Can’t Seem To Hate You

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: angst, bullying

--------------------

“Why in Salazar Slytherin, is someone like you doing outside of here?!” The blonde 4th year Slytherin demanded after the sight of a Gryffindor loitering around the dungeons made him stop in his tracks. 

But like a true Gryffindor, and a true Weasley, the ginger paid him no attention causing Draco to get annoyed. “I’m talking to you!” He added, crossing his arms. 

The tall 6th year merely gave Draco a glance, shaking his head. “You really should learn how to mind your own business, Malfoy.” 

Draco Malfoy being...Draco Malfoy, wasn’t going to let his guard down just like that. As much as he despised Gryffindors, Weasleys, and what-his-family-calls-”blood-traitors”, he knew the reason why one half of the Weasley twins were around the place where Slytherins gather. He knew the reason why George Weasley was standing outside his house’s common room. And after forming a new bond with the Slytherin queen, he wanted nothing more but to protect her. 

The blonde Slytherin stood tall, his face displayed into a sour scowl, getting close to the ginger before voicing out his threat. “You listen here, Weasley. If you don’t want me to call Professor Snape, you best be on your way out of this place and never come back. Ever.” 

George took a step back, scoffing, before his eyes landed on Y/N Icestone’s best friend who was making her way towards the common room entrance. “Greengrass!” The ginger called, waving his hand. 

The girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes landing on the Gryffindor then to Malfoy then to the Gryffindor again. Daphne and Draco made a brief eye contact, the girl almost immediately understanding the blonde’s intentions. The girl cleared her throat, brows raised as she pointed to herself. “Me?” 

George nodded as an answer. “Yes, you. Can you call Y/N for me? Please?” He pleaded, his eyes soft as if he was desperate to get out of Draco Malfoy’s presence and get into the arms of the girl he loved. 

Daphne shook her head. “No-”

“I’m here. What do you want?” A voice, her tone as cold as ice, monotonously said. Three heads turned towards Y/N Icestone who had a blank expression on her face. Three faces were shocked to see her make her presence known, in those three, the two Slytherins were on the verge of pulling her away from the one who was on the verge of pulling her away to demand an explanation. 

“Y/N-” 

Icestone pierced her cold eyes to the brown warm ones. “You have no right to address me with my first name, Weasley.” 

George Weasley was speechless. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. Millions of thoughts started to run in his head, trying his best to put them all together like a puzzle piece, to know why Y/N Icestone suddenly had a change of demeanor towards him. 

The girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you’re going to waste my time-”

“What does this mean?” The ginger blurted out. Suddenly, his hand was going through his robe pockets to fish out the note the girl had sent to him this morning. 

Y/N’s lips curled. “Are you suddenly blind that you can’t even read anymore?” She questioned, giving a brief look at the letter, seeing remnants of cream in it. 

George was starting to lose his patience. Honestly, George didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment. He didn’t know if he was happy because Y/N Icestone was still talking to him or if he was mad because none of the words coming out of her were giving him the satisfaction. “I’m serious.” 

“Hi Serious, it’s really not a pleasure to meet you. Now if you would please get out of my face and go back to whatever nasty place you belong to, I would be delighted.” The girl remarked before making her way towards Daphne, linking her arms with her to pull her towards the common room. 

“Listen, Y/N-” George was once again cut off by Y/N.

“One more thing, Weasley. Do not ever talk to me again. Ever.” She quipped, finally walking away from the ginger. 

Before Draco was able to give another threat, he too, was cut off by the girl. “Draco, let it go. Come now.” 

And there George was, alone and defeated, his last sight being Draco Malfoy’s threatening glare. 

____________________

“She won’t talk to me! She doesn’t want me to explain. At all!” The younger Weasley twin complained, arms crossed as he took a seat beside his sister at the Gryffindor common room. 

“I actually wouldn’t blame her though.” Fred expressed, shrugging, earning a glare from his brother.

“I mean, imagine finding out that your boyfriend was actually just pretending to like you to make you fall in love with him...I’d throw a fit too, honestly. Wouldn’t you, Ginny?” He mumbled to not draw attention. Although most students of Hogwarts have heard the news of Y/N Icestone dumping George Weasley. Some say that she dumped her for someone younger, someone like Draco Malfoy perhaps, seeing as the two Slytherins suddenly got so close. Some say that the Icestones gave the Weasleys a huge amount of gold in exchange for George staying away from Y/N, seeing that the Weasley’s reputation isn't good enough for the Icestones. Some even say that they knew that the two would never last. Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t really match afterall. 

“But I was just wondering how…” Fred paused in thought, careful with his words. “She wouldn't have confronted you about it earlier if she already knew about it…” He trailed off, giving off a confused facial expression.

Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s obvious, Fred. She wanted George to feel what she felt.” She advertised, earning a nod from Fred in agreement. “She’s smarter than I thought.”

“Yeah, and mean!” George grunted, shaking his head from left to right. “I can’t believe that I actually fell for her! I should have known.”

“Oh think about it, Georgie. It was basically you who started it.” The older ginger gloated. 

“Me?!” George challenged. “It was you! You were the one who schemed all this! You were the mastermind behind this!” He exclaimed. 

The sudden outburst coming from the group of Weasleys seated together caught the attention of everyone in the common room. Those gossiping started to gossip even more, their topic diverting into the Weasley twins. Those studying paused to watch the exchange. I mean, who doesn’t want to stick their noses up to family drama? 

“You’re actually blaming this on me? Well, you were the one who agreed to do it! I was only suggesting it!” Fred affirmed. 

“Suggesting?! Are you hearing yourself right now, you dimwit?! You practically forced me to do it! Saying that we’re gonna get revenge and prank the shit out of Slytherin’s stupid pride!” 

“Merlin’s beard, will you two dimwits please shut up!” The female Weasley grumbled, standing up from her seat after slapping the backs of her brother’s heads. “It was both of you! The both of you were to blame! Now please, if you want to fix this, you guys make up and actually apologize to Y/N.” 

The common room erupted into murmurs after hearing the Slytherin's name. Good information for a good morning gossip for tomorrow’s breakfast at the Great hall. 

“Boys are so annoying.” Muttered Ginny, before stepping away from the scene. 

____________________

“Salazar! Did you see the look on bloody Weasley’s face? He looked like he was about to cry!” Daphne giggled, earning a smirk from Y/N and Draco. 

“Well, he deserved it!” Y/N smiled. She turned to face Draco, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, by the way.” 

The blonde Slytherin offered a small smile. “It was nothing.” 

“Oh but it was! You really are scary aren’t you? If I was him, I would have peed my pants.” Daphne crooned, Y/N nodding in agreement. Draco’s smile grew wider. 

____________________

The next morning at the Great hall, as expected, the controversial relationship between the famous Gryffindor mischief maker and Slytherin’s royal ice queen was once again the talk of the castle. 

The moment George entered the hall, all attention was diverted to him. It’s not like he didn’t want attention. I mean, Fred and George liked the attention, the applause and compliments that they heard when people liked their prank or their very useful product that gets you out of class when you don’t feel like attending it. However, the attention George was receiving right now was not pleasant at all. All eyes were on him, yes, but almost all of those eyes were glaring at him. 

Students seated at the Hufflepuff table were giving him sad and disappointed looks. Fred and George’s pranks were a good laugh but playing with a girl’s heart is just too much. 

Those in the Ravenclaw had raised brows. How dare him play with Y/N Icestone’s heart? Does he have no respect for himself and his family? 

Those in Gryffindor were ashamed. At first, they felt bad for their housemate but after hearing the conversation between the twins and Ginny, they sent their sympathies towards the Slytherin more. 

Students sorted in Slytherin were the worst. They were glaring at him, mocking him, and even giving him some snide remarks. “You just earned yourself a lot of enemies, Weasley. Watch your back.” Threatened Adrian Pucey. 

As the ginger sat on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, his eyes studied the Slytherin table, trying to locate the girl who had been occupying his mind while trying not to make eye contact with those who were glaring at him. When his eyes planted at a mop of blonde hair, Malfoy’s hair, his eyes squinted. 

“Merlin, am I seeing this right or is Malfoy sitting with Icestone and Greengrass?” Ron, who was seated on his right, said what’s exactly on George’s mind. 

Hermione, seated in front of Ron, gave a glance before shaking her head. “That’s none of your business, Ronald.” 

The 4th year Weasley grunted. “It is if it’s true that bloody Icestone actually left my brother for stupid Malfoy!” 

“Enough, Ron!” Exclaimed Ginny. “You know nothing about George and Y/N’s relationship.” 

George took a sip of pumpkin juice from his goblet, shaking his head. “Maybe it’s true.” He said quietly, turning his attention away from a smiling Y/N and towards the plate of food in front of him. 

“What is?” Asked Fred. 

George merely shrugged. “Maybe she did leave me for Malfoy. I mean, what if she found out that I was playing with her so she and Malfoy conspired against me and they actually fell in love with each other. Something like that.” He suggested. 

Silence enveloped their space as all eyes gave George a dumbfounded look. “That sounds like the muggle love story book Hermione lent me.” Harry muttered, shaking his head before digging in his breakfast. 

Honestly, George wasn’t as calm as he was showing in his exterior. He was just good at controlling his anger. I mean, people really didn’t like him right now so if he made a scene right there, right now, people would hate him even more. But if people hated him, he hated someone more. He hated Draco Malfoy for being mean, for being nosy, and for being close to Icestone. He hated Daphne Greengrass because she was the haughty best friend of the girl he loved and hated the most, Y/N Icestone. He hated her for what happened between them. He hated her for not talking to him, for not letting him explain, and for playing with him. 

George didn’t care if he was being a hypocrite but Y/N Icestone played with him too. He had to get that straight. And so, after the girl’s Arithmancy class, he decided to corner her in that small alcove he pulled her in when they were in 5th year. 

“Didn’t I tell you to not talk to me ever again?” Icestone signed, shaking her head in frustration. Which in turn, earned a smirk from the ginger.

“Like I said, Icestone. If you ever paid any attention to me, you’ll know that I simply don’t follow what people tell me to do.” George asserted. Y/N once again sighed. 

“What do you want, Weasley? I have an essay to finish.” She asked, bored. 

“I wanted to get things straight with you, Icestone.”

“Then hurry up!” The Slytherin demanded, her patience long gone ever since she became face to face with the Gryffindor.  

The ginger was once again, speechless. Where is the Y/N Icestone that I loved? Why did she change so quickly?

He shook his head in disbelief. “You were right, Icestone. You’re not as evil as people describe you to be because you’re worse. Way, way worse.” He remarked with a disappointment present in his tone, earning himself an annoyed grunt,

“You betrayed me, George! All this time, you were only playing with me!” The girl fumed, her index finger pointed at the boy’s chest. 

George too, started to lose his patience. “But I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped! But then you’re here accusing me of playing you when YOU were the one who was playing with me!” 

“Why are you acting as if I’m the one who started this mess? Weren’t you and your twin the one who thought that it was such a great idea to make me fall for you?! To make me give you my heart and throw it away like it's some piece of garbage!” Y/N snarled, her icy eyes starting to melt with tears threatening to fall down. 

When the ginger took notice of her melting orbs, he felt his heart sink down his stomach. He hated Y/N Icestone and he hated how she cries. He hated it even more if he was the reason for it. So he let his guard down and surrendered. 

She’s right. George thought. I have no reason to blame her when it was me who started this mess. At Least he got that straight. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me, Y/N?” George quietly muttered, staring at his over worn shoes.

The girl shook her head, furiously blinking away the tears. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done because whatever we used to be, we’ll never be again.” She trembled, masking her shaking voice with faux confidence. 

“Besides, you were one of the people who believed that I have a stone cold heart. You wanted an ice queen? I’ll show you an ice queen.” 

____________________

Things didn’t get easier for George Weasley. From being the prankster, it seems like he was the victim of all the pranks students of Slytherin were pulling on him. 

In one of this week’s potion’s class, Professor Snape just had to conveniently break down everyone’s partnership. He knew it was the influence of Y/N Icestone. If not her, then Malfoy, but he knew that Icestone will still be involved in all of this. 

Snape demanded all of his students to brew a draught of living death. But he won’t tell you how. All you had to do was follow the instructions in your book. 

It’s not like George wasn’t good at potions. He is better at Fred afterall, seeing as Fred doesn’t even take this class anymore. But in the past potions classes, George never prepared the ingredients. He was more of the one who conveniently just pours all the ingredients in the cauldron, having Y/N prepare everything for him. The thought just made him miss her even more. But life sucks and he has to deal with it. And so, he dealt with a scowling Professor Snape after an unknown student from the house of Slytherin tampered with his cauldron and made it explode. 

In his charms class, a class in which he conveniently shares with Slytherins, they had to learn about non-verbal spells. And guess what? Some haughty bloke performed a non-verbal hex towards him, causing the majority of the class to laugh in his face before professor Flitwick made them stop. He was sent to the Hospital wing. 

Some time during the week, on his way to meet his twin brother, he suddenly tripped and a bucket of ice cold water was spilled into his uniform. He wouldn’t know who the culprit was if he didn’t see Blaise Zabini, Malfoy’s right hand man, snicker and shake his head in the corner of his eye. 

But despite everything, George Weasley let it slip. He never lashed out on them, choosing to keep his frustration bottled up before releasing it in a piece of parchment at night and throwing it into the fireplace inside the common room. Fred even suggested pranking them back, but George thought that he needed a break from mischief, seeing that the last didn’t really go well. 

Meanwhile, Y/N Icestone was back to her previous form. Back to herself when she never opened the stupid envelope the Weasley twins were planning to send to Malfoy. She was reserved, but not as reserved as before. She only showed her true form to her friends but other than them, her features continued to demand respect from everyone that goes past her. 

Honestly, she knew what her housemates were doing. They were messing with George Weasley for messing with her and at first, she wasn’t really fond of the idea until she remembered what the ginger did to her. So she convinced herself otherwise. 

And she observed. She observed how her housemates would either glare at the ginger or send him snide remarks whenever they’d cross paths with him. She observed how her housemate sneaked a foreign ingredient in George’s cauldron that caused it to explode. She observed how George saw who it was but didn’t act on it. She observed the way he was assisted by a kind Hufflepuff to the hospital wing. She observed how regardless of all the bullying he was receiving, he wasn’t fighting back. Which was unlikely of George Weasley. So she decided to make a bold move and ask why. 

“Honestly, what’s the matter with you?” Y/N mumbled with uncertainty, eyes piercing the ginger’s. 

George was shocked and confused. “What do you mean?” He breathed. The effect Y/N Icestone had on him remained. Seeing her up close still made his heart flip, heart ache, and heart break to pieces at the same time. 

The girl shrugged, tilting her head as if taking a better look at George, trying to comprehend his feelings. “Well, I’m mean to you, to your friends, my friends and housemates make fun of you, and you let it slip. You do nothing about it. Honestly, is this your way of letting me see how much of a bad person I am?” 

The Gryffindor offered a small smile, shaking his head. “You look happier.” He acknowledged.

“What?”

“Y/N Icestone, I wish you happiness. So if all this makes you happy, then fine. It’s my fault anyways.” 

____________________

The Slytherin didn’t take it well after that conversation. She was having a conflict with herself. The walls she built were tearing themselves apart as the thought of George Weasley came running around in her mind as if he owned the place. And so, she tried her best to distract herself. 

She attended almost all of Slytherin’s parties, something that she didn’t really bother going to before. She drank whatever Daphne would hand her, living her life like it was the last, getting intoxicated every night and then. Then she studied like her life depended on it. She was smart, but she needed a pastime. And so, she spent most of her time at the library, studying materials that a mere 6th year shouldn’t have knowledge of. She’d do anything to keep George Weasley out of her mind. 

She thought she moved on. But she realized that moving on will take a bit longer after waking up in the hospital wing with the ginger by her side. 

“George?” She called, her voice hoarse. 

The ginger stood, looking down at her with eyes of concern and worry. “Icestone. Glad you’re finally awake.” 

After attempting to sit up, the girl groaned, feeling her body ache as if fire was burning all over. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here? What the bloody hell happened?” She asked, clueless of the recent events.  

The Gryffindor raised both his brows in disbelief. “It seems like you’re overworking yourself, Icestone. Me and Fred saw you walking in the halls on the way to potions class but then suddenly you were on the floor, no response!” 

“Fred too?” Y/N pondered, earning a nod from the boy. “Yeah...Fred too. He went to class since Madame Pomfrey didn’t allow the both of us here. So I stayed.” 

“Why? Don’t you hate me? You could have attended potions class like your twin.” 

George offered a small smile, shaking his head. “Because if I attended Snape’s class, I would have worked on the cauldron alone and lost my house some points.” 

“Oh.” The girl murmured, nodding, 

The boy mirrored her actions. “Yeah.” 

Silence enveloped the atmosphere and it wasn’t comfortable. So, the Slytherin decided to call for Madame Pomfrey before facing the Gryffindor and offering a small smile. “Thank you, George. Really. But I’m fine now. You can leave.” 

The boy nodded. “Alright.” 

After the ginger left, the girl laid back down, closing her eyes. Why can’t I hate him? How can I hate him?

End of Chapter 8

____________________

Taglist: @abrunettefangirlnerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @lilypad-55449​ @memekingofwwiii @leovaldez37 @bellaiscool​ @sukunas-cult-leader​

[ohayohimawari]

And it was Love at First Brawl

A drabble written for Day 7 of @kakaobiweek Violet | Music | Fantasy

This is another humorous piece appropriate for teen-and-up readers and set in a modern AU.

This drabble is heavily inspired by my good friend @azuzeldraws incredible art series, Metal Konoha, and I dedicate this chapter to her. Thank you, Zu, for letting us use your amazing work to promote this event!

And it was Love at First Brawl

It was one of those Friday nights when Kakashi left the restaurant with a stomach full of his favorite supper and an empty soul after dining alone.

Though the day neared its end, Konoha’s club district was just beginning to wake. The streets were full of jaywalkers, inexperienced parallel-parkers, and the night owl versions of early birds lined up in boisterous queues waiting for the bars to open.

Kakashi felt entirely out of place and maybe almost too old for this scene while he dutifully waited at the corner for the pedestrian crossing light to signal his turn. He stepped into the crosswalk once it was safe, and he saw a man on the opposite side, jogging towards the intersection to cross before the light changed.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street, entirely entranced.

He watched the individual blades of the other man’s black, unruly hair as they bounced with each step. He wore a t-shirt that fitted him like he was born to wear it and a healthy glow on every inch of exposed skin. His sparkling eyes met Kakashi’s as he trotted past him on the street and offered a greeting through a roguish grin. “Hey.”

And that was all it took.

Being a classic lit teacher, he had a multitude of words at his disposal. That man was vivacity personified, and Kakashi turned on his heel, following him with his eyes. The dark-haired man ran right up to the door of the seediest bar on the street and gleefully skipped up the stairs. He exchanged laughter and a handshake with the bouncer and disappeared inside.

The pedestrian light flashed red, alerting Kakashi that he still stood in the middle of the street. His feet moved of their own accord, and a moment later, his brain agreed with their plan. He retraced his steps, abandoning his intention to go home, knowing he would abandon much more than that for a chance to meet the stranger that charmed him.

As driven as he was, Kakashi hesitated for a moment outside of the club, assessing it. The sidewalk in front of it was littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts, and two people appeared to be doing something he didn’t want to interrupt in the shadows of the alley next to it. Then, he assessed himself.

He was dressed more casually than usual, out for a date with nobody but him, wearing a t-shirt that featured a band called ROOT. He had no idea who they were, or why they used all capital letters, but his students chose it from the trendy store Boiling Subject as a gift for him, and it was comfortable after wearing a tie all day. Deciding that his attire was appropriate for the venue, Kakashi walked up the stairs that led to the door, where he was stopped by the same menacing bouncer that laughed only moments before.

“You sure you wanna do this?” The man growled through scarred lips.

“Pretty sure,” Kakashi replied, though his confidence wavered.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The man’s muscles bulged in a show of strength as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t want to bring any,” Kakashi replied, honestly.

“Let him in, Ibiki.” A pony-tailed bartender wearing a high-cut shirt that showed more cleavage than fabric chastised the bouncer.

“Whatever you say, Anko,” Ibiki moved aside to allow Kakashi into the bar.

As foreboding as the exchange was, it caught the attention of the handsome dark-haired stranger who stood at the bar. Bolstered, Kakashi stood in the space next to him.

“What can I getcha, hon?” Anko tossed a stained cardboard coaster onto the bar in front of him.

“A beer,” Kakashi ordered as if he’d never been to a pub before, too nervous to recall his favorite drink.

Anko retrieved a bottle from the cooler behind her while Kakashi withdrew a few bills from his wallet. Then, he wrapped his hand around the bottle of Lone Ninja Star she offered after opening it with her teeth.

Kakashi ignored how unhygienic it was to take a sip from the bottle as he did it, glancing around the bar, looking everywhere but at the man that led him there. It was half-full of patrons in various stages of sobriety and had a stage all set up and waiting for a band to perform. When he finished noting where all the emergency exits were, the most incredible thing happened.

“Cheers,” Mr. Vivacity said, bringing their beer bottles together in a toast.

“Cheers,” Kakashi replied, then pulled a long swig from the bottle, savoring the moment that the man of his dreams had spoken first.

“So, uh,” the dark-haired man glanced down at Kakashi’s shirt, and a chuckle bubbled out of him, “you like this band too?” He tilted his head in the direction of the stage.

“Um, yeah," Kakashi stammered, "I mean, yes. Yes, I do."

"Cool," Mr. Vivacity replied with a smile that made Kakashi's knees buckle. "Which of their CDs is your favorite?"

Kakashi's quick mind kicked into gear on the spot. If the band had multiple releases, then the safest answer would be, "I think their first one."

"Really?" The dark-haired man appeared pleasantly surprised. "So, you're an old-school fan, huh?"

“Yep, I guess I am,” Kakashi laughed a little awkwardly and brought his beer back to his lips.

“I think my favorite track on that one is, Kill Me With Your Kekkei Genkai,” Mr. Vivacity nodded, thinking aloud, and Kakashi felt his eyes bulge, worried that he might not be able to keep up the facade. But then he was spared when the other man suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, my name is—”

“Crybaby Tobi, you finally made it!” A man with slicked blonde hair and wearing a shirt with religious cult symbols literally crashed into their conversation, spilling his beer on Kakashi’s shirt.

The unwelcome interruption glanced at him. “My bad,” he drawled unapologetically, looking down at the soiled shirt. Then, his eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s.

“WHOA! You’ve got balls, man!”

“Thank you,” Kakashi decided to take it as a compliment, turning towards the bar to grab a few napkins. He blotted at his shirt when Anko shouted to him that there was a hot air dryer in the men’s room, and, as much as Kakashi didn’t want to walk away from Mr. Crybaby before he could learn his real name, he didn’t want to stand there like an idiot in a wet ROOT t-shirt.

By the time he exited the bathroom, a makeshift merchandise table had appeared near it, so he bee-lined to it to learn more about the band to contribute to a conversation about them. At least, now he knew the band’s name was ANBU, and he wondered what was up with bands using all capital letters.

He had barely begun to browse the tracklist on the back of one of the CDs when the purple-haired, facial-pierced woman at the table asked, “You gonna buy that?”

Something about her tone made Kakashi feel obligated to pull out his wallet, and he handed over a twenty-dollar bill.

“I don’t have change for that,” she deadpanned, bored, and sarcastic.

Suddenly, the bar erupted with shouting, so Kakashi quickly grabbed a second CD to even out the exchange and hurried back to the bar and Mr. Vivacity, or Crybaby, or whoever he was.

Then, his heart sank when he saw that the other man wasn’t there anymore.

Kakashi stood in front of the stage feeling like the biggest fish out of water when the club’s sound system screamed into life with the ear-splitting sound of feedback through the amps. Kakashi covered his ears and spun around in time to catch the band taking their positions onstage.

The singer set down a six-pack next to his mic and yanked one can of beer free from it. He held it sideways in his hand, pulled out a kunai, and stabbed it in the middle before bringing the punctured hole to his mouth.

“Tenzō! Tenzō! Tenzō!” The crowd chanted while he shotgunned the beer and cheered when he crushed the empty can against his head. He grabbed the microphone in front of him when his large, almond eyes made bigger by copious amounts of black eyeliner landed on Kakashi.

“What the fu —” He roared, launching himself off the stage, tackling Kakashi to the ground.

Even though he was a classic lit teacher, Kakashi held his own for a long time in a fight against a bar full of punks until he took one bottle to the head too many and woke up in the alley next to the bar.

“Hey,” Kakashi winced as he turned his head to see who spoke to him, already recognizing that voice and feeling a little happier than concussed. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Kakashi muttered, “thanks, Mr. Crybaby.”

“It’s Obito,” the other man laughed, “and you’re welcome, Mr. Metalhead.”

“I didn’t fool you for a second, did I?” Kakashi licked at his fattened, split bottom lip, hoping he looked like he deserved sympathy. “I’m Kakashi, by the way.”

Obito snickered and pressed a bag of ice against Kakashi’s head. “I figured you didn’t quite know what you walked into, wearing a ROOT t-shirt to an ANBU gig.”

“What was that all about?”

“Tenzō used to be the drummer for that band, but he had a big blow-up with their manager, Danzō, so he quit and formed his own band. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

Kakashi looked down, embarrassed, not knowing what to say and feeling like a total idiot.

“Why did you come to the bar?” Obito asked quietly.

Kakashi sighed through his nose. If he learned anything that night, it was that honesty probably came with less violence. “You.”

“Me?” Obito asked, even more timidly.

“Yeah,” Kakashi glanced up at him. “You passed me on the street, and, I�� I just had to meet you,” he felt a little like a weirdo admitting it out loud, but he was past the point of stopping now. “I dunno, I, I just had a feeling, and I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

“Me too,” Obito confided, lowering the bag of ice, and Kakashi peered at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I was just about to run back out when you showed up at the door. I uh, I’m the sound guy here,” he tilted his head towards the bar, “and I was running late; otherwise, I would’ve stopped right there in the crosswalk. But when I saw the band was running late, I was about to go after you,” he ended with a shy smirk.

“You’re the sound guy?” Kakashi’s brain was turning to mush and it had nothing to do with how many blows he took to the face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Obito brought the ice back up to Kakashi’s head, “I messed with their levels hoping the feedback would distract Tenzō long enough for you to get out of his line of sight, but,” he grimaced.

“You wanna go for a drink with me?” Kakashi mumbled, knowing he couldn’t embarrass himself anymore that night.

Obito chuckled at him and held up his hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

Kakashi focused on the fingers in front of his face. “Three?”

Obito laughed louder and stood up, “Wrong.” He helped Kakashi to his feet, “Looks like Konoha ER is our first date.”