#I dunno how either of us have survived this long like genuinely

[pattonsfam-ily]

I swear to god literally my entire life has just been me saying “Remus no” and him responding with “Remus yes” 😩 -Roman

#I dunno how either of us have survived this long like genuinely #ooc tag: #princey

[greentrickster]

Shadowsick: Light is Life

Okay, just heard about NEOM, which is a city they're building in the Middle East which is basically a hollowed-out mountain with an inside-out skyscraper in it. You can see a longer video on it here, my main takeaway is that I'm for more environmentally-friendly buildings and cities but also big yikes in regards to what they're doing with this one as well as how they're doing it.

Anyway, the whole topic of 'are they getting enough sunlight in the lower levels' got brought up it the video, and to me that feels like a YA dystopian setting waiting to happen, with the ultra-elite living on or near the surface and the lower classes literally living lower in the building/ground. Currency is backed by both minutes a day a person can spend in natural light and how close to the surface and thus 'pure' said natural light is.

Ex: ten units of this currency could get you ten minutes of indirect natural light in the lowest level it reaches to, less time on a higher level with more direct sunlight, and so on, with the surface-level direct sunlight time being the most expensive. The catch is that this currency is used for everything, not just sunlight time, leading to choices such as to whether they want to eat or have sunlight today for many, with sunlamps being a much cheaper but not as effective alternative that many are forced to turn to.

Another layer could be added due to the fact that the elites at the surface who control factories timetables and such have very stable circadian rhythms, due to constant exposure to a steady day/night cycle, with those in the lower levels struggling to live by these surface-mandated schedules due to their own circadian rhythms being hella messed up due to living in near-constant artificial light. Mental and physical detriments due to lack of natural light are common in the lower levels, but surface propaganda blames other factors than lack of natural light as the cause. It's said to be caused by gases or close-quarters living or the ever popular 'poor people are just inferior' concept by those in the upper levels. (It's called being shadowsick in the lower levels, and there are rumours that it's connected to lack of natural light, but don't ever let an upper-leveler hear you say that (also hey, look, title-drop inside the narrative!).)

In contrast, skin cancers and other over-exposure-related illnesses are common in the upper levels, but either covered up or framed as a 'risk/sacrifice' the elites 'have to face' by living so close to or on the surface, done for the good of the whole and not a result of excess or overindulgence. Possibly there was a time much earlier in this world's history that it genuinely was risker to live near the surface, some devastating weapons laid waste to the surface world (or just too many billionaires going to space and pursuing capitalism instead of promoting human life just caused catastrophic climate change), forcing humanity to dig down and live below ground to survive, but enough time has passed that nature is slowly beginning to heal, and those original risks have long-since passed or reduced in danger levels as to be mostly negligible.

Side note: this would naturally be a setting where darker skin is out-of-hand considered more attractive than pale skin in this society and culture, due to tans being associated with spending lots of time in direct sunlight and thus wealth. Also the heroine absolutely has naturally very dark skin (and absolutely isn't Caucasian), and this is going to be framed as a positive for the entire series. Everyone deserves to have an edgy teen fantasy/sci-fi/what-have-you story that constantly tells them they're beautiful while they're growing up, and I feel like this would be a setting that would work well with this instance of it.

I dunno, could be an interesting setting, especially if the author includes some real-life correlation to things like working night or swing-shift jobs and stuff. Could be a cool world with some good social commentary and all.

#shadowsick #ya dystopia #my thoughts #sunlight deficiency

[a-student-out-of-time]

// thoughts on Despair Time? how far are you into it now?

//Funny you mention that, I just finished Chapter 1 and now I’m anxiously awaiting Chapter 2

I’ll put my thoughts below (spoilers, obviously)

I can now understand why this fangan has a bit of a controversial reputation. I went into it wondering why, and now I see: Teruko is a VERY different kind of protagonist, and I can understand people not liking her or thinking she went too far.

While I get that, at the same time, I completely understand her anger at feeling betrayed by everyone, especially Xander and Min. I mean, everyone was quick to blame her for killing Xander and she had to be the one to defend herself and prove her own innocence.

I do think that she went too far in deciding that Xander and Min both deserved to die because they betrayed her. That’s not talking from a place of anything like justice, that’s straight-up cruel. But I can’t say she’s wrong to feel that way. Xander literally tried to kill her, after all.

And yet I can’t blame either Xander or Min for what happened. I don’t doubt that their feelings of friendship toward Teruko were genuine, since both of them genuinely seemed afraid and ashamed of what happened. Likewise, Xander was literally put up to it by a note that we still have zero context for and Min acted in a moment of survival instinct and accidentally killed him.

And what does Teruko do? Brush all that aside and say that they only had the worst of intentions for her. That they were planning to do something like this from the start and they only cared about escaping, and were willing to sacrifice her to do it. And she admits she’s not going to trust anyone because she doesn’t want to get hurt...right after a horrifyingly brutal execution of someone who killed by accident. That’s just flat-out self-centered and petty.

But I’m not saying this as a negative. Far from it, this is a bold choice and I’m very interested to see where this goes.

I think of DRDT as a DR game told from the perspective of the rival character, the kind of person who decides that trust and friendship aren’t worth it. Teruko is very clearly a kind person who’s buried her best qualities under a mountain of trust issues, resignation to fate, and clearly a ton of self-loathing. She says to herself that she wanted Min to hate her, because she can’t save her. And yet Teruko didn’t do anything to really shove her away, because I don’t think she wanted her to go. And she was going to say something before her execution, but never got the chance.

It reminds me a lot of Jataro, whose coping mechanism with a mother who hated him to the point of wishing he was dead was to tell himself that being hated is better than being loved.

Ultimately, I think this is an excellent source of potential character development for Teruko. Because try as she might to say she won’t trust anyone, not only do I think she’s incapable of that, she really doesn’t have a choice. In a killing game, your life is intertwined with those of everyone else; the blackened only needs to win once and then everyone dies. You’re going to need to afford everyone else even a little trust to guarantee your own survival.

I look forward to seeing what new revelations and developments Chapter 2 will bring us next year ^^

...Dunno if I can wait that long ^^;

#mod talks #a student out of time #danganronpa despair time

[simpz-art-stash]

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

Previous | Next

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

It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.

#shadowpeaches #LMK #lego monkie kid #Sun Wukong #Macaque #MK #my fics #ayeeeee chaptah 2 baebeeeee #just as messy as the last one #with some sloppy seconds #;'D

[skellebonez]

Who Do I Go To? (Monkie Kid Fanfic)

I totally did not accidentally post this early before I edited it or added everything from my wip file... no... but anon, you gave me so much FREEDOM with this that I just went absolutely off the rails. This is not only set in a post S3 scenario where everyone survives and most of the villains have some kind of at least semi-redemption (except LBD, rip), this does feature a crackship or two of mine (you can read the tags to see the ships before you read)! Sun Wukong also has all of his immortality and some of his powers, I am writing this with the idea that he transferred most of them to MK and some of that was permanent once LBD was defeated and MK got his own back.

So... what if Sun Wukong did start communicating with the others in S3... but still has been bottling up his emotions about the past for so long he doesn’t feel he can talk to anyone because of their shared experiences? And what happens when that guilt and grief finally has someone willing to listen?

“What are you doing here, Si-SUN Wukong?” The Demon Bull King asked slowly, stumbling over his usual insult for the one once so close to him. They still weren’t close, and it was doubtful they would ever be as long as the sworn brothers they once were, but they were no longer at each other’s throats anymore.

That didn’t change how bizarre it was to see The Great Sage Equal To Heaven just... sitting outside his new home with no warning.

“DBK!” Wukong exclaimed, more startled than the larger demon was expecting as he jumped up and turned and if he didn’t look like he’d been hit with a truck metaphorically DBK didn’t know how to describe the way his fur stood on end and the redness in the other’s eyes. “I. UH. Was. Just stopping by to say hi!”

“No you weren’t,” DBK said, face falling into a deadpan glower. “You don’t do that. Even after 500 years I know you don’t.”

“I can start!” Wukong defended, crossing his arms and looking away with a wide teeth showing smile.

Too wide.

Even after everything that happened between them, from Red Boy to what happened when he needed his wife’s fan to sealing him in the mountain and everything that transpired with the Little Thief, he recognized that unhappy nervous smile.

“You can,” DBK said with a nod, gesturing to the smaller being. “You can also be here for a reason. Like what I heard you muttering to yourself behind the door.”

“And that’s my cue to leave!” The Monkey King announced as he turned to walk away before a large hand, with shocking gentleness for the one attached to it, wrapped around his shoulders.

“If you need to talk-”

“No, haha, I most certainly have no need for that!”

“-you know we’ve already made peace. I-”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Wukong insisted, struggling only a little before freeing himself from the other’s grip with an even wider nervous smile.

“-am willing to listen.”

“Don’t have to!”

“Are you at least talking to anyone?”

Neither of them said anything, The Demon Bull King staring down at The Monkey King with both frustrated annoyance and genuine concern in his expression.

The former he could deal with, but the later was so new again that...

Sun Wukong panicked.

“.... OKEY BYE!” He yelled, jumping and allowing his cloud to catch him and take him off.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM YOUR FEELINGS FOREVER SUN WUKONG!"

"I HID FROM THE WORLD FOR 500 YEARS AND I TURNED OUT JUST FINE, I THINK I'LL MANAGE!"

“He turned out fine, he says,” Princess Iron Fan called from behind her husband as she emerged from their home. “So fine that it took him losing his invincibility and his successor nearly being killed for him to admit he needed help.”

DBK grunted, nodding in agreement at her words.

“He needs more, still, my dear. Even I can see that.”

“Let’s call in some reinforcements then, darling. I think there are two people who may be able to get through to him.”

~

Sun Wukong sat on the beach of Mount Huaguo’s island home, clearly trying not to think about what had just transpired.

“Hey.”

“How did you even know to look for me here?” Sun Wukong asked, not nearly as startled this time. He’d heard the footsteps coming for a long time, the other apparently wanting to make his presence known.

“Bull King called Pigsy’s asking for MK. MK called me since he’s working. I remembered where you like to sulk. Hence: I’m here.”

Wukong groaned, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in them. “I shouldn’t have even left the house today.”

“But you left,” Macaque said with a shrug, watching the other stew in his frustration at himself. “And you went to see DBK... and I guess Princess Iron Fan too? But you ran off. Why?”

“I can’t check up on an old friend turned enemy turned less enemy to ‘not exactly friend but we’re not trying to kill each other’ without being questioned?” Wukong grumbled into his arms.

“Not when you make him sound as worried as he did when he talked to MK,” Macaque continued, voice becoming more tense. “You didn’t go to apologize or explain anything, I was there when all that went down. So... did you finally go to talk about everything e-”

“No.” The word was said with such coldness that Macaque knew it was put on. It wasn’t out of malice but something else, something more worried and fearful. “No. I can’t talk to him about... I told him everything that explained what happened. I apologized. I don’t need to talk more.”

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to to just talking about, you know... how you’re doing," Macaque said with a concerned frown. It almost felt odd on his face. Almost. He was still getting used to the whole "not being mortal eternal enemies and now being friends and kinda sorta caring about each other again" thing. "I know it's been centuries and all and you're out of practice but like... it's been centuries."

"I just... can't, Macaque," Wukong rebutted as he refused to lift his head from his arms. "I just can't."

"Why?"

"Don't."

The single word stayed in their air between them, heavy and hard and meaning more than the immortal would ever admit to.

"Come on, there has to be a reason," Macaque insisted as he sat down beside the other immortal. When no response came he sighed, tail flicking absently and flipping over some of the rocks on the beach as they sat in silence for few minutes. "You know... I started talking to someone."

"What?" Wukong turned his head, just enough to look at the other monkey from the corner of his eye.

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Macaque continued, falling back down to lay flat on his back and gaze up at the clouds. He remembered that Wukong felt better, sometimes, when you looked away when talked to. Didn’t know why, but he remembered. “Not exactly the kind of therapy he thinks I need, but he lends me his cats and he lets me talk and sometimes asks if I want advice. Sometimes I say yes, but when I say no he understands. Sometimes I just want to rant at that one little one eyed cat he has and she listened to... I think. She’s a cat so I wouldn’t know. He thinks I should see someone more experienced, an expert. Maybe he’s right, I dunno, but this helps enough for now.

“... who are you and what have you done with the Six-Eared Macaque?” Wukong asked with a soft glower, one that was clearly in jest from the tiny smile the other could see.

“Same Macaque,” the other said with a laugh, sitting back up with a theatrical flourish. “Just realized that talking to someone isn’t as dumb or useless as I made it out to be in my head. A lot of the stuff I thought about alone wasn’t exactly the best. Or healthiest. But now I can get that out there and sometimes it makes Sandy look like he ate a whole lime which probably means it’s good it’s not in my head anymore.”

“You ramble a lot,” Wukong said with a chuckle, tail swishing softly beside him before nudging against Macaque’s. He tensed before it slowly wrapped around the other’s. “It feels odd, having you try to cheer me up again after... everything.”

“Bad odd or good odd?”

“Good.”

“That’s.... good,” Macaque said, squeezing Wukong’s tail with his own. “Feels odd for me too. Like I’m out of practice too. But it’s good odd...” The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company before he continued. “I do think you should talk to someone. Anyone.”

“I don’t know who, though. Every time I try I just... clam up and run away. I’ve put so much on MK already,” Wukong said, tail squeezing around Macaque’s loosely in return. “And Pigsy and Sandy... After all that came out, that Sandy is Sha Wujing and Pigsy is Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation... I just... I can’t talk to them either, even though Pigsy doesn’t remember anything at all. And you... DBK... everyone... who do I go to that knows enough about me to know what they’re in for but I won’t have those memories floating around in the back of my head toward making me run away?”

“Well, you could have Sandy help you get a therapist. Prepare them in advance. Or, if you’re not ready for that, you could talk to Tang?” Macaque suggested with a shrug. “He listens to me when I’m not talking to Sandy... but that’s probably because we’re dating, that’s what it is now instead of courting, right? So he kinda has to I think? Pigsy and MK talk to him too but with me I think it’s different.”

"I don't think that's how it works," Wukong said with a half hearted chuckle as he finally raised his head all the way. "Besides, I've known Tang longer."

"By like 3 months."

"3 months more is still enough to know that if he doesn't want to listen to you he won't. The man knows how to make a speedy exit."

"Guess that's one more thing that sets him apart from his great-great-great-great-great-whatever uncle," Macaque admitted with a shrug and a chuckle of his own. He squeezed his tail around Wukong's, smile softening when he felt it being returned.

“Feels... weird though,” Wukong said with a shrug. “The two of them looking so much alike.”

“Yeah, but that’s it,” Macaque rebutted. “He’s Tang Sanzang’s great-whatever nephew 5 times removed or whatever and he looks like him. Other than that? He knows pretty much all of your history. He’s mostly out of the hero worship zone but he still respects you a lot. Aside from everything that happened with LBD and MK you two have the least history out of everyone so maybe whatever’s in your head making you clam up might not stop you. And it couldn't hurt to try. It’s not therapy, it’s just talking about something that’s bothering you. Worst that can happen is you get nervous and fumble and he takes the opportunity to ask you 40 questions about the times you were almost incinerated by a baby."

"That was one time!"

~

“Uh,” Tang started, staring out the open door with wide eyes at the being before him. “Hi. I didn’t exactly expect to you see today.”

“I didn’t exactly expect to be here today,” Wukong said awkwardly, nervous smile taking over his face as his tone became far too jovial for what he was about to ask. “Macaque sent me to... talk to you. About me?” His smile drooped bit by bit as he said these words, slowly starting to lose his determination to go through with this. “Oh second thought, maybe I should-”

"No," Tang said, reaching out to put a hand on the immortal's shoulder. It was nothing, really, not to someone as strong as he was. Not when he could brush it off and walk away. Go home. Just sit on his couch and watch Monkey King The Animated Series again and just think about how no one deserved to be saddled with his problems anymore. But Wukong didn't. "Whatever it is, we’re going to talk about this now. I know I’m not trained like Sandy is, but I know how to listen. And if you need someone to listen to you, I can. You wouldn't have come here to talk if you didn't."

“... ok...” Sun Wukong said, letting Tang wrap his arm around his back and guide him inside his shared home with Pigsy and Macaque.

It was... odd. Being inside this place for the first time. He’d been outside of the door more than once, invited in as well. But never inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Tang said, stopping his guidance once they reached the sofa. “I’m no Sandy, but I was making myself some tea and it is a batch of his own anyway. I’ll grab us some snacks too.”

“Snacks would be great,” Wukong admitted, watching the other disappear into the house’s kitchen before he sighed and gripped his thrashing tail and muttered to himself. “What am I doing..? I shouldn’t put all this on Tang... I should have gone with Macaque’s first suggestion, I’m-”

“Do you prefer lychee or persimmon?” Tang asked suddenly, startling the immortal for the second time that day. “We’re out of peach bao, but MK’s been making them out of lots of fruits and we have so many that I was planning on eating them myself.”

The scholar returned, faster than expected, with a full tray in hand. Teapot, two tea cups, and a steamer box that presumably held the buns he was asking about.

“Uh... persimmon,” Wukong answered, and he watched as Tang poured each of them a cup of tea and removed some clearly fresh (or at least made some time earlier in the day and freshly steamed), pieces of fruit laden bao to put on a plate for his guest before taking a seat in a chair across from him. “You were... getting lunch?”

Tang shrugged, laughing as he took a bite of one of his own. “Just wanted a snack. But,” He smiled, gesturing to the Monkey King. “We’re not here to talk about snacks. What’s on your mind?”

“Awfully forward start.”

“I try to be forward with the people I consider my friends.”

“... You consider me... a friend?” Wukong asked slowly, turning the bao over in his hands. It was well made, perfect he would say. You’d think MK would have been making them all his life, not that he’d learned how to on the drone ship while on the run from an evil super demon bent on erasing his mentor from the world.

“After everything we went through, how could I not?” Tang said, putting his food down to sip his tea and then putting that down as well and looking at him seriously. “You’re here because it’s the anniversary of the day you sealed away the Demon Bull King, aren’t you?”

The bao in his hands wasn’t perfect anymore. Instead the red lychee inside dripped from his claws from where they punctured it in surprise.

“How did you-?”

“My specialty study is your history after all,” Tang said, smile returning with a sad tint. “I’ve known the date for years but I felt it was something to keep to myself. For some reason. Now with you and DBK back I think that was a good choice. It feels too personal to have out in the open for everyone to make a spectacle of.”

“Is it selfish of me to be thankful for that?” Wukong muttered, gently placing the bao on the plate to lick his claws clean.

“I don’t think so,” Tang answered.

“I feel selfish though,” he continued, not managing to take note of how Tang sat up straighter and turned more toward him. “I went to DBK’s to... I don’t know. I wanted to apologize again? But I already did and he accepted it and it feels selfish to want to again. Then I just. I froze.”

“Why?” Tang asked, scooting closer.

“It felt wrong.”

“Because you would make him feel awkward?”

“NO!” Wukong groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I just. I feel...” He took in a shaky breath, claws digging into his skin slightly.

“Don’t,” Tang’s voice came soft and closer than Wukong expected, as did the hands on his own slowly pulling his claws away from his face. “Don’t hurt yourself. And don’t bottle it up. I’ll listen to you. No matter what it is. It’s not selfish, feeling things isn’t selfish.”

“I miss it,” Wukong breathed out, shaky and choppy as his throat tightened as the words started to pour out of him. “I miss him. How things used to be between us and Iron Fan. I miss that I never got to meet Red Son when he was Red Boy. I miss Beng and Ba and Ma and Liu and how things used to be. I miss Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing even though they’re here. I miss my Tang Sanzang. I’d been alone for 500 years and I missed so much and I did that to myself and it’s selfish to miss like that...”

He didn’t realize his cheeks were wet until his hands had been let go and one of Tang’s rubbed a cloth against them. Tang cupped his cheeks softly before wrapping his arms around him and tucking the Monkey King’s head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

“No... no it’s not. You’re allowed to miss things, Sun Wukong. Just like anyone else.”

Sun Wukong started to feel better.

He didn’t know why that was what did it, but the dam broke. It broke and his tears came pouring out as he hugged the man who reminded him so much of his Master. He didn’t know if anything he said in the mean time made any sense, if he was just blubbering and finally letting himself mourn what he’d lost and never had, but Tang didn’t ever chastise him. He let him weep and hold him and for the first time in years...

~

“Oh!” Princess Iron Fan startled as she opened the door to see who had knocked, finding herself face to face at sunset with one Great Sage. “You’ve returned.”

“Are you and DBK free?” Sun Wukong asked, smile no longer too wide. “I... kinda just wanna talk with you for a bit.”

“Well... I think that would be lovely.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #prompt fill #no ships #gen fic #hurt comfort #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #dbk and pif #tang #technically tintedlenses is in here #and hinted freesquidinknoodles i had to add that in after THAT ART TODAY #but it's only a couple lines

[kstewdeux]

For a span of a minute that felt like an eternity, the entire world focused in on one singular point. A small painting. It’s edges well worn. Finer details faded and lost due to the passage of time but otherwise, in shockingly good condition.

But for all it’s antiquity, there was no mistaking the young woman who had been depicted. Whoever wrote the small exhibition label had simply labeled it:

Unidentified Artist, Japanese

Late Tokugawa Shogunate, Edo Period, 1853-1867

Young Woman

Painting on Parchment

H. Nakamura Trust, 88.251

According to the small blurb beneath the exhibition label, this tiny piece of parchment, clearly kept over the past century with meticulous care, had - at some point - apparently been studied by scholars to prove it was genuine. A fact that had been in dispute because the style diverged so greatly from art styles of the period but Kagome knew what the artist had been trying to do.

A photograph. He’d tried to mimic a photograph. Not perfect by any means but as close as someone in that time period could get. Which was shocking given (a) she had no idea he could draw and (b) that he would’ve taken the time to draw her.

Jaw trembling, Kagome had to remind herself to breathe. A task made more difficult as her friends joined her and began commenting on how the girl in the drawing resembled her.

Of course it did. It was her.

Her blurry vision flicked to the date and what registered felt like something cold was crushing her heart. If this ‘unidentified artist’ was him, Inuyasha had survived their quest and lived hundreds of years clearly hoping to see her again. At some point, he must have realized he simply wasn’t going to make it and…

Exhaling shakily, Kagome swallowed and decided it would be easier to simply leave. She was getting worked up over nothing. It was entirely possible that all of this was a coincidence. That she was reading too much into it. After all, Inuyasha wasn’t an artist by any means and most certainly would not have spent hundreds of years thinking about her. They were friends. Just friends. Unless something changed, which seemed unlikely, he had no interest in being with her that way. Besides, surely there were other women who looked like her throughout history. Everyone had a doppelgänger, right? Hers just happened to be some random woman in 19th century Japan.

It was just a painting of her doppelgänger.

Hopefully. Hopefully that’s all that it was.

“I have to go,” Kagome mumbled hoarsely as she took a step back and tore her eyes away from the painting, “I need to go.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Yuka asked worriedly, “Do…”

Unable to hear anything over the ringing in her ears, Kagome’s eyes wavered as they flicked back to the blurb that, upon closer inspection, described the other sketches and accompanying notes that detailed the artist’s ‘love’ for the young woman depicted. Various photographs of said notes had been attached slightly below said blurb and one of them had her shaking her head in mild horror.

‘I will not know your name next time we meet…’

“I need to go,” Kagome repeated breathlessly before turning on her heel and damn near running for the entrance. After that, she wouldn’t’ve been able to tell you how long or far or even which direction she ran from the mental image of an elderly Inuyasha writing out those notes he had to believe she’d never read. It might not even be him. Couldn’t be him. He didn’t draw. Couldn’t say something poetic much less write it. It had to be a coincidence. Just a coincidence but the image continued playing in her mind until she was blinded by tears. He died alone. Even…even if she did end up with him, she would’ve been dead by the time he wrote that. Long before he even picked up that brush. It…it…

It was all becoming too painful to even imagine.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Kagome clutched at her chest and used the side of a cement building for support. Inuyasha died over a hundred years ago and while that made sense, the realization that all her friends had died sometime in the past five hundred years hit her with all the force of a Mack truck.

Whimpering softly, her legs gave out and she slid down to the cold sidewalk. It was a coincidence. Just a coincidence. The probability of it all…

Well it just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be him. It just…

“There you are,” came a hoarse, relieved whisper from far too close before two strong arms scooped her up and pulled her off the ground, “What happened? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Inuyasha?” Kagome mumbled stupidly before she whined and pressed her face into the corner of his neck - a gesture which had him stopping and doing something strange. His face turned slightly and buried his nose into her hair.

“What happened? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what happened,” he chided anxiously as he gave her a light squeeze, “You hurt?”

Opening her eyes, Kagome glanced around the dimly lit streets and realized how late it was. No wonder he’d come after her.

“M’fine. Got lost is all,” she lied lamely and she felt him inhale deeply then sigh.

“Bullshit. What happened?” he asked again before adding in a clear attempt to get her to smile, “I don’t mind killing people ya know. If someone hurt you, I’ll make them pay, ya know, if you want.”

“Nothing happened. Just got lost on my way home,” she mumbled and with a somewhat exasperated grunt, Inuyasha continued walking again.

“You’re a terrible liar and an idiot,” Inuyasha opined firmly - adjusting his hold on her and shaking his head, “You could’ve gotten hurt out here by yourself, stupid. Anything could’ve happened.”

“I was…”

“Sometimes I swear you’re trying to get yourself killed,” he continued chiding as some of his anger began bubbling to the surface, “What would’ve happened if I didn’t come looking, huh?”

“I said I’m sorry,” she protested weakly - her nose subtly nuzzling the flesh at the base of his neck, “I…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. You need to do better,” Inuyasha snapped angrily before pausing mid-stride and sighing, “I swore to protect you but you make it so…so hard sometimes. And you don’t even care. You just…just go around getting kidnapped or disappearing and…and getting hurt when I’m not looking.”

It was strange but hearing his voice berate her and feeling his irritated breaths actually improved her mood considerably.

“I waited. Like an idiot I waited for you to come back from that school thing of yours instead of coming to get you like normal but…but then the sun went down and…” Inuyasha continued to huffed and grunt while his arms held her slightly tighter, “I can’t be there all the time dammit. I can’t. I’d like to be but…but I just can’t so…so you just have to fucking do better.”

Lifting her head slightly at this strange command, Kagome studied his face for a moment before leaning forward and absently placing a kiss on his tense neck. Inuyasha went stock still and then rigid but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll do better,” she promised tiredly as she pressed another lazy kiss on his shoulder. At least in this moment, he was alive and loved. Right now, he wasn’t alone drawing paintings and writing notes to someone who was either dead or hadn’t been born yet. And while true that the ‘unidentified artist’ was probably anyone else, that mental image of it being him continued to haunt her.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome stubbornly told herself that the ‘unidentified artist’ couldn’t be him. It simply wasn’t possible. For so many reasons.

“You kissed me,” Inuyasha finally blurted and mercifully distracted from her inner turmoil, Kagome hummed in the affirmative. A second passed then two and he forced out a strangled, “W-why?”

“I wanted to,” Kagome offered tiredly as she focused on the feel of him and the knowledge that, as of this moment, he was very much alive. And yes, now that she was a little calmer, it was fairly obvious that the ‘unidentified artist’ wasn’t Inuyasha. He didn’t think of her in that way. Never had. Never would. They were friends. Best friends. But he loved someone else and had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in her that way.

As Kagome continued talking herself down, Inuyasha remained motionless for a long time before he finally began walking back towards the shrine. Slowly. Every so often he’d pause and take a few short breaths like he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

“Why did you want to?” he finally asked hesitantly as he turned a corner, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Because you’re you,” she mumbled as her consciousness began ebbing. With a soft sigh, she relaxed more fully against his warm chest and offered up an additional explanation, “It made me happy.”

This response clearly bothered him judging by the increased tension in his muscles.

“Why did kissing me make you happy?” he pressed after another long moment of silence.

“Dunno. Why do you think it…” Kagome trailed off into a yawn and Inuyasha let out a small groan.

“I don’t know. That’s why I was asking,” Inuyasha interrupted with a huff of frustration, “You always make things hard. For no reason.”

Instead of getting angry, Kagome simply cooed and snuggled into him which seemed to both bother and calm him.

“You’re so stupid,” he continued to grumble as he adjusted his hold, “Ask a simple question and you just…act like you.”

“How else am I supposed to act?” Kagome hummed with mild amusement and Inuyasha grunted.

“Whatever. You need to sleep,” he changed the subject miserably as he finally made it to the shrine and began climbing the steps, “But don’t think I’m gunna take it easy on you. I’m serious. You can’t do shit like that again. You could’ve gotten…”

“Will you stay here tonight?” Kagome interrupted tiredly and Inuyasha once again stopped mid-step. His hands flexed against the flesh they were gripping as he licked his lips and averted his eyes.

“Only if you tell me why you really kissed me,” he repeated his earlier question - before continuing with an unease tinged with hope which surprised her, “I think I deserve some answers after the stupid stunt you just pulled and if you’re trying…if you did that to just…just distract me, it won’t work. Won’t change nothing. You still gotta be less stupid.”

“I did it because I wanted to,” Kagome repeated before gasping when he suddenly set her down and glared.

“Well what if I didn’t want you to?” Inuyasha huffed - something strangely hurt behind his expressive amber eyes, “You’ve never tried to mess with me before. Never. And…and do you have any idea how scared I was when you didn’t come home? I searched for you, Kagome. From the…the 6 to the 9. Do you know how hard it is to track scents here? To listen for you? It’s a literal miracle that I…”

“I said I’m sorry,” Kagome insisted and Inuyasha looked even more hurt. Breathing heavily, he visibly tried to control whatever reaction was brewing under the surface but unfortunately, his confusion and hurt bubbled over.

“I DON’T WANT AN APOLOGY!” Inuyasha bellowed - his hurt escalating into full blown anger with such speed it nearly gave her whiplash, “YOU COULD’VE DIED. YOU COULD’VE BEEN HURT! AND I’M NOT SO DESPERATE THAT A STUPID KISS IS GUNNA MAKE ME FORGET THAT! WHY DID YOU KISS ME?!”

“I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you!” Kagome snapped and Inuyasha looked a hair away from strangling her.

“THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER! YOU’RE JUST TRYING TO COVER YOUR ASS AND…” Inuyasha began to rail against her once more and it was at that point Kagome’s mind officially hit It’s breaking point. He wanted answers, huh? He wanted to know why she ran and why she kissed him and why she was so upset?!

“FINE! KNOW WHY I DID THAT?! BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” Kagome screamed bitterly and Inuyasha froze like a deer in the headlights, “I KISSED YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! THERE! HAPPY?!”

When Inuyasha continued gaping at her with a shell-shocked expression, the full ramifications of what she’d just admitted hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Forget it,” she breathed miserably as she turned and unsteadily began climbing the stairs with her arms curled tightly around her stomach, “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do…any of that again. Just forget what I said.”

“Wait. Wait,” Inuyasha’s strangely panicked voice called out - a single clawed hand gripping her shoulder to force her to stop, “I don’t think I heard that right. W-why did you…”

“Let me go Inuyasha,” Kagome hissed but the hand didn’t release her.

“C-can I tell you w-what I heard?” he asked with a mixture of fear and desperation, “A-and I could be wrong but I just…”

“You hear everything Inuyasha,” Kagome huffed acidly as she pushed away his hand with all her might, “You heard what I said…”

Even as she climbed the stairs, she could hear his harsh rapid breaths which honestly had her moving a little faster. Everything was ruined now. All because of some stupid little painting that she’d just…

“You…you said you…you loved me,” he repeated barely above a whisper, “Right?”

Closing her eyes, Kagome let out a long sigh before squaring her shoulders and deciding to face her mistake head on.

“I do love you but I don’t…” she began as she turned to face him before being cut off when a pair of lips captured her own. Two strong arms snaked around her waist for but a moment before his calloused hands suddenly cupped her face in an effort to force her to respond.

When she finally did and when he finally pulled back, his slightly euphoric expression faded into mild horror and panic.

“Y-you said you l-loved me back, r-right?” he asked worriedly as he released and took an involuntary step back, “That’s…that’s what you said. Two, no, three times. You said that…”

“That I loved you…back,” Kagome repeated slowly and Inuyasha gave a jerky nod in response.

“That’s what you said,” he insisted miserably - his amber eyes flicking in the direction of the well, “So…and I mean, you did start the…the kissing so I…and you were an idiot. Scared me half to…”

“Know what? That is what I said,” Kagome hummed in a resigned fashion as she reached out and gestured for him to take her hand, “Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s late.”

Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha eyed the beckoning hand with weary apprehension before accepting the gesture and allowing her to lead him into the house. And up the stairs. And into her bedroom. And then onto her bed. A bed upon which he found himself awkwardly waiting while Kagome proceeded to change and get ready for the night.

“Where are you gunna sleep…” he began nervously when it finally dawned on him that she seemed to be intending for him to sleep on the bed. That’s where she led him and where she told him to stay after all. Which was strange but it had been a strange night. Maybe she was trying to make him feel better. Do him a favor?

“In the bed,” Kagome hummed as she ran a brush through her hair and gave him a warm smile. A smile that faded when he stood up and began nervously glancing around with a marked blush.

“Inuyasha, where are you going?”

“You’re gunna sleep on the bed,” he muttered as he prepared to sleep in his normal position on the floor, “And you…well I was gunna…”

“If you want, you can sleep in the bed with me…”

Amber eyes widened as a single impulsive ‘oh’ left his lips but instead of sitting back down on the bed, he remained standing and staring at her with that same shell-shocked expression.

“Is that…okay?” Kagome asked nervously.

Seeming to come back to himself, Inuyasha nodded fervently and quickly sat down atop the mattress.

“Y-yeah thats…that’s…yeah. Yeah. We can do that…”

That night was the first of many nights he spent cuddled up against the woman of his dreams. Letting the warmth of her body span the length of his own as he relished in the knowledge that somehow this woman loved him. How, when or even why didn’t matter. She loved him back and that first night, as he held her small frame against him, he very nearly cried in relief. Honestly, before that night, he had already decided he was going to let her go rather than say anything. There was no way she’d ever love him back, he’d reasoned. No one would ever want to be with a half-breed, right? He’d never been so happy to be wrong.

Weeks went by after that and the funny thing was, when Kagome absently mentioned the painting from the museum to her friends over lunch, none of them had the faintest clue what she was talking about. All they remembered was her leaving in a rush. While Kagome chalked this up to the art not being memorable to anyone else, the truth was that no one else would ever remember this art because it simply never existed.

The second she’d admitted her feelings - emotions he fully reciprocated but had suppressed - all those drawings and notes faded from the annuals of time because that painting- which had been loaned to the museum by a well meaning unrelated widow who thought the unique artwork would make for an interesting exhibit - turned out to be a butterfly which was inadvertently crushed. As the years rolled on, Inuyasha never needed to paint something to bring him comfort in the midst of crushing regret and loneliness.

Why would he?

Thanks to a merciful series of events, he woke up to his favorite smiling face every day for the rest of his life.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #inuyasha #inukag #writing #kagome #inukag fanfic

[hekatekun]

fuck it, meatbun

ANONYMOUS ASKED: please tell me about your many things to say about the meatbun scene.......

yeah ofc 😋 i'd say it's a similar gag to the self-awareness/self-conscious balls in the rising skit so i'm pulling a lot from that too, and my interpretation of that relies on [great-blaster's translation and analysis] 🙏 a great post

If the balls are personifications of being self-conscious, their sensitivity and awareness to how others perceive them, then the meat buns could be what they contribute to society.

King of NEETs himself, Osomatsu is a Me Myself & I kinda guy in order to survive the way he does. There is no future for him in his head, and he lives in the moment on his animal instincts. Instant gratification (booze, porn, gambling), right here, right now, who cares about anything else. Fun in the sun all day long, but when you realize that's truly all that Osomatsu does, even at the expense of himself and others, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

And to combat the distaste people have for him, he just doesn't care! You'd have to be pretty apathetic to your reputation in order to continue doing what you please - especially when the costs are high.

Interestingly enough, him and Ichimatsu are the only buns who immediately "die" with white eyes when you open them up. Perhaps he's so unpleasant so he can continue doing his own thing, and being expected to do anything worthwhile or meaningful is too much for the eldest.

TLDR: "I dunno if you should eat me, I taste pretty bad, hahaha!"

Expectations, reputation, such things are the bane of the fourth's existence. He wants nothing more than to be accepted and have a social life, but that involves the mortifying ordeal of Being Known. He knows his limits, he can't fake it without insane periods of burnout, so he'd rather be repugnant and ward off other people's attempts at getting to know him. But unlike Osomatsu, instead of having people expect nothing from him, people will now expect Bad Shit as a result of perceiving Ichimatsu.

Which is all of course a cover up for his vulnerability. Hermit tendencies to avoid knowing what someone's initial impression of him is going to amount to. Don't worry, he already knows. And if he puts out the same "bad" into the world that he expects the receive from others, he can be free of its burden (and will fail every single time because he still cares too much).

Without further ado, our space cadet.

Indescribable, unpredictable, everything, nothing. Brimming with an internal, seemingly endless amount of energy, Jyushimatsu is capable of pulling off the impossible. He can fill in any role needed and works well with everyone, but only if you can handle him. If Ichimatsu is “not enough,” then Jyushimatsu is “too much.” He’s a one-man band.

Not to say he isn’t aware, he just possibly doesn’t care. Looking at a bigger picture, or simply not paying attention altogether. He doesn’t bother reining himself in because it’s more fun to be wild, and he has nothing to hide should people try to get close. Though, there’s always consequences to be had for such unadulterated fun.

When he breaks open, his iconic troubled expression pops up. Maybe he’s uncomfortable stepping up to bat and putting that energy to “good use.”

What a surprise: Your vapid tryhards have nothing of substance to provide. Maybe stop putting so much time into your appearance and build a personality, hm? Primping and preening and absolutely nothing to show for it. Even if you figure them out, they still wouldn’t break character for you. Reality can’t touch the uber self-conscious.

great-blaster says that self-awareness should be swapped with self-conscious, the acute form of being intimately self-aware of your social standing. Choromatsu is embarrassed about being a neet with nerdy interests, doesn’t mean he has any intention of letting them truly go.

And if you’re a little smarter about how you impose such feelings on people, you’ll go on to lie, weaponizing such embarrassment. Doesn’t mean you’ll succeed, people can smell slime a mile away.

Karamatu’s is the only one of these 3 that’s on the smaller side and the only 1 of all 6 that’s clear!

Legit transparency! Empty-headedness! Makes sense that he doesn’t have the same type of self-consciousness as the other two, even if he’s just as much talk and no action, you don’t strut like a genuine peacock in public unless you can own up to it. Karamatsu’s appeal is to himself first and foremost, he thinks others who like the same will come along soon enough (and is also maybe too terrified to make the first move). He’s an open book ready for the taking, doesn’t mean he’s got anything to really offer, though. Doesn’t help when you can’t break character and express yourself, either (not that he has the self-awareness to grasp this particular problem anyway).

And I think Chibita summarizes the story’s moral quite well

#osomatsu san #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #analysis

[redwinterroses]

Just watched Martyn's pov of last life as well as the teaser clip on twt, realized I had completely misunderstood his character before hand. Man's not a follower as I previously assumed based on watching rens pov of 3rd life, Martyn's a full on evil little schemer, planning on turning traitor on the rest of the southlanders cause most of them are yellow and a risk, and he's planning on teaming up with Ren, but he might end up turning on him too, if you consider the twt clip fucking "turn friend into foe" oh yeah keep saying that you evil little man, Sus imposter, fucking planning on breaking my little heart after breaking off all of your allegiances

Martyn is—

Martyn is. Just. *grabs Martyn Inthelittlewood and shakes him by the shoulders*

THIS GUY.

He's clever. He thinks 8 steps ahead. If you watch him in MCC, or when he plays any other games, you'll quickly realize: this guy is a genius with learning how the system works. How the game operates. And then he uses that knowledge to his advantage.

The difference is that in 3rd/Last Life, part of the game mechanics are the other players. (And, to an extent: the audience. Because these are content creators. They are playing a game for their own enjoyment, yes, but they're also deliberately shaping their game to make content for their audiences. So they'll make decisions based at least on some level on what their viewers are going to find engaging.)

Martyn and Scott are actually very similar in this, only with Scott it's more that he understands people and how they operate. You can literally see him doing it with Pearl. It's not that he's being disingenuous or anything, but he consciously says and does things that will cause Pearl to see him as a valuable ally—Pearl specifically. Which means it's different than how he interacted with, say, Jimmy or Grian or Cleo in 3rd Life. The dynamics change, and Scott is a master at changing with them in a way that (in theory) gives him an upper hand.

Even in 3rd Life, Martyn wasn't a follower so much as he was an enabler. He saw Ren as a genuine candidate for winning the game, and saw that the story Ren was telling was a valid way of possibly getting there. So he fell in line with Ren's story and threw himself into that system to make it work as flawlessly as possible. (Again: this isn't like... faking or manipulating or anything. Ren and Martyn's friendship is genuine and incredibly heartwarming. I care they. But just because it grew into a genuine friendship doesn't mean it didn't start as a "hey, I think this could be a path to victory and I'm going to do everything I can to enable that method.")

So yeah. I look at Martyn this time around and I see a guy who is entirely on his own, possibly even more than Ren is. Because yeah, he's hanging out with the Ahalliance, and yeah, he's the only one who didn't pretend to run off with the trust life in that little display of whatever it was, but I have no doubt in my mind that the minute the Ahalliance ceases to be useful to him? Martyn's out. He will step on every single one of their bodies in order to climb to the top.

Now as far as Ren is concerned... I dunno. I think those two have a story they're leaking out to us in bits and drabbles, and I don't know what it is, and I don't trust them as far as I can throw either one of them. (And they're grown men so. that's not far.) I can't predict them at all.

If they partner up at any stage, then yeah: I definitely see Martyn betraying Ren before Ren betrays him, but they both have their teeth bared this season. And... they each know what the other is capable of. Possibly better than anyone else on the server.

They're being friendly, but at the same time I kinda get this vibe of two wolves sniffing and circling each other, and it'll just be interesting to see if they survive long enough for whatever sly things they've got up their sleeves to be revealed.

#...you activated my meta brain hi #i can't wait to analyze the CRAP out of this series in a few weeks #redwinteranswers #last life #rendog #inthelittlewood #long post

[danteinthedevildom]

Dude your stuff is absolutely amazing, I meant every word. And now I have the confidence to request something! So, in the anime MC is being portrayed as an actual sheep, which I still think is genius. But what do you think about “Sheep”!MC? Super short and cute, with the fluffy pink hair, totally harmless looking. Buuuut despite barely being able to fight, they’re always ready to attack a demon, even if it’s one of the brothers. I dunno, the idea of a tiny MC trying to punch Lucifer for insulting Mammon popped into my head like a month ago and hasn’t left me alone since lmao

I absolutely LOVE the concept of absolutely tiny MC always ready to go even though it's absolutely, probably a death wish, and I will go through, in extensive detail, the reasons why.

Note: this post is written for Gender Neutral MC and uses they/them pronouns!

+ In general, I like to imagine that demons are just Naturally Taller than most humans, so something like 5ft 10 would actually be super tiny to them. "Sheep"!MC being smaller than that would be a genuine novelty - they're so tiny, that's just... not something they really come across in the Devildom? Even baby animals are larger than them, in some cases, which really just highlights how helpless their new human charge is - but it would also quickly present itself to be a complete NIGHTMARE that none of them considered.

+ On the first day at R.A.D. Mammon spends ten frantic minutes trying to find a very, very tiny human in a crowd of comparably giant demons because he took his eyes off of them for one (1) second, and apparently that was long enough for them to scarper off. Who knew such tiny legs could move so fast!

+ Eventually, he finds "sheep"!MC cornered by demons. That's bad enough, of course, except then, as he nears them, he watches with abject horror (and a little respect) as the tiny human tries to headbutt one of their assailants. Surprisingly, it works - though that might be because they're on perfect height to get the demon directly in the stomach. Not enough to incapacitate them, but enough that the demon's surprised, which means now "sheep"!MC can run!

+ "Sheep"!MC does not run. In fact, "sheep"!MC does the complete opposite: they stand their ground and... okay, it's hard to tell through the thick curls covering their eyes, but Mammon's pretty sure they're staring the demons down? Okay. Little human's got guts. Which might become more than metaphorical if the little human doesn't run like hell.

+ In the end, he has to save them before they really do get gutted. Just a little pressure from his aura, a quick, snappy line, and bam - those lesser demons are running off with their tails between their legs (quite literally, for one of them). He absolutely expects to be thanked for saving them - how heroic, right? He actually did his job! - but instead, as he's gloating, they just. Stamp on his foot. It doesn't hurt (like, honestly, he barely even felt it), but the sheer audacity of it stuns him into silence. They even look mad at him!

+ This tends to happen... a lot, actually. By the end of their first day, there's a plethora of tales running about the academy of the tiny, frail human who keeps trying to attack demons. They even tried to bite one! The brothers think it's hyperbolic at first, but a rather shaken Simeon later informs them that it's completely true; he had to physically grab their cape a few times to stop them from leaping over their desk to deck a demon in the few classes they shared together.

+ Looking after "sheep"!MC is a full-House job. They have a tendency to sneak away whenever any of the brothers look away for even a fraction of a section. It's even happened to Lucifer a few times, much to his absolute bafflement. The truth of it is that "sheep"!MC's so small, it's very easy for them to get drawn into crowds and accidentally bumped away from the brothers. They don't always intend to get separated from them (though sometimes they definitely do), but when it does happen, they don't exactly... rush to find their caretaker again. In fact, they tend to just wander 'round the halls, chest puffed out and chin up, acting like they're ten feet tall and not just barely brushing hip-height on some of the larger demons.

+ Some of them have found out that it's actually better to just hold onto "sheep"!MC somehow. Whether that means holding onto their wrist (Mammon), their hand (Asmo), or their shoulder (Satan), they can at least feel the moment "sheep"!MC tries to slip away and tug them back towards them - often very grumpily, which leads to them very ineffectually trying to dig their heels in.

+ Naturally, they're not scared of the brothers, either. If anyone tries to pick them up, they will attack - often with kicks and punches, but also with vicious attempts to scratch at any bared skin and tug on hair. Most of them can ignore it or at least hold "sheep"!MC at arm's length, but it does mean they're squirmy as hell, which makes carrying them a challenge. Asmo's really the only one who still tries to pick them up for fun - the others mostly do it if they've tried to run away too much or if they need to get somewhere quickly - but even he's a little more cautious of it after getting his hair yanked a few times too many.

+ The sheer audacity of their bravery knows no bounds, and it's... kind of cute, sometimes. They've punched Mammon in the shoulder for being a dick before, and while it doesn't hurt, the fact that they do it without fear for their limbs - or their life, in general - is just. Amazing, actually. They don't even have qualms with gently kicking Mammon to make him budge up on the sofa, or trying to shove him off the bed with their feet when he takes up too much space (which doesn't work, ever, but it's hilarious, and sometimes he slides off the bed just to make them feel better).

+ What isn't so cute are the times they come between the brothers. That's... terrifying, actually. In general, y'know, when the brothers aren't actually going to hurt each other - when they're just being demons, and brothers, and there's no (permanent) harm intended - "sheep"!MC still comes in to defend the brothers they're closest to. Mostly it's Mammon, because of course it is; he's the one they spend most of their time with, and he's the one who gets targeted most. It makes sense that they jump to his defence, throwing cutlery if it happens at breakfast/dinner, or charging at the brother if they happen to be standing.

+ (Especially after they've finally gotten used to him enough to let him hold them at night, cuddled up in bed, because he sleeps better like that; when they're no longer trying to kick him away, and instead curl up in his arms like a tiny, tiny teddy bear.)

+ Sometimes, though, they'll stand before Beel when Satan's furious at him for emptying out the fridge again, or between Levi and Asmo when they're arguing about which thing is better, and it stuns them all enough that they just... stop. Even before they've fully accepted "sheep"!MC as part of the House, or before they've formed all their pacts. There's just something strange in seeing someone so tiny leap in, fully prepared to attack and defend, that ends most arguments without a fight.

+ Not that it happens all the time, though. Sometimes, if Lucifer's threatening to string Mammon up to the rafters, or if he's berating Mammon for something "sheep"!MC knows he didn't do, they'll really attack. And that's... that's not good. There's only so many times the Avatar of Pride can take a punch to the kidney, or side-step a headbutt, or grab them by the scruff before they can charge, before he starts to get pissed. Does this stop them? Of course not. Even with the full pressure of Lucifer's anger bearing down on them, they'll stand their ground and prepare for a fight.

+ The brothers, as they get closer to "sheep"!MC, often find themselves spending more time trying to diffuse situations or quickly squirrel "sheep"!MC away before things go south than they do anything else. They berate them, of course, as much as each of them can, but it never seems to stick. Because of course, half the time, "sheep"!MC's body leaps into action before their brain does. Half the time, they've moved without even realising it, head tucked down or fist raised, moving on instinct.

+ (There's often a difference between "sheep"!MC leaping to action like an anime gag and moving to someone's defence like a BNHA character. The first they can tell happening by "sheep"!MC's face; they might not show their eyes, but they're expressive as hell regardless, lips curling into wide snarls and tugging down into deep frowns. That's when they leap and someone grabs them, holding them in the air as their arms and legs flail uselessly, more put-on by their fighty nature than anything else. The second, though? That's preceeded by "sheep"!MC's face going blank. That's when they move so quickly that it's clear their body is moving on its own. That's when the brothers stand frozen in place, staring in horrified awe at this tiny, brave little human stepping into the path of danger over something the brothers could easily survive - but they definitely can't.)

+ The TSL competition really does almost lead to "sheep"!MC's death. They don't run, don't even think to; the moment they see Levi charge at them, even in full demon form, they stand their ground and snarl. Mammon almost has a heart attack that day - especially when Levi's attack hits them, and sends their tiny body flying back against the wall.

+ Brave little human, even after getting yeeted across the room, tries to get back up again. It's that stubbornness - the refusal to give up, even though they're clearly out of their league - that spurs Lucifer into action. He's impressed by them, if you'd believe it; most humans would cower just at the sight of a demon in their demonic form, and even less would try to go down fighting after such a display of strength. So he steps in, personally, and defends them with his full form out.

+ He doesn't expect a thank you, but it's still amusing, seeing them half-slumped on the floor, being worried over by Mammon, steadfastly ignoring the second-born to downright glower at him for stepping in. There's no question that they would have died hadn't someone helped, and yet still they remain stubborn. He's pretty sure they'd even try to kick him, if they had the strength left to do so; their leg twitches as if trying to do that very action, just before he leaves.

+ It's less amusing when it happens to him, however. When he's found them in the crypt, with Beel and Luke behind them, their stance wide as if hoping that will somehow hide Beel's gigantic form. No, their stubbornness is infuriating in that moment; a blow to his own pride, to see something so small and pathetic attempt to stop him.

+ But they won't move. "Sheep"!MC knows, logically, that they'll die if they take an actual, full-on attack from a demon, but there's fight in them and they don't intend to go down without one. Is it a little reckless? Maybe. Would it be better if they just stepped to the side? Probably. Would they make it through the year by keeping their head down, being good, doing as they're told? Absolutely. But they're not going to do that. And they will stare down Pride himself, knowing that they'll die, if it means they can say they tried.

+ After this incident, "sheep"!MC starts wearing a headband with little sheep horns on it, commissioned from Levi. He's not too sure why they used the pact to make him do it, or even why they asked for it, but it's a fun little project to do and even works as a bonding experience for them. On top of that, it suits them! Ack - no, wait, it's made them too cute - he made a mistake!

+ He's genuinely surprised to learn that the horns aren't, in fact, meant to make them look like a sheep - which earns him a punch to the side for suggesting, and a pretty stern pout - but are meant to emulate a demon form. He thinks it's because of him, for a moment - that he scarred them so much when he attacked them, they're trying to cope by... being what they feared? Maybe? - but then "sheep"!MC tells him the truth, and he loses it.

+ They think the horns will make them look more scary and less like they should be fucked with - not because they're scared, but because they're getting annoyed that demons keep picking fights with them. They think the horns look badass. Levi doesn't have the heart to tell them that it's the cutest thing he's ever seen.

+ Most of the brothers agree that the horns do make "sheep"!MC look cute, and that's even when most of them start using "little sheep" as a nickname for their human. They still stubbornly wear the horns, despite the nickname.

+ "Sheep"!MC is ridiculously stubborn. They're cute, and sweet, and that's just a genuine fact; when they're not being bitey as all hell, or trying to leap head-first into danger, they look like the most adorable little thing in all the Three Realms. Asmo even has a collection of photos and videos on Devilgram solely dedicated to dressing "sheep"!MC up in cute outfits, and it's ridiculously popular. But what those things don't show is how often "sheep"!MC will be belligerant over seemingly nothing. Why, yes, this does include agreeing to do a photoshoot for Asmo and then refusing to wear anything he picks because he implied he didn't trust them to choose a good outfit.

+ That's also led to some potentially dangerous situations, of course - such as "sheep"!MC purposefully ignoring Lucifer's advice not to eat something because he said it would be "in their best interest" not to, only to be told by a frantic Mammon a few moments later that what they're eating isn't human-safe.

+ Sometimes "sheep"!MC will let the brothers pull them into their laps, because they're small enough to actually fit comfortably there and have the brothers rest their chins on their head. It can even be nice! But they do have a tendency to use that position to their advantage - namely, to headbutt the brother they're sitting on under the chin when they're getting annoyed (such as if Levi's gloating/cheating at a game, or Asmo's playing too much with their hair, or Mammon's squeezing them a little too tight while arguing over whether or not he should let them sit in someone else's lap). It's one of the few ways they actually can hurt the brothers, but mostly because it tends to make them bite their own tongues.

+ If you want to imagine something hilarious that at the time was genuinely terrifying, please consider this: Henry 1.0, moving at speeds that give even Mammon a run for his money, appearing in the distance. Asmo and Solomon, in confusion slowly morphing into fear, turning on tail to run before the great beast can reach them. "Sheep"!MC, immediately widening their stance to take on the fuck-off huge serpent that has the second and third borns running for their lives, standing their ground, head tipped down to point their horns forward. Mammon, grabbing the back of "sheep"!MC's jacket as he runs past them, hauling them over his shoulder while screaming in terror, as they pound at his back and kick at his chest, demanding to be put down so they can fist fight a snake. A typical day in the House of Lamentation.

+ If Belphie thought killing this MC was going to be easy, he's dead wrong. It's not exactly a challenge, sure - they are still human, and still much smaller than him at that - but he wasn't expecting the counter-deception of getting headbutted in the gut when he opened his arms up for a hug. It's just enough to surprise him, and means he's a second too slow to grab them when they dart back.

+ By the time he does eventually grab them, he's panting hard, a little bruised, and very frustrated. Who knew being small could have its advantages? They're quick and nimble; a few times he thought he'd gotten them, only for them to dart off to the side or dive between his legs. They'd always land a hit, too, whenever that happened - which didn't hurt, but the one time they tugged on his tail did smart a little, and that was just... unforgivable.

+ "Sheep"!MC doesn't forgive, and they definitely don't forget. There's no easy getting back into their good books, even after the new timeline's settled. Belphie has to deal with getting headbutted a lot after that whole debacle's ended, even when he thinks they're actually getting along well. If he gets too close? They lash out with a fist. If he tries to reach out for them? Their blunt teeth dig into his flesh before he's even aware they turned around. If he's sleeping somewhere they've claimed as "theirs"? Well, that one varies, but he's been shoved off beds, kicked, and had water dumped on him. It'd be impressive if it wasn't so... annoying. But he deals with it. Only because Beel wants him to.

+ You may be wondering, "has "sheep"!MC ever punched the prince?" And the answer would be yes. It wasn't on purpose, the time it happened; Diavolo, sans Barbatos for once, had somehow managed to sneak up on the little human exchange student, and thought he'd have just a bit of fun. It's not exactly like he gets a chance to be a normal demon that often, after all.

+He'd reached out to very gently tap them on the shoulder, expecting them to maybe jump a foot in the air, or to shriek with fear, so that he could say "surprise!" and laugh as they realised it was him.

+ Instead, just before he could reach their shoulder, they'd spun on heel and socked him dead in the gut.

+ He'd been so surprised that he'd stammered out an apology, watched them walk off in an indignant huff, and only started laughing at the absurdity of the situation several minutes later, when Barbatos asked why he was standing gourmlessly in the hallway.

I could probably go on much longer, but the post's getting a little long, so instead I'll leave you with this:

I haven't drawn in like ten thousand years and it absolutely shows, but the moment I read the words "sheep"!MC, this is what came to mind - and I just had to try and give my best rendition to it because the thought was so fucking funny to me.

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[acecorvid]

Hurts Me To Watch You Fading [Spideypool Fic]

Was going through the prompts that have been in my inbox for AGES when I got a sudden burst of inspiration to write my boys again. So even though it’s been *looks at watch* nearly two years fuck since I’ve written fanfic... here’s some hurt/comfort for y’all (or if you’d rather read on ao3)

Anon asks: Hi! I just read your fic with peter being super adorable in his deadpool hoodie and saw you're taking prompts. Seeing as you're asexual (like me!) I was wondering if you would write asexual peter having to explain to wade that he doesn't initiate sex because it's just not something he really thinks about much and not because of how wade looks

(Content warning for Wade being self-conscious about his body/scars)

Somehow Wade always found his way to Peter’s dorm room at the end of a long hard day of work. Which for Wade meant an early morning raid ending with several dead bodies, including his own a few times, but by the end Wade was in one piece and his suit was in less pieces and all the bad guys were dead. Next he needed to get all the blood out of his suit earning him another blank look of disappointment from his local definitely-not-a-front dry cleaners. They never questioned his circumstances and he didn’t much care what they got up to as long as people weren’t dying, leaving them with a silent, mutually beneficial relationship. 

Now he was in Parker’s dorm wearing comfy jeans and a hoodie that mostly covered his face if he lowered his head, something he did quite often. He didn’t entirely mind his appearance anymore, having gotten used to freaking himself out in mirrors the past few years. But it was other people’s reactions that made him feel like crap. The looks of disgust strangers gave him as he passed, the people who grabbed their kids and moved to the other side of the street, the ones who laughed at and mocked him hit a little too close to his time being experimented on. Sure he could easily use humor more efficiently than the assholes who mocked him to put them in their place but humor as a defense mechanism only went so far and the hurt still went deep. 

What was getting to him lately was his relationship with Peter. They had officially started dating several months ago, even if they had been flirting heavily on the random patrols as Spider-Man and Deadpool. But then Peter told him his secret identity and kissed him through his mask so tenderly and Wade didn’t think he could be more in love. Except they hadn’t gotten much further than tender kisses or cuddles. Not that Wade minded, it was comforting to be held the way Peter held him. He’d never had someone who he could truly let his guard down around, who was okay with him being soft and quiet. 

But every time they started to makeout, to get to the hot and heavy stuff, Peter would carefully untangle them, change the subject, shy away from any skin being shown, and they would watch cartoons or get food or anything other than being that kind of intimate with Wade. 

Not that he minded at first, Peter was a shy dude. He wasn’t like so many college guys who partied all the time and hooked up with whoever. He was a shy nerd and he was a superhero on the downlow, of course he wouldn’t have time for that but he also didn’t have any interest in it either. But Wade was starting to feel like Peter didn’t have any interest in him. 

Staring at himself in Peter’s mirror sans mask told him exactly why someone would have no interest in getting hot and heavy and naked with him. He’s had that many times. Flirting with a girl at the supermarket only for her to freakout once he peeled his mask up, hitting on a guy in a dark bar only for him to be disgusted once they moved into the light. It was a common occurrence for him. He thought Peter would be different. He was different. He didn’t shy away when Wade took his mask off and kissed him, but maybe he was good at faking it? Maybe he could deal with his face but the rest of his body was too much. His skin was rough and patchy, awful to look at and even less appealing to touch. 

He rubbed his hand over his face and head, shaking off his hood to get a good look at the mess he usually hid from most people. Everyone had their limits. Perhaps this was Parker’s. 

The key in the door alerted Wade to Peter’s return. Quickly he pulled his hood back up and retreated to the bed, ducking his head just as Peter walked in through the door. He looked somewhat surprised, but he relaxed immediately. 

“Hey,” Peter said softly. A smile tugged at his lips as he closed the door gently behind him. 

He seemed pleased to see Wade. Genuinely content with having him in his room. Nothing was matching up in Wade’s mind. 

“Hey Peter…” Wade started but trailed off before he could ask the question. He hated being in this position. He wished he could know the truth. For Peter to tell him he was disgusted by his wrecked body without prompting so he could crawl back to his old life and forget about this magical interlude. 

But Peter being Peter, he noticed something was off immediately. “What’s wrong? You almost never call me Peter, did something happen?”

He was closer now, trying to get a good look at Wade’s face but Wade angled his face away. That got him a sigh but Peter respected his boundaries and stepped away, leaning against the wall instead. 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Wade shook his head, nodded, and then shook his head again. Screw Peter for being such a good guy, a respectful person, such a sweetheart. It was ruining what his brain was hooked on as the clear truth. Maybe Peter wasn’t disgusted with him but what else could it be?

“I’m not really pleasant to look at, huh?” Wade said instead, unable to confront Peter directly.

Peter pushed off the wall but stopped himself from coming closer. “Did someone say that to you?”

He sounded angry, on Wade’s behalf. Once again messing with Wade’s doubts. 

“All the time, but that’s not-” Wade chewed his lip, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. 

He took his mask off, revealing his unmasked face and head. Peter didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He was frowning a bit but not at Wade’s appearance it seemed. It wasn’t as though this was the first time Peter saw his face but it wasn’t a common thing between them. Wade preferred to simply roll up his mask most of the time for their kisses, not wanting to feel too self-conscious. 

“Do you- are you-” Wade hated this feeling, wishing he could go back to witty one-liners and existential statements that bewildered those around him. Feelings did terrible things to his dialogue. “I know I look like ground up hamburger meat, Petey. I’m a big boy, you can tell me the truth if you think I’m too gross.”

Wade was aiming for humor, swerved into something a little more bitter, and he cursed himself for putting that hurt look on Peter’s face. 

“Wade I don’t think-” Peter started, he furrowed his brows and moved closer but slowly, as though Wade would run away if he was startled. Not a bad call. Wade was pretty close to bolting actually. But Peter crept close, slowly, and stopped a few paces away. Wade wanted him to come closer, stand right between his legs on the bed so Wade could pull him in close and hold him until he wasn’t upset. But he ruined that. 

“We don’t do anything more than kissing. You never want to- I get it,” Wade laughed, tugging on his hoodie. “It’s not pretty under here Pete, no one ever wants to look at it. It won’t kill me if you tell me you don’t want to see it or touch me.” He wasn’t lying. It would hurt like hell but nothing could kill him. Unpleasant side-effects of looking the way he did.

Peter surprised him by doing exactly what Wade wanted. He moved closer, slotting himself between Wade’s legs and putting his hands on Wade’s shoulders to get him to look up. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter mumbled, sounding mad at himself. Probably for not being able to hide his disgust, for making Wade realize exactly what was going on. Now he’d have to let Wade down. That’s simply the way the world worked for guys like him. 

“I should have told you a while ago but, I dunno, I was scared I guess?”

Here it comes, Wade closed his eyes to brace himself for the impact. 

“I don’t initiate anything more because I’m asexual. I don’t really, I dunno, have a lot of interest in sex? I mean maybe I could be if we talked about it but it’s never really on my mind. It’s got nothing to do with how you look, Wade. I like how you look just fine. I think you’re pretty cute, that’s part of why I’m dating you. Also your muscles are amazing, the general aesthetic of your body and you lifting me up? That’s about as close to sexual attraction as I’ve ever come.”

Wade felt his world tilt and it was entirely unexpected. “Wait you’re-” All of Wade’s otherworldly knowledge hadn’t prepared him for that possibility. That almost never happened. 

Peter leaned down, bringing both his hands to cup Wade’s cheeks. “You’re not disgusting, Wade. And anyone who says that will get their mouth webbed shut.”

Wade nuzzled into Peter’s hand, “That’s not the best use of superhero powers.”

“I’m defending the innocent, hush it’s the perfect use of my powers.”

“Innocent?” Wade arched his brow, staring up at his boyfriend who actually wanted him.

“Okay, well… maybe not innocent in the traditional sense but you look the way you do because you survived, you fought through hell and you got out, and that’s pretty damn attractive.”

Wade wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, pulling him in closer. Peter laughed, leaning in to kiss him soundly on the lips. “So, opening to talking about it?”

“Should have known you’d have a one track mind,” Peter huffed into the kiss. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I never wanted to make you feel like I wasn’t interested in you.”

Peter straddled Wade’s lap so they could cuddle more properly. His arms were around Wade’s back, holding him close like he always did then they were together. Holding him like something precious, like Peter was as surprised as Wade was that he could have something this tender. 

“It’s okay. I did it to myself mostly. One track mind remember?”

“Are you um- are you okay with me being-?”

“Huh? Yeah of course I am. If you never want to have sex, also fine. I love you for more than how you look in spandex, Petey.” Wade pressed soft kisses along Peter’s shoulder to reassure him. He didn’t want to let this go, not when he thought it was going to be pulled out from under him just moments ago. 

“I love you, too.” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear, his hands gripping his hoodie tighter. 

It wasn’t exactly how Wade meant to tell him that, but with Peter whispering it back, not giving him a second to doubt himself, he was content with his slip up. 

"You do look incredible in spandex, though." Wade grinned against Peter's neck.

Peter leaned into the touch, his voice taking on a more mischievous quality. "Oh I know, Wade. I know."

#arrawrites #spideypool #marvel #spfic #hurtcomfort #omg i wrote the fic that inspired this prompt back in 2017.... #i feel ancient #scars #ace #asexual peter parker

[maeiso-trash]

Perfection shatters like glass

Isogai is only perfect because he has to be, not because he wants to be.

A bit of character study(?) and making Isogai cry lol.

Word count: 2,925

Ao3

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The soft glow of the sunlight filtered in through the window, casting a yellow hue inside the living room. Books lay scattered on the table, disorderly stacked. Maehara sat on one end of the couch, observing Isogai, who was positioned at the opposite end, head buried in a book. He observed how delicately Isogai handled the pages, admired how focused he was, golden eyes fixated on the story in front of him. His expressions constantly changed as he read, and Maehara could only assume he was mirroring the character’s emotions. How cute. Makes him want to call Isogai something equally adorable. 

"Hey, can I call you darling?” Maehara asked, his head in the clouds, a dumb grin on his face. 

"I dunno, try it out," Isogai replied, not bothering to look up from his book. He felt the couch sink next to him as Maehara sat beside him. 

"Okay, darling." Maehara's gaze softened, and he felt his heart melt at the taste of the nickname on his tongue. It made him feel old-fashioned, absolutely smitten with his best friend. He stares at Isogai, taking in how his eyes dart up from the book to Maehara, only just processing his words. Maehara chuckles to himself at how cute Isogai's reaction is, albeit delayed. He's way too stupidly in love with his best friend. But he doesn't mind. He admires how the light pouring in from the window makes Isogai's eyes shine. How the curve of his lips tugged up just a little. How his eyes gaze back at him, a little surprised. How his antenna sprung up with his emotions before quickly returning to normal.

Isogai felt his heart skip a beat, and butterflies in his stomach. Blush starts to blend into his cheeks, though it's faint. He can't help but smile, giggling a little inside. He rolls his eyes affectionately, used to Maehara's flirts and sweet nothings. Why he puts up with Maehara, he doesn't know. But they've been close since childhood, and understand each other better than anyone else. He doesn't want to lose that bond. "Since when did you become such a romantic?" He half-jokingly asks, putting his book on the table.

Despite their history together, they feel like inexperienced kids, trying to figure out love for the first time. It's just a simple, sweet pet name. A name that kisses the back of one's hand, makes someone feel like they're floating on clouds. It makes one feel warm and fuzzy inside. It's a feeling akin to the aroma of fresh bread, the personal thought of a handwritten letter. It’s watching the rain pelting down gently on the pavement, staring through frosted glass windows with a warm drink in hand. It’s the sun reaching through the windows at dawn, encasing everything in a warm yellow glow when the world hasn't woken up yet. 

Maehara slowly wrapped his arms around Isogai's waist, peppering featherlight kisses along his shoulder. "Ever since I fell in love with you, darling." Maehara purposefully says it again, and Isogai can practically hear his smile. 

"Pff- stop," Isogai giggled softly, ticklish from the onslaught of kisses. "Th-that tickles."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say-" Maehara relents, kissing him a final time, "-prince charming."

Ah, that old nickname. 

Isogai doesn't really think it suits him. 

"Prince charming, huh?" he repeats, testing how the title rolls off his tongue. It's a foreign feeling. He doesn't think he deserves such a fancy title. Maybe he's just being modest. "You of all people should know I'm really not that perfect like others say."

Maehara sighs. Having been best friends with Isogai, he knows there is more to him than his charms. He's seen him frightened, and scared. He's witnessed the forgetful and panicky side of Isogai. He's helped him through his meltdowns when the weight of the world on his shoulders was too much to handle. He's seen him angry, and tired. Although, these aren't really flaws to his character. At least that's what Maehara thinks. He ponders deeper, wondering what exactly his friend's weaknesses are. 

Perhaps it's his overly self-sacrificing habits, his selfless acts and priorities. Maybe it's his perfection itself that's his flaw. His own downfall. Maybe it's the outcome of his backstory. The aftermath of the long nights and forced smiles. Taking care of others so much that he forgets to take care of himself. Thinking that he isn't good enough, downplaying his self-worth as he's used to it. He wants everyone else to be happy. He thinks his own opinions don't matter.

No. It can't be that either.

Maehara frowns a bit, and wishes Isogai can realize that he's worthy of the nickname of 'prince charming.' That he's perfect even with imperfections. 

"I do know. But you're still perfect to me. I always called you that when we were kids and you never had a problem then."

"Yeah, when we were playing pretend," Isogai says, a hint of nostalgic melancholy in his voice. He misses those days, when he was happier, when everything was simpler and there wasn't much to worry about. When Maehara would make him a flower crown ‘fit for a prince’ and pretend to be his knight. He isn't too sure how the whole prince thing started, or why Maehara would think of him as one. But that was back then, and now they've grown older. Now they have responsibilities and duties to take care of. He can't live in a world of fantasies and reminisce about the past forever. He wishes he could, but he can't, no matter how much he yearns for it. "This is reality, Hiroto. We're not kids anymore."

"Don't wanna believe it," Maehara spat out with a pout. "You just grew up faster because you had to."

Ah. 

That came out wrong.

But once the words left his mouth, it left a bitter taste on Maehara’s tongue. His throat goes dry and he regrets it immediately. Maehara never really cared for his responsibilities, choosing to fool around and have fun instead. Isogai didn’t have that luxury. 

"Oh, I. . . I see," Isogai trails off, unsure of how to respond. He knows it's the truth, and that Maehara wasn't trying to be mean. Isogai did have to grow up faster than other kids his age. He had to be someone his family could depend on, someone others could rely on. He prioritized others' needs before his own. He still does. He pushes himself a lot and it tears him apart mentally and emotionally. He's tired. He's ‘perfect’ because he has to be. Admittedly, it hurts, not having a normal childhood. Forced into maturing and growing up from a young age. He technically still is a kid, though it doesn't feel like it with the overwhelming weight of the world on his shoulders.

"N-No, Yuuma, I didn't mean. . ." Maehara panics and hugs Isogai just a little bit tighter. He doesn't want to see his best friend cry. Especially because of his own mistake. He would never forgive himself for that. "Sorry." It sounds like a shallow, half-hearted apology, just one measly word. But he can't seem to say anything else. He falls silent and stares blankly at the floor. 

Isogai doesn't break away from Maehara's hold. Maehara’s kisses linger on his skin. The feeling is bittersweet. Isogai gets a sense of deja vu, and he remembers the name he was given that day in class when everyone was given codenames. 'President poverty,' they called him. Almost mockingly, like salt being rubbed on the wound. He bites his bottom lip, remembering who gave him the codename in the first place. 

Maehara Hiroto, his best friend since childhood, the one who understood him most out of everyone. The one who he shared his secrets with, the one who’s been with him through thick and thin. Thinking about it, it almost feels like a betrayal. He glares at the floor.

"President Poverty," he drawled out, venom injected into each syllable.

"Wh-what?" Maehara questions, confused at the sudden change in Isogai’s tone.

Maehara's ignorance, intentional or not, sends Isogai off the edge. "Are you fucking dumb? Wasn't it your idea to give me that codename? My personality isn't just being perfect and poor, y'know!" He practically hisses, prying himself away from Maehara. Isogai frowns at him, glaring at him through misty tinted eyes, pale golden irises losing their shine. "You’re so mean, Hiroto. It's not like I wished to be born into a poor family, for my dad to die, and for my mom to become ill. I didn't want this. I never wanted all these responsibilities. I never wanted to be perfect." He didn't want to be perfect. He wanted to be a kid again. 

"Hey, hey, what's with this all of a sudden?" Because while Maehara knows Isogai well, he can't read his mind, can’t follow the trail of thoughts that lead Isogai to this point.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't have to work your life away just to make sure you survive."

What started from anger turned into tears, and Isogai isn't too sure himself of why he's crying. It just hurts, and he's tired of this life. His life. Overwhelmed with everything, his emotions bottled up only to crash in waves. All his life, other people always reminded him that he was poor. They’d point and laugh at something he couldn’t even control. His financial situation was always their go-to insult. And he’d always brush it off with a forced smile, trying to block the insults from his memory. It always hurt whenever he remembered them. 

Maehara never really made fun of him for being poor. Or at least, not until the ‘president poverty’ thing. It hurts now that he’s realized it. Isogai considered Maehara his best friend, and yet, it doesn’t feel like it. But Isogai genuinely can't hate him, and he hates that. 

Maehara isn't too sure how to respond, not wanting to make the situation worse, only watching Isogai cry out of supposed anger. Maehara lets Isogai cry, he probably needs it anyway, and decides to talk when he's finished. In the meantime, he reflects on Isogai’s outburst and yeah, maybe he was rather insensitive, unintentional or not. 

The air around them is still, the tension thick. Time ticks by, but to them the world doesn't move. They're suffocated by a silence filled with regret. Maehara desperately wants to reach his arms out and envelop Isogai into a tight hug, but he knows him well enough to know the other will only push him away. Out of anger, out of fear, out of pain. 

Fights have never happened between the two of them. They were always too understanding for that. Of course, they had their arguments, avoiding the other out of shame and guilt, before making up like friends do, learning from their mistakes, trying to better themselves. But it rarely happens, and sometimes they forget about the silly disagreements. But this argument isn't as silly as which one of them kills the spider or turns the light off before the monster gets them. They know you can't turn back time, hit rewind and start over. So they wallow in the pond of regret and guilt, distant from one another as they try to sort out their thoughts.

Isogai begins to regret saying his thoughts. Perhaps he should've just accepted the nickname of 'prince charming'. Maybe they wouldn't feel so awkward right now. Maybe he wouldn’t be bawling his eyes out, sobbing like the child he never allowed himself to be. Deep down, he knows it isn't selfish to speak out his feelings, tell the truth of his thoughts, but it feels selfish to him. Almost like he’s begging for help, for some sort of comfort when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. He wants to go back to a time where everything isn’t so complicated, when his mom isn’t ill, and his dad isn’t forever gone. He wants to go back to a time when he wasn’t working a part-time job, when smiling wasn’t such a chore that made his cheeks hurt, and when his wrists weren't sore from carrying trays and plates and cups all day. He never wanted these things to mold him into the person he became today, sculpted and shaved down and crafted into perfection. 

Although right now, he isn’t so perfect, breaking down in front of his best friend. His eyes all red and puffy and his tears streaming down and into his mouth, his sleeves stained with snot. His throat is hot and sore and he almost chokes on his cries. In a way, he feels relieved, letting everything out. Allowing himself to feel something, to cry, to feel human. Breaking the carefully sculpted character he chiseled himself, the one that adapted and matured to life all too quickly, the one that hid all his flaws and imperfections behind a wall. 

He cries and cries until the tears dry out, and in the end he just feels kind of pathetic. He doesn’t say anything, wiping away the last of his tears. Maehara gently rubs a hand on his back, which Isogai doesn’t bother trying to swat away. He’s just tired.

"I'm sorry, really, I am," Maehara says quietly. He feels really bad but he's mostly mad at himself and he should've just kept his mouth shut but he never learns his lesson. "I know about your situation and I didn’t really take your feelings into account. I just thought that a name like that could help you relax a bit and not worry about being perfect all the time. I was uh, very wrong on that. It's unfair that you have all these responsibilities when you never asked for it in the first place. I acted like it was your fault when it never was to begin with. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I'm. . . really sorry."

Maehara wouldn't be surprised if Isogai never forgave him. He's made a lot of mistakes in the past. Way too many, for his liking. Now that he thinks about it, he's done a lot of things he regrets. Mistakes he can't erase, no matter how hard he tries. But he never really confronted his problems, opting to move on and run away instead. 

Isogai takes some time to process Maehara's apology, wiping away his tears. He gazes solemnly at Maehara, his eyes all puffy and glassy, and Maehara's heart breaks. Right, he caused that. Maehara feels really guilty, almost wanting Isogai to be mad at him rather than upset. He repeats the word 'sorry' in his head, over and over again. 

"Please never call me that again." Isogai doesn’t really know whether to forgive Maehara or not. If he does, it’ll probably take a while. But the request should be a start, he decides.

"You have my word," Maehara mumbles quietly, stretching out his pinky finger. 

Isogai interlocks his pinky finger with Maehara and his lips stretch into the faintest smile. “You better keep it,” he laughs weakly. He almost can't tell if it was genuine or not.

"I will. Promise." Maehara began to trace gentle patterns on the back of Isogai’s hand, something he always did when the other was in need of comfort. "Do you miss being a kid again?" It was a genuine question, no ill intentions. 

"A little, yeah," Isogai admits. He almost forgot what it was like to be one. To be carefree, unaware of the harsh realities of the world in front of him. He doesn't really mind it, or at least that's what he tells himself.

Unlike him, Maehara hasn't forgotten, and he wiggles his fingers lightly against Isogai's waist in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Isogai stifles a laugh, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Wa-wait! Stop- Hiroto stop it!"

“You’re as ticklish as ever.” Maehara says with a smirk, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“And you’re as annoying as ever.”

“Hey!” Maehara lightly punched Isogai’s shoulder. And really, he shouldn’t take offense when he insulted his best friend where it hurts most.

Isogai doubles over with a laughing fit, and Maehara is about to ask why until Isogai quickly composes himself and turns back to face him. On his face is a stupid grin as he wipes away a tear. "I love you though.”

Maehara softly glares at him, lips curving into a half-smile, half-frown. "Hmph. I love you too." He gently caressed Isogai’s cheek with his palm. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his expression softening as he gazed adoringly at Isogai. He truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve Isogai. “Could I. . . hug you again?” 

Isogai gives him a nod and Maehara practically bursts with happiness as he tackles the other in a hug, pressing their bodies close together. It’s warm. And feels like home.

“It’s okay to let loose sometimes, y'know. I know you have to work because of money issues and you have to take care of your family and all that but you should take care of yourself too. Don’t push yourself too hard, alright? I care about you a lot. Your health and happiness is just as important as everyone else's.”

Isogai is pleasantly taken aback at Maehara's words, and he can't help but smile. He returns Maehara’s hug, wrapping his arms around the other tightly. It's times like these he's glad to have put up with Maehara all these years, happy to have him in his life. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind."

#assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #hiroto maehara #yuuma isogai #maeiso #my writing #this was actually supposed to be fluff #I derailed so much it turned into angst haha ;-; #this was also an excuse to make Isogai cry #me: I love Isogai he's such a comfort character :) #also me: let's make him cry :)) #I also self-projected a bit with the 'he thinks his own opinions don't matter' thing #I'm not good at analysis but I can write characters crying :D

[boxes-of-perfect-worlds]

Practical Heart

Fiddling with the box in her hands V stands in front of Judy’s apartment. Her eyes twitch from the intercom to the door and back. Maybe she should try again? Judy might have not heard her, or she forgot that she is standing here or she-

The door gives of a short buzz before Judy’s head appears in front of V.

“Hey”, she breathes.

Judy always manages to take away her breath, without noticing no less.

“Heya.”

The answer is short and not as upbeat as V is used to.

“Can I… come in?”, she asks carefully.

“Oh yeah! Sure!”

Judy opens the door wider and steps out of the way. V sends her an appreciative smile and walks inside. She looks over Judy’s shoulder in hopes of finding Evelyn. Is she still in bed?

“Whatcha doin’ here?”, Judy questions, seemingly not noticing the box in V’s arms.

She sounds tired and defeated. V decides that she doesn’t like it.

“I’m here because of Evelyn.”

V only realizes that she should have probably rephrased that, when Judy tenses and immediately shifts into a defensive stance.

“Listen V, if you just came by to question Eve further, I’m gonna have to kick you out!”

“No, I don’t- I actually brought some things… for…”, V trailed of, looking to the ground sheepishly, feeling like an absolute gonk for assuming that Judy would welcome her idea.

“Huh?”

V huffs and tries to explain what happened as best and non-creepily as she can.

“Well, after we got Evelyn out of… that place, I was concerned by her state and wanted to help. I figured that havin’ somethin’ familiar around might help her recover, y’know? It’s just really useful to have somethin’ at hand that she can feel, or hear that reminds her of- home?”.

V isn’t really sure that ‘home’ would be the correct word to use for Evelyn. She didn’t strike her as someone who would settle somewhere for a longer period of time.

“So, I asked a bit around tryin’ to figure out where she is- was- would be currently staying”, V fumbles with her words, “Went there, got some stuff I thought she might wanna have and came here.”

“V that’s- that’s really thoughtful of you”, Judy loses the tension and slumps against the counter again. This time though she wears a small, genuine smile, “Thank you”.

“It’s- Don’t mention it. No problem.”

“Still, thank you. It means a lot to me… and to her, too. Just put it in her room.”

She noticed how Judy described it as Evelyn’s room, not her own.

V went ahead and entered the bedroom and put the box down next to the closet. Evelyn was lying in bed. Completely still. If not for the little breathing motions of her shoulder, one could mistake her for a statue. Or worse. Dead.

At least she was dressed in new clothes – they looked like they once belonged to Judy – and not in the awfully bloody Cloud uniform. Others might say that it just served to make her look more pitiful; all pale and stiff and afraid.

But to V, she had never looked stronger. This woman had survived so much shit and yet she is still here. And V’d do anything to keep it that way.

As V slowly stepped back into the living room, Judy was rummaging through the cupboards. She perked up when she heard her footsteps and regarded her with unguarded curiosity.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“I wouldn’t want to put more work on you.”

“Hey, it’s all fine! So, you want somethin’?”

“Uh… a beer? Would be fine, I mean!”

“I can whip that up. One beer, comin’ right up.”

V leaned against the open window. Judy stepped next to her and extended the bottle. She took it thankfully and sipped from it.

“This is nice”, she whispered, looking at the bottle as to avoid Judy’s eyes.

“I oughta thank you”, Judy answered.

“What for?”, V looked up in surprise.

“I dunno. Everything, I guess. For helpin’ Eve, for findin’ her, for bein’ such a good friend to both of us”, then she whispered quieter, “Hell, just for being ‘ere right now”.

“Judy, that’s nothin’ you have to thank me for.”

“Well since this city seems to have forgotten human decency, I do think it’s important that you know how much you mean to me. A-and what y-you do too, of course!”

“Of course”, V smiled.

Then she took another sip and stared at Judy.

“Somethin’ on my face?”, the girl asked and wiped a hand over her cheek.

“Y’know I’m just one call away, right? Always.”

The sincerity in Vs voice so obvious, as was the love and care she held for her newfound… friend. Just a friend, she scolded herself in her head.

“Yeah. Thanks. I honestly don’t know what I’d be doin’ without you.”

V turned to the window and stared outside. She took another sip.

It was quiet.

But V had more to say. It was eating at her and not in a sexy way. It was like… like something dark resided under her skin, just waiting for the opportunity to jump out and destroy or consume.

“I just- Every time I think back to what happened, I get so angry!”, V spit out and waved her bottle around.

Judy jumped at the outburst and looked at her attentively.

V wanted to hit something, but this wasn’t her apartment and she could never do that to Judy.

So, she reigned in her temper and pressed her fist against the windowsill. Minding the fact that Evelyn was still recovering in the next room she lowered her voice.

“What those fuckin’ assholes did to Evelyn- god she didn’t deserve any of it! I can’t say that I knew her well, for all I know I woulda been ready to strangle her myself after the damned mission failed, but she was- she was- she is good! She tried to help people and I respect that. Hell, I admire her for it! To do something like that takes a lotta balls in our fucked-up world.”

It was quiet again. Only the noise of the cars outside and the occasional gunshot rang out.

V visibly deflated. She hadn’t meant to unload all of this on Judy. It wasn’t fair to her. But before she could apologize for all her baggage, Judy took this moment of vulnerability and opened up a little of herself.

“I’m scared that she won’t get better. And it terrifies me even more that she might, and then she’ll blame me for not bein’ there soon enough for her”, Judy admitted.

“Judy. Judy stop! Listen to me”, V turned to her in less than a second. Her gaze unwavering and certain. For the first time in weeks. Judy looked at her.

“You tried everything you could. You fought to get her back an’ you have her here with you now, because you were strong enough to push through all the shit that was thrown your way. And Evelyn will do the same.”

She spoke with such conviction that Judy wanted to believe her. She truly did.

“I just- I can’t help but seein’ the Evelyn I knew. The strong one, who was not afraid to take on anyone or anythin’ no matter how impossible it seemed. Who was all bite and could never get enough. Who reached for the stars and instead grabbed the entire universe, because her fire just burned brighter than anyone could ever imagine. And I’m afraid I won’t get that Evelyn back.”

“I understand”, V took hold of Judy’s cheek, “This will change her, it’s inevitable. But you can help her get through it. To heal into someone who won’t be terrorized by what happened. Someone who can see a future for themselves.”

“And you didn’t let her down! Never think that way again! You saved her, and you continue to save her now! This”-she gestured around the room with the beer in her hand-“is how far you have already come! And you won’t give up now.”

Judy chuckled. V let her hand fall to her side.

“You ever done this before?”, Judy asked and chuckled, feeling a bit better than before.

“What, drink a beer with a friend? Because I can assure you, contrary to popular beliefs I do have friends”, V tried to lighten the mood.

Judy smiled.

“No, you idiot”, she slapped her arm playfully.

Then she grew somber again.

“Helped someone grieve. An’ tell them it’s not their fault.”

“You mean after someone died?”

“Yeah.”

V looked away.

“I’ve had to do my share of that. More than I woulda liked.”

“Everythin’ you do seems so easy. Like you are so sure of yourself, as if live couldn’t surprise you with anything.”

V laughed dryly. Then turned to the window again and chucked the rest of the bottle down. She ran a hand over her face and sighed wearily.

“I… lost someone… a long time ago. The pain and the guild from it nearly destroyed me then an’ I still haven’t managed to completely shake of either of ‘em.”

Judy looked surprised but made no move to stop V in her monologue.

“I still wish that back then I woulda had someone to tell me it’d be alright one day – or as close as it gets to okay – an’ that it wasn’t my fault but… I was alone. And that ain’t good for anyone.”

“’s that why you’re here? Because you want to tell me what you never heard?”

V looked up again. The pain she felt was clearer than ever in her, and it frightened Judy to imagine a younger V, trying to deal with death all on her own, thinking she was at fault and no one there to help her pick up the pieces.

But V shook her head.

“I’m here, cause I’m your friend. Who knows, maybe even Evelyn’s? And that means that I make sure the both of you are goin’ to be alright and that you understand that what happened was out of your control. Sometimes, when there is no other way all we can do is… let go.”

It was quiet again. V put the empty beer bottle down and inhaled deeply.

“Thank you. It means a lot to me- you mean a lot to me”, Judy admitted after a while.

V wanted to answer, but suddenly felt the familiar tingle of another relic malfunction coming up. She gulped, then forced a smile on her face. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – burden Judy with any more problems. Not only that, but she had to get out fast.

“’Course. Y’know I’m always available. Just gimme a call, and I’ll be there. Always.”

“I appreciate it. Truly.”

V pushed herself of the window frame and walked a step. The dizziness began, and she ground her teeth together to stop herself from crying out.

She turned around again, this time a real smile on her face. Even if it was small: “I’ll be back soon. Promise!”

Then she left the apartment fast. In panic.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Instantly she doubled over, clutching her stomach, her head spinning. She felt the urge to vomit, but Judy would hear her, so she suppressed it and gulped down air instead.

She tried to stand, but it was too hard to even move so instead she let her back fall against the cool wall behind her. Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes. Maybe she could pretend – for just a second – that her world was alright. That not everything was slowly falling apart.

But it didn’t work. It never did.

She cursed the universe like it was the reason for all her misery and she cursed Arasaka and Johnny and everyone who came to her mind until she felt the urge to throw up her breakfast subside.

Finally, she thought.

Then V stood up and left. But she remembered her promise to come back. And this one she knew, she would hold. If not for her, then for Judy.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyperpunk 2077 imagine #judy alvarez #v #female v #judy x v #judy alvarez x v #judy alvarez imagine #evelyn parker #this is also on my ao3 #EdensWonderland #if anyone is wondering #it's the first part of a series #these two are so gay #and totally in love

[tokoyamisstuff]

Betrothed - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 3: Blood

Summary: While treating Illumi’s wounds, you learn something about his past.

Warnings: Well...blood. Mentions of past abuse. Choking.

Words: ~1800

Story Masterlist

“You could at least try to relax when you’re at home, Lumi.”

As usual, every muscle on Illumi’s body was tensed as he shifted around on the small wooden chair, his upper half completely bare.

Running your hands over his delicate skin, you couldn’t help but humming happily while opening the first-aid-kit.

Lumi.

That nickname wasn’t really creative, you had to admit. Yet there were still many thoughts connected to it.

How it sounded a lot like ‘Luna’, for example - the latin word for ‘moon’. Illumi pretty much had a moon face anyway.

A wet and warm feeling on your fingertips got you down to earth again - it was your husbands blood, steadily running down his whole back. Quickly, you got a gauze pad to absorb it and started working.

Had it come to you fancying him that much that you already lost yourself in daydreams?

The deep cut on his shoulder would most likely leave a scar, no matter how well you’d treat it. Yet what bothered you more was the fact that he had acutally tried to hold the gap together with his way too big needles.

“Sorry...” you whispered as you tugged them out of his flesh, but he wouldn’t even flinch.

He insisted it was fine, and you knew that he was used to the pain. But he could still feel it, even if his face remained as cold and calm as always.

God knows what’s going on in his head...your husband was very hard to read, actually.

But you knew he wasn’t just a puppet for his family. Illumi had some thoughts of his own, and you burned to get through to him.

The flesh wound was still bleeding, and since it hadn’t been properly closed in hours, you needed to clean it first. “I’m so sorry” you repeated, pouring some disinfectant into the cut.

“Stop apologizing.” The way he emphasized the words made him almost sound irritated.

“B-But I-”

“You’re assisting me as I demanded, so there’s no rational reason for you to say something like that.” It were moments like this that made you think Illumi actually tried to calm you down - the best he knew how. Through choosing his words wisely.

After the bleeding stopped, you began stitching up the wound while your husband was still sitting as if frozen in place.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel more pain than necessary...” He was used to way worse. You were well aware of that fact, and yet-

“Y/N.” Hearing your name escaping his lips, you immediately got attentive. “Is that the reason you’re holding back while sparring with me?”

For a long while, the room fell completely silent.

Because both of you knew he was right.

“I see.” Before you could even think of an answer, Illumi jumped up from his chair, running his hand over your handiwork. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Oh god, he was preparing to leave again. Maybe forever this time.

Soon, he’ll tell his parents you were unfit for an assassin’s spouse - too soft and weak.

Death was a bearable punishment for your shortcomings, but simply being thrown out like a toy one has grown tired of?

How pathetic, being afraid of conseqences you now only imagined. Knowing very well that empathy was considered futile in this environment.

And yet you were shocked it came that way, only because of you speaking your mind.

“Illumi, wai-”

He cut you off right there, turning around with his hand reaching for your neck.

Illumi’s aura had always been intense, laced with a bloodlust that seemed like it was imprinted on him at his very birth.

You’ll never get used to seeing him like this.

“Are you scared?” he asked just before his fingers wrapped around your throat, repeating the question at your lack of reaction. “Are you afraid of me?”

Slowly but increasingly, the pressure on your neck began to become discomforting, making you wince a little.

Yet your look wouldn’t falter, rather decided taking on a staring contest with him.

“I’m afraid of you leaving me.”

Just like that, he retracted his hand.

The look in your eye gave it away. Every word, every syllable you spoke was true. 

Even Illumi could tell just how much genuine affection they held - and he wasn’t immune to it either.

You cleared your throat and he only now realized just how much force he had used on you. Yet instead of apologizing as would be appropriate, he decided on continuing his interrogation.

“Why?” Illumi croaked, sounding a little bit broken. Hewasn’t able to speak any more, still baffled at your statement.

To ever think you could caught him off guard with such a simple sentence - but even through his poker face, you could feel his mind racing.

You sighed quietly, nervously tapping with your foot. “Do I really need to repeat that? It’s embarassing...”

No answer. Instead he stared you down even more intense.

“I like you, Lumi. This is my home, and I feel happy when I’m with you. Simple as that.”

Finally, he gave in to his exhaustion and took a seat on the sofa, with you following him closely after.

No matter what might follow, right now he needed some time. That much was obviously. So you just try to share your calming aura in silence.

You knew that puzzled expression way too well.

He’d put it on whenever something went past his comprehension, like when you once asked him about thinks he enjoyed or his dreams for the future.

“You look so sad...” you had once commented at an old photo of his. If you had to guess, he was about 4 years old at the time it was taken.

“Dunno” he tried to avoid further conversation back then, “Can’t remember.”

Just how often did you want to tell him that it was wrong? That his parents - no, his whole family - was full of sociopaths, and that they had stained his innocence through their wrongdoings and overeagerness?

And yet you had always kept quiet in the end.

Because you knew what it meant to him. The last bit of his sanity would probably break down if he knew all of the pain he had endured was wrong and abnormal.

Yes, their bonds were sure strange ones: They manipulated and harmed each other, all for the sake of the greater goal and the continuation of their bloodline.

That was probably how criminals beyond redemption desperately try to cling to their last bit of humanity - through the only people they can trust and be close to: Other murderers.

But at least you wanted to make him learn how to feele truly loved: For what he really was, and not only his obedience or achievements.

Right now, however, his elbows were resting on his knees, he was bent over and holding his chin with his hands. That position made it even harder for you to read him.

“I trust you with my life” you said without the slightest hint of hesitation in your voice. “It belongs to you ever since the day we married.”

Illumi cocked his head upwards, empty orbs staring holes into you. 

“They think I’m a monster.”

Huh?

Usually, Illumi isn’t really a man of many words. That fact should change tonight.

“I heared them talk” he began explaining as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “About regretting training me so harshly. I was their first child, more like an experiment at how to raise an even more powerful assassin.”

You nodded in silence, trying to signalize him that you were listening - and that you cared.

So he kept on. “I’m the reason my brothers were allowed more freedom. Having the right to feel and think on their own. And now Killua has left us. If I hadn’t been a failure, they would’ve trained him stricter.”

He blamed himself, thinking he was responsible for being a failed experiment.

Dear god.

“Mother said she’s afraid of me. I was 10. Everyone else at the family at least bear certain, acceptable emotions. She said I’m dead on the inside and it freaked her out.”

Every single word of him shot needles into your heart, tears already filling the rim of your eyes. You grabbed the fabric tight, trying to hold yourself together for your sake. 

“Illumi...”

You knew from the very second that many things were haunting that poor man’s conscience - but what he had just confided was just hard to bear.

In an attempt to comfort him, you instinctively shuffled closer until there was no gap between the two of you. It was an awkward closeness, but soothing nonetheless.

“It’s okay” he spoke in a tone that was unfamiliar soft for his standarts. “I understand how you all feel. I may not be able to emphasize with any feelings, but I can intelectually comprehend them.”

“Now cut it out!” This time it was you disrupting him, through a soft poke on his already injured shoulder.

"That’s bullshit and you know it. No person is absent of all emotions. You just shoved them into the back of your head and tried to surpress them. With your kind of childhood that was probably the only way to survive without completely losing it.”

His eyes shifted between your face and the place where your shoulders would touch, soaking every word like a dry sponge.

“And you do care about your family, right?” Well, how couldn’t he? It was the only way of mimicking normalcy he could pretend to have. “You’d do anything to keep them safe.”

“I just don’t get it” he murmured as you softly caressed his hand. “My allies are usually also mass murderers and psychopaths. But you are almost perfectly normal.”

Normal? You were an assassin too, goddamn it!

“Most would describe you as a very kind and sympathetic person. You should despise or at least fear me. They all do.”

“Not everything has to be logical, Lumi. I don’t think it makes sense either, but I also doubt that you’re a bad person. You’re much more of a victim.”

“Is that so...” That question sounded more like he was highly doubting it.

Just now you were realizing how slumped he was leaning back on the couch. That whole conversation had probably drained his energy reserves more than any mission ever could.

“Rest now, dear.” Carefully, without alerting him, you wrapped your arm around Illumi’s head and gently led him to your lap. “We can talk later.”

Much to your surprise, your husband would slowly close his eyes, swiftly drifting into sleep at hearing the steady beating of your heart.

“I’m sorry for frightening you, Y/N” he whispered those last words barely audible, fingers squeezing the flesh of your thigh ever so slightly.

“You didn’t. You never do.”

___

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#Illumi Zoldyck #HxH #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #Illumi x Reader #Arranged Marriage AU #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

[boxofbadaddiction]

In a Word

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Small depictions of PTSD. Post War.

Summary: The War changed Fred. His brush with death had an unexpected affect on the joyful young wizard and, unfortunately, created severe turmoil in his relationship with Y/n.

Prompts: 12, 15 & 20

"You're over me? When were you...under me?" // "I'm sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you by...taking you roughly in the barn." // "This can't be it./Then how come it is?"

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Not much was said about Fred Weasley, in fact most of the time he could be described simply in a word. He was loud. Boisterous. Confident. Some even called him Unstoppable. Those weren't the words [Y/N]'d use to describe him though.

Although, these days there were only two that came to mind when she thought of him. He was her ex. And he was afraid. Not that he would ever admit the fact.

Stubborn. That's another word for Fred Weasley.

The war had changed people. She'd seen it in the faces of friends, and family. In the eyes of strangers, and in her own reflection. Fewer people laughed while more cried. Many left hollow shells of their past self.

The same couldn't be said for Fred. He was different. The complete opposite. While others withdrew into themselves, he had never shone so bright.

If you thought he were loud before you'd be surely mistaken. These days he laughed harder, pranked more and never stopped moving. It was like he saw it as his job to single handedly bring joy back to the world. To shine light where darkness had taken root. Which isn't a bad thing, but now he had trouble on knowing when the joke needed to end.

His girlfriend suffered most as a result. She'd grown tired of feeling like the mother of a hyperactive toddler on a sugar rush. She'd attempted to talk with him on countless occasions. To have him confide his fears in her, but he never did. He did his best to never let on that he was hurting, but his best just wasn't good enough. She still saw it. Because if you looked closely enough you'd notice the way he jumped more at loud noises like he hadn't before. Notice the look in his eyes when he was with family or friends, how he seemed to try and memorise every detail of them, incase he wasn't here tomorrow to see it. It broke [Y/N]s heart to see him suffer in silence. But it didn't hurt her nearly as bad as when she had to leave him.

The problem between them was that Fred just never spoke about the war. Whether to offer himself a reprieve, or to be that support for another. Any worries someone had would be brushed off with a joke. Even on the day [Y/N] left he had a witty retort lined up at every word she said.

"Damn it Fred! This is serious!" She pushed herself up from the dining room table.

"Must be to have your nostils flaring like that" he laughed. [Y/N] groaned loudly in frustration. Why was he incapable of being serious? Pacing the room in anger Fred watched as his girlfriend tried desperately to calm her emotions. He swallowed thickly quickly becoming uncomfortable in the tense atmosphere.

[Y/N] tugged at the roots of her hair, ran her hands down her face, pulled them over the back of her neck. She tried anything to rid her body of these stressful feelings as her mind raced a million miles an hour.

"Why can't you just talk to me!?" She shouted, arms being thrown out pleadingly towards her boyfriend. Face begging to understand him.

"I do."

"No you don't. Not about things that matter. Not about what's on your mind or how you're feeling. Hell! Fred, it's been so long since we've had a meaningful conversation I don't even know if you love me anymore." Her eyes were stinging red as they began to glisten with tears over her words. Fighting with every bit of strength in her body to keep them from falling.

"Of course I do.' Fred's face was the most serious it had been since the War. This was the first time in months she had seen it without a smile. That sickly fake smile.

Brows furrowed as he raised from his chair he walked to his partner. Snaking his arms around her waist as she turned her face away from him.

"Hey", his hand cupped her chin making her look at him, "I do love you. I'm sorry." He pulled her into a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of her head as her hands met at his shoulder blades. His chest vibrated against her cheek as he spoke, "maybe I can make it up to you" he leant back to peer into her eyes. Looking away as if deep in thought, "by...i dunno, taking you roughly in the barn?" he began laughing. [Y/N] pushed out of his hold tears falling in anger. "Oh, come on [Y/N]"

"NO! Fred. Just...no." she snapped, her back to him. One hand came to her temple, massaging to try and dull the pain throbbing in her mind. "I can't do this anymore." Her voice were no more than a whisper, but still it carried to Fred's ears. The room fell deadly silent as he processed the words. No, he heard wrong. He had to. "What?" His breathing began to pick up in panic. "I can't do this anymore!" Hot, fat tears spilled from her eyes as she turned shouting. "I can't keep pretending everything's okay, that I'm okay. That you're going to let me in and admit you're hurting because I know. I know you're hurting too." Fred was paralysed. This wasn't happening...

[Y/N]s voice softened "I can't just carry on in denial like you're choosing to, Fred. I-" her throat seemed to close over itself. No words or air able to break through. Biting her lip as her eyes ran the room, searching for an answer that just wasn't there. She dropped her head as more tears started to fall.

Seeing the woman he loved so distraught in front of him, because of him, killed Fred. It was like being trapped under that wall all over again, and he was suffocating. He hated that feeling. The one that plagued his very existence in every waking moment. He made so many jokes these days to distract himself from feeling just that. He stayed silent to protect the people he loved, but he'd just caused more damage.

He moved towards her again, carefully as if he'd scare her if he were to move too quickly. "Hey..." his voice cracked under the pressure of it all but still he forced a smile through the pain, "I know things have been difficult lately. With work and the-the aftermath of it all but...we'll get through this. Together. We can-" "No Fred." She looked up into his pale face, seeing his eyes widen. " 'We' can't. Not this time."

"No, no-no-no-no, please!" He willed himself forwards. Clutching her hands in his own and pulling them to his chest. "Please, [Y/N], love. I'm sorry this...this can't be it." His eyes were frantically searching her face, begging her.

"Then how come it is?"

That was nearly two years ago now. They'd seen hide nor hair of one another since. [Y/N] had been on a few dates here and there but none felt right. No one could make her feel like Fred did. It broke her heart to leave him, but she knew it was the right thing to do. Being away gave her the time she needed to heal and cope with the reality which Fred had been determined to ignore.

As [Y/N] was finishing her day at work she decided to reward herself for surviving a particularly stressful week by heading for a few drinks at the new bar that had opened up in Diagon Alley a couple months back. She'd been dying to go, all her friends say it's fantastic unfortunately she'd never had occasion to accompany them.

So, with a quick stop home to shower and change she apparated to the entrance of the Bar.

It was everything she had heard about and more. As she sat on a stool by the counter she couldn't help but marvel at the interior. The ceiling glimmered with tiny lights that reminded her of the stars (which in turn reminded her of the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts), and the floors were gorgeous hardwood with Bar to match. It was hard to believe such a classy place existed in Diagon Alley. Swivelling back around in her seat to face the bartender she ordered herself another drink.

Her hands played with the cool exterior of her glass while she starred absent-mindedly at nothing in particular. Lost in her own thoughts as she enjoyed the night to herself.

"[Y/N]?" a familiar voice called from behind her. Her eyes shot up to the mirror on the wall, behind the whiskey shelf and there she saw him. A dishevelled mop of red hair emerging from the crowd of people bustling about the dance floor. "Fred?" She spoke more to herself before turning to face him.

Standing as he approached, their mouths were both agape ever so slightly. They stared for a moment before a single laugh fell from Fred's lips, one of shock and amazement, followed closely by that signature Freddie grin.

"It's so good to see you." Before he could register his movements his arms were already tight around her body. "You too".

He let her go slowly, standing back bashfully to admire her. "What are you-" he stopped himself. He was going to ask what she was doing here but out of fear she may be on a date he decided against it. "What have you been up to?"

"Not much. You know just work mostly. Actually I was just promoted a little over a month ago so it's all been really good." Her smile was genuine as she answered him and it made his heart soar to see her so happy again. Even if it weren't with him. Fred so deeply missed that smile, he missed all of her more than he could ever put into words. "That's fantastic! I'm happy for you." He knew he was staring but he didn't care. She was still so beautiful. Seeing her, being near her after all this time, was like a cool breath of fresh air he didn't realise he needed so bad.

"How about you? How's the store, and George?" "Great. All great. We're opening a store in Hogsmead shortly. Prime real-estate in our opinion, so close to the school. Couldn't pass up the chance to drive McGonagall up the wall either." [Y/N] found herself laughing hard at his comment. He was just like she remembered, before the war. Not trying to be funny it just came naturally. He looked happy. "That's amazing. I'm glad everything's going so well for you. God! It's been so long." "Too long."

There they went staring again. Both in awe of one another.

[Y/N] was the one to realise, or perhaps Fred just didn't care, but sensing the lull in conversation she cleared her throat - glancing over the room briefly.

"George is here." Fred spoke abruptly. Desperate to keep talking with her he threw out the first thing that came to mind. "A few of us came out for drinks tonight. Would you like to join us? I mean, if you aren't expecting someone." The words left a fowl taste on his tongue and an ache in his chest, praying she weren't with anyone. "No, I'm here alone", prayers answered. "But I couldn't possibly impose." "Impose? Please! We'd be offended if you didn't." He joked "come oooon...one drink?" putting on his best puppy dog eyes, that silent beg she never could resist. She pursued her lips, pondering his request for a moment. Would it be awkward? God she hoped not. "Okay." She raised a finger in front of her face with a stern expression, "one drink." "Atta girl!" He grinned widely, taking her wrist in his hand and whisking her through the close knit crowd to a booth to the back of the room.

Safe to say she was there a lot longer than one drink. As one turned to two, two turned to three and soon the minutes had stretched well into hours. Everything felt so safe and familiar back in the company of her old friends. Soon enough though, as was inevitable, it was just the two sat within the booth as everyone else vacated for the bar, dance floor or home.

In the comfort of each others company the two couldn't help but reminisce, on their Hogwarts days mostly. The two were in hysterics as [Y/N] recalled the time she failed to prank Snape which lead to Fred swooping to her rescue, taking the fall. "I had detention for a month after that." He laughed at the memory, "I said I was sorry!" [Y/N] was wiping tears from her eyes. "Hands were blistered to Hell by the time I'd polished all those damn trophies." As her stomach cramped [Y/N] burried her head in her hands, trying to compose herself but failing. Fred watched her, shoulders quaking in silent laughter at how adorable she looked in this moment. Finally having control of herself once again [Y/N] adjusted her posture while stretching her jaw that'd cramped from smiling so much.

Fred lifted his glass to his lips readying himself to drink, "I still remember the day you confessed your undying love for me", he threw his head back finishing the beverage. "Practically screammed it for the whole school to hear." He smirked. "Oh it was not like that!" "It most certainly was!"

"Just tell me what's wrong!" Fred bellowed, storming after the angry girl ahead of him. Arms wide pleadingly.

"It doesn't matter! None of it matters now!" [Y/N] called over her shoulder as she rounded the corner into a quiet corridor.

"Clearly..." Fred ran to stand in front of her, hands grasping her shoulders to keep her in place, "it does." She rolled her eyes, turning her head away from him. "It doesn't matter because I am over you Fred!" She pulled out of his grip standing confidently before him. "I'm over you."

Freds face lost all emotion. They stood in silence as realisation dawned on [Y/N] slowly, rising through her spine like a chill. A hand coming to cover her mouth as the other wrapped around her stomach like she was going to be sick. "You're over me?" [Y/N] backed away from him and found herself pressed against a cold stone wall eye's wide in horror. "When-when were you...under me?" His brows furrowed, turning confused to find her on the ground now, hands tugging at the roots of her hair with knees to her chest.

An endearing sort of chuckled rolled from his throat past his lips, sounding dangerously close to a scoff. Shock subsiding slightly he shook his head while approaching his best friend. Crouching before her.

"Look at me."

[Y/N] shook her head quickly. Hiding her eyes in the palms of her hands. "No." she mumbled.

"Please, look at me"

"No!"

"[Y/N]!"

"NO!"

"Oh for the love of - [Y/N]!" her arms were suddenly being pulled from her face as she was made to stand infront of him.

Embarrassed by her confession [Y/N] became defensive, "WHAT!? Okay, yes, I like you! I have for a while. I tried not to, tried to stop myself but I couldn't! I'm sorry! So go ahead. Make your jokes. Have a good laugh, I don't care anymore!" She was waving her arms frantically as she yelled. Staring directly into his eyes, which were glaring incredulously back. "You're insufferable, you know that!?" He snapped. [Y/N] scoffed, mouth falling wide at the insult. "Oh yeah? Well, you're a-"

Her next words were cut out by Freds lips on hers, hands cupping her face before one looped the small of her back to bring their bodies tight against each other. Her hands held onto his biceps. She felt herself melt into the kiss she'd been dreaming about for months, although it was under vastly different circumstances. Moaning softly at the warmth spreading through her body. Much to her dismay Fred let go of her, pulling back to catch his breath. A grin forming on his face as he looked down at her. "I'm a what?" His tone playful. [Y/N] stood breathless for a moment glancing at his lips, " You're a...really good kisser." She whined pulling him back in for another.

Fred was doubled over in their booth from unrestrained laughter. "Okay, so maybe a few people heard. There was an awful lot of yelling." [Y/N] giggled, watching him fondly.

"LAST DRINKS!" called the bartender. Their attention shot towards them, expressions falling solemn. When had it gotten so late?

"I-I should probably get going." She kept her eyes on the bar as she mumbled the words knowing if her eyes met his she'd crumble. Freds eyes were fixed to her profile. This couldn't be it. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. "I'll walk you." He jumped from his seat, "still at the same place?" He smiled and reached his hand out for her to take. Finally her gaze met his, smiling immediately, she took his hand nodding.

The walk home was interesting, to say the least. Both were considerably drunker than they realised, stumbling about the Alley way they were relying solely on one another for the stability to remain upright. Fred was cracking jokes as [Y/N] all but hung from his arm where their elbows interlocked.

Howling laughter echoed noisely through the deserted street. Several times Fred found himself taking hold of her waist to keep her from falling. The last he decided it were safer just to keep them there. Hugging her tightly from behind they walked step-in-step, as he swayed her dramatically enjoying the giggles that erupted from her at the action. For anyone observing the scene they'd never wager the two weren't a couple.

[Y/N] was squirming under his hold as his fingers began tickling her sides. Eliciting various shrieks, squeals and 'no's from her mouth. She bent far forward trying to distance herself from his touch, Fred took advantage of the action sweeping her off her feet into a bridal style hold. "Right let's see now, where were you." He scanned the lining apartments counting to himself over the loud sound of [Y/N]s laughter. "Ah, here we are!" He exclaimed, jogging up the short flight of stairs to the door, effortlessly. "Your stop, M'lady" he bowed placing her feet firmly on the ground. "Why thank you kind Sir." She was visibly flustered from the amount of contact and laughter they had shared tonight. It just all felt so right with him.

As she rummaged her coat pocket for her keys and looked back to him the scene changed. Their faces falling sullen and the night deathly quiet. This was it wasn't it...goodbye?

"Thank you for walking me home and-and for tonight. I had fun." She swallowed the lump in her throat that formed over her awkwardness.

"Anytime" Fred shook his head, though he tried to smile it didn't last long. He felt like he could breathe again and to say goodbye meant suffocating. How could he tell her, tell her that a life without her in it wasn't worth living? How could he prove he's changed? Did she even feel the same way anymore? He searched her eyes, praying to find the answer hidden within them.

"Anyway, I should-" she gestured to the door with her keys.

"No, yeah. Of course." He smiled, but that hand that shot to rub the back of his neck gave him away. He was nervous. Even after two years she could still spot his tells a mile away. He wanted to say something and from the thundering in her chest [Y/N] could guess what it was. Because she felt it too. She was opening her mouth to speak -

"I'll see you." He was walking away. Why was he walking away?

[Y/N]s mouth fell open, watching him stride into the distance. Her mind willing her to do something. Say something. Fuck, say ANYTHING!

"FRED!" she stood at the edge of her stairs. The call of his name turning his attention back to her. Heart racing.

Her mind was fumbling over the words to say. The love of her life was there. He was right there waiting for her...

"I'm...I'm still under you." She kicked herself for how awkward that must have sounded.

Fred's head dropped in sigh. Running before his feet knew they were carrying him he leapt onto the landing beside her. Pulling her by the nape of her neck their lips crashed together. [Y/N] was smiling against his lips as tears trickled down her rosie cheeks. Fred broke his lips from hers, pushing their foreheads together as they caught their breath.

"You're insufferable, you know that?".

"I know."

There were a lot of words [Y/N] could use to describe Fred Weasley. He was passionate. Funny. Smart. Impulsive. But most importantly; he was Hers.

Completely.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley/reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #hp #hp imagine #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #writing is hard. #harry x reader #writing prompts #prompt fics

[kodzukenscorner]

Osamu dating Sakusa’s twin sister

anon asked: hello 💕 can i ask a scene for sakusa's twin sister dating osamu? 👉👈 thank you.

a/n: asdghljl forgive me for not updating in a bit, I’ve hit a bit of a writer’s block 

wc: 1,476

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

You are nothing like Sakusa Kiyoomi, Osamu thought to himself nearly every time he saw you. He knew you were twins and foolishly assumed you would share in your brothers touch-averse and semi germaphobic ways. Although to be fair, Osamu had never formally met Sakusa before, he only heard of him from Atsumu when they became (somewhat) acquainted at their last training camp. It wasn’t until a practice match was set up did he get to meet the Sakusa Kiyoomi in the flesh, along with the rest of Itachiyama. That of course, included their manager, you.

Your hair was dark and curly like your brothers, but not nearly as unruly. It cascaded into raven ringlets down your shoulders and Osamu could not keep his eyes off the way it bounced every time you nodded your head. Suffice it to say he was entranced by you and Atsumu was quick to notice.

“Bet she’s as prickly as her brother”

Osamu scrunched up his nose, he couldn’t imagine someone as angelic looking as you being so cold. Little did he know, Sakusa was having a similar conversation with you. It didn’t take you long to take notice of the Miya twins, your brother had told you about Atsumu who was a talented setter no doubt but a bit of a pain in the ass. Osamu was a mystery and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was like his twin or maybe he was like you, someone who was nothing like their own twin.

“The Miya’s, probably equally irritating” Your brother informed you as he stretched his wrist out.

Throughout the warmups and the practice match, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on the Miya twins. Atsumu seemed just as your brother described, talented and cocky but Osamu was a quiet force. He was good and paired with his brother, they could be unstoppable one day. It was on more than one occasion that you two made eye contact throughout the match and by the time everyone was relaxing afterwards you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence. You looked over once more to the Inarizaki team to catch Osamu staring at you, but this time he didn’t look away and neither did you. He offered you a sweet genuine smile, nothing like the slightly sinister one his brother has. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, a blush creeping its way up your cheeks which was easily noticed by Osamu.

Before your team had left, Osamu managed to finally get you alone, the words were almost lost in his throat when he finally got to see you up close. But he was still able to get your number and properly introduce himself before you went your separate ways. You knees went weak just at speaking to him for such a short amount of time, you had no idea how you survived to be completely honest. And true to his word, Osamu texted you that night when he got home, you texted back and forth until the sun came up the next morning.

How did any of this happen? He was just a rival athlete from another school, but now you were texting and calling him every night. Your heart fluttered whenever you saw his name on your screen and your brother couldn’t help but notice how attached you were to your phone. And now here was Osamu, standing at your front door, ready to take you on your first official date. Your brother loomed behind you, still wary of the Miya twin but you bid him goodbye and dragged Osamu away. You held his hand tightly in yours as you led him to your favorite onigiri shop, you had tried asking him what his favorite food was but he just kept saying it was ‘food’. 

Osamu was too caught up in the feeling of your hand in his to make any sort of conversation, and your heart was beating too loud to hear anything he might have said anyway. Once you made it to the shop, he had to reluctantly let go of your hand to properly order food for the both of you. Soon enough, you were seated across from each other with your food in front of you, neither of you had said much yet but when you looked up at the grey haired man in front of you the blush that had been permanently sitting on your cheeks threatened to take over your whole face now. Something about the way he had his chin propped up on his hand, and the dreamy far away look he had as he looked at you made you want to faint on the spot.  He reached over and grasped your hand in his once more, eyes never leaving yours.

“I’m surprised yer letting me hold yer hand”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno, just thought you’d be like yer brother”

“I thought you’d be like yours” 

You both chuckled and comfortably ate your food, conversation finally flowing normally. You stayed in the small restaurant much longer than either of you anticipated but you both lost track of time. Osamu walked you home, hand intertwined with yours, his thumb rubbing light circles into the back of your palm the whole way. He stopped at your door, knowing your brother wasn’t quite comfortable with letting him inside just yet. You looked up at Osamu in anticipation.

“Well, ummm, thank you for everything, I had fun” You smiled at him sweetly.

“I did too, but it’ll be some time before I can come visit again so don’t get upset when I do this okay?” 

You didn’t have a chance to question what he meant because before you knew it, Osamu was leaning down cupping your cheek with his free hand, bringing his lips to meet yours. You clung to his shirt for support and immediately kissed him back. You had been daydreaming about kissing him since you first started texting but nowhere in any of your fantasies did you imagine his lips to be so soft. He was a slow kisser and he managed to make you completely melt under his gentle touch. You felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip and just as you parted your lips to give him access your front door swung open.

Osamu pulled away slowly, making eye contact with your brother who was glaring at him. He offered a lazy smile while you still clung to his chest, he really managed to take your breath away with that kiss. Osamu moved his hand from your cheek and wrapped it lazily around your waist, bringing your body closer to his and planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“You should head inside before yer brother gets really mad, I’ll text you later sweetheart” Osamu said sweetly in your ear.

You finally stepped away, bidding Osamu a goodnight, entering your house where your brother promptly shut the door.

“Next time you’re wearing a facemask”

“How am I gonna kiss him then?”

“Exactly”

“Kiyoomi!”

You huffed and went to your room, listening to some music, remembering the feeling of Osamu’s lips on yours. Suddenly your phone buzzed and Osamu’s name popped up on your screen and you broke out into a wide grin reading his text.

“Hey, your brother interrupted us before I could ask but do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

You squealed into your pillow before replying.

“Of course 🥺 ”

You started cheering and kicking your legs up as you laid in the bed when your phone buzzed again. You quickly grabbed it, expecting it to be from Osamu but were confused when you saw your brother’s name.

“Did he finally ask you out?”

You scoffed and replied “He would’ve asked me out sooner if you hadn’t interrupted”

“Fine, guess you don’t want this picture then”

Sakusa sent you a picture of you and Osamu kissing outside your door and you almost died of embarrassment. But it was a very sweet picture and you were over the moon at this point.

“Love you Kiyoomi but next time I’m making out with my boyfriend please leave us alone or I’ll cough on you <3333″

“Gross” Was his only response.

You set the picture as your wallpaper and continued texting with your boyfriend for the rest of the night, you even sent him the picture Sakusa had taken.

“Babe why would you send this to me, now I’m gonna dream about you all night long”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem”

“So if I wake up with a “problem”, you’ll help me out?”

You choked on your own spit reading his text “SAMU!!”

“Kidding, kidding. Go to bed now sweetheart, I’ll talk to you tomorrow”

To no one’s surprise, you were the one to dream of Osamu that night, not that you were complaining. 

#osamu #miya osamu #osamu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #haikyuu writing #hq osamu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons

[fictionplumis]

I’m gonna have to write a fic for this pairing, aren’t I? 

Nevermind the fact I still haven’t finished my Eddie/Venom/Flash one yet and I can never just write a short fic, no, it has to be a Thing and I always go for the really small pairings.

I just have a lot of feelings about the concept of coming to know yourself through your shadow, and let’s face it, Roche and Iorveth are each other’s shadows. All the qualities they hate about each other are the same things that personally drive them. 

And it’s true for both of them but I just keep sticking on Roche for some reason, the loyal Temerian Hound, who committed a lot of wrongs at the order of a king who saved him, and then lost that king, and, uh... 

Look, I’ll be honest, I haven’t played the second game so I’m not too clear on what happens with Saskia and Vergen and Henselt (besides the fact he’s shit and Roche kills him, spoiler alert I guess), so I can’t really say how all that ties in to where he ends up in the third game, but in the third game he’s in a pretty shit situation, doesn’t seem all that concerned with the Socia’tael anymore, and is more than willing to kill Radovid for the sake of Temeria. I’m assuming the general idea is that Anais will take over the throne, and then what? 

What does Roche do from there? 

He has the blood of two kings on his hands and Emhyr isn’t exactly the kind of man to give into his promises without some kind of backhanded result. Making a deal with him is like the damn Monkey’s Paw, and it wouldn’t really be smart of any ruler to give Roche a position of power in a court. 

So we have a man who’s known nothing but war and following the orders of his king, who has decided one of his first acts WITHOUT orders is to kill another king for his country, and then really has no place in that country afterwards. 

We could obviously go down the PTSD and depression route very easily here, but I’m not the kind of person to just settle on that and Vernon Roche probably isn’t either. Now that he has no ties, it’s time for this bitch to go find himself. 

And maybe that means just wandering aimlessly for a little bit. 

And maybe that means coming across some wayward elves getting harassed. 

Roche, naively maybe, had thought that with Nilfgaard taking over, shit like that would have stopped. It was supposed to stop. The elves are allowed wherever they wish now, so long as they behave, and these ones clearly aren’t Socia’tael or the people harassing them would have been long dead. And that’s how Roche finds himself helping Aen Seidhe refugees under an alias and realizing how much of an absolute shit lord he had been. 

I know some people like to have it where Roche doesn’t hate non-humans, he just did it because he was ordered, but shit like that tends to be a bit more engrained. When you’re around someone, ADMIRE that someone, and they’re so flippantly disregarding the lives of people they consider OTHER, it rubs off. Roche is not immune to propaganda, nor is he necessarily a good person since there’s really no such thing. There’s just people, who sometimes try their best and sometimes don’t, and who sometimes change and sometimes don’t. 

So here we have Roche realizing the hate he felt for these people was never really his own. There’s nothing here to hate. The Socia’tael, yeah, maybe, but not the innocents he drove from their lands and sometimes killed if they didn’t obey Foltest’s ordinances. 

So he does a Personal Growth, which both makes him feel shitty and wrecked with guilt, and also makes him determined to help and be Better. 

And then fucking Iorveth shows up and nearly blows his cover to shit.

At this point, it’s still okay to hate the Socia’tael for Roche, because they’re war criminals and gods dammit, if he can be better, then so can Iorveth, Iorveth just chooses not to. But whatever, Roche has officially decided that he’s not going to pick a murderous fight over this because he’s not that kind of person anymore and it’s not his job to enforce the rules. He’s helping now. 

But, uh. Roche can have a little fistfight sometimes. As a treat. Because Iorveth’s face is very punchable and Iorveth is his usual haughty, smug self who takes way too much amusement from Vernon fucking Roche helping elven refugees. 

Only he’s not just very amused, he’s only amused to pissed off Roche, reality is he’s pretty confused and suspicious of this. Because HE would never go off and help dh’oine no matter how bad off they are, so obviously Roche wouldn’t go off and help Aen Seidhe without some ulterior motive. 

Iorveth bides his time and somehow manages to find a time that’s ripe for Talking. Not the goading shit-talking they do, but like an actual TALK. It maybe starts out as an interrogation, but Roche doesn’t raise to the bait like Iorveth assumes and then Roche is all sincere about shit that happens to relate a lot to what Iorveth has been feeling too, and oh gods damn it all, now he’s sympathizing with Vernon Roche. Empathizing, even.

Iorveth hates it. 

Roche doesn’t seem to particularly care how it makes Iorveth feel and Iorveth hates that too. 

Overall he regrets he even asked.

Then something something something they have to do a Thing together. I don’t know the exact details, probably has to do with displaced elves. 

Let’s just say Nilfgaard hasn’t fully conquered the North yet, like they’re almost there, it’s in that stage where they technically occupy the area but there’s a lot of unrest and certain people (racists) aren’t very keen on certain rules (rules telling them not to be racist) so they’re causing Problems about it. 

Maybe they get wind that there are some Witch Hunters holding a decent amount of elves hostage, but not quite enough for Nilfgaard to bother with them, so Roche is like, sure, okay, I’ve been getting better at this whole sneaky sneak thing, I’ll go sneak the elves out. And Iorveth is obviously not letting Roche go do that alone, because it’s Roche, and Iorveth still wants to be suspicious of him and doesn’t like him, and someone needs to be there to actually rescue the elves if Roche dies, also he kind of wants to see Roche die (he doesn’t, but semantics) so he goes. 

The sneaky sneak plan fails, go figure. And here’s where I might have to twist canon a bit because how well known is it that Roche helped plot against Radovid? Dunno, but we’re gonna say not too many people actually know, just those in power. And Temeria is established and under Nilfgaard, but Roche isn’t in a position of power there and when the sneaky sneak plan fails, he’s not wearing any indication that he’s WITH Temeria. So say someone that knows him from his Blue Stripes days sees him and they’re like, huh. Vernon Roche hates non-humans and didn’t immediately ally himself with Temeria and Nilfgaard. Clearly this is an ally. 

So at first getting caught is sort of fine, because now he’s making awkward conversation with a racist and getting introduced to other racists but no one is trying to kill him so like. Okay. Could be worse. 

And then the alarm sounds because Iorveth was spotted and they drag Roche to go corner him. 

Iorveth is fully expecting Roche to keep up his little ploy and he can’t even say he blames Roche, because it’s a good way to sneak in and save people, IF Roche isn’t seriously considering going back to being a shit lord just because it’s convenient. They’re pretty out numbered. Fighting would be a bad idea. Iorveth is still pissed, obviously, and feels betrayed, and he plans on giving Roche no end of shit about this later even if he DOES use the position to save the elves. 

Only Roche curses under his breath and turns his sword on the nearest Witch Hunter and all hell breaks loose. For the first time Iorveth finds himself fighting WITH Roche instead of against him. 

And it’s kind of fun. 

Just as thrilling. 

And they actually turn out to be a very deadly team together. 

So they rescue the elves and have every intention of escorting them back to the refugee camp they know of when they’re told about the camp these elves came from. One that was attacked by Witch Hunters. It’s a thing they’re doing now, kidnapping elves and destroying refugee places. So instead they point the elves in the direction of the camp they came from since the roads are all clear, and they go on their little crusade to save elves. 

And along the way they learn stuff about each other. 

Roche learns more about elves in general, and the uncultured swine actually starts finding himself more and more fascinated by the deep complexity and emotional connection to the world they have. He envies it, even, because even when Iorveth has nothing, he has that connection. Roche has only ever had Temeria and now, well. Only himself, really, and he’s still trying to figure out what to do with that. 

Iorveth takes the slightest amount of pity for the useless dh’oine, because the idea of not having that connection, that thing to moor him down, sounds intolerable. How do humans survive without that? So he starts making a half-assed (or at least he tells himself it’s half-assed) effort to help Roche recognize the natural world around him a bit more and have more respect for it. 

It’s the fact that Roche is TRYING, genuinely TRYING that really makes Iorveth feel a certain way. 

And he opens up a bit about himself, his past, why he joined with the Socia’tael, and after seeing everything he’s seen, and what he’s STILL seeing, Roche starts understanding it a bit more. The actions of desperate people pushed to the edge, what they do when diplomacy fails, when assimilation means death, the tactics they resort to because there is no fair fight otherwise. 

Now he can’t hate the Socia’tael either. He can’t even dislike them. Hell, he even finds himself admiring them. 

And Iorveth learns about humans. 

Nothing groundbreaking, exactly. Not about the species as a whole, anyway. Maybe that they’re capable of change, which is pretty revolutionary in his mind, and sometimes they stop into places and Iorveth sees that some humans do, indeed, have compassion for things that aren’t exactly like them. 

The most interesting and useful thing he learns is that human body hair isn’t that bad and against what he would have assumed, he actually kind of likes it? Especially the stubble that Roche can never seem to entirely shave off in the morning--because it turns out Roche is actually pretty cleanly for a human when he has regular access to be. 

The texture and burn of it scraping at his skin is nice, okay? It’s new and nice and maybe he can understand why there are so many mixed-elves running about despite how awkwardly bulky and clumsy dh’oine are. Also they’re warm. And, at least in Roche’s case, large. So yeah. He’ll concede the point that they make good bedpartners, and that’s ALSO something Iorveth learns about humans. 

#rorveth #vernon roche #iorveth #witcher 2 #rocheiorveth #this might have gotten away from me #anyway if anyone wants to rp it #just like #hit me up #i might write it #but my motivation to write stuff that isnt an rp is p shite so #dont hold your breath