#was basically everything that torments him in the series

[finnycomet]

like real brothers, or even closer!

sorry i had no idea what to name this, that three buckets quote stuck out in my mind so i picked that. but i HAD to write a tickle fic for fern. i also practically had to physically force myself to post this. enjoy!

finn and fern were laid on one of the many grassy hills surrounding them, deciding to stop on the way home after fern had (hesitantly, and with some persuasion of finn) tagged along with finn for an adventure. it was at least a nice day, so why not, he figured? the two just hanging out together seemed to be steadily turning into a common occurrence as of late.

recently, fern found himself slowly becoming a bit iffy on monster fighting and dungeon crawling and such, since now it only ever seemed to remind him of being finn, and that reminded him of a whole package of other things he’d rather not think about.

but something they found they both still enjoyed was just skygazing. they often liked to lay down in the grass or on the top of the treehouse together, count the clouds, or the stars. they’d talk about everything, or nothing. which is what they found themselves doing now! but today, fern just seemed… off.

well, he always seemed a little off. in a way that finn couldn’t fully put his finger on. and he wasn’t talking about his grassy appearance, or the way he talked to himself up on the roof, or how finn noticed sometimes his movements would get a little rigid. those were all things he’d learnt to get used to, eventually.

but its like fern was never truly happy, or even content. admittedly, he did express that a lot… mostly through anger or self deprecation. but even on a good day, finn could still see the misery flickering behind his eyes like the subtle flame of a candle.

finn tried to accept that thats just the way fern is, because he doesn’t want to pry at fern for something he isn’t even sure he could help with. but each day, it got increasingly harder to ignore seeing his… friend? or he supposed, brother, so unhappy.

especially today however, he seemed more distant than usual. as much as finn tried to help fern with advice or attempts to reassure him, it never really seemed to do much in the end. and the last thing he wanted was for him to feel worse.

he knew that fern wasn’t having the best time in terms of figuring out his identity, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was something more. something that he wouldn’t open up about.

he wasn’t sure how to help, but he did want to. talking about it would probably be the first step. whew, why was this kinda nerve wracking? the human collected his thoughts— synchronous to him collecting blades of grass below him, picking at them one by one.

“uh, by the way fern… are you doing okay? like… i’ve just noticed you seem pretty sad. or not sad but, i dunno, generally troubled maybe? not just today, but kinda all the times. if you don’t mind me asking, why? whats on your mind dude? you can tell me anything, you know? i’m just kinda worried.”

hm. that came out a bit more unsteady than he was hoping it would.

fern, seemingly disturbed from deeply zoning out at the endless blue above them, peered over at finn with a glimpse of annoyance on his face, to which was finn’s cue to suddenly feel guilty for even saying anything. but he figured he’d acknowledge finn’s concerns with some sort of answer.

“right. uh… i dunno. i mean i do know— but… its all just so… i doubt you would… ugh. there are a lot of reasons, finn.”

finn waited patiently for the other to continue, but after about ten long seconds passed with nothing else but a sigh from fern, he guessed that was all from him.

well! that didn’t exactly get them anywhere!

he let a few more pass as he thought about his next course of actions, now ripping up small chunks of grass as he did so.

clearly, when it came to emotions, verbal communication wasn’t exactly either of their strong points. something more to have in common, at least. so maybe trusty old physical affection would work. that was something he understood!

“if you can’t explain, would you… want a squoze? would that make you feel better?” finn languidly sat himself up, already anticipating the answer to be affirmative.

“mm… maybe.” fern figured it would at least help a little. so he followed, crawling towards finn, and leaning back against him as he got the life (oddly comfortingly) squeezed out of him.

“…yyyeah okay, it helps.” he sheepishly admitted. finn beamed at this, and remained hugging fern. after a few seconds of silence, he was going to say something, but he had to admit, it felt pretty nice to be held like this. it wasn’t often that he got any sort of physical comfort, or any comfort at all besides what finn would offer him. jake used to be the one responsible for that kind of thing…

finn’s smile faded as he heard fern sigh bitterly once more. maybe it hurt extra bad because they had some sort of twin-like emotional connection, but whatever the reason, fern being like this broke finn’s heart a little more than he would prefer. theres gotta be something that could help, right?

in his desperate mental search for solutions, suddenly a particularly interesting idea appeared in his head. but was that even still physically possible…?

he’d thought about the concept of fern being ticklish before, maybe once or twice. but usually just brushed it off, and promptly forgot about it. but being tickled used to cheer finn up all the time. what were the chances that it would work on fern as well? probably good chances!

it was an entertaining idea in theory, but how could he not have considered that maybe, if he still was, it could serve to be useful!

maybe he should try…

“hey fern, mind if i try something”

“hm? uh, yeah, sure.” he seemed to be zoning out again, absentmindedly going along with whatever finn said.

the teen tried to hold back his mischievous giggles as he squeezed ferns side. and to his surprise, he yelped and jerked away! now this just got 1000 times more interesting.

fern froze for a second, before looking back at finn in embarrassment.

“finn! what are you… don’t do that-”

finn couldn’t stop the giggles that poured out of him this time as he decided this plan was officially in action, making sure his arms were tightly wrapped around fern, effectively trapping him.

he gave fern no time to attempt an escape as he quickly started testing something, deciding to experimentally poke around his middle like he was studying a test subject.

fern choked out a sort of strangled noise, and quickly tried to bat finns hands away with his own. his attempts are pretty useless however, and once finn is satisfied with his discoveries, he wastes no time skittering his fingers against the smooth grass of fern’s tummy.

ferns willpower almost immediately breaks, letting himself burst into a fit of squeaky cackling.

although its panicked, his laugh is surprisingly bubbly. its quite the pleasant contrast from his usual tone of voice, and finn can’t help but quietly snicker along with him in amusement. when has he ever heard fern laugh like this? he isn’t sure he has!

his thoughts are cut off by fern rapidly starting to get squirmy and kicking frantically at the grass below them, digging up some dirt and weeds in the process.

“eheheheHEHE- NAHAHAHA!” he cried, quickly shaking his head back and fourth.

“aw, fern! i didn’t know you were so ticklish! i probably should’ve guessed, since i… uh, yeah. but this is honestly fun, heheh!”

“f- for yohou maybeheHEHE!! FIHIHIN!!!” he full on screamed as finn reached down to scribble at his knee on top of it all. so, seems they have the same tickle spots! that makes this a lot easier. finn cheekily noticed that he wasn’t exactly trying to get away, though.

“i dunno, it doesn’t really seem like you aren’t liking this… i bet you do!”

“nooohoho!”

“heh, you totally do man. buuut you know, thats not a bad thing! that means its helping you, right?” he momentarily let fern have a breather to think about this.

and yeah, as much as fern would like to deny it, he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling that fluttered in his chest. didn’t mean he had it in him to bring his voice up to anything louder than a mumble, though.

“hehe- uh… okay, maybe just a little.”

finn grinned at this, getting right back to work. “good! so, where does it tickle more? right there? orrr here?!”

“AH- eheHEhe wait wait, WAHAHAH PLEHEHESHE!! oh gLOB!!”

and wait he did not! fern tried not to make so many embarrassing flailing movements or squeaky noises, but honestly, when his body felt like it was melting into a tickly mush, he’s pretty sure his mind had short circuited and abandoned whatever remaining composure he once had long ago.

finn started digging his fingers into fern’s ribs (or where they would be) and giggled at how his shrieks raised an octave. he was almost smiling as much as fern at this point.

it was surprisingly gratifying watching how his brother went from visibly upset, to now laughing so hard his eyes started to prick with mirthful tears in a matter of minutes.

occasionally, finn even earned some snorts from fern (which he did not fail to tease him about) as he switched to erratically claw and poke along his sides and belly. once finn realized fern was particularly sensitive to the rougher methods, he definitely made sure to utilize that knowledge. fern never remembered being this good at tickling people when he was finn, whats the deal!

after a bit longer of this, all fern could do in his weakened state is kick about helplessly, and let out giggly pleas for finn to have mercy through his shrill shrieks and babbling. or, thats what it sounds like hes saying… sort of. its kinda hard to tell at this point.

he decided to let up after fern’s voice started getting a little too wheezy, releasing him from the chamber that was his arms.

fern immediately flopped onto the ground, curling into himself and softly giggling at the tickly feeling that lingered on him. he didn’t realize how heated his face felt until now… and also until finn scooted over to look at him, and as the cherry on top of the embarrassment cake, pointed it out.

“woah, your face is… wait! is that supposed to be blush, or something? your cheeks are covered in flowers dude! ehehe!”

fern only groaned in response, hiding his face in his hands... yet he couldn’t help the giddy smile that remained plastered on it. his body felt all light and warm, and in the back of his mind he realized this was the happiest he’s felt in a long while… or maybe even ever, as himself.

but finn’s voice cut through his train of thought before he could let himself get lost in it.

“err, you… doing okay? sorry if i went too far. i kinda tend to do that, i think. but i didn’t even know you could still be ticklish! that was probs the most i’ve ever heard you laugh, too!” fern stayed silent as he continued to gain back his energy. but finn didn’t mind.

he went to lay next to fern, probably to be able to at least read him a little better.

“…so, don’t you feel a little better? eeeeh?”

the grassy creature uncovered his face, briefly taking a moment to brush off the flowers (and a mushroom that had apparently sprouted atop his head at some point) before meeting finn’s expectant gaze. a beat of silence passed, then his eyes suddenly lit up as he appeared to come to a realization.

“huh, yeah! i actually do! …i guess i never really get to feel that carefree. i don’t think i’ve actually been able to since i was a finn… but that really distracted me from stuff, you know?” he rubbed his arm meekly, suddenly lowering his voice to almost a whisper as he picked away some stray grass blades that stuck out.

“and it was… uh, kinda fun. you know, kinda like we used to do with jake. so thanks.”

and he smiled. probably one of the most genuine smiles finns ever seen from him. of course, he returned it in full. fern’s emotions just seem to be pretty contagious that way.

finn figured he’d need to try this again, if fern ever seemed a little more gloomy than he finds acceptable. and honestly, fern wasn’t sure he’d mind that so much.

#adventure time tickles #adventure time tickling #ler!finn #lee!fern #sfw tickling #tickling #btw the “something more” bothering fern that finn couldn’t put his finger on #was basically everything that torments him in the series #so like… his whole existence #fern rlly deserves to be happy and thats Exactly Why he needs this #okay im smashing my phone and deleting myself off the face of the earth now BYE

[lorcandidlucienwill]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron #tamlin #feyre archeron #anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti nessian #anti inner circle #anti ic #anti e/riel #sjm critical #pro tamlin

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 2

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). fluff, with a whisper of angst. language, nudity. 18+, MDNI.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i am tormented writing this, i wake up in the middle of the night with ideas but this is fr just exposition don't you worry, we're getting there i promise

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The next week goes by in a blur. You and Yuji don’t run into each other, which is pretty typical, and you try your best to act like you weren’t completely shocked at how he kissed you the last time you saw each other whenever you’re texting him.

During a break between classes on Thursday, you head back to your dorm to relax for a bit and get some lunch. As soon as you close your door, your phone lights up with an incoming video call from Yuji. You answer it and see his face suddenly take over your screen.

“Hey there! Sorry to call you suddenly, but I have another favor to ask you,” he says with a cheeky smile. “You remember that girl I told you about last week? Well, she and I are kind of supposed to hang out and I wanted to practice the whole date thing with you,” he pauses, expectantly.

“Sure,” you sigh with a small smile forming on your lips, “when are you supposed to see her?” “That’s sort of the thing…” Yuji hesitates, breaking eye contact with the screen for a moment before turning back, “we’re supposed to hang out tomorrow so I would kind of need you to come over tonight.” “Tonight?” your eyes widen. “Yuji, I have class, and assignments, and-”

He cuts you off. “I know, I know, but I promise I’ll make it up to you! Look, come over to my place tonight at 6:00, pretty please?” he pleads, batting his eyelashes at the camera.

You concede, “Fine, but you owe me one.” Yuji cheers and thanks you profusely.

You hang up the phone and walk towards your bed, laying down on your back with your feet dangling off the end. You still don’t know what to make of the sudden change in your dynamic - I mean, you guys haven’t hung out one-on-one for months and now suddenly you’re making out like it’s no big deal? And what’s with this girl he went from not being sure he even had feelings for to suddenly going out with her tomorrow? Is he going to kiss her like he kissed you? You feel a pang in your stomach.

Are you…jealous? No, no way, you’re just hungry because you still haven’t had lunch. You push the thoughts aside as you get up to grab some leftovers from the mini fridge in your room and try to keep it out of your mind until tonight.

–

By the time you get to Yuji’s, the sun has set and the streetlights are starting to turn on as you walk across campus. When you arrive you knock on his door and he opens it, his eyes immediately scanning your body as he takes you in. You’re wearing an off-white bodycon dress you found in the back of your closet with a black jacket to help keep you warm on your way over, an outfit that’s fairly atypical for you since you don’t often have a reason to dress up like this.

“Wow,” Yuji says with a smile, eyes still glancing over you, “you look…really nice.”

“Thanks,” you shrug. “I figured this should be as immersive as possible so you can actually use it as practice for your date tomorrow rather than us just hanging out like always.”

He nods in agreement and moves to let you step into his room. Inside, you notice candles lighting the space rather than the LED lights like last time, and it makes everything feel much cozier.

“It looks nice but isn’t this a huge fire hazard?” you tease, slipping your jacket off and hanging it on one of the hooks behind his door.

“Dunno, just wanted it to be nice for you,” he says nonchalantly as he moves toward the center of the room. There’s a fold-out table that was almost definitely used for beer pong at some point with two chairs you’re pretty sure were stolen from his dorm’s study room on either side of it. He pulls out one of the chairs for you and you sit down in front of an empty paper plate and red Solo cup.

“How classy,” you smirk at the setup.

“Hey, it’s the best I could do on short notice - besides, it’s not like she’s coming here tomorrow anyways,” he argues, crossing his arms. You notice him trying to hide a grin before he moves to sit across from you at the table. “Anyways, thank you for coming tonight.” He smiles genuinely at you. “Before we begin our meal, could I offer you some of our finest wine selection?” he asks while pulling out the cheapest-looking box of red wine from behind his chair.

You laugh at his question. “Seriously? How did you even get that in here? Isn’t alcohol banned in the dorms?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweets,” he says with a wink. In reality, Yuji had worried about it, a lot. He had to ask his friend Toge to help him smuggle it in, pretending it was a new gaming system they were going to play, making sure to give the security guard posted outside the dorm a good show of how excited they were about it. But, now that was all said and done, and Yuji was just glad his efforts paid off and he got to share it with you.

He leans forward across the table, propping his elbows on either side of your plate to steady himself, and begins pouring wine out of the box into your cup. He looks down to make sure he doesn’t spill any, when suddenly the table gives out under the weight of him resting his arms on it. The nearly-full cup tumbles toward you and covers your dress in dark red.

“Shit, Yuji!” you scream reflexively as you stand up. You try to brush the wine off your dress but that seems to only smear it more.

The boy looks up from where he is now laying on the floor on top of the collapsed table, taking in the situation before he immediately springs into action. “Okay, you take your dress off, I’m gonna go grab some laundry detergent, and we’re going to fix this - I-I mean, I’m going to fix this,” he states, trying to reassure himself as much as you.

He uses his hands to push himself up off the ground and steps over to his closet, quickly grabbing one of his oversized t-shirts and tossing it at you before running out of the room. You stare at the black shirt in your hands, still trying to process the scene that unfolded but realizing you do still need to change. You begin to unzip your dress and the second it hits the floor, Yuji runs back into the room.

“I found the detergent!” he proclaims, excitedly holding the bottle above his head before he realizes what he just walked in on. He freezes, eyes glancing quickly all over your body just like he did when you first arrived, but this time with the notable absence of your dress. His eyes pause over your matching black bra and panties before he looks back to your face, watching your cheeks suddenly turn red from embarrassment. You aren’t even sure why you’re blushing since Yuji has seen you change more times than you can count, but just like when you were sitting on his lap last week, this time feels different.

You both stare at each other before he lets out a nervous chuckle that breaks the silence. “You, uh, you want me to wash that dress or not?” You look down to the crumpled dress at your feet and instinctively toss it to him without a word. “Sweet, I’ll get this in the wash and be back in a second,” he says before promptly turning and leaving.

As you look down at your hands, you notice they’re shaking. What is wrong with me? You think. It’s just Yuji. Shaking the thought away, you slide the t-shirt over your head and it nearly reaches to your mid-thighs. You let out a sigh, thankful to finally feel a bit more covered.

Yuji pops his head back into the room. “Are you decent?” he teases before swinging the door open without waiting for an answer.

You feel a bit better now that you’re clothed again, finding some energy to joke back with him. “What a romantic dinner, Yu,” you say with a chuckle, your voice still a bit more shaky than you would have liked.

“Hey, it was still good practice! What if there’s a horrible wine emergency on our date tomorrow and I have to think fast,” he laughs. “Besides, we can still finish this date. You haven’t even seen the main course yet!”

He reaches under his bed and pulls out a familiar bag, holding it up with a toothy grin. “Taco Bell? Seriously?” you groan and flop back on his bed.

“Don’t blame me, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to eat my delicious cooking,” he jokes. “Besides, it’s the only place where I still have your order memorized, and I wanted to make sure I got you something you’d like,” he hums.

You shift your eyes down from the ceiling onto his, and it’s almost like you can see his gaze soften as you look at him. Yuji was truly nothing if not genuine; it was clear that he really did care about getting you something you’d like, and he wanted to show you that he still knows things about you, even if they’re as simple as your fast-food order. You felt the air in the room shift, and while you couldn’t read Yuji’s mind, after knowing each other for that long you could make a pretty good guess: he needed this. You could almost sense his subtle desperation for your approval as he walks towards you, and without thinking, you say, “It’s perfect Yuji, I love it,” with a smile forming on your lips.

He lights up at your words and leaps forward onto the bed, landing next to you on his stomach before turning to face you. “I know this isn’t exactly how you pictured this ‘date’ going, but I’d still like it to be special. Besides, it’s late, and you can’t exactly walk back to your dorm in my t-shirt, so why don’t we make tonight fun, just the two of us? Like we used to?” he pauses, waiting for your answer.

His eyes lock onto yours and again, without thinking, you turn towards him and throw an arm around his shoulder. Glancing at the clock behind him, it illuminates the time: 6:43. It was absolutely not late and you could easily borrow some of his sweatpants to walk back to your dorm, but instead of saying that, your mouth moves before your mind can catch up. “Like we used to,” you say through a soft grin.

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#q writes #practice makes perfect #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji x you #yuuji x reader #yuuji x y/n #yuuji itadori x you #yuuji itadori x y/n #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #yuji x you #yuji x y/n #yuji itadori x you #itadori x you #itadori x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader

[enam3l]

the godparents (rockstar eddie x reader)

a follow up to baby fever!

4.4k words / PG friendly / fluff / angst /

CW: pregnancy/fertility and it's downsides, if pregnancy is a sensitive topic for you, i'd skip this one!

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

Eddie doesn't have a clue what you're saying. Your mouth is moving but all he hears is blood rushing past his ear canal. That's basically the only thing he's been able to hear for the past two months. Only vaguely observing his surroundings as he stays stuck in his own head, raging with thoughts and questions. Stuck this way ever since his best friend, Steve Harrington and his partner Marissa had their firstborn. The moment he held Rob Harrington, he was screwed. As Steve had put it 'Eddie Munson has baby fever.' 

Actually, Eddie had caught the fever the moment he first saw you interact with a child. A desire to have children awoken but only with you. He'd managed to sit on this secret for a few years now but ever since the gang's latest addition, the fever has raged. Ultimately, he knows now he has to confess to you about what plagues him. Really, Eddie knows he should've mentioned it somewhere between realising he wanted kids and asking you to marry him. But, in his defence, you've never mentioned them and it wasn't worth the risk of losing you. 

Each day the secret burns harsher. Now, Eddie sits, on the edge of the bed in his Hawkin's home with a gormless look on his face as he watches you. You're flittering around the bedroom in a pretty, expensive dress, worrying about today. Today was Rob Harrington's Christening. Today Eddie became a godfather and you became a godmother. Subtract one word and his dreams would be coming true. 

It's a tug round his neck that brings him back down to earth. You're stood between his legs, tying his tie carefully. Only you know how to do it right, nice and loose, stopping him from feeling like he's choking or looking like a real adult. You tuck the curtain of hair he's trying to hide under, behind his ears. 

'You okay, baby? You've been real quiet,' you hum with concern. 

He blinks, totally dazed by you. The way your pretty face looks at him all wide eyed and full of love. Oh god, he hopes your kids look like you. He wants to be endlessly tormented by an army of your mini clones. 

'Yeah, yeah, sweet, I'm good, I'm...' good lord, Munson, think of an excuse, 'just nervous about today.' 

You sit on his lap and kiss the round tip of his nose. He could stay sat like this, being loved on by you forever. 

'Oh god, did you have the dream where the priest dropped Rob in the water again because I promise that won't hap-' 

Eddie cuts you off with a shake of his curls, although, that dream had been bothering him. 

'S'just a big day, isn't it,' he shrugs. 

You nod in agreement, thumbs soothing over his freckled cheeks. 

'Mhmm, we're gonna be godparents. That's like being appointed to be an aunt and uncle by God... or something?'

Eddie chuckles and softly kisses your lips. Neither of you were exactly religious. Honestly, neither were Steve and Marissa but it just felt like one of those things you're supposed to do. After everything the boys had seen and been through, putting a good word in with the Big Man (or whatever exists) felt like a good precaution. 

After speckling his face in a few more gentle kisses, you hopped off Eddie's back and returned to fretting. The Christening present, you had now wrapped and unwrapped several times, was back in your hands. 

'Do you think it's okay? I mean will he like it? I know he's too young for it at the moment but when he is old enough?'

You'd chosen the present. With some plotting, Eddie had managed to swipe the signet ring Steve always wore with his initials inscribed. Then, you had it replicated with Rob's initials instead.  

'Yes! Sweetheart, it's perfect. More than perfect. It'll make Harrington cry like a baby!' 

The thought made you giggle. Steve had been a hormonal wreck ever since Marissa had gotten pregnant. It reached the point where his mood swings outdid the ones of his actually pregnant partner. Eddie knew his reassuring had worked once he saw your body relax. Now, you returned to ensuring not a hair was out of place. Your hair was pulled away from your perfect face that looked fresh with effortless make up. The straps of your dress tied in bows over your shoulders, revealing the expanse of the delicate skin that covered your collar bones. The only downside had been the ban imposed against Eddie marking you up. But, now he saw you stood there before him, it was clear his sacrifice was worth it. The structured silk bodice fitting you perfectly then flowing down just near your knees. It wasn't often he saw you in things so glamorous but soft; it made his heart fizz thinking this was almost a taste of how you'd look on the wedding day that was just a month away. 

The church was crammed with Steve and Marissa's loved ones who'd travelled from all over the country to celebrate baby Robert. Attending events like these made Eddie nervous ever since he was outcast kid however now he sticks out more so. He saw the way attendees eyes gazed at the boy of the hour, cradled in his parents arms. Then their eyes would flicker to Eddie - who stood beside them at the altar - and do that classic squint. The do-I-know-him-from-somewhere-oh-wait-is-that-the-one-from-that-noisy-band squint. It was something he never found flattering, always embarrassing. It was one of the first things he'd thought about when Steve had asked him to be godfather; the gawping and whispers taking away from the special day. But Steve and Marissa would have no such thing, aside from Robin and Marissa's oldest brother, there was no one more perfect for godparents. 

So Eddie stood at the altar as that became official. Forever grateful you were by his side and understanding his nerves without ever mentioning it. Soft hand gripping his, thumb rubbing calming circles onto his skin. The whole process of baptism was still a little baffling for him. For one, he was unsure why Rob had been forced into what looked like the wedding dress of a small Victorian ghost. Also, he'd kind of lost track of what was going on once he stepped inside the church - just thankful he hadn't gone up in flames. But luckily, he had you. Now, Eddie felt a small tug on his hand as you guided him to where the priest, Rob, Steve, Marissa, her brother and Robin all stood around a little bath of water. 

'Are they going to do the spell now?' Eddie whispered in your ear as the priest set up. 

His question had clearly been overheard by Robin who stifled a snort whilst you batted him for misbehaving. 

'It's not a spell, I explained this to you! You're such a heathen, Munson,' you mouthed back. Quite enough to not disturb the ceremony before you but loud enough that Eddie could hear the tone in your voice that said you better behave, Mister. 

Yet, despite his original confusion and gentle mockery, Eddie found himself getting transfixed by the ritual. The soothing recital of prayers by the priest as he dipped a thumb into some ointment and proceeded to mark a cross on Rob's head. Eddie smiled to himself watching as Rob looked around, wide amber eyes just like his dad's, a little confused but pleased to be surrounded by his favourite people.

Then, at the big moment when Rob's waft of hair was wetted, Eddie felt himself quietly gasp in awe with the rest of the room. Knowing the small action symbolised something big. When a small sob began to croak from Rob over the water, Eddie felt himself jerk forward - a built in reaction to protect his godson. Clearly, you felt his movements too as you tugged him back. Soothing Eddie with soft strokes to his arms, mirroring Marissa's to her own son. He felt himself calm as he watched you mouth along to the prayer. A smile on your face and a twinkle in your eye watching your now official godson be swaddled by his parents. Eddie followed your gaze, longingly wishing the pair of you were in Steve and Marissa's position with your own baby. He should've known today would've been more of a struggle than he previously thought. 

Finally, the priest announced Robert Harrington as an official mini member of the Church, protected by you and Eddie. The crowd clapping and sniffling at the momentous event. Quickly, the pair of you were shuffled closer with Rob, Steve, Marissa and your fellow godparents, for an array of photographs whilst in the church. A sense of pride filled Eddie as he looked at the beaming grin of his best friend, knowing he'd been part of this moment. 

As Rob's gummy little smile was directed at Eddie, he couldn't deny that he was proud of himself as well. Proud that despite everything, his own shambolic upbringing and opportunities to go off the rails, he had ended up being someone people would trust to care for their child. And Eddie couldn't deny that he was good at it and actually wanted to do it. Looking after Rob, hell, even the kids when they were still his little sheepies, gave him a sense of accomplishment unmatched by even being on stage. He couldn't hide it anymore, Eddie Munson knew he would be an amazing Dad and the secret could no longer be contained. 

'Let's get one of him with his favourite aunt and uncle!' Steve had cheered, earning an outraged cry from Robin.

A little wriggly Rob Harrington was placed in your arms as the photographer positioned you both. Your fiancé stood behind you, head resting against yours as little fat grabby hands reached up to the pair of you. 

'It's a big day for you, mister, huh? Are you excited to get spoilt rotten?' You cooed, slipping a finger into Rob's grasp. 

The other fist remained unsatisfied, still reaching out, desperate to grab a ringlet of Eddie's hair. A fascination he'd had since birth. 

'You wanna play with your uncle's hair again? We've got to take our pictures first, cutie. I know, I know, I love playing with his hair too,' you giggled.  

You looked back, searching for a response from Eddie. Expecting him to be pulling a ridiculous face at his godson but you were met by a blank, dazed look. Inside, Eddie was screaming. Watching you baby Rob so effortlessly. That sweet little voice that was reserved only for him. The way Rob looked so lovingly from you to him, to you again. Eddie wanted, no needed, his own little baby to gaze at you two like that. It had to happen, it was too perfect. Fate was tempting him, giving him a taster of what he could have. Torturing him by having you stood there before him, looking so heavenly in that damn dress, loving that little boy so much. A picture perfect new family but it wasn't Eddie's own... not yet. 

'Eds, baby, is everything alr-' 

The words fall out as fast as his heart beats. He can't stop himself. 

'I want us to have a baby!' Eddie blurts out. Your face drops but not a second passes before the photographer calls out

'Aaaand cheese!' 

The bright flash stuns you both but it doesn't erase the way your face dropped. It definitely dropped. It's etch-a-sketched into Eddie's brain for all eternity now. He's not only just ruined a perfectly nice photograph, he's probably just ruined his relationship with his soulmate. 

'So cute guys!' Marissa squeals as she approaches. Carefully lifting Rob out of your frozen arms. 

'So we're gonna start heading over to the house now to have the part-' Marissa's instructions are interrupted by you. 

'Uh, I've got to go. I'll be right back.' Suddenly you've reanimated and are fleeing down the aisles, dodging beloved great aunts and cousins and flying out the Church's exit. Eddie's heart sinks to the pits of his stomach. 

'Ok...' Marissa stares wide eyed, 'so I have never seen her move that fast before...' 

Now Steve appears beside a baffled Marissa and forlorn Eddie. 

'What the hell was that about? Did someone tell her about the weird shrimp thing that Marissa's mom made us put in the buffet?' He scoffs. Marissa shins him. 

'Don't say hell! You've just baptised your son! We're in a church, Steven!' 

As he rubs at his now aching shin, Steve sees a lost look on his best friend's face he's rarely seen since '86. 

'Eddie, man... what's going on?'

The frozen look on Eddie's face suddenly cracks and he crumbles before the couple. 

'I think I fucked up real bad,' he sobs. 

Marissa finds you back at the Harrington household, curled up in her en-suite. When you fled the church, you took Eddie's car and made your way to the house where the after party would be. You'd hoped maybe you could compose yourself by the time everyone had arrived - you were wrong. Sobs had racked through you non stop for the last half hour. The look you had worked so hard on this morning, now totally disheveled. The fabric of your dress littered with tear drops, stray hairs floating from burying your face in a towel. 

'Babe, it's Marissa,' she announces softly with a knock, 'can I come in?'

She takes the croak that comes out of you as a yes. 

Instantly, she's on her knees and wrapping her arms around you. Hands gently stroking your hair as you sniff against her shoulder. 

'What happened, Y/N? Are you okay?'

You cough, trying to clear your throat. 

'D-did he not tell you?' 

You felt awful leaving Eddie there, clueless. Sweet face dropped with eyes all wide and wet. But you couldn't process his words then and there, he'd blindsided you. 

Marissa sighs, 'yeah, he did but I wanna know how you're doing. What's going on in that head of yours?' 

Haphazardly, you shuffle away from Marissa's shoulder so the pair of you sit facing each other cross legged. Holding hands on the cool bathroom floor like you were back at a college house party. But you're not drunken college girls anymore, your friend is a mom and you're engaged. 

'We were just taking the picture and he said - he just said, out of no where, he wants one... wants a baby,' you gasp on another sob trying to erupt. 

Marissa nods waiting for you to continue. 

'I didn't expect it. He's never - we've never...' 

She squeezes your hand to stop you from falling into a fit of tears again. 

'Would it be so bad... having a baby? You're soulmates, you're getting married next month. You'd be great parents.'

Although she means well, Marissa's words make you break again because she's right - Eddie would be an amazing parent. Any kid would be lucky to have him as a dad and he deserves to have everything he wants. 

'No, no, it's just... god, I'm sorry, Marissa. I should speak to Eds first, god. Is he okay?' Your heart aches thinking of causing him distress, you know he'll be sick with worry. 

'He's just...' Marissa sighs, 'he just wants to make sure you're okay. What do you wanna do, girl?' 

You press your palms to your eyes. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Desperately trying to calm yourself. 

'I'm ruining your guys day. It's a happy day. I'm making it sad... I'm failing godmother duties already,' you chuckle mournfully, 'let's go and have a good time for Rob. Mine and Eddie's drama can wait.'

Marissa takes your face in her hands, swiping at your tear stains. 

'Are you sure, Y/N? We'd understand if you just want to go home?' 

'I'm sure.' 

The two of you pinky promise on the bathroom floor, maybe you were still slightly those college girls at heart. Marissa pulls you up onto your feet. 

'Okay, trouble,' she smiles, 'but before anything, let's fix your make up. Steve's aunt is such a nosy cow, if she sees those tear stains, she'll be prying all night.' 

When you come out of hiding and enter the bustling party, your eyes immediately scan for those big brown eyes. You find them gazing lovingly at baby Rob who Eddie is holding hostage outside on the decking. He looks so perfect like this, a baby in his arms. It's not making things easy for you. 

'Hi, Eds,' you announce yourself softly. 

He startles, eyes wide and cheeks flustered. 

'S-sweetheart, you're back? Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have -' 

You wave your hands in protest, trying to stop him before he gets lost rambling. 

'I'm fine, I'm fine. I just...' sighing, you take a seat next to him, nerves stopping you from just falling into his arms like you want to. 'Let's just have a nice time for Steve and Marissa and little Rob here... we'll talk about it later, yeah?' 

Eddie licks his lip nervously, a hesitant hand attempting to reach out to squeeze your knee. You take his hand in yours, his natural warmth taking over you. Really, you just want to curl up into him already. 

'Urm, yeah. Alright sweetheart, whatever you want...' 

Eddie's heart sinks throughout the day as he watches you put on a brave face. He knows when you're keeping your feelings locked up. It's impossible for him to ignore that not once does your smile reach your eyes. It eats him up inside that he's the reason you've shut down in a way he's never seen you do before. Repeatedly you find an excuse to slide your hand out of his, making up a reason to busy yourself. When the dance floor is filled, Eddie can't find you anywhere, not even for your favourite song. Even when it comes to the extravagant white frosted cake Marissa's mom made, it doesn't taste as sweet without you kissing off the frosting Eddie manages to smear over himself.

A part of him really thought his worst fears were just that life long self doubt toying with him. He didn't wholly believe the question of children would have you react like this. He's truly terrified he's done something he cannot take back. 

Eddie picks at the leather of the steering wheel throughout the silent car ride. From his peripheral vision, he sees how your gaze never leaves the window. By the time he pulls into the driveway of your home, the silence is gnawing away at him. The worst case scenarios crippling him. 

'Do you still want to marry me?' Eddie croaks. 

The question cracks all your resolve and the waterworks start again. 

'Eddie...' you gasp, 'of course! Nothing could stop me wanting you. I just don't know if I-' 

No longer can he hold it all in, Eddie just needs you to know what he was thinking. Needs you to know it's you before anything. 

'Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I just dropped it on you like that. I didn't mean to, it's just... I've been holding onto it for so long. Over the last two years, I never thought it but I want to be a dad but only with you! And we'd never discussed it so I never said anything. Then they had Rob and just seeing you with him. I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry it was just too much. But it's only with you. Only if you want it too. I don't need to be a dad...'

Hearing Eddie scramble over his words always tells you when he's distressed. You'd been clueless this whole time that he felt this way and you feel awful for never noticing.

'I don't think I can, Eddie,' you all but whisper.  

His face doesn't disguise how his heart clearly drops. She doesn't want kids. The clear disappointment on his face stings so much, you force yourself to look straight ahead through the window-screen. Straight at the home you have together, a home that would sound alive with the footsteps of little Munsons.

'I understand, I guess I should've asked sooner...' Eddie's sounds deflated. The enthusiasm that usually runs through his words, now completely drained away. 

'No, you don't understand,' you blurt, 'I don't think I can have kids.'

If it wasn't for the blood rushing past his ears, Eddie would've thought your words just stopped time. Words fail him and he's barely able to muster a croak. 

'Did you never notice how we've been together for five years and we've never even had a scare? Baby, we're not exactly safe... but you'd never mentioned kids so I just. I just pushed it away...' you mumble the last sentence, 'I told myself if you didn't want kids then there was no point stressing myself thinking about it.' 

You look at the man you love and you feel sick. Heartbreak evident in his tear filled eyes and fallen face. Heartbreak that's your fault. 

'Eddie, I'm so sorry. I should've said something. It's my -' 

Eddie stops you before you take the blame. Shaking his head profusely before jumping out the parked car and running round to your side. He opens your door, frees you from the seat and wraps you in his arms. The pair of you sniffling into each other's warmth. 

'Don't you dare apologise, sweetheart. Come on, please, let's go inside.'

 You find yourselves stripped out of the day's formal clothes, seeking comfort in well worn items. Curled up, facing each other on the bed. 

Eddie is the first to disturb the quiet. 

'So, you had thought about having kids?'

You nod softly. 

'Eddie Munson, I'd be stupid not to want to have your babies,' a sad laugh leaving you, 'I've seen how you are with people younger than you. Heard how you looked after Dustin and the gang. Seen how you are with little fans. Then when Rob came along... Eddie, how could I not? You'd be the most amazing dad. But you never mentioned it and with your own family... I just assumed it was an unspoken deal.' 

Regardless of the sad circumstances, Eddie can't help but smile. 

'You really wanted kids with me this whole time?' 

You nod, taking his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

'And you wanted kids with me?' You return the question. 

Eddie mimics your actions on your knuckles this time. 

'Only with you,' he confesses, 'you're the only person in the world I could comprehend having a family with.' 

The two of you smile weakly at each other. The beauty of your confessions so overshadowed by the sadness. 

'I'd understand...' you begin, heart twinging at what you're about to say, 'if not being able to have kids was a deal breaker. You deserve to have everything you want, Eds.' 

Immediately his brow furrows as if you were speaking gibberish. 

'No!' He practically spits the words out, 'no, no, no! Never. No.'

Eddie pulls you into his arms, clutching your head into the crook of his neck. 

'There is no future without you, sweetheart, you understand? I thought I just had the music and that was a sweet deal until you. Then I found myself for the first time picturing a real future for myself. A future kids like me never thought we got. It's always you before anything, do you understand?'

You nod into his neck. Inhaling the smell of home, something you'd never known until you met Eddie. He presses a firm kiss to the side of your head. 

'We're gonna spend the rest of our lives together, regardless. Promise?'

'Promise,' you whisper into his skin, punctuating it with a kiss. 

For a while you just hold each other, clinging to your whole world. Then, Eddie clears his throat. 

'Do you know, like officially? Has a doctor said something or... are you sure you can't have kids? I mean, it could be me.'

You retract from your hiding place, to shuffle back and look at him. A hopeful glimmer sparkles deep in those brown eyes. 

'Well, no...' you confess, 'I was always too scared and because we never spoke about it, I decided ignorance was bliss.' 

Eddie hums in thought, nervously toying with the frayed hem of the t-shirt (of his) that you're wearing. 

'We can check, y'know... if you wanted to? If you really wanna do this.'  

His shyness makes you want to weep. Now it's clear as day how much he's been wanting this the entire time but never wanted to upset you. 

'Okay,' you murmur, 'we can check. I want to, I want us to have a family, Eds.' 

Finally, he looks up at you and a smile breaks across his face. 

'Really?' He marvels. 

'Really.' 

With your hand you signal just how much you mean it - cross my heart and hope to die. Eddie crushes a deep kiss to your lips, one that relaxes every muscle in your body. It's the first kiss since this morning. Never have you gone so long without kissing each other whilst being in each others company. It hurt to deprive yourself of it. Once you pull apart, you brave the question you dreaded. 

'What if the tests or whatever say we can't have kids?'

Eddie shrugs like it's the most casual thing in the world before brushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

'I think whatever happens, you're so caring, so full of love... I think we'll find a way to create our own family regardless.'

His words make you sniffle tears for the umpteenth time today. 

'The Munsons. Our own little family of misfits?' You smile. 

The Munsons. Those words alone leaving your lips instantly heal Eddie's heart in all the ways he's felt it shattered today. 

'God,' he groans, 'I can't wait for you to be a Munson, honey.'

His over dramatics make you giggle, your first real laugh all day. 

'Just one month left and it's official. Mrs Munson,' you kiss the tip of his nose. 

Your sweet affections are overshadowed by Eddie practically howling like a wolf. 

'Mrs Munson, Mrs Munson, Mrs Munson. You're killing me here, sweetheart!'

The following giggles are quickly swallowed up by your husband-to-be as he pulls you into a desperate, wet kiss. Your limbs tangle as you lose yourselves in it. Gasping for breath in between repeating Mrs Munson. Mr Munson. Over and over until you pull apart to catch yourselves. 

Looking at the man you love, all smitten and loved on, you agree with his earlier thought. 

'You're right though, Eddie. We'll do it, no matter how. We'll make the family neither of us ever got to have.' 

Just over a year later, you're both proven correct when a little stick shows a pink plus. One Sloane Munson was on her way. 

So guys... I guess a wedding is on the horizon?

taglist babies: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja @midnightsgetawaycar @littlepotatobeansworld @josephquinncore @oscarisaacwhore @therosietoesy @luvrsbian

#enam3ls rockstar eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson × fem reader #eddie munson × reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson X y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson × afab reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[slayfics]

We're not Just Friends

Series featuring Muichiro, Obanai, and Reader

Obanai offers you to come to his place.

Warnings: alcohol use | mild Obanai manga spoilers

Chapter links

Chapter 5

Obanai felt his heart swell at hearing your words. He couldn't help but wrap you in his arms. In a way, he was comforting his own insecurities of not being good enough.

He felt your tears slowly begin to subside and he pulled away. Taking you in he could see how distraught you still were even though your tears had stopped. Surely your inner thoughts are still tormenting you. If anyone could understand what that was like it was Obanai.

"Why don't you come to my place for some food and to calm down a bit? I wouldn't feel right leaving you out here alone like this," he said watching you slowly gather your composure.

"It's fine, I don't want your pity." You spat back.

Your words surprised the Hashria but he didn't give in to his anger this time. Now he understood your anger was misplaced and misguided.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you? Come," He demanded, waving a hand at you to follow.

You stared at him as if ready to challenge his orders.

"You aren't really about to defy the orders of a Hashira are you?" He asked, eyebrows raising.

That would be rather foolish you realized. Especially Obanai, one of the strongest Hashira the corps had.

"Fine," you agreed and followed the Hashira back to his estate.

Once inside Obanai directed you to the common room, "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab some food," He said and vanished.

You looked around the room, everything was vastly different from Muichiro's estate. The grass outside was dry and dead, the walls had poems that were taped on crooked, and the air had a strange staleness to it.

It wasn't long till Obanai arrived back seeing you still standing in the middle of the room wide-eyed.

"The room won't bite," He said, chuckling, sitting down at the table and setting out food, tea, and sake. Obanai noticed the slightest smile appear on your face finally at his playful words.

"But does he bite?" You said pointing at Kaburamaru.

"Only if you keep defying me," Obanai said gesturing for you to sit.

You hesitantly sat down at the table and grabbed some food. You weren't the least bit hungry after today's events, but you began to force yourself to eat.

"Now tell me what happened? Who are you not worthy of?" Obanai asked questioningly. He watched as his question caused you to sink into yourself.

"I don't want to talk about it," you stated.

"Too bad," He said harshly, causing you to wince. Obanai sighed. "Look I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems. You can talk to me alright," he said.

"It's Tokito," You said, not looking at him nervous to see his reaction.

"Him hu? He is an admirable Hashira."

"He's more than that... he's captivating and his presence is overwhelming. That's exactly why I know I'll never be good enough."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Obanai questioned you.

"He made it clear today that he will never feel the same"

"What did he say?" he asked, and noticed you eyeing the sake on the table.

"Can I open this?" You asked. Obanai shrugged, indicating he didn't care either way. You opened the sake and downed a cup then poured yourself another.

"He said I'll never have respect in the corps... basically. So obviously that means he'd never feel the same." You said, drinking another cup.

"Hmm... I wouldn't be so sure. Tokito doesn't always choose his words carefully."

"I don't know... you weren't there... you didn't feel how it felt... I just know I'll never be enough." You said defeated and poured more sake.

"I understand that feeling," Obanai sympathized.

"What you? No way! You're one of the strongest Hashira's! You have all the respect in the corps. I'm sure anyone would be delighted to have you as a partner." You said dumbfounded at Obanai's statement.

Obanai felt something in his stomach he didn't recognize at your words. It felt as though he was going to be sick, but it didn't feel painful. It almost felt nice.

"Well..." he stumbled momentarily lost for words. "I don't think I deserve her, I've lived a terrible life before being a Hashira. She deserves someone who is pure, not tainted as I am."

"Tainted? What are you talking about Iguro?" You said, finishing another cup of sake.

"My bloodline is ugly, and that’s all there is to say about that," He explained further.

"Ugly?! You're being ridiculous. You're far from ugly."

Obanai felt his cheeks get a little warm, "Uh- well- you haven't seen me so of course that's what you think." Obanai knew if anyone saw his full face they'd never think of him as attractive.

"You're right you haven't eaten or drank anything this whole time... Let me see then take those bandages off." You demanded

"No," Obanai said shortly.

"Then I don't believe you. I'm sure you're hiding the most attractive face under there and you just don't want me to be right."

"What?!" He exclaimed.

"You heard me, I won't believe you until you prove me wrong."

"Fine!" Obanai said ripping his bandages off his face. As soon as he did he felt instant regret hit his stomach. How did he allow himself to be baited by you so easily? There was something about you that felt different.

"What's supposed to be ugly?" You said tilting your head dumbfounded.

"My scars?" He said matter-of-factly.

"Are you serious? That's what you are worried about?" You laughed.

"Yes.. they are reminders of my past and the awful bloodline I was a part of."

"Iguro... your scars show what you have overcome and your strength. Plus scars are hot." You said, then finished another cup of sake.

In just a few short sentences you wrapped up all his self-doubt and threw it away. Brushing off what had pained him for so many years as being no big deal. It was intoxicating to see himself through your eyes. A perspective where he as deserving of all the beautiful things life has to offer. Obanai felt his cheeks get warm again and this time he didn't have his bandages to hide his blush.

Artwork by the amazing @valartsstuff ~

Tags~

@sakurasunkiss @aeolia18 @unofficialmuilover @demonslayeranimex @yandere-kouhai @snowmist-hashira @jellyedkazoo @sixxze

#demon slayer #kny x reader #kny x you #anime x reader #anime x y/n #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #kny muichiro #demon slayer muichiro #kimetsu muichiro #muichiro x y/n #muichiro x reader #muichiro tokito #tokito muichiro x reader #muichiro x you #obanai x reader #obanai iguro #kimetsu obanai #demon slayer obanai #obanai x you #iguro obanai #kimetsu no yaiba obanai #kny obanai #obanai x y/n #obanai fluff #hashira x reader #mist hashira #serpent hashira

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Fight Me, Love Me, Save Me Pt. 1

This will fill the "It's mine, and you can't have it." square on my @jacklesversebingo card. The quote will be bolded.

Summary: A series in three parts exploring Y/N's and Dean's relationship from bickering children, to love and broken promises, to a plea for salvation.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None really. This part is mostly fluff, with a tiny bit of making out at the end. They are both 17 when they're making out, so technically underage, but barely - and they are the same age.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 4,398

A/N: So this series will fill the last three squares on my bingo card. This part covers "It's Mine, and you can't have it." Part two will cover Broken Promises, (Nov 12) and part three will be for the Isolated/Trapped square. (Nov 19)

I hope you enjoy!! If you do, please remember to like, reblog and/or comment. Means the world to us writers! ❤️

The dividers included here were created by @talesmaniac89

Dean and Y/N basically spent their childhood bickering. They met when they were six, when their fathers teamed up for a hunt. The two of them, and Sammy had been left together with a friendly old lady who was mostly deaf, so she very happily didn’t have to hear their constant fighting. 

They fought over toys, they fought over snacks, they fought over who would get the first turn on the tire swing in the old lady’s backyard. Dean’s longer legs always got him there first and he’d gloat down at Y/N, his smile wide and wicked.

“Too slow, Y/N!” He’d taunt. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!” 

Since their fathers often teamed up, they ended up with the same babysitters, or in the same schools all the time. Dean was always popular; the teachers always adored him and his sweet smile and big green eyes. But Y/N was shy and slightly awkward, so the other kids didn’t usually play with her and teachers tended to ignore her. 

Dean would never let that stand though. When they'd play tag in the schoolyard he’d purposely go up and tag Y/N even though she hadn’t been invited to play the game.

When he’d tap her arm, she’d scowl at him. “I’m not playing, you idiot.” 

But Dean would ignore her and any of the other kids saying she couldn’t play. “You’re it!” He’d yell and then run away, sticking his tongue out at her and taunting her because he knew she’d never stand for it, and be forced to play. Once she was playing, the other kids usually didn’t care and the game would go on.

No one teased and tormented her like Dean did though. He was constantly yanking on her ponytail, or shooting spitballs at her from across the classroom. They competed over everything; test scores, who got to be the Christmas tree in the Christmas concert, who could skip with a jumping rope more times in a row without stopping, who built the best sand castle, who made a better volcano in science class - anything and everything.

In spite of that, however, Dean was also her biggest champion. When they were in third grade, Chester Hugo, a wiry little blonde boy, called Y/N fat and ugly and laughed at her. He showed her a picture of a whale in the encyclopedia in their classroom and laughed as he pointed to it.

“That’s you.” He whispered, and all his friends giggled with him silently. 

Y/N tried to ignore him, but at recess she was standing up against the brick wall of the school as usual, and Chester began waddling around in front of her and puffing out his cheeks. “Look everybody, I’m Y/N.” He called out before doubling over with laughter.

He only laughed for a second though, because without warning he was tackled to the ground by Dean, and began shrieking and covering his face as Dean pummeled him.

Dean got detention for three days because of it, and got grounded at home too. Y/N felt terrible, but Dean said it was worth it because now every time he walked past Chester, the bully shrank away or ran inside. 

When they were in the sixth grade, they went to Truman Middle School in Fort Madison, Iowa for a few months and ended up with a teacher who was absolutely terrible - Mrs. Abernathy. 

She was ancient and obviously didn’t really like kids anymore - if she ever had. Her classroom rules were arbitrary and confusing. She was constantly yelling at her students for doing things that had been permissible the day before. She barked orders at them and expected silence from them at all times. 

One afternoon the class was set to dissect a frog and Dean and Y/N were paired up to share one of the hapless amphibians. Mrs. Abernathy gave them their frog, closed inside a glass jar, along with a jar of cotton balls soaked in ether to toss in with the frog to kill him.

As soon as the grouchy old lady had moved on, Dean picked up the container holding the frog and pushed it into Y/N’s face.

“Hey Y/N look! It’s lunch time!” He said quietly, thrusting the frog towards her over and over.

“Stop it!” She said in an angry whisper, turning her head. After a while Dean grinned proudly at his ability to gross her out and set the frog back down.

Y/N looked down at it, and then got closer to the jar as the frog lifted its two front legs to press against the glass, looking for a way to hop out. It hopped around the confined space, rather pathetically trying to get free. Suddenly Y/N felt sick to her stomach and tears came to her eyes. 

She looked at Dean. “I wanna let him go.” She said quietly so only he could hear. 

Dean frowned at her. “What are you talking about? In like two minutes we’re gonna kill it and then look at its guts.” He said, trying to tease Y/N out of her concern for the frog.

But it didn’t work. Y/N shook her head, her tears falling fast now. “No, Dean, don’t kill it. I don’t wanna kill it. Look at him.” She said pointing to the little green creature desperately hopping around as though it could sense its impending doom.

Dean shook his head, trying to reason with her. “Y/N it’s just a frog. It isn’t gonna feel anything, the cotton ball will just make him fall asleep and then he'll die.” 

But Y/N was shaking her head, her eyes slightly frantic as Mrs. Abernathy reached the front of the classroom, having given everyone their frogs. Suddenly Y/N grabbed the jar and yanked it open, allowing the desperate frog to immediately hop away. 

She realized her mistake quickly as the frog simply jumped up onto another table and made the boys there scream and jump back, knocking their own frog to the floor so it smashed open, giving a second frog its freedom. The class erupted into chaos as the two frogs hopped around the classroom. Three more frogs had their jars smashed open as some kids scattered and stood on chairs, and some kids chased after the frogs.

Eventually, when all the frogs were finally rounded up and put back into new jars, (much to Y/N’s dismay) Mrs. Abernathy began looking for a culprit. She stood in front of Y/N’s desk and her always stern face was particularly harsh as she pointed a bony finger at her.

“That frog came from your desk, Miss Y/L/N, do you care to explain yourself?”

Before Y/N could answer, Dean stood up. “It was me. I opened the jar.”

Y/N looked at him, frowning and shaking her head. But Dean waved his hand at her. “Y/N told me not to, but I thought it would be funny if he got out.” He shrugged and gave a wholly unrepentant grin. “And it really was.”

Y/N tried to say something, but Mrs. Abernathy was too busy grabbing ahold of Dean’s arm and manhandling him out of the room. “Principal Yates is going to hear about this, young man.”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet as Dean was yanked out of the classroom. She sat quietly at her desk, guilty and sick feeling, as the other kids took full advantage of the teacherless classroom to discuss the frog escapade - loudly and with many sound effects. 

When Mrs. Abernathy returned, Dean wasn’t with her. Y/N tried to talk to her and explain the truth, but the teacher wouldn’t listen.

“Enough!” She shouted angrily. “There has been more than enough disruption in this classroom for today. Sit down and take out your math textbook.” Y/N opened her mouth and the old lady sliced her hand through the air. “Now!” She barked loudly, making all the other students pull their textbooks out as well.

Y/N didn’t see Dean again until the end of school. He was walking down the side road that led to the motel they were all staying in.

“Dean, wait up!” She called to him and he slowed his long stride. When she reached him she shook her head. “What were you thinking? Why did you say you did it?”

Dean shrugged. “Dunno. I just like to see Abernathy go berserk.” He said with a lazy smile.

Y/N frowned. “You got in trouble. Did you get detention again, or -” She stopped still and gasped. “Were you suspended?”

Dean just shook his head and kept walking. “No, it’s fine.”

Y/N ran after him. “What do you mean? What did Mr. Yates do?” When Dean just sped up and kept walking Y/N reached out and grabbed his hand, trying to force him to stop.

Dean winced and inhaled sharply, his face contorting in pain. He tried to pull his hand away, but Y/N had already seen the huge red welts that were spread over his palm and fingers. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she stepped closer and cradled his hand in hers.

“He gave you the strap?” She whispered, horrified at the image of Dean’s hands being struck over and over with the thick leather strap the principal kept hanging just outside his office.

Dean shrugged as Y/N lifted his other hand and looked at the damage there too. “Yep, five licks for each hand. Said it was supposed to make me remember to not let the devil use my idle hands for mischief.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t wait till we're out of this bible-thumping, piece of shit town.”

Despite the life they led, Y/N was still sheltered enough that hearing Dean swear felt rebellious and she blushed a little. Then she sniffled and looked at Dean with remorse suffusing her face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have done it. And I really wish you hadn’t said it was you. I should have been the one getting strapped.”

Dean frowned darkly. “No, that would have been so much worse.” He said quickly. 

Y/N’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dean’s face flushed and he just shrugged and pulled his hands away from her. “No, I mean - I just mean, you know I’m a hunter, I’m used to it. I mean the last hunt I went out on, I took down a werewolf.” He bragged. “You and Sammy, you’re still soft.”

Y/N scoffed at that, running to keep up with him as he walked on. “Whatever, oh great Winchester. ‘Took down a werewolf’? I feel like you probably had some help from your dad and mine.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Doesn’t matter! I still fought him.” He argued, and the fight was back on. 

***

Within a few years though, Sam and Y/N did begin to join the hunts. They started slowly, hunting ghouls and wraiths, and other easier-to-hunt monsters.

However, in Y/N and Dean's Junior year, the end of middle school for Sam, their Dads began asking more of them, claiming that they needed to concentrate on learning to hunt. They told the two of them that they were needed for more important things than algebra. That was when Dean dropped out of high school, going to work with them and hunting full time. 

He told Y/N that he was just sick of school, and he’d never need it anyway. But Y/N knew he’d done it to give their Dads the help they wanted while giving her and Sam more time to be students.

By the time they were sixteen Y/N had figured Dean out. He still teased her mercilessly, constantly trying to annoy her with his hard rock, making fun of the boy bands she listened to. When she scored a ninety-five on her chemistry test, he’d called her poindexter for two weeks straight. 

But he was also fiercely protective, and he would bloody the nose of anyone who tried to hurt either her or Sam.

And she knew she was right about why he dropped out of school. Sometimes, when she and Sam were sitting around the motel room doing homework together, discussing the novel one of them was reading, or trying to make sense of trigonometry, she’d look up and catch Dean watching them with a look of longing on his face as he was cleaning weapons.

It was always gone in an instant when he noticed her watching, and he’d usually crack some kind of joke about what nerds they were, but Y/N knew what she saw. She would usually suggest that they stop their homework and watch a movie. Or she’d beg Dean to take them for a ride in the Impala that he’d inherited when he turned sixteen and his dad bought a truck. He’d always act like it was a huge pain, but she knew he loved it when they all piled into the car, rolled the windows down, and pretended to be carefree teens for a while.

She knew him and he couldn't get anything past her.

What did sneak up on Y/N, however, was how much she actually liked Dean. Like…like-liked him.

It became clear to her one day when she was seventeen, and in her senior year. Dean swung by one afternoon to pick up her and Sam after school. He was standing outside, leaning against his beloved car, waiting for them to show. She rounded the corner with a few girls she was doing a group project with; they were trying to iron out details of when they were going to meet to collaborate. 

When she saw Dean waiting there, she raised her hand to let him know she saw him and she was coming. Sam bolted past her and ran to the car. “Tell him I’m coming!” Y/N yelled after him.

She turned back to the discussion wanting to hurry up so she didn’t miss her chance at a ride. But all of the girls were just staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What?” She asked, self consciously covering her face slightly, worried she had something in her teeth.

The short girl to her right, Tracy she thought her name was, sputtered slightly and then looked pointedly at Dean. “Are you kidding me? What? Who?” She asked, flipping her hand quickly in Dean’s direction. “Who the hell is that?”

“Oh,” Y/N responded slightly confused, “that’s just Dean.”

“Dean?” The red-headed girl across from her asked. “Is he your brother?”

“What? Ew! No.” Y/N denied vehemently, and it took her a moment to figure out why that idea grossed her out so much. When the girl with braces (Sheila?) spoke though, the reason hit Y/N like a Mac truck.

“He’s so ridiculously hot!” Sheila exclaimed and all the other girls agreed quickly, giving giggly little moans and being incredibly obvious about staring at Dean.

At first Y/N’s mind wanted to mock that idea, remnants of their childhood rivalries and bickering jumping forward. But then she looked back at him where he still stood, talking to Sam. 

Holy crap, she realized with a bolt of lightning kind of realization, he really is ridiculously hot.

He wore black jeans and his black Metallica t-shirt which stretched tightly across his newly broadened shoulders. His hair was thick and perpetually looked like he’d carelessly run his fingers through it. His smile was bright and blinding even across the schoolyard, and though none of them could see it, she knew his eyes would be twinkling in that mischievous way they did when he was bent on getting into trouble.

She could see that he was noticing all the attention he was getting, and he patted Sam on the shoulder and started to walk towards them. Sam gave a full-body eye roll and got into the back seat.

The girls all turned shrill as he approached, laughing like dying hyenas. Y/N felt anger start to burn in her stomach and it confused her. But when Dean stopped in front of them and smiled charmingly at each of them, Y/N recognized that it was jealousy turning her heart green and she was shocked. 

“Hello, ladies.” Dean said in a would-be suave kind of way. It made Y/N roll her eyes, but her classmates practically swooned. 

A chorus of dreamy hellos followed and Y/N grabbed on to Dean to pull him away. But Dean resisted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So I’ve, uh, got my car over there.” He said, thumbing towards the Impala, his face full of teenage boy pride. “Anyone need a lift?”

All of them began nodding and squealing, but Y/N shouted over them. “No, it’s fine, Dean, let’s just go. They’re good.” She succeeded in dragging him off but when they were a few yards away from them, Y/N ran back quickly to warn her temporary classmates, using a paraphrased version of she and Dean’s childhood refrain.

“Stay away from him. He’s mine and you can’t have him.”

***

Once Y/N realized her feelings for Dean, things became very awkward for her. All the things that used to be simple, sitting beside him to watch a movie, training with him for hunts, simply sitting across the room from him and looking at him - they all became unbearable situations that she didn’t know how to deal with.

When she sat beside him now she could feel the way he radiated warmth, she could feel her heart skip a beat when he’d shift his leg so his thigh pressed against hers. When they were training, simple holds that she had only ever cared about breaking out of before, now left her breathing heavy. When his big hand would wrap around her wrist or whenever he'd reach his strong arms around her waist from behind, it was everything she could do not to just sink into his arms like putty. 

About a week and a half after her epiphany hit, she and Dean were alone in the motel room, sparring, and he pushed her up against a wall, pinning her there and expecting she'd try to get out. But he was breathing softly across her cheek, his face inches from hers and her whole body started tingling, making her lose her grip on the knife she held. It fell from her grasp and ended up slicing his calf on the way down.

“Aah! Jesus!” Dean shouted as he let her go and hobbled away from her. “What the hell, Y/N? What’s wrong with you?”

He sat down on the bed and Y/N ran over to pull up his slashed jeans, gasping at the long wound that bled down the side of his calf.

“Oh my god, Dean!” She said, jumping up and quickly grabbing the first aid kit. She got back on her knees beside the bed and pressed pads of gauze against his leg to stop the bleeding. She looked up into his face and saw his eyes closed in pain. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

Tears hit the backs of her eyes and she shook her head, looking back at his leg. “God, I’m so sorry.” She repeated in a teary voice.

“Hey.” Dean said as he lifted her chin so she was looking at him again. His thumb brushed away a tear that fell down her cheek. “Sweetheart, it's fine. No need for tears. I’ve survived worse.”

Y/N’s breath stilled in her chest and she whispered quietly. “You’ve never called me that before…sweetheart.”

Dean immediately tried to act casual, but he wasn’t a very good actor. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t, like, freak out about it.”

Y/N nodded and went back to caring for his wound. Once she got the bleeding stopped, she could see it wasn’t very deep. As she cleaned it, she could feel the tension between them rising, like something thick and palpable. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Did you, uh…I mean do you want me to call you that? Or, I mean…did you like it?”

Y/N felt her cheeks turn a burning red and she shrugged as she taped a big piece of gauze over the long cut. “I dunno.” Was her only response.

She was finished taking care of him, so she stood up and started to walk away. But Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the back of her t-shirt. He let go as she turned back to face him. 

“Why have you been so weird lately?”

Y/N laughed nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Dean stood up and pressed closer to her, slipping his hand around her so that it laid against the small of her back. Her blood pumped hard in her veins and she licked her lips. Dean’s jaw clenched and his eyes fell to her mouth.

“I mean that you’ve been weird with me all week. Ever since I picked you up at school and you got all jealous.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped open before she slammed it shut and spluttered. “Whatever! You wish! Like I care about the dozens of girls you riffle through in every town we stay in.”

Dean moved closer to her and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek and trail his fingers along her jawbone. “I mean…it does actually seem like you care a little bit.” 

He walked her backwards a few more steps so that she was pressed up against the wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes roamed over her face and then he looked deeply into her eyes, and his green-eyed gaze made her feel exposed, like he could see into her soul so there was no point in lying to him. He’d always known how she felt. He knew when she was scared, knew when she was annoyed, and when she was furious; he knew her sadness and the loneliness that seized her sometimes. 

He always knew, and he always knew just how to make things better for her. She’d already realized that she was actually incredibly attracted to him, but now she realized that he was also her best friend. She felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that sooner. She’d always thought of him as this annoying gnat that wouldn’t leave her alone. But really he was the person who knew her the best, the one she was never afraid to go to for anything, the one she knew would always have her back.

Dean’s breath was soft against her lips as he hovered there. “So, do you care, Y/N? Even a little?”

She could do nothing but nod, and then close the distance between them, pressing her lips against his briefly before pulling back, terrified to see his reaction. 

But a wide, slightly goofy smile spread across his face and it made her smile in return. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.” He said before he planted his mouth over hers and kissed her for real. 

She’d never been kissed before, but she’d imagined it many times. This was nothing like she’d imagined. It was much wetter, much hotter, and much more all-consuming than she’d imagined it would be. Her head was swimming, and she felt like she might pass out. He swept his tongue into her mouth and she moaned. 

The thought of “french kissing” had always weirded her out a little. Who wanted someone else’s tongue in their mouth? But Dean’s tongue was silky and skillful as he trailed it along the roof of her mouth. It felt possessive and that feeling made her stomach clench in a pleasant and shaky kind of way. 

When she reciprocated, slowly allowing her tongue to trail along his, Dean groaned and slipped both his hands down over her hips to press her closer to him. She gasped as she felt his hard on through his jeans, pressing against her lower belly. 

Dean pulled his mouth away from her and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, before turning his head and pressing soft kisses along her neck.

“Sorry.” He said gruffly. “It’s just…I mean, fuck you’re crazy hot. Sorry.” He said again, but Y/N giggled, more thrilled than she could say at his reaction to her and to their kisses.

“But,” Dean continued, “there’s no rush or anything, no rush to, you know, do anything.”  He raised his head to look her in the eye. “I’m just so glad that you're, uh…that you like me, you know…like that. I’ve liked you for so long.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Been wanting to kiss you since we were about eleven years old.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I just realized last week that I wanted to kiss you. How have you known this long, and not tried to kiss me even once?”

Dean shrugged sheepishly. “Never thought you’d want me to, and I wasn't about to try something and weird you out…or make you stay away from me. But then, you seemed so jealous the other day, and the daggers you were shooting at those other chicks gave me some reason to hope. Then you’ve been so weird ever since.”

Y/N snorted. “Whatever, I wasn’t shooting any daggers. I’ve been very cool and collected this whole time.” She lied.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, the gaping wound on my leg says otherwise.”

“Hey, don’t blame me because you lost focus and got yourself hurt.” Y/N said haughtily. 

“Lost focus? I did not lose focus. You got all swoony and dropped the damn knife.”

“That’s totally not true. You know you always - “

Suddenly Dean cut her off with another kiss, one that was deep and probing and left Y/N completely senseless.

Dean’s breathing was harsh and shallow too as he rested his forehead on hers and spoke against her lips.

“God, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Kiss me?” Y/N asked, her eyes still closed.

“No. Shut you up.”

It took Y/N a moment to register his words and then her eyes popped open and she saw his wide, mischievous grin and punched his upper arm lightly. “You’re an asshole.”

Dean nodded and yanked her tight against him. “Yeah, but I’m your asshole.”

Y/N laughed. “Yes.” She nodded. “But let’s just remember who kissed who first.”

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26 @slut-for-evans-stan

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla @stoneyggirl2

#dean x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #young!dean #dean winchester fluff #spn fan fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #spn fan fic series

[bibibbon]

MHA chapter 414

1)The memory sharing thing. Izuku and shigaraki sharing memories kind of came out of nowhere especially with Izukus memories being shared because last time I checked it was izuku giving his DNA to tomura not both of them recieving eachother DNA. I don't know if it's me but the memory sharing thing just felt like a very cheap way to try and build up the nonexistent dynamic between izuku and shigaraki but it fails horribly.

2) kudo's description of deku. I guess it isn't just that but kudo describing izuku as "someone who doesn't just follow orders" just left a bad taste in my mouth maybe it's because of the whole deku and wooden puppet and izuku continually being stripped off any INTROSPECTION but yeah this just rubbed me the wrong way. Also kudos whole disappearance or second death felt so anti climatic idk what I was expecting but for him to just disappear is disappointing for sure. I would of expected him to do some lasting damage with his vessel or ghost but all he did was basically take himself and quirk out of existence in its own way. Izuku full on becoming a puppet both literally and metaphorically is something that Iam not a huge fan of. I think it's kind of a great idea but the point of MHAs begining was a series of the greatest hero so logically speaking Izuku would continue forward and grow out and show that he isn't the puppet that his tormenter has claimed him to be but he is a person, a hero and a human. Sure the puppet idea could of worked but the way horikoshi tried to cement the idea and present it doesn't work it mainly feels like horikoshi is doing this as a cheap way to justify Izuku's lack of INTROSPECTION and POV.

3) the lack of izuku and shigaraki introspection. This goes for the whole series but I still hate that izuku barely gets to tell his own pov like I swear he was the narrator of the story back in chapter one so why is it that other characters are telling us how izuku should or is feeling when it isn't the narrator himself. Also shigaraki just stating the obvious for his pov just irritated me I guess I wanted and expected more. I expected to understand why shigaraki wants to destroy and why does he view Izuku in said ways I expected answers but we kinda got nothing 😭

4) did horikoshi forget some plot things? I thought that the vestiges could continually read Izuku's thoughts and see his memories so why are they so surprised in him implementing an idea like they haven't seen izuku quickly come up with battle Strategies all the time. To me it feels like the vestiges are acting the way horikoshi wants us to act and the vestiges are just there acting shocked when they figure everything out so we can understand which is all iffy to me. Like why couldn't we get this from Izuku's point of view what was stopping us from getting this from shigarakis point of view what is it that the vestiges are the ones narrating this bit when they should already be semi aware of what going on at the least.

5) WHY IS IT THAY IZUKU HAS TO LOSE ALL HIS QUIRKS? like seriously I feel like izuku should of just stayed quirkless. Why is it that izuku has to go back to square one while all the characters get to live a good life? Why just him? It seems like shigaraki is getting the damages of 2nd quirks but I still don't understand why seconds quirk causes this when in reality it shouldn't and I don't think this will even hurt shigaraki as much like the guy was experimented and tortured to handle this stuff?!?! Was it worth it? Like is it worth it giving shigaraki all these free power ups?

6) what's the point here? Like are they becoming the same person?!?! What do you mean by their memories merging together and becoming one? Why is it happening? This doesn't truly make sense because what is the end result are they gonna be all fine and dandy because they both saw eachothers lives or something? Also this feels like another way to develop a heavily underdeveloped dynamic like shigaraki has stated that he wants destruction so shouldn't he just destroy all the memories because he wants destruction and that's it. What does izuku or shigaraki benefit from this and wouldn't it just leave them with more damage than it should? Also I mentioned this before but how is this happening like I get shigaraki seeing Izuku's memories but why is izuku seeing shigarakis it's not like shigaraki has shared his DNA with Izuku so what's going on. Also the relations with the league is way too underdeveloped when it comes from shigaraki so what's the purpose of this? It feels like I stead of actually giving us more story we are going down in memory lane and horikoshi is just drawing better versions of his old manga panels

With all the criticizing over I must admit that I liked that this chapter had the vestiges especially EN realise how much izuku actually respects them and how smart he is for the way he uses their quirks. I also liked that we at least got some povs from everyone and how this was a very quirk focused chapter but that's about it really.

#mha critical #bnha critical #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #mha #izuku deserves better #bhna critical #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #ofa vestiges #ofa #mha 414 #mha414 #bnha

[kittenjammer]

Hi! So I was going through your snape tag (btw sorry for the million notifications you probably got), and I noticed you weren’t very much a fan way back on the early days of your blog. Feel free to completely ignore this if you don’t feel like answering (it is truly none of my business), but I’m always fond of hearing people’s “how I came to like this character” or “why I changed my mind about this character” stories and I was wondering what yours was :)

Hiii! Thanks for the ask! (No worries on the notification spam lol) and I appreciate that you reached out!

Yes! I think he was one of the characters I had the most difficulty empathizing with because I had such a strong, emotional reaction to him. Especially after OotP forward. He's divisive! (Also looking back through my Snape tag has me internally cringing a bit with how little grace I extended to the poor guy...ah well. With age/maturity comes wisdom...? D: )

I'm ngl, after reviewing some of the earlier posts, my immediate reaction is to delete them as my opinions have definitely changed, but maybe it's good to leave it as a record of my evolving mindset towards the character? lol

Ok, so what changed?

Well, it certainly helps I'm now closer to adult Snape's age from Book 1 than Harry's age when I was first reading the HP series as it was being published. I didn't give much thought to Snape beyond he was a mean teacher and a bully, for the first four books at least.

I got into the HP fandom around when GoF had been released so I was discovering plenty of fanfic and fan meta. Snape was one of the more ... well ... fans reactions to him that liked him or even wrote him sexually with the cast confused middle-school me, to be honest. I was more interested in the child characters than the adults, so I was vaguely aware of how he was portrayed in fandom but didn't really engage.

This changed after OotP was released, and we finally got some explicit Severus Snape backstory and history with the Occlumency lessons. I had a really an emotional reaction to SWM and some of the memories we got a glimpse of. I was empathetic and not completely surprised to learn Snape was from an abusive home, that he had possible trauma and issues that explained his actions and why he was so cold and angry. Like Harry, I was really disappointed in how his father and Sirius treated Snape. There's just no excuse for how they sought him out to pick on him for fun. I was on Harry's side with confronting Sirius and Lupin about how his dad and they acted.

Also, I read everything with shipper eyes, and immediately felt there was more to Severus and Lily's relationship beyond her just coming over and reacting to James actions lol. They called Jily a crack!ship but it looks like they were validated in the end lol.

However what really made me emotionally react with anger was that we are basically being shown that Severus knows what it's like to be a scared child being abused and tormented by authority figures and other children, but he does it to his students?? I could not understand his actions at a time but I would get genuinely angry when I did think about it. To child me, this felt like a betrayal, both for a fictional character and when actual people did this. Looking back I was reacting so strongly due to my own personal experience with trauma in the home and with authority figures abusing children.

I recall not caring much about him in HBP or DH. I was much more upset with Sirius' death than Dumbledore's, so Snape's "betrayal" was just not something I recall reacting emotionally to. In DH, I definitely remember reading his memories and just feeling irritated with him. To me, he was a guy with trauma and emotional issues, sure, but I felt his behavior towards Harry, Hermione, and Neville was not excused for me. At most I felt begrudging respect for him and acknowledged he was not a completely terrible person. Harry naming one of his son's after him felt so bizarre, and I just could not understand why Harry wanted to honor him. Forgive him, sure I could understand Harry doing that, but naming his child after Snape just left me feeling confused. I could not understand how Snape could have loved Lily so much, but treated her son like he did.

I know I'm basically rambling, but it really has been a journey. :P

When I grew out of HP and the fandom after DH was published, I never gave much thought to him or his circumstances until I (unexpectedly) returned to the HP fandom last summer. I reread all of the books as an adult and I had the life experience and maturity to understand that:

A) Snape was funny! A lot funnier than I remember.

B) His actions throughout the book were too subtle for teenage me, but they made me really question my previous feelings for the character.

C) Everyone Dumbledore was kind of terrible to him!

I read a lot of really well written meta on the characters and HP. Specifically I think it was @pet-genius posts on reddit I found that really helped me put my thoughts and feelings regarding HP, primarily Harry, in order. And I can't help but compare and contrast Harry and Severus as characters and how they each approach their trauma and grief.

@ashesandhackles metas on Snape was also really helpful in highlighting the examples in the text that showed how Snape's actions sometimes directly contradict with what he said, especially to Harry. He's always presenting himself as this cold and controlled person, disparaging emotional reactions and connections. Yet he's one of the most emotionally reactive characters in the series next to Harry!

I was able to see clearer a lot of things I liked about him. That he's an incredibly skilled and hardworking person. That he cares very deeply for people he does allow himself to have feelings for and connections to. That he was scared, so scared, probably all the time after Voldemort's return to power, but he never wavered in his determination to continue to show up and fulfill his duty. Him making the Vow with Narcissa to try to protect Draco. The incredible pain he must have been in when he used the Killing Curse on Dumbledore, the one person left that knew everything about him and still valued him. That he dies keeping silent about the Elder Wand ownership, protecting Draco from becoming Voldemort's next target.

I also viewed his relationship with Lily as so much more complex than unrequited love. There's a meta out there (I will edit this post and link it if I find it again) that argues Snape wasn't really in love with Lily, and that "Always" quote is so much deeper than a romantic, or sexual, type of feelings for her. I think it argues that Snape elevated Lily to a symbol of Good, or at least used her memory to guide him on morality. I felt so much more respect for the guy that he had dedicated his life as penance, basically, for betraying his once-best friend once more.

This is getting long, I hope this wasn't too much. I have changed my feelings on how Severus treated Harry and the other kids close to him in that year's class. Looking at how he acts to others and comparing to how he acts with Harry, I now now I feel Harry was a very specific trigger for Severus and he showed Harry and Harry's potions class a side of him that he generally did not show to anyone else. This is just my personal interpretation based on how other adults, from Dumbledore to even Lupin, and kids speak of Snape as a professor and seem to think Harry is just exaggerating that Snape hates him. When, no, Snape really is projecting his hate and rage and grief about James and Lily onto Harry and he does actually hate the kid. Which, it's probably easier for Severus to think he hates Harry rather than hates himself.

I could keep going but I will stop here for now. I hope that answers the question? But feel free to chat more :) I hope you don't mind I responded with a blog post, I can take it down if you would rather it be answered privately lol.

I suppose the tl;dr version is that Snape makes me angry because he makes me feel things about myself that I don't like, but with age and reading other people's thoughts on the character has definitely made me come around to they guy!

#severus snape #hp meta #hp

[noahsartt]

My reservations with the 2022 Interview with the Vampire tv series:

My thoughts on amc’s Interview with the Vampire (2022) tv series compared to the 1976 source material and what I liked about the 1994 movie.

Some reflections before the second season airs. I watched the series as it was coming out in 2022, so these thoughts have been sitting for over a year.

This is a subjective critique of the show, not me hating on it. I liked the show a lot & watched it twice. Many of the key changes were extremely creative ways of exploring those characters from new perspectives, instead of just pointlessly remaking something that's been done before. Distinct creative change should be the basis of every remake, no point is making something 'new' if there's nothing new about it. This show knew that, and the changes for the most part were written beautifully. ...But the movie is still my favourite despite its many flaws. Camp classic right there.

Issues with the show:

Making it take place 100 years later, it ruins the specific aesthetic of the book for me. (But I understand they had to in order to re-write Louis & Claudia as black).

Aging up Claudia. The way Bailey Bass played Claudia was amazing, no notes at all for her. I just wish they kept her younger because that was a very symbolic part of what made Claudia’s original character so tragic. She suffers in an entirely different way to Louis because of her age. New Claudia is supposed to be in the body of a 14 year old, but the actress was 18/19 so she looks much older already,  and no matter how well she played it, the age factor can’t be helped. Being stuck eternally in the body of a 5 year old (book) is so different to a 14 year old, who looks much older (tv show). Kirsten Dunst who was 10 in the movie, was able to play the little child - adult vampire progression a lot better. People say Claudia's original age is too 'disturbing' to see on screen... but that's the character...

Daniel being old… WHY?? Just so they could tie together the storyline or him meeting Armand multiple decades before ???? I only read IWTV and some of the TVL so I don't know everything that happens down the line for him, or what amc plans for the character in the show... but I don't understand the aging up except for 'diversity' reasons. Which, ok, but just to check a box? Louis and Claudia's race change make sense as a creative decision. But the Daniel in the book and film is a 20-something year old which is why he's so fascinated by Louis' 'gift', and doesn't understand the message Louis is sending, instead wanting to become a vampire too. Why would old Daniel want those same things? Changing Daniel's age is such an inherent thing... it's like if they didn't make Lestat blond. Eric Bogosian plays him funny though, I will say that. Christian Slater kind of just sat there.

Louis having no money and needing Lestat's financial support for his business ventures????? When it’s supposed to be Lestat leeching off Louis' estate … WHY. Why did they change something so fundamental about their dynamic. Lestat moves in because he needs wealth and Louis has it. And then he starts acting like it's both of theirs and Louis just lets him. Funniest thing ever. But in the show Louis moves in with him instead. That's just wrong.

Louis asking (basically begging) Lestat to make Claudia when Lestat is supposed to be the one to do it in order to ensure Louis doesn't leave him. Another fundamental part of their relationship that just got flipped around completely... and for what? Why did it change the things it didn't need to?

Antoinette... girl why are you there... we don't need more characters. Go away.

The guy that Louis gets with to make Lestat jealous …. why is he there either? In the book they don't need to bring other people in to irritate each other.

One of the most perfect scenes from the film was when Lestat was tormenting that girl and trying to get Louis to kill her. The show’s version with the opera singer wasn’t the same. The original scene is such a good depiction of their dynamic with each other: Lestat's eccentric killing methods and Louis’ shame and guilt. The show’s version didn’t live up to it. That scene was so excellent in what it set out to do. It captured their back and forth in such a simple way. That dynamic follows them forever, even as Louis begins to accept his nature, that spark of annoyance towards Lestat is ready to become a full fire at any moment. That scene is enough to be a full character study. The show has little bits here and there which capture something similar. But they should have recreated that scene at least.

Claudia and Lestat's relationship evolving from enjoying each others company and similarities, to detesting each other and competing for Louis’ affection. They didn’t spend enough time on Lestat and Claudia’s relationship in the show to fully demonstrate that, only a few scenes of them driving together and hunting together at the beginning. Even the two hour movie found a way to intergrade that better. Their relationship and the way Claudia is so starkly similar to Lestat when they move to Paris, is one of the my favourite parts of the book to analyse. Louis leaving Lestat and moving all the way across the ocean, only to be reminded of him in everything Claudia did. The show did have some purposeful parallels between Lestat and Claudia in the dialogue which I appreciate, I hope that continues in season 2.

Louis being in on Claudia's plan to kill Lestat and even being the one to finish off Lestat when it’s supposed to be Claudia’s idea on her own...?? Lestat's death is supposed to be an "ok, I guess that was necessary, time to move on with our lives now," moment for Louis. But he wasn't supposed to have the courage or the want to be the one to do it himself. He was hesitant and regretful in the show, but he still slit his throat... it was supposed to be Claudia alone. Credit where credit is due, the scene was beautifully filmed, the red blood on white cloth looked incredible and the entire scene captured the tone of devastation that the movie didn't. It was all very quick and emotionless in the movie.

Even though I hate Br*d Pitt's acting, his Louis was way more accurate to the book Louis. He basically was the embodiment of book Louis. Just sad and whiny the entire time. New Louis had more to him, I think Jacob Anderson even said in an interview that it was a purposeful decision to give Louis more grit. It's not a change I appreciated because it alters the original character too much. You can't change something that fundamental. Just ugh. In the show, Louis is more angry than pathetically sad, it’s very different to how the character was originally written. 

Sam Reid’s Lestat is pretty on the nose but still more serious than the original Lestat & Tom Cruise’s portrayal which was the perfect level of camp and eccentric. Tom cruise was playing Lestat from just IWTV but Sam Reid is playing him with the baggage of his entire life as written in the other books, maybe that's why he is different. Maybe his performance is even better because of it. I haven't read the other books so I can't really say.

I won't say anything about Armand (yet) because he hasn’t had his time to shine. We’ll see after season 2. I loved Antonio Banderas as Armand, and even though he was very different from how book Armand was, it was a change I liked. New Armand is going to be more accurate to the books I believe, but i didn’t like how Armand was there the entire time Louis was being interviewed… why...

Maybe I am one of the few that doesn't overtly appreciate the 'fresh' take of this story. Many of the things that draw me to the book and the movie have been taken away in this adaptation.

---

I recommend this fan fiction that explores the idea of Louis being a person of colour in the context of the original book's 1700s timeline. It explores the intersectionality of Louis' struggle with vampirism, queerness & race while still being authentic to the book. Go read it.

In the Author's words: This is NOT a rewrite of the AMC TV show, nor does it intend to be. This is us making one (subtextually plausible) change to canon in order to 1) explore underlying issues with the source material and 2) see how it affects the way the events of IWTV played out.

Ok that's it. Will maybe add to this when the second season airs. For months, this was just for me in my notes app but what is tumblr for if not to air out my locked away ideas.

#Interview with the Vampire #amc interview with the vampire #iwtv 2022 #iwtv amc #Interview with the vampire 2022 #Interview with the vampire tv show #Interview with the vampire 1994 #iwtv 1994 #interview with the vampire movie 1994 #Interview with the Vampire 1976 book #Interview with the Vampire book #the vampire chronicles #Anne Rice #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #claudia iwtv #the vampire armand #daniel molloy #sam reid #jacob anderson #bailey bass #tom cruise #brad pitt #kirsten dunst #christian slater #neil jordan #loustat #race theory #queer theory #vampirism

[equarretedddd]

i have an idea that we discussed with @0-pelmen-0 (she was the first to say this but i had thought about it before).

i havent seen anyone talk about it yet, but maybe someone touched on this take before bcs its pretty interesting and pretty basic ig. Nathan's bloody puke and Murderface's bloody tears are a symbolic detail to the mental struggle and difficulty of expressing feelings.

it is very difficult for Nate to express his own emotions verbally, there was a special emphasis on this in s4th. moreover, as i understand it, he does not have difficulties experiencing them in principle, but talking about them out loud and notifying about them openly is painful for him. bcs of his built-up external image of a brutal and weighty leader, he became entangled in his inner feelings and experiences and suppressed his severe stress so deeply that it began to corrode him from the inside, forming just this "bloody nausea".

everything is a little different for Murderface — its hard for him not only to express emotions an, but to recognize them in himself in principle. its hard for him to allow himself to understand his own feelings and let them come out, we almost never saw him crying. Murderface was on the verge of tears quite often during the whole series, but he NEVER allowed himself such freedom of action. anger, hatred and bile have consumed him so much all the time that it also hurts him physically to release it. back in Dethvanity, there was a moment with his panic attack, where he runs out of the conference room and, breathing heavily, grabs his heart — perhaps this is another manifestation of the torment of the need to free himself from negative emotions (holding back tears is harmful and increases the risk of heartbeat malfunctions).

Nathan and Murderface, although they are different in terms of status (like, Nate is the key force of the band, and MF is an outcast who barely participates in the whole music process), but they still have a lot of similarities.

#metalocalypse #dethklok #mtl #nathan explosion #william murderface #long post

[midnighttheroies]

Underverse/ X-tale Opinion/ Rant: Cross Is Not The Only One To Blame, They All Betrayed Him Too

so i've been watching jakie's underverse livestreams and parts as well as re-reading the xtale comics and i noticed that alot of people are either calling cross dumb for doing what he did and calling him a villain but i heavily disagree

keep in mind this is a OPINION POST!!, if you disagree thats totally fine, i just wanted to share this because it's been in my head for so long and i always wanted to talk about it

so first off, a lot of people intemperate cross as dumb and stupid, especially after committing a genocide but that couldn't be more then wrong. Cross wasn't and still isn't dumb he's just isn't as smart as your typical sans and is more prone to act based on his feelings and emotions which doesn't make people dumb it makes them emotionally driven which is what cross is. cross wanted to be a royal guard to protect frisk from danger, he's a passionate person unlike most of the other sans.

also what cross did was not out of a rage fit, he was driven to the point of insanity because of what xfrisk and xchara did to him, they literally altered his code and gave him back memories, manipulated him into hating frisk AND even took control of his body; forcing him to do things he didn't want to do!! like come on bro!! anyone would go crazy after experiencing that!!

and for anyone who's confused, basically to put it as simple as possible (because x-tale is a widely complicated series), ink gave xgaster the ability to overwrite timelines, xgaster wanted to make the best timeline for frisk and chara while having everyone live in peace, unity and happiness. at first it was great but then the power of overwriting and the idea of perfection started to corrupt his mind; eventually becoming OBSESSED with the idea of perfection. his obsession was projected onto xfrisk and chara, using the two like pawns so he could achieve the perfect ending. tormenting and manipulating them in the process of it, which eventually lead to the timeline getting rested and overwritten 10 different times. it's also important to keep in mind that when the rests and overwrites happen nobody else remembers them expect for xfrisk, xchara and xgaster.

their are alot more complications to it that i recommend doing your own research into because their are layers and layers to this incredible series.

so on the 10th timeline, xfrisk and chara decided to alter cross's code and get him to kill xfrisk by making him despise frisk. eventally this lead to a incident where xfrisk took control over cross's body and shoot a gaster blaster at him only for the timeline to get reset. after that cross demanded to know what was going on and frisk admitted everything to him, showing him an alternate universe and the power of overwriting and then begged cross to please kill him. cross refused to fight even when frisk attacked him because viewd him as a friend and didn't want to cause harm.

NOW THIS IS WHERE EVERYONE BETRAYS CROSS!!

after cross's refsual, frisk and chara come up with another plan which lead to everyone getting back their memories from the previous timelines and explained to them how cross refused to help in stopping xgaster. leading to the xtale crew getting angry at are all gaster for what's he's done and at cross for refusing to help in stopping all this. WHICH IS BULLSHIT!!

I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN HOW PISSED OFF I WAS RE-READING THAT!!

now like i mentioned before, frisk told them about the timelines and xgaster but he wasn't being truthful. both frisk and chara don't give two fucks about the other's being used and controlled, they didn't confess to them out of guilt but simply to get them to help them both put a stop to xgaster so they could have the power to themselves!. frisk and chara both only want their power back, it was never out of compassion just sheer selfish gain but the x-tale crew didn't know that, only cross knew but because of that misunderstanding and the foul manipulation on frisk and chara's part it lead to a heart-breaking altercation with undyne and papyrus almost killing him (never thought i would ever get angry at a papyrus but here we are)

and this is where i say calling cross an idiot is making you the idiot because he was the ONLY ONE who was thinking long-term!!

think about it like this!, cross knew that frisk and chara didn't care about the other's and just wanted back their power to overwrite, cross however cared about his family and friends, he knew that even if the button was no longer with xgaster and now under frisk and chara's control the cycle would never end!. just look at xgaster as a example, he started out with good intentions but the power of overwriting got to him, who's to say frisk and chara wouldn't get bored and start experimenting with the other's like toys in a sandbox? and it's not like they would be able to stop them because once the human has the power their is almost no going back to try fixing it.

cross understood this and figured that the only way to really stop this horrid cycle was to gain control of the overwrite by any means necessary, even if it meant killing frisk which he previously refused to do but that was before he betrayed him

also, keep in mind, he made his design with the added trauma of having back his memories, being altered in code, betrayal by his friend and brother, and got his skull split open in half. cross wasn't in the right mental state to be reasoned with (not like it would've worked anyway since y'know they tried to KILL him). but even after that cross still thought of them and wanted to end all their suffering,

despite getting beaten nearly to death he still cared enough to save them. cross didn't kill them out of rage or cold blood. in a way it was mercy to end their suffering and he figured that he could bring them back and fix everything once he gained control but that didn't work out which lead to the events in underverse.

honestly for epopel to call cross stupid is one thing but i feel like people forget just how fucking stupid the x-tale crew was too

they were idiotic enough to believe frisk about cross refusing to help without asking for his side of the story or explaining anything to him!, they just straight up tried to off him!!

and how trusting they were to frisk is also incredibly stupid! like?!--did they not once think to themsleves "y'know what?!, if frisk is able to bring back our memories, isn't their a chance he did something to them so we could believe him more?!"

did they truly not think once that frisk was lying to them or manipulating them!!, the dude already admitted to being able to change anything!!, who's the to say he didn't corrupted their memories or make up fasle ones to get them on his side?!, no instead they just blindly believed the one person who is able to do anything in their world without consequences over their own friend and brother!!

bro come on like i would be questing who i could trust anymore!!, iw would be even questioning if xgaster was truly the one behind all of of he was just the hero in disguise trying to stop the human!!, i wouldn't trust ANYTHING!! like who wouldn't go insane after all that!!, it's kinda a miracle how well-adjusted cross is to an extend due to all the shit he went through

and funny enough, i don't even consider frisk or chara to be the villains and to some extend even gaster

xfrisk was always a pacifist but overtime he started to lose his determination due to the trauma inflicted upon xgaster and eventually just started going along with chara's plans like a lapdog. chara himself is naturally more prone to violence but everything he did was to put a stop to xgaster but he went to far with his ambitions.

x gaster is basically a vicitm of his own obsession and corruption, and poor cross was just caught in the cross-fire of all the madness (yes that pun was intended) along with everyone else.

personally i consider xgaster to be a tragic villan, someone who does horrid things but with the intention that their doing good, forever chasing after something that could never be and putting himself and other's through endless torment and reseting

#xtale #x!tale #opinion post #cross sans isn't dumb #cross sans wasn't the only one who betrayed and messed up #they all betrayed him too #cross!sans #xtalecross #cross sans #cross #crosssans #if you couldn't tell i love cross #x-tale #Xtale #X!tale #x!tale cross #underverse #Underverse #rant post

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

sorry about how short these are, I’m getting back in the groove! bentley is straight up diving back into his old life yall. he said peace out. he’ll be back once they win 😗✌️

part eighteen

❝ HAIL THE PUPPETEER ❞

SUNDAY — AUGUST 9 — 9:07AM

WHEN BENTLEY WOKE UP AT NINE, ASTEN WAS BESIDE HIM AGAIN, AND SOMEONE WAS CRYING. The sun was shining dimly through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft light. Asten was laying in a lump next to him, his entire body covered by the gray comforter except his blue-tipped hair and one arm that was sticking out toward Bentley. Their earlier research had gone basically nowhere — the only thing the dozens of missing persons cases had provided them with was nightmare fuel. Asten had put as much information as he could on the spreadsheet and the three of them had stared at it for what felt like hours. They got nowhere.

The soft, muted crying was coming from the foot of the bed. Bentley, blinking the fatigue and weariness out of his eyes, peered down at Nico as much as he dared without alerting him. He couldn’t see much in the dim light, but Nico was still laying on his back, and it looked like he was holding a piece of paper in his hands. A ratty, old looking piece of paper.

The letter.

Bentley said nothing, his mind seemingly caving in on itself as he registered that, yes, his dream was real, yes, Nico was from a different timestream-reality-universe-dimension-world, and that, yes, there were places somewhere out there that they couldn’t see. And the thing, according to the letter, that seemed to connect these things together, that could travel from one to another, was… Barry.

Of course, Bentley had no earthly idea who — or what — Barry was. Something, someone that could move through the fabric of reality at will. 

He wondered how hard this was on Nico. Probably really hard. He’d learned that his whole life — his parents, his birth — was a lie, that he wasn’t even living in the same reality that he was born in. Not to mention the Secret Keeper’s endless torment. Bentley thought he had it hard, with school, the Secret Keeper, Damian, his dad… but at least his entire identity hadn’t been turned on its head. At least he… y’know. Knew his real name.

He breathed in and out deeply. “Nico?”

He felt his friend jump, and the paper was swiftly tucked into the pocket of his hoodie with a sniff. “Hm?”

“I’m sorry,”

Very subtle, Bentley. He mentally scolded himself, shuffling around on the mattress. “That… that you’re… so scared. That she chased you. I’m… sorry for all of it.”

A good save? Maybe mediocre.

“It’s not your fault,” He replied, as though the Secret Keeper was exactly what he’d been crying about even though they both knew it wasn’t. “I just hope all of it will be over soon.”

Bentley said nothing, but took to examining the ceiling. It was only reasonable to believe that, if he was seeing their memories, they could’ve been seeing his, too. They could’ve all been learning the worst about each other's lives without anyone else knowing. 

That’s one way to bond, his brain oh-so helpfully supplied.

“Me, too,” Bentley sighed, brushing a hand through his red hair.

“Me, three,” 

He and Nico both glanced over at Asten, who pulled the blanket off of his head, leaving his black and blue hair in a big fuzz. His green eyes were dull and tired. “Everything pretty much sucks.”

Bentley sighed, pushing himself upright in the bed, and Nico stayed sprawled across the foot, staring upwards. They didn’t speak for a solid ten minutes. After a while, Asten reached over and grabbed the laptop, opening it up and scanning the spreadsheet over and over like the same words he’d been reading for hours would magically rearrange and give him the answer. 

Bentley chose not to dwell on the universe-dimension mumbo-jumbo and decided to focus on the task at hand — finding the Secret Keeper’s boss. 

But before he could do anything, there was a knock on the door. 

Asten shut the computer and put it back on the nightstand, and with a quick glance between him and Nico, Bentley said: “You can come in.”

The door opened just a crack, and Bruce’s head popped through it. His gray eyes flicked between the trio of boys. Bentley caught how his irises lingered for the slightest of seconds on Nico’s tear-stained face, but he moved on, saying nothing of it. “Good morning, boys. I was just coming to let you know Jason made some breakfast casserole, if you’re feeling up to it.”

Bentley felt eyes on him. Both Nico and Asten were glancing at him, and Bruce’s eyes were on him, too, something shining in them.

“Uh, yeah, we…” He started, bringing his hand up to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Why was he always the one to make decisions in front of everybody? And why was Bruce staring at him like that? “Might come down… soon…”

“Bentley? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

With a sigh of defeat, the ten-year-old pulled himself out from under the covers and carried himself across his room, lowering his head as though he were doing a walk of shame. Bruce opened the door wider when he approached, and they both stepped into the hall. The door clicked behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

Bentley huffed heavily. He hated how easily Bruce could see straight through him, how he could read him like a book. He hadn’t been able to do that before — read him like that. Bentley had fooled the whole family for months back when he was trying to do his father’s will. What had changed? Why could Bruce sense the tiniest of changes now?

Bentley exhaled. How could he be so exhausted when he’d just woken up?

“I had another dream. About Nico, this time,” He whispered.

He saw Bruce nod in his peripheral vision. “And your head?”

“Hurts,” He shrugged lightly. “Not as bad as in the car, I guess. Is this going to keep happening to me?”

Bruce sighed heavily, and before Bentley could as much as look up at him, he was tugged into a gentle embrace. “We’re all going to get through this. Your friends, too.”

Bentley said nothing, but brought his arms up and around Bruce in return, resting his forehead against his shirt. “How? She doesn’t even have to see us and she can hurt us.”

“I don’t know. But we will. I promise,” He replied.

Bentley flinched when a door closed behind them. He let go of Bruce and turned, meeting the stark greenish-blue eyes of Damian, staring at him from his own bedroom door. He must’ve come home earlier that morning from the Kent’s, for reasons Bentley didn’t know. 

The young assassin’s eyes flicked between him and Bruce for a few seconds, before the faintest beginnings of a scowl darkened his features. “Hello, father.”

Then he walked straight past them, toward the stairs, without acknowledging Bentley’s existence in the slightest. He followed the assassin with his eyes, watching him disappear down the hallway until he faded from Bentley’s view. 

He so very desperately wanted to prove himself to him.

“Everything okay, Bentley?”

He glanced back up at Bruce, who was staring at him expectantly. 

“Yeah, just…” He started, averting his eyes and rubbing at them to make it less telling of a lie. “Just… everything kinda sucks, y’know?” He questioned, echoing Asten’s statement from earlier. “I just wish it would stop.”

Bruce sighed again, and Bentley flinched lightly when his hand came to rest on the side of his head. Then, with a look of determination Bentley could only describe as reminiscent of Batman, Bruce replied: “It will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Bentley nodded sheepishly, and Bruce ran a hand over the top of his head. “You guys can come down when you’re ready. No rush.”

He nodded, again, and then ventured back into his room without Bruce. Both Asten and Nico glanced up at him when he came in, and Asten had the most triumphant look on his face that Bentley had ever seen in his life. Nico was still at the foot of the bed, looking rather miffed. Their expressions opposed one another almost comically.

“I’m the most brilliant genius in the world,” He chimed. The computer was open in his lap again, shining white on his tan skin.

“Why?” Bentley questioned, making his way to the bed and pushing himself back onto the soft mattress. He shimmied back into his spot next to Asten.

The Brazilian typed around on the keyboard, eyes not leaving the spreadsheet. “It’s the Areopagus. It connects them all.”

Bentley peered over at the screen. Asten had, like, fifty tabs pulled up all over the screen, each about a different person, each about the Areopagus. “Every single one of these people has had something to do with it — they used to teach there, they went missing near it, they were taking classes there. When she chased me, we were on the same block as it.”

Bentley hummed in acknowledgment, dragging his dark irises across the tabs. Each one had a yellow highlighted word on it, and every single one was Areopagus. “But I haven’t been there, and she’s still messing with me.”

“Yeah, well…” Asten waved a dismissive hand toward him, an expression like defeat crossing his features before a similar determination to Bruce’s took its place. “You’re also the kid of the richest man alive, which means you’re a million dollar toy in the eye of kidnappers. They’d be dumb not to target you.”

Bentley said nothing, unsure if that was a bad thing or actually some sort of strange compliment? Not that the statement made him feel any better.

“I think we should look into it,” Asten continued, clicking around on the keyboard.

“Yeah… I’m not really interested in going to the place where everyone gets kidnapped,” Nico muttered, pulling at his hoodie strings again. He had his gray hood pulled over his fuzzy blonde hair, and Bentley couldn’t help but wonder why he’d put it on indoors.

“We aren’t going there, idiot. It’s like a hundred-fifty dollars just to walk through the door,” Asten said with a little cringe. Bentley remembered, from what he’d heard about Jason, that Crime Alley, where Asten lived, was a pretty poor part of town. Not that Bentley would want Bruce to spend that much just for him to walk into that place, either. “Just chill, I already have a plan.”

“Which is?”

Bentley watched as Asten pulled up the official Areopagus website. Nico moved to his opposite side, where he could see the screen, so his blue hair was sandwiched in the middle of them. He navigated to a little tab on the website that said: our faculty and staff.

A bunch of photographs and names popped up, but Asten scrolled immediately, like he knew what he was looking for.

“Ta-da,”

It was Dr. Keene, their homeroom teacher. His face was big and smiling at them from a photograph, and next to his name, it said: Head Astrology Professor.

“He works there. Which means I can interrogate him about the place to my heart’s content,” Asten replied, sighing lightly. “That’s about all I’ve got. Besides walking through the door.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,” Nico said flatly, glancing between Asten and Bentley with dull blue eyes. “But, if this actually has nothing to do with the Areopagus, all you’re doing is making an enemy out of our teacher.”

“Nah,” Asten shook his head. “I could get an adult to chew their own hand off if I pulled enough stops. Perks of being a sad little foreign blue-haired orphan. He won’t suspect a thing.”

Bentley, still, stayed quiet. Asten really used the fact that his parents were dead to make people feel bad and do what he wanted? It sort of reminded him of what Damian said — that his whole existence in the Manor was founded on pity. His relationships. It had hurt really bad in the moment, when Damian said that, but now, he realized Asten was the exact same way. Because he wanted it that way. He wanted them to pity him, because he could twist it and use it to his advantage. Turning something that could hurt into something he could use — why hadn’t Bentley thought of that? He was basically born to manipulate people, wasn’t he?

Even though the thought of lying and twisting and using his own pain to control other people made his guts get all twisty, he decided that, in order to keep this secret plan a secret from all the Waynes and the whole of society, that Asten had it right; that was the best way to do it.

So Bentley breathed in and, for the first time since December, turned it all back on. He strung back up all the carefully designed webs his father had built in his mind. The webs the Waynes had ripped down, had destroyed without even knowing, the webs that dragged him out of his newfound family’s unfailing love and locked him in a dark place alone. A dark place where he separated himself from all people at all times, where he shoved his emotions down into a box and never looked at them again. A place where every conversation wasn’t just a conversation, but a mission, a transaction, an equation just for him to twist to his will and reap the benefits. A place his father had built, where there was only enough room inside for him to be one single thing.

The Puppeteer.

He closed every single door that stood open between himself and the Waynes, locked them, dead-bolted them shut. For now, his family was nothing more than a badly placed obstacle in the way of his goal. He had to beat Batman, he had to get to her first.

At least maybe his father would be proud.

—

They went downstairs about an hour later.

Damian had long since disappeared again, to a place Bentley didn’t know. Didn’t care about, he reminded himself. To be the Puppeteer, he had to not care. But pretend he did. He had to pretend he didn’t care to pretend he did care. Simple enough, right?

Dick and Jason were in the dining room when they made it down there. There was still a glass dish with some yellowy casserole in it on the center of the table, tin foil covering the top. 

Asten shared a look with Jason. And Jason gave him a look back. And if Bentley was remembering correctly (which he was, because he’d been with Asten this entire time.) the two had never spoken before. But, contrary to the fact that they hardly knew each other, Asten sat next to Jason. Which starkly opposed last night, when he strictly sat himself between Bentley and Nico and no one else. Spoke to no one else. Hardly looked at anyone else.

Bentley thought it was weird.

Dick made friendly conversation while they ate, and Bentley made friendly conversation back, careful to act normal but keep himself separated from the emotion behind it. He’d failed his father because his feelings had gotten in the way, his yearning for something like love. This time, he had to be colder. More distant. He had to look at his family like pawns the way he neglected to do the first time.

He didn’t intend to fail again.

Brunch lasted a while, then they went to the den for a movie marathon. Nico left for his own house at about five in the evening. Asten stayed for a while longer, claiming his uncle would be home at seven, but declining every possible offer of a ride. He just stayed for a while and sat next to Jason on the couch — not too close, but not far enough for strangers — until he decided Bruce could drive him to a bus stop he took.

Bentley remembered, just as Asten and Bruce left the house, that Asten hadn’t been in the bed last night.

Had Asten been with Jason?

Bentley was left alone with Dick and Jason in the den. He was pressed against the former’s side, much like he had been in the hospital bed. Seeing Bentley’s memories seemed to rattle him, badly, and he still didn’t have his normal shine about him.

But Bentley didn’t care, he reminded himself. Only pretended he did. Or maybe he didn’t need to pretend since he did care? But getting his emotions mixed up in this would be messy, so yes, pretending it was.

In the middle of watching The Outsiders for at least the second time on that particular Sunday, Damian appeared in the doorway.

The same thing happened there that happened in the hallway earlier — Damian’s eyes flicked. Between Bentley and Dick, over and over until his expression (still subtle, still vague) darkened to something like murder. Bentley saw it, at least.

“Hey, little D. Coming to watch with us?” Dick extended his opposite arm in a silent invitation, one Damian usually always took, even if he grumbled about it.

This time, he walked away.

Bentley wondered. His mind wandered freely, everything coming into focus a bit clearer now that he was rid of his emotions regarding Damian. (Rid meaning currently avoiding them like the plague.) He wondered what Damian was actually struggling with. He said that he had to work to stay in the family, and Bentley didn’t. He wondered if it really did hurt to see Bentley getting all the attention and affection he didn’t get… because he wouldn’t let himself accept it. He got mad when people touched him. He spat rude words at every chance. He pretended to be so disconnected even though he wanted to be in Bentley’s place so bad, even though he was so jealous the only way he could get it out was raging on everyone like a cyclone running rampant through the house. He was so angry about being rejected even though he was the one who rejected himself. Dick wouldn’t reject him. Bruce wouldn’t reject him. None of them would, he just assumed they were because he’d done it to himself and now it hurt. 

And… and…

Bentley decided… that he…

Didn’t care.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

#oc; bentley whittaker #oc; bentley #batboys #batfamily #batman #mb; a hundred ways to become a wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #nightwing #dc jason todd #jason dc #dc red hood #red hood #red hood dc #cassandra cain #orphan #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #signal #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dc robin #robin #ov; the secret keeper

[writingseaslugs]

Che'nya: When You're Sick

I almost forgot to write Che’nya for this! I actually don’t have him in the dorm template, so if I ever forget him, just let me know and I’ll quickly write up his headcanons.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post. 

Che’nya: When You’re Sick

The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.

You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.

Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.

The only way he’s going to know if you’re sick is if he gets a message from you, or it's the day he’s decided to visit the school and notices it. If you’re the one who messages him first to let him know, he’s going to be coming over right away. He’s skipping classes, jumping out through a window, and rushing over to your dorm. He’ll make sure to stop by his own school nurse and get some medication though. He’s worried, especially since you contacted him about it.

Shockingly, he’s not half bad at taking care of others. While he doesn’t have to do it often, he does care for his friends and knows the basics. Not to mention it is taught at his school to make sure students know how to take care of themselves. One of the perks of going to the hero school. Still, it will probably be a shock to you when he shows up to your dorm with medication and looks like he’s ready to go full on nurse mode.

He’s pretty gentle and the usual mischievousness about him is kept to a minimum. He’s checking your temperature, asking how you’re feeling, bringing you food and water, and making sure you’re taking your medications he brought. He might even message Riddle to come over and check to make sure you’re really okay. At some point he’ll grow bored while you’re asleep though so he’s either going to go snoop around the dorm, torment poor Grim, or curl up next to you on the bed to join you. Who knows what he’s going to do, you surely don’t.

When you’re better he’s going to be teasing you about how he practically had to revive you from the dead. He’s relieved to see you’re doing better though, but he has to leave as soon as possible. The school is probably suspicious as to where he’s been this entire time, and he’d rather not get into serious trouble with them. So he’s probably just going to give you a quick kiss on the forehead and tell you to feel better and ruffle your hair. All in good fun, he promises.

#Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST #TWST x Reader #TWST Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Disney #TWST Disney #Che’nya #Che’nya x Reader #Chenya x Reader #TWST Che’nya #Twisted Wonderland Che’nya #TWST Chenya #Twisted Wonderland Chenya

[loneberry]

Baby's First Meditation Retreat

…attention is prayer. —Simone Weil

It would be simpler—the monastic life would be so much simpler. Wake, pray, meditate, do battle with the ego, eat, sleep—live such that everything inessential is stripped away. Why did you come here, I said, I’m tired of living a distracted life, of going through my days in a fog of unawareness.

In Cambridge, MA I attended a meditation retreat. I signed up on a whim, out of a vague feeling that I have lost control of my mind. I have been meditating very casually for the last nine years, mostly using the Calm app, listening to Tara Brach recordings, and attending guided meditations while a grad student. I had come to the practice out of desperation, in the midst of a debilitating depression that made me feel perpetually tormented by my thoughts. During that time, I would voraciously read every study I could find on depression treatments and tried basically every treatment modality out there: neurofeedback, ketamine, therapeutic yoga, medication, CBT, DBT, fish oil, an anti-inflammatory diet, psychedelics, and the “treatment” that ultimately saved me: intensive psychoanalysis four days a week. Meditation seemed a particularly promising and low-risk way to manage depression and anxiety—and yes, it did bring me some relief, working as a kind of supplement to the psychoanalysis. Even though I haven’t been as consistent about it as I would have liked, I continued to practice it regularly, usually for about 10-20 minutes a day. Not once have I regretted meditating, though when life gets busy it’s easy to tell yourself that you just don’t have the time to sit and do nothing, even though we seem to somehow always have the time to mindlessly surf the internet. 

What is there to say. I’m just so tired of living on autopilot, of not having to face the moment, to face myself. There are a million ways to blot out one’s internal monologue, filling up our days with the background chatter of podcasts or social media. 

The recrudescence of my Simone Weil mania has forced me to reflect on attention—that rare quality of mind which is increasingly in short supply. And yet everything is a matter of attention—not because attention can be instrumentalized to achieve one’s goals. No. Attention is the end in itself. Weil: “We have to try to cure our faults by attention and not by will.” It’s in that second-to-second awareness that reverence for the moment blossoms. The fog is lifting. Here is the trembling world, a cloud passing, the dancing light on the pavement as the sun passes through the rustling leaves of the tree. Weil: “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer. It presupposes faith and love.” 

*

I landed in Boston late Friday night and early the next morning was off to the Zen center for the silent two-day retreat. I really did not know what to expect when I signed up. I knew a little about the different schools of Buddhism from studying it in a course as an undergrad. I remember being slightly afraid of “Zen” (or Chan) in particular because it seemed so severe to me. I imagined interminable zazen sessions, without guidance or visualizations; imagined slouching pupils getting whacked with sticks for bad posture or falling asleep. Yet surely if I were to test the Buddhist waters, I should do Zen/Chan since it is a specifically Chinese tradition? My father’s uncle was a Buddhist monk who wandered the mountains of China. I don’t know anything about him, other than his sister (my grandma) was devastated when he died after getting hit by a train. Whether it was suicide or just a manic pixie monk moment, I do not know.

*

Some meditation retreats are completely secular—they are just like a series of long, guided mindfulness sessions, with the context, rituals, and “religious” dimensions stripped away. This was not really that kind of retreat. There were robes, chants in Korean, elaborate meal rituals, and yes, getting whacked with a stick! Of course it is always possible to opt out of getting hit with the keisaku stick—I thought I would, but in the end I took the whacking almost every time it was offered, partly because it jolted me awake and relieved the tension building up in my body from hours and hours of sitting cross-legged on a cushion. The first couple of times the keisaku whacking was administered, I had to restrain myself from laughing. Oh my God, we’re getting whacked by a Buddhist master! In the orientation the instructor said it was for “tension release” but I did feel that it was something like a ritual of submission to the authority of the teacher, even if it didn’t really hurt. Watching how eagerly D. bowed to receive the stick in the orientation, I wondered if the Zen pupils were secretly sadomasochists. 

Constitutionally, I am not a “joiner” and have an aversion to organized religion and anything that emits even a whiff of cult vibes. I’ve always been critical of authority and incapable of following rules, possibly because I didn’t have any growing up. But there was something soothing about how regimented everything was. We performed our actions in sync, chanted about emptiness at 4:30am. The whole experience felt almost militaristic, but a part of me enjoyed the austere, disciplinary atmosphere and the obsessive attention to detail. Not disciplinary in a punitive sense, but disciplinary in the way I imagine Russian classical music training to be: the methodical pursuit of self-mastery (it’s hardly surprising that the Zen master I received instruction from was a classically trained pianist). During the retreat I concluded that more discipline would be good for me.

Most of the retreat consisted of meditating in silence. There was no small talk, no psychobabble, no “now we will get started…”—he just hits the wooden clapper three times, and the sitting session starts. No guidance, no body-scan, no loving-kindness prompts. Just you, seated cross-legged on the cushion in silence, facing the tumult of your chaotic mind, your hands in the Dhyana Mudra position, your eyes half-closed. 

It is a profound and difficult experience, having to face your own mind…both utterly banal and deeply disturbing, thoughts flitting from “maybe I should try to find a used bicycle on the OfferUp app” to thoughts of my parents’ mortality. I was warned by the Zen teacher that difficult emotions might bubble up. Thrice I broke out into tears and strained to regain my composure. It began during one of the short breaks, when I was lying on a bench outside looking up at the sky, imagining that a passing cloud was a life appearing briefly before dissipating. It was an unmediated confrontation with the eternal flux of the universe—pure panta rhei. 

Weil: “Whatever frightful thing may happen, can we desire that time should stop, that the stars should be stayed in their courses? Time’s violence rends the soul: by the rent eternity enters.” Time’s violence has utterly and completely ripped apart my soul. I wanted to hold onto everyone and everything I love, for the stars to be stayed in their courses, for time to stop, for my parents to live forever. I thought about Mari Ruti’s rapid decline and death, about my recent visit to my older brother in prison, and my trip to my relatives’ assisted living home, where my mother’s cousin has been completely waylaid by the rapid onset of Parkinson’s disease. I thought about my father sitting down in the chair looking out the window at the assisted living home, talking about getting old, how his knees ache now. Time’s violence rends the soul.Will I be strong enough to face the eternal flux, the impermanence of everything I love, with a fierceness that borders on madness, grieving even the eventual death of the Sun? Sitting on the cushion meditating, crying: let go. Will I ever be able to let go with grace? Don’t know. Sink into don’t-know mind. Count the breath. Something passes through me.

What did I see, what did I hear—I heard every exhibit of the Museum of Jurassic Technology: the voice imploring us to follow the chain of flowers into the mysteries of life, the burbling waters of the miniature model of Iguazú Falls, a recording of David Wilson talking about exploding dice, the distant echoes of barks in the bestiary room, the mournful sound of the duduk in Djivan Gasparyan’s “Lovely Spring” playing the Sandaldjian room, Monteverdi’s “Lamento della Ninfa” as I ascend the stairs to the sublime courtyard, Bach’s “Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ” in the ‘Ecstatic Journey of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky’ exhibit (impossible not to see the levitation scene from Tarkovsky’s Solaris when hearing BWV 639), Mihály Víg’s “Valuska” in The Borzoi Kabinet Theater at the end of the day, and the sound of David’s nyckelharpa reverberating in the garden. 

Now the birds of the mind are taking flight.

In, out. In, out. Return to the breath. 

The mind opening like a door to the sky

            a deep purple flower unfolding in the emptiness.

List everything you see, her feet standing on the lotus. 

Clear mind

Clear mind

Clear mind

Don’t know.

(In) 1-2-3-4 (out) 5-6-7-8

Κύριε Ἰησοῦ Χριστέ ἐλέησόν με 

The heart

The heart

The spherical heart of the manatee

Thoughts and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts

like waves, saturating the swash zone of the mind…

It’s the weekend of the Perseid meteor shower. Eight years ago, Ed and I watched them from the dock of a Maine pond. We had rented an Airbnb from a man with the same name as a dear poet friend of mine, Dana Ward. (I was dreaming of Dana when I woke up this morning.) A week after the Maine trip, I was at the mental hospital. I had forgotten I had a poetry reading. The woman organizing it called, wondering where I was. 

Eight years have passed me in the blink of an eye. 

Thoughts.

In

out

In

out

In 10-30 second intervals: nothing. Just the space between thoughts.

There were two states of non-self:

one of calm neutrality—just the is-ness of the world.

The other, something more ecstatic:

a mystical amnesia, when you become the contraction and expansion of the breath.

What is there to say about it? In my stead there was a heaving purple cloud floating in a black room.

Then, the “I” coheres again. Head so full of language, thinking about everything I want to write. “I shouldn’t be so attached to my thoughts.” The teacher says in the interview: it’s not about suppression.

Writers are fundamentally hoarders of thoughts. I try to collect each one, as the squirrel does the acorns. In my head I am writing an essay about the antidepressant withdrawals, my astonishment that I did not relapse as David Foster Wallace did when he committed suicide after tapering off his antidepressant. I remember when my thoughts were stuck on the “I want to die” loop, how Ed installed the ad blocker on my internet browser because he was disturbed by the suicide hotline targeted ads. I do not think such thoughts anymore. Maybe it is true—we are not our thoughts. They pass through my mind like water through the sieve. Did Woolf train herself to observe the stream? Too much thinking. I must be doing it wrong. Wrong again—I’m supposed to suspend judgment. 

I hear my friend Tim saying, “the mathematics section is the most mystical part of the library.”

Then Weil says, “As soon as we have a point of eternity in the soul, we have nothing more to do but to take care of it, for it will grow of itself like a seed. It is necessary to surround it with an armed guard, waiting in stillness, and to nourish it with the contemplation of numbers…” 

Now I’m thinking about the relationship between math and mysticism, about the Indian number theorist Srinivasa Ramanujan, who received, in his dreams, thousands of formulas from the Hindu Goddess Namagiri. Ramanujan: “An equation for me has no meaning unless it expresses a thought of God.”

I remember my poem “Umbra,” in which I reference the French mathematician Alexander Grothendieck’s strange book, La Clef des Songes (‘The Key of Dreams’). As one commenter puts it: “It’s a book about God. Grothendieck’s thesis is simple. We meet God in dreams. But we aren’t ourselves dreaming God, rather God Himself is dreaming us. Or better: according to Grothendieck ‘a Dreamer’ exists, an external force who ‘dreams our dreams’ and at the same time dreams us. And this force can only be God. … he declares, in a little footnote that it’s almost hidden, that mathematics wasn’t ‘created by God’ nor by man, but by an aspect of God’s nature that, unique among his attributes, is accessible to human reason.”

A week ago, I was telling Alex about Oppenheimer’s mysticism, his proficiency in Sanskrit and intensive study of the Bhagavad Gita, his “feeling for the mystery of the universe that surrounded him almost like a fog.” I watched Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer biopic with Alex—a mathematician/mathematical physicist—and my father—an almost-physicist who immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan to do a physics PhD in Wyoming but dropped out after his first year to move to NYC to wait tables at a Chinese restaurant. After the film, we watched a documentary about Sir Isaac Newton’s heretical theology and alchemical studies, how he read the Bible as a cryptogram and determined the world will end in 2060.

Could there be a connection between mathematics and the capacity for the divine, between the abstraction of mathematical thinking and the ability to sense the invisible, to see the hidden points that connect disparate realms? Wasn’t Einstein a Spinozist?

Scraps of language jostle around in my mind like a shaking bowl of coins. Stupid thoughts like, “Lacan is to psychoanalysis as Zen is to Buddhism.”

I see myself thinking about the news, about geopolitics and the madness of nation states. China is preparing their population for war, as are we. A kind of nausea overcomes me, as I see the whole nuclear age unfurl before me. 

We dwell on whatever we expose ourselves to, the articles we read, the people we see, the people we lurk online, the reflex to compare, to repeat the name of the Other like a mantra. 

Everything you think you need, you don’t actually need.

A butterfly has somehow flown into the Dharma room. It flits on the floor in the middle of the room. The teacher scoops it up and brings it outside. She corrects my dreadfully sloppy attempt to perform the meal ritual. I panic because I’ve taken too much food and must eat every last crumb. The pear is not ripe, and it is a torture to eat the whole thing. The pear is not ripe—a Zen lesson! Mastication of the unripe pear, a kind of koan. 

There was a short break. I decided to walk around Central Square, without a wallet or phone or headphones. 

How can I describe the sense of aliveness I felt in that moment, that alert receptivity, when I looked at the sky and saw the birds of Central Square taking flight above the Greek Orthodox Church? I walked up the stairs—some ceremony is taking place inside. Down the streets, there’s a brunch spot I never knew about in the seven years I lived in this town. There’s the sound of a busker, so sweet, and a flower shop I wandered into. There’s the bus stop I would wait at on my way to psychoanalysis. I cross the street. Emanating from a building on Mass Ave is the rhythmic thud of Latin American music—it must be the music-dance sessions my ethnomusicologist friend told me about years ago.  

Before dawn on the second day, we perform 108 prostrations. It turns my legs to Jell-O. When I walk up the stairs to use the bathroom, I have to grasp the banister to drag myself up. A few days later I can still barely walk from the soreness caused by the rapid-fire prostrations. Was there something off about my form? I noticed that the others relied more on their arms to hoist themselves up, while I relied almost exclusively on my legs.

And yet I quite enjoy prostrating myself. Outside of any religious or ritual context, I sometimes find myself spontaneously performing prostrations—to what or whom, I do not know. To the earth? I like to kiss the ground, to give thanks to this marvelous rock on which we all dwell. 

*

The interview with the Zen teacher takes a bizarre turn: she asks me questions about DeSantis, in a ‘liberals-trying-to-commiserate’ kind of way. My hatred of DeSantis is bottomless—I had just flown in from Florida the night before the retreat. Please, anything but a DeSantis koan! She asks me if it annoys me that she has been correcting my attempt to execute the meal ritual. I say, No, I don’t mind being an amateur, and crack a joke about being an adult music learner. When the short interview is over, I return to the silence of the Dharma room.

Sitting in silence for long periods is much harder than it looks. Yet the second day feels easier than the first day, despite being on day three of almost no sleep. Toward the end of the retreat, I stare at a spot on the floor, convinced it is a moving bug. It jiggles and jerks, walks in a circle, but always seems to return to the same spot. I can’t stop observing the bug. At the end of the sit, I lean in to get a closer look only to realize it’s not a bug at all, but a dark spot in the wood flooring. 

When the retreat is over, there’s the shock of hearing everyone’s voices, of realizing you had projected otherworldliness on people who are just people in the way you are just a person. We sit in a circle and take turns sharing our experiences. I say, “I came on a whim…because I watched YouTube videos about Buddhism with my dad.” We eat vegan pie at the table. The girlfriend of the man sitting next to me has come to meet him, with roses.

I grab my backpack, put on my Blundstones, and leave the center, in the soft afterglow of the mind’s clearing. What did it feel like: I had no desire to look at my phone. Turning on my phone was almost painful, and yet I needed to call the friend I was staying with. I met up with the religious studies poets, felt more present with others, more natural. We tried to go to the Harvard Film Archive to watch Ozu but were turned away for arriving late. We sat on a rooftop terrace to watch the sunset, with a view of the two spires of Harvard Yard, Memorial Church and Memorial Hall. Sun through the leaves, perceived crisply, as though a layer of mediation had been removed.

#meditation #buddhism #Zen Buddhism #mysticism #chan buddhism #mathematics #Simone Weil #attention

[viivdle]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Jurdan's Version) with @annamatix<3

here is part two of my analysis, and don't forget to look at anna's version in jude's pov on her account!!

"And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis" fits cardan well. the most obvious reasons are that he calls jude "darling god" and he was never ashamed of his sexuality, he's open about his desires. but all he's done was try to fill the void that jude caused and would inevitably fill. she turned what was fun into something sacred.

"People started talking, putting us through our paces" the folk talk about them, it's inevitable. i think it takes a bigger toll on cardan than he'd ever admit. not because he doubts the strength of their love, but because he knows being mortal in elfhame already sets you up for failure, and how hard jude works to live up to standards and exceed them. being constantly brought down does something to you, even if you're used to it. he is the first to know it.

"I knew there was no one in the world who could take it" again, nobody can take the judging of *everyone* in elfhame without some help. he knows how strong jude is, but he also knows how she's shielded herself from the not-so-whispered whispers before. and he knows how he himself coped with it. if he can help jude ignore the small part of gossip that does get to her, he will.

"But we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied, hands tied" another example of the ability to take it literally. cardan's hands were tied through (almost) all of TWK. beside that, a lot of opportunities didn't present themselves to cardan, even though he was already the high king, because of the prophecy. all throughout the series we read about people looking down at him, this doesn't change after the coronation. it just makes other people weary of what could happen if they were to cut deals with a cursed king.

"Yeah we were dancing, like it was the first time, first time" the scheming of jude was nothing new to cardan, whenever it happened it simply followed a pattern he already knew. their whole story is so diverse but can be looked at from a certain perspective that shows it can all be watered down into the same/similar tropes. betrayal, hurt, anguish - nothing new to either of them.

"I, I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us" as mentioned before, cardan doesn't like it when jude throws herself into danger - and she does it over and over again. not only that, but there is always the chance of assassinations they can't control - we know they happen quite often as well. all those fears that are reasonable make *him* being the person to separate them even more ironic.

"So, baby, can we dance, oh, through an avalanche?" for me these lyrics fit the scene after balekin's murder when cardan asks jude to marry him. it's risky, not 100% thought through, and definitely not thought of because of rationality. but he had hopes of overcoming what had already divided them before with it.

"I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted" do i even need to explain? "shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous" says enough. i could go into a whole rant about it though.

"Oh, 'cause it's gravity, oh, keeping you with me" what else would keep bringing them together if not gravity and the force of the universe? they shouldn't work. they shouldn't. but only if you look at their dynamic and not the chemistry and emotions that actually make them, well, them. every story and song in elfhame is basically "mortals are bad" and "how could an immortal ever love a mortal" those things are buried in the roots of the kingdom's history. cardan tormented jude for ages, and even if you forgive that, it still wouldn't be healthy. but somehow both of their unhealthy personalities better one another. they work when everything speaks against it. gravity.

"I'd kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down" is there a better lyric for the coronation scene than this? it all went to hell, it was a massacre. cardan got obliterated but after jude held him captive he somehow wasn't a total and utter wreck. yes, his family was complicated to say the least, but it was still family. but what was more important for some reason? jude.

"I'd hold you as the water rushes in" taken literally, this is about the time the undersea held jude captive. metaphorically, it's the same. he'd stay with her through it all, it was proven many times. again - he didn't know anything but jude when he was a serpent.

"If I could dance with you again" he was sure he had ultimately lost her when he exiled her, and we have evidence of his regrets and thoughts. he didn't even have the chance to properly enjoy being with her without it being part of a scheme before he banished her. before that, she was taken by the undersea and god knows what he thought during that time.

thank you so much for listening to my rant even though again, i doubt people read all this. i had so much fun writing this and having two different sides on it - anna's and mine. i hope you enjoyed and thank you so much anna, you're amazing<3

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #tfota #holly black #taylor swift #taylor swift song analysis #tfota song analysis #jurdan taylor swift #jurdan songs #jurdan analysis #jurdan song analysis

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Non-smut vol 2

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist | vol 1

Hi friends! Sometimes we want fics that are SFW or we just want to make ourselves sad or we need a little pick me up. I'm here with a list of fics that have no (explicit) smut as of posting! They may have smutty thoughts or mild allusions to smut, but those are marked in the warnings!

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

updated 3/27/2024

i wonder if you stopped his world like you stopped mine

Frankie one shot by @chronically-ghosted

watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

Ezra's Journal Entries

Ezra series by @littlemisspascal

This journal’s as good a place as any to admit the honest truth. So here it is: I wish with the entirety of my bloody, beating heart I could be the man you deserve, little love of mine. — Ezra recovers after the events of the film with the aid of a journal and the love of his life.

angsty fluff, Ezra’s dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, 1st person POV (Ezra), dialogue in italics, angsty fluff, night terrors, PTSD, Ezra dealing with the aftermath of the Green, language, overuse of space metaphors, grief/dealing with loss of a sibling, mild reference of past injury, Part 11 could be read as suicidal ideation so please skip/be warned of that segment due to possible triggers

midnight strikes, where is my prince

Frankie one shot by @undercoverpena

he had been your neighbour. a man you'd stare at through blinds when he’d been on the front lawn. a man you’re now staring at through splintered shards of your mirror—because he saved you.

ANGST 😂. there’s mentions of a break-in. frankie is there and he has a gun, so you know we’re okay. angst. inspired by a scene from scandal-if you know, you know

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

Marcus P one shot by @whataperfectwasteoftime

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent.

angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Constellations in his eyes

Dave York one shot by @janaispunk

Your fiancé stands you up on your birthday. Dave doesn’t.

infidelity, shitty boyfriend, angst, fluff, kissing, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n

The One

Dieter one shot by @schnarfer

If one thing had been different, would everything be different today?

Bit of emotional torment, drink and drugs references, Dieter POV, happy ending? Always Fleabag coded.

House Arrest

Dieter one shot by @rulexofxnines

Dieter stays over at your place out of desperation. Things get out of hand so you take control of the situation.

forced proximity, only one bed, a goat

The Howler Monkey

Dieter one shot by @covetyou

You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness.

Vampire!Dieter

Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

Interview with a vampire, gatsby style

flirting, a bit of blood, maybe dubcon due to The Thrall but i think it's safe to say we all want It from vampire!dieter

Paint With Me

Frankie one shot by @bitchesuntitled

You have a crush on the dad of your daughter’s best friend.

Sexual innuendos and cursing

Door Number Three

Javi G drabble by @morallyinept

Javi shows you what he keeps behind that mirrored door

Character talk alludes to sexy things.

The Infinity Cube

Various Pedro Boy series by @littlemisspascal

When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

language, fluff, angst, references to sex but no smut

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #The spreadsheet Digest Outtakes