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delzinrowe · 3 days

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WORD COUNT: ~1.4K WARNINGS: Mentions of alcohol, idk. F!Reader

Bartender!Takuma Ino has been rotting my brain so here's a little something.

Bartender!Takuma, who is one of three bartenders in a local pub. He’s known for his mixing skills and his moves, constantly getting the highest tips due to his level of wit, skill and his handsome face.

Bartender!Takuma who always has a keen eye for guests and listens attentively when he notices someone with worries. He has a special drink for each occasion that he gives a concerned guest. For a broken heart he has a soft pastel blue coloured sweet cocktail meant to heal. For financial trouble he has a clear drink with green syrup that brings fortune. For family struggles he has a pink cocktail, supposed to lift all the worries and help rekindle.

Bartender!Takuma who gets in trouble with his boss for giving out those cocktails for free (one per guest though) but always gets off the hook cause he brings the most business into the pub and is well liked by all locals.

Bartender!Takuma whose eyes are immediately on you when he sees you walk in. He doesn’t say a word about it but he notices the tear stains on your cheeks, the chapped lips from biting them nervously, the unfocused gaze in your eyes. He’s immediately in front of you when you sit down at the bar, ready to take your order.

Bartender!Takuma who mixes you a special and unique sweet cocktail after you tell him you don’t have the mind to choose from a long list of drinks. He serves you the cocktail with a reassuring smile.

Bartender!Takuma who is known as the one to always make a show but tonight he didn’t perform a single move because all his attention is on you. He keeps coming back to you and asks you if everything is okay, but he never comes across as pressuring or pushing.

Bartender!Takuma who doesn’t give you advice because he knows advice from someone else might come from a good place but mostly falls on deaf ears until the person actually learns the lesson on their own, so he settles for listening to you instead.

Bartender!Takuma whose shift ended half an hour ago, yet he still stands behind the bar, talking to you about mindless stuff until you cheer up a little more because he can’t leave without seeing you smile.

Bartender!Takuma who asks if he should call you a taxi or bring you home himself when you tell him it’s time to go but he knows you’ve had a few drinks. You reassure him that your friend will pick you up and you won’t drive yourself, which has him visibly relieved.

Bartender!Takuma who watches you leave with the sour taste of regret in his mouth that he didn’t ask you for your number or at least gave you his. But he knows it would be unprofessional, and despite everything you (and other locals) share with the bartenders you’re still all just paying customers.

Bartender!Takuma who leaves that day with the least tips he ever got because most of his attention was on you but he really doesn’t care about that because as long as he made you smile it was all worth it.

Bartender!Takuma who spends his shifts during the next few days watching the door almost obsessively in hopes to see you walk in again but he’s disappointed every time it’s someone else. He’s waiting to see you again.

Bartender!Takuma who always gives up on seeing you again and tries to forget you by doing his job extra well, performing different bartending moves and throwing bottles and glasses in the air, effortlessly catching them all and putting on a show for all the guests. He’s so immersed in the show that he only notices the wave of new customers when he approaches them from behind the bar.

Bartender!Takuma who is absolutely elated and immediately has a bright smile on his face when he realizes you are among the wave of customers. He does his best to cater to everyone’s wishes but his attention is still mostly on you as he asks you about stuff related to your first night in the bar. It makes you blush that he remembers even small details.

Bartender!Takuma who doesn’t seem to notice the glances your friends give you whenever he performs a trick just for you. He still performs for other guests too but it’s obvious that he’s putting much more effort into the moves he makes for you.

Bartender!Takuma who slowly but surely gets to know you more, your full name and zodiac, as you tell him happily, your profession, your worries, your hobbies, your likes and dislikes. He’s happy you’re talking to him so much and he’s opening up to you just the same.

Bartender!Takuma who once again forgot to ask you for your number when you leave but it’s okay because he has the strong impression that you’ll visit the pub again, and he hopes it’s because of him.

Bartender!Takuma who is smiling like a little kid on Christmas when he sees you again because he was right that you’d come back. His two colleagues are happy you’re back too because if they had to listen to him talk about you any more they would have punched him.

Bartender!Takuma who builds a solid friendship with you over the course of weeks. You don’t know it but his colleagues tell him when you come in on his days off and how your happy smile always falters when they tell you he’s not working. His heart always skips a beat when he thinks about it

Bartender!Takuma who gladly caters to all your wishes in everything cocktail-wise and always knows which moves to make to get you to laugh. Everytime he succeeds his heart makes a little jump.

Bartender!Takuma who gets urged by his colleagues to finally make a move and ask you out because now that you frequent the pub they have seen many guys looking at you. He gets visibly upset when they tell him that men have bought you drinks on his day off.

Bartender!Takuma who is immediately irritated when a guy on the other side of the bar buys you a drink and tells him to give you a message. But it’s his job, so he has to do it. Instead of making the drink and giving it to you right away however, he asks you if you want to accept it.

Bartender!Takuma who smiles a little too happily when you ask him if it’s impolite to reject the drink from the guy. He reassures you that it’s not impolite and takes care of the guy, in a more or less polite manner because he’d like to keep his job.

Bartender!Takuma who scowls the immediate moment a stranger approaches you and asks if they can buy you a drink. It’s different when someone is standing right next to you, so he knows you’re likely to accept just so you don’t anger the stranger. He takes the stranger's order, internally rolling his eyes at the bitter drink he ordered for you because he knows you don’t like bitter cocktails.

Bartender!Takuma who nonetheless mixes the drink and even performs some of his skilled moves to get you to look at him. When he serves the drink he accidentally spills it, making sure it stains the stranger’s pants. Of course he apologizes, but only you know that it’s a half assed apology that he doesn’t mean

Bartender!Takuma who swears the entire pub can hear his heart leaping when you thank him for saving you with his little stunt. It’s the first time he’s actually blushing and you think it makes him look even more handsome.

Bartender!Takuma who finally has the guts to ask you if you want to go out with him after weeks of pining for you. He’s not as smooth when he asks you, almost a little clumsy with his words but unbeknownst to him you think it makes him seem even cuter.

Bartender!Takuma who can’t hide his relieved and happy smile when you agree on a date. He’s so happy he completely forgets to ask for your number or when you have time. When you leave he wants to kick himself because how can he take you out on a date if he doesn’t even have your number.

Bartender!Takuma who almost breaks out in a happy dance when one of his colleagues hands him the napkin you purposely left behind with your number on it. He’s so happy he seems to be floating and beaming, brighter than the sun itself. All because he’s soon taking you out on the best date you ever had.

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nomazee · 2 days

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THIS EVENT IS SO CUTE!!🩷🩷😭

could i req childhood best friends dan heng x reader word(s) is sneaking out if you want a timestamp, it's 11:42 p.m. thank you so much!!!

THIS REQUEST WAS SO CUTE i had way too much fun with this this hit 1.5k words which is way over the limit i set for myself... but i do not regret it at all. I LOVE CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND DAN HENG AAAA THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

The ringing of your phone is cut off by the automated voicemail message for the nth time in a row. Your neck hurts from how long you’ve been staring up at Dan Heng’s bedroom window, where the lights are off and the curtains are drawn and he’s definitely asleep.

Anticipation makes you bounce on your feet, itching to just break into his front door and shake him awake yourself. Fortunately for Dan Heng’s family, it doesn’t quite reach that point, because your phone suddenly vibrates in your hand with Dan Heng’s contact flashing on your screen.

Incoming call. Jackpot.

“Dan Heng,” you answer the call with no formalities whatsoever, because those aren’t needed after knowing him for so long, “come outside! I’m here to pick you up.”

“What is wrong with you,” he grumbles out. The grit in his voice is endearing and familiar and makes your breath stutter. “It’s— almost midnight.”

“I know, and you’re already asleep? You’re such a senior citizen,” you hear the exhausted sigh he makes at another one of your old-man-Dan-Heng jokes. “There's a carnival tonight. Like, one of the cool ones that only open at 10 o’clock. March just texted me about it, she’s already there with Stelle!”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me earlier?” You hear shuffling, and spot movement in your peripheral vision. Craning your head up to look at his window yet again, you see the flicker of his bedside lamp being turned on (and you can already picture it from how well you know his room—that goofy-looking toucan table lamp that you got from some vintage store years ago for him), and the curtains pull back to reveal Dan Heng in all his half-asleep glory. He looks terrible, bangs sticking up and his corny galaxy-printed sleep shirt all wrinkled. It’s a charming look, though.

“I told you, March just texted me about it! Literally five minutes ago.”

“So, you ran here just to tell me about it?”

“Well, yeah, duh,” your tone is incredulous, because he should know by now that he’s the first person you go to for anything. The first person to hear about your failing grade in calculus, or your embarrassing run-in with your middle school ex girlfriend, or the bitter orange that you had as an afternoon snack. Dan Heng’s call history is probably full of your contact (which is just your name, no fun emoticons or inside jokes, and no profile picture, much to your everlasting dismay), and every call would show that he answers every single one without fail.

And, really, if you’re going to be honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), there’s a hopefulness twitching in your fingers tonight, something carried to you through the wind. You’re thinking of the carnival, about the sticky sweet snacks that you’re going to split with Dan Heng, the ferris wheel cart that you’ll be cramped in, the view of the stars from way up there and the tender way he’ll look at you.

Because he does that, sometimes, with no explanation, and you’ve never had the strength to respond in any way but a hesitant smile and a smack on his shoulder and a stupid joke. But there’s a tote bag slung around your arm now, full of money and two water bottles and the weight of your heart.

“Listen,” you tell him after a bout of his reluctant silence, “I brought you a jacket and your scarf, because I know you’re vitamin deficient and you’ll blow away in the wind unless I hold you down. It’ll be so fun if you come with me! Please? And I’ll get you home before your family notices!”

Both you and Dan Heng know that’s a lie, because you have a tendency to drag him out for long periods of time where both of you forget to check your phones. In your opinion, it does more good than harm, because it lets you live in the moment—or so you tell Dan Heng’s parents when they question you about keeping their son out past sundown.

“I’m not vitamin deficient,” Dan Heng tells you, but the argument is weakened by the fact that you’ve had to carry around a spare jacket for Dan Heng since you were both stumbling on your tiny baby legs. He must realize that, too, because you can see the way his face softens as he looks at you from his window, peering down. Despite the minimal light, you can still see the vibrant sheen of his eyes, the way that his mouth presses into a thin line to hold back a smile.

It takes only a moment of contemplation before he lets out a yielding sigh and mumbles, “Okay, fine. I’m coming downstairs to let you in and then I’ll get ready. Don’t be loud.”

“I’m never loud!”

The call ends with a click and Dan Heng slides his striped curtains closed. Circling around to get back to his front door, you made sure to be as quiet as possible and not trample his family’s gardenias. When the door opens to reveal Dan Heng’s beautiful, sleep-swollen face, an overwhelming warmth blooms in your chest and leaves your lungs dry and aching for air. The smile that appears on your face is instinctual, as most behaviors are for you around Dan Heng.

“Hi,” you whisper, really truly whisper, because he told you to be quiet and sometimes it’s good to do what Dan Heng wants (only sometimes). His lips are still tightened into that thin line, and you think, I’ll make him laugh tonight, which is a goal you’ve always set for yourself, ever since you befriended him in first grade with a paper flower and a loud, blatant, childish proclamation of best-friend-ship.

“Wait on the couch,” he directs you quietly, stepping aside to let you in. “Get a water from the fridge and pack it.”

“I already brought two for us,” the apples of your cheeks strain with the force of your smile, and you’re trying not to giggle. The water thing—that was established forever ago, too, just like the spare jacket, and staying out late, and the toucan lamp, and the paper flower. You always shared a water bottle, reminding each other and passing one between your hands until the last drops were wrung dry from it, and then you’d spend half an hour trying to find a fountain to refill it because you never packed more than two on any given day.

“Dan Heng,” you stop him with a hand on his shoulder before he can go back up the stairs to get ready in his room, and he looks back at you with the same look that you were envisioning before. The color of his eyes has gone dim, but in a fond way, in a way that tells you his breathing is even and his pulse is steady.

You take the brief moment where his attention is on you to wrap your arms around him, the sleeves of your jacket pulling him close, warm, tender to you. Your tote bag dangles awkwardly to the side, but you try not to let it stop you from squeezing him tight, letting him know you’re here, right here.

“What’s this about,” he mumbles into your shoulder, hands going up to grasp at the back of your sweatshirt and tug you just a few millimeters closer. A gentle weight sits between your hands and in your chest and you stifle a laugh into his barely-covered shoulder.

“Nothing. Just really happy you’re coming.”

“Okay,” he says, because he’s awkward and awful and so are you, but his hands still squeeze between your shoulderblades and keep you against him. A whistle of wind makes the gutters of the house creak, and you think of the stars that you’ll see from the top of the ferris wheel tonight, glinting in the sky and in Dan Heng’s eyes.

“Let me go so I can change.” His voice is monotone, seemingly disinterested, but you don’t take offense to it, you never have. Reluctantly, you loosen your grip around him, and let him pull back the rest of the way because you can’t bear to do it yourself.

The look, the glimmer, the depth of his eyes are all still there, accompanied by a new rosiness in his cheeks that you know isn’t caused by the heat of your hands or the cold wind outside. You don’t get the chance to laugh at the waver in his mouth as he fights back a small laugh, because he’s already turning back to rush up the stairs, stance wobbling as he tries to hide from his own embarrassment, and it’s so terrible and familiar and you ache with the urge to burrow into this home and make it your own.

Your phone is flooded with dozens of texts from March, you’re sure, but even as it pushes midnight, you take your sweet time walking to the carnival, fingers clasped with each other as your jacket hangs off of Dan Heng—like it always has, like it always will.

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin @flower-yi

event taglist: @confusion-star

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

#nora hits 1k #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #danheng x reader #honkai x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #dan heng drabble #hsr drabble

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the-parasites-control-me · 21 hours

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T.W— Angst.

Knitted Shut...

"Gosh, stop fucking overreacting, it's just some overtime work." Satoru said to you, irritated and overworked. Fine, you gave up, he won, just like he does every single time you argue. You felt hurt and pained to know that your boyfriend barely has any time for you, no, for your relationship.

You slouched tired and frustrated from the fight you had with your dickhead boyfriend before you finally left to change. "Ugh, whatever, I don't even give a shit now." He said, visibly irked by your presence in the room. I mean— why would you even bother trying to convince him to not go overtime this time but he just won't listen.

And then here comes some girls who would be out there saying— "Gosh it's just overtime!" or "You're so obsessed!". No, they didn't know Satoru's relationship with you and they never will. You were going to the point of insanity by now, it was always overtime or night out with friends or family meetings! What about you? Did he even think about you during his entire life!? You were finished, this was too much negativity in your mind, all you can do now is just lay down and forget.

As you lay down on your bed overthinking about possibly everything in your love life, Satoru comes in. "Hey, doll~" he said in a 'loving' manner. "What do you want, Satoru." You replied to him, this time confused but still angry at him. "Y'know m'so so sorry about everything princess~." "I promise, I will never do it again~". Wow, apparently he's apologizing now? What a jerk he was. "Satoru, we talked about this, and before you mention it, No." You answered him sternly causing him to be angered. "What!?"

Satoru began to shout at you, his pent up frustration had erupted out of his mouth and the next thing you know he slapped you. "Satoru!" You exclaimed, the imprint of his hand on your soft cheeks burned painfully. "I'm sorry love! I didn't mean it!" "Forgive me just this once!" He tried to explain himself but you had already decided, and your decision made him mad.

"That was the FUCKING last straw Gojo!" You thought he wouldn't even have the guts to slap you like that because he loved you, but this just proved your thoughts wrong. His mind was racing with thoughts, what should he do? You weren't accepting any of his apologies and it was already clear that you were about to explode. "Fine." Satoru said.

FINE? That was all he wanted to say!? "FINE MY ASS SATORU!" "I WAS STUPID TO LOVE A SELFISH FUCKING MAN LIKE YOU!" You gasped covering your mouth. What the fuck did you just say..? Gosh, why were you so dumb? What is he gonna say now.?

BOOMBAYAH!!!! :3 YESS IM LAZY!!!

IDGAF

#gojo smut #jjk smut #jkk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #strongest sorcerer

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philsmeatylegss · 13 hours

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Can I talk about Cat King because no one else will???

I haven’t finished the show yet so this might be wrong or age like milk

I could talk about his role in the story for hours. Tbh I overly identify with Edwin because I’m gay with a lot of problems in the past and Edwin’s historical typical internalized homophobia already makes a history nerd like me giddy with glee. And Cat King easily can be written off as a gag character, which I do think is part of his purpose, but he also represents the aspect of this story regarding Edwin’s sexuality not solely being sexual, but also still being sexual. As in obviously Edwin sexually fantasizes about men, but there’s much more than just that. That implication, acknowledging the fact, feeling free to tell Charles and the others, acting on that, just day to day life. Edwin had gotten by for thirty years ignoring his sexuality until cat king came along. Edwin acknowledging his sexuality, acting on it, and discussing it (in his own way) is a large part of his character growth which is fully pushed on because of Cat King. I know he’s supposed to be the bad guy, but I genuinely believe he is an anti hero or something along those lines. I think at first it was to just tease Edwin, but it grew into something deeper.

Don’t even get me started on the cuff. It is SO symbolic I could almost cry. It’s a physical representation of how limiting and claustrophobic it is to be in the closet. Specially not being out of the closet to close loved ones. You couldn’t have a closer relationship than the relationship between Edwin and Charles, but it doesn’t seem that way before Edwin comes out. And that’s multiple reasons on both of their parts, but part of it is that complete shut down to that side of himself. People don’t realize how much sexuality plays into day to day life. And Cat King made Edwin realize how much he’s missed out on. And also that he can’t put off his problems forever. Slay relatable.

I think the addition of Crystal and Niko also makes Edwin realize that he needs to at least recognize his sexuality. I think they help him realize how much he is missing out on by not being himself in general, nevertheless outing his sexuality.

And all of this goes back to the cat king!!! It drives me insane no one talks about it!!! There’s also the aspect that, on the surface, cat king is just supposed to represent lust. The difference between his feelings for Monty or Charles is that there’s emotions there while cat king is purely lust and a giggle. But when you think about the story, that’s just not true. When media deals with a character’s sexuality not being straight, it’s usually over sexualized or not acknowledged as anything sexual. Cat king gives that balance to his feelings for Charles. Because being gay is partly explicit. As is being straight, bi, pan, whatever (other than asexuality). Saying you are ___ sexuality is implying that you are sexually aroused by whatever gender(s). And cat king is that reminder while Charles and Monty are the reminder that love and relationships are also part of it. Cat king adds balance that makes Edwin’s character feel way more authentic and actually gay.

I haven’t even gotten to cat king pushing for Edwin to admit why he solves cases. WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT IT?!?! I was gnawing at the bars of my enclosure during that scene. It is arguably one of the most important scenes of the entire show. And it’s entirely brought on my cat king. Every single time Edwin either decides or is forced to reveal something vulnerable about himself, it’s Cat King!!!! Edwin’s confession that it is about preparing a justification as to how he should be allowed into heaven even though he is gay is such an insanely important moment and I’m gnawing at my enclosure again!!!

I may be studying history, but I’ve always been an English kid at heart and symbolism about religion and childhood trauma brings me to my knees. And Cat King is scratching an itch I’ve had for years that I had no clue was there anD NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT IT WHILE IT IS DRIVING ME BANANAS.

Anyway, that’s my case for talking about cat king. I just finished episode 4 and it’s gonna be really embarrassing when something happens the next few episodes that completely invalidates all of this

#this is me doing a quick summary about my feelings btw #rae’s rambles #dead boy detectives

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zorosprincess · 3 days

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Succiduous pt.1

PRONOUNCED - Suc•cid•u•ous | \sək`sədooəs\ DEFINITION - Ready to fall, falling.

PAIRING - Miya Twins x Reader WC - 5.8K GENRE - Fluff CW - a lot of fluff, unrequited love if you squint, really bad first kiss, general language warnings, the usual bullying that comes hand in hand with the miya twins SYNOPSIS - The thing about growing up with the Miya twins... You learn a lot of things. You learn that they bleed into every aspect of your life, that you'll never be rid of them. You learn that they feel more like home than your house does.

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

AGE 6

Growing up with the Miya twins means that they find a way to seep into every single part of your life.

The first time you saw the Miya twins you were just a kid. 6, to be precise.

You can’t pretend to remember all the details of your first meeting, a lot of things are blurry before the age of 12. Even after that isn’t always great. Bits and pieces put together like puzzle pieces, an outline of what the pictures should look like. And, possibly, not even those pieces were always remembered correctly.

What you do remember vividly, however, was the distaste in your mouth as you moved to a new house and a new school, all contact with your parents and with your friends (the girls you swore were going to be your bridesmaids one day in the way that some little girls imagine and play out their future weddings) cut off. All you had wanted to do was sit in your room and point out where you wanted things to go so that your new brother could move them for you.

(When you grew older you had realized he wasn’t exactly your brother, but at 6—brother-in-law was too many words for you to pay attention to. Just as you learned to be grateful for your sister and her husband taking you away from what you learned later was an ugly situation. The words 'divorce' and 'custody battle' were things ignored by your small ears until you were old enough to understand.)

You remember, clearly, the fit you threw as your sister dragged you out of the house and down to the nearest park your first full day in town, leaving her husband and his brother to build pieces of furniture around the house. You don’t mean an actual fit, of course, there was no screaming and crying, no kicking and throwing yourself around.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t purposely make it a little harder to pull you out of your room and down the hallway. If you claimed you didn’t drag your feet a little more as you walked, taking smaller steps than usual. Counting three steps between every line in the walk.

Lying if you said you didn’t shut your mouth and keep every single comment to yourself, not even breaking to answer if you wanted something to eat. You did. But you weren’t about to speak to your sister to let her know that. Not about to break your cone of silent protest. That was the hill you knew you would die on.

It was at that park, the one you were dragged to on your first day, that you first met the Miya twins. The only two there that were your age at the time.

Your sister had been so pushy that day. “Make friends!” She (literally) pushed you towards the play structure where they were arguing over who got to go up the ladder to the climbing bars first. You'd grimaced at the sight—well, at the sound. Two loud voices yelling at each other, over each other, as they started to go for each others’ hair. Too loud.

You'd shaken your head adamantly but your sister had just kept pushing until you were only a few feet away from them, the cause of the ruckus. She'd quickly rushed away to watch you from a far off bench, keen on making sure you could do this on your own. Your response had only been to give her an annoyed look but she’d given you a thumbs up anyways, encouragement to 'go for it'.

“Excuse me.” Your voice had come as a whisper first, too nervous to speak louder than that. Neither of the boys acknowledged your presence, their argument slowly getting closer to putting them both on the ground. You sighed and tried again. Soft voice raising a couple levels. “Excuse me?”

That was the moment you saw their faces for the first time. Both frozen and staring right at you. You remember looking at the two of them and just thinking — oh god. They’re duplicates. Two nearly identical faces staring at you in confusion.

“What d’ya want?” One of them asked, the one with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Annoyance had laced his tone like he wasn’t being held by the collar merely an inch above the ground as his own hands were wrapped up in his twins’ hair.

Before you were even given the chance to open your mouth and respond to the attitude he gave you, he was slammed into the ground by the other. The second boy’s hand released the first’s collar and shoved straight into his brother's face, blocking all chances to see or talk for the moment. “Why d’ya have t'be so rude.” His hair was darker, black, and his eyes were a shiny grey.

“Mm nah roo!“ the brown-eyed boy’s protests were muffled as he tried to shove his brother off him. He succeeded after only a few tries. You stood silent, watching in horror as these strangers fought. You remember shooting a worried look over to your sister only to find her not even looking at you, missing your perceived distress.

“Uh—” your voice caught their attention immediately this time, “I’m new here.” Both stood up straighter, only a few shoved placed between them as they turned to look at you, finally waiting to hear you out even though your voice was so quiet compared to theirs. You watched as both their faces changed to the same dumb look and they even tilted their heads in the same way, waiting for the punchline. “I’m l/n.” Your last name melted quietly of your tongue and you watched them both silently form it with their own.

“Miya.” Their two voices spoke at the same time that both their hands were presented to you. You blinked at them both and it was like a light clicking on as they realized their mistake.

The rude one - as you had dubbed him - spoke again, jerking his thumb at his brother, the one with grey eyes. “Tha’s Osamu.” He then stood a little straighter and pointed to himself proudly. “I’m—“

He was cut off as his brother pushed him again. “Ah-noyin.’” He accentuated the ‘ah’ and flicked his brother’s head, hard. “Lemme tell ‘er m’own name.”

You struggled to keep a laugh from slipping out at that, refusing to let the strangers know that you had feelings yet, let alone that you found them even slightly amusing.

The one now labeled as both rude and 'ah-noyin'' by his brother took his chance to scramble towards his original goal. “Jus for tha’, m’goin’ firs’.”

But just as soon as he'd claimed that and crawled to the top of the stairs, slinging his hands onto the first bar, he'd come tumbling down in a mess of metal bangs and small shrieks all caused by a misplaced foot and gravity. You'd let out a giggle then, unable to help yourself as you'd watched the boy tumble.

“‘s what he deserved for bein’ rude.” You laughed out louder at the comment and if you'd have looked at Osamu’s face in that moment, you would’ve seen a boy who looked as if he'd just fallen in love.

“I like ya.” Osamu said then, definitive tone as he drew your attention away from where his brother was trying to wipe dirt from out of his mouth. You'd tilted your head at him in confusion as he made this declaration, eyes widening slightly in shock. “Ya wan’ some food?”

You went to deny the offer to be polite but your stomach had growled then, as if responding on its own. Loud enough for the boy in front of you to hear it clearly. It was as if it was a reminder of how stupid you had been all day by protesting your sister and her new husband and refusing to eat anything they'd offered.

You'd winced at the noise but it had cause a light laugh to pass through Osamu’s lips. The sound made you let a small smile of your own slip out and you resigned to nod at him as your response. “C’mon,” he'd latched his hand onto yours, the first contact you'd had with a Miya, and started to pull you away from his brother, “ya can have Atsumu’s lunch.”

“’Ey!” The other twin—Atsumu you now knew him as—had finally paid attention to you both again as you'd run off towards where Osamu was promising you food.

The second time that you saw the Miya twins was your first day at your new primary school. You had convinced your sister to not force you to try and make friends anymore for the rest of your school break. But the second that you walked into your classroom, the teacher had dragged you in front of the entire class to introduce you to the rest of the students.

You keenly remember the distaste in the back of your throat as the teacher presented you like a shiny new toy – “everyone, this is l/n y/n, she’s new to town and I want everyone to be really nice to her.” She had accentuated the 'really' of her sentence, sending a glance around at all the expectant faces, something that made you feel like shrinking in on yourself. Then she had looked at you expectantly and you remember having to force yourself to give a small smile and wave at the class.

When she'd released you from the confines of her grip at the front of the class you'd rushed to find a seat... only to be stopped by a familiar face jumping into your path.

“’Ey, I know ya!” You'd paused, eyes widening in a small amount of fright at the enthusiasm that seemed to radiate off the twin. “Met ya a’the park!” You'd stared at him and blinked slowly as he kept on, not even trying to give you the chance to speak. “Ya ‘member me?”

You knew exactly which twin this was, the one with brown eyes. The rude one. The one labeled as 'ah-noyin'' by the one you actually didn't mind. You'd sighed in irritation and acknowledged that whatever you decided you were going to say then would probably determine the rest of your year.

“You’re Osamu’s twin. Right?” You'd paired it with a sweet smile and watched as his jaw dropped in shock.

A loud laugh came from your right and you'd dragged your eyes away from the satisfying picture of Atsumu trying to pull his jaw off the floor and over to where Osamu stood next to you holding his stomach. Your eyes lit up at the sight. You decided then that you could get used to making him laugh.

“Put ya in ya place there, Atsumu.” Osamu laughed and guided you away from his brother. “Sit nex' t'me?” You smiled and nodded, falling easily into the seat next to the twin that couldn’t stop staring at you with a wide and toothy smile.

The other twin stood there, eyes stuck on you as well, disbelief filling them. “But tha’s ma seat!”

“Not anymore.” You'd quipped back quietly, sticking your tongue out at him.

AGE 8

At some point in the next few years, you realized that these twins might be part of your life for a while... whether you liked that fact or not.

Growing up with the Miya twins means that you get used to loud things.

Osamu and Atsumu and their constant bickering had become part of your regular routine. You would repeatedly join Osamu in his teasing of Atsumu, always pulling a laugh out of Osamu when you did. A feeling of joy always filled you when Osamu’s laughs filled your ears as Atsumu would look at you in shock.

You would constantly have to break up fights between the two of them (and sometimes others that would accidentally get caught between them). You became accustomed to waiting for them outside of the principal’s office. Waiting for their lectures to be done so that you all could walk home together. Reading books as you waited for detentions and punishments to be dealt.

But on the first day of your third year in school together, Osamu greeted you outside your house with a new nickname for you on his tongue. “Y/n/n!” He'd shouted it, immediately wrapping you in a hug as you bounded out of your house and straight into his arms.

“Y/n/n?” You'd whispered it as a question as you pulled out of the hug. No one had given you a nickname before and there was a sudden warmth that had come with it, something like comfort or belonging.

Concern had etched its way across his face. “Though’ t’was cute? D’ya not like it?” His voice sounded soft then, small with his worries weighing it down.

You made sure to shake your head quickly and beam up at him. “No! I love it!” You'd pulled away and adjusted your bag as you both walked back to where Atsumu was standing, waiting on the street.

“Ya ready fer a new year?” Atsumu had asked as you'd reached him, slinging arms around both your shoulder and his brother’s, making sure that he was between you both, always craving to be the center of your trio.

You rolled your eyes and ducked out from under his arm. “Ready to see how much dumber ya got over break, Thing 2.” You'd jabbed the comment at him with a snicker. And with that, the warm feeling returned, Atsumu’s dumbstricken face and Osamu’s laugh.

“Why’re ya such a meanie, Y/n/n?” Atsumu whined, your new nickname falling from his mouth easily. Osamu ducked out from under Atsumu's arm next and came to walk next to you, leaving his brother a couple steps behind you both.

“Ya deserve it.” You'd laughed as Osamu’s arm wrapped your shoulder where Atsumu’s had previously been. “And don’t call me that.”

You didn’t have to look back to know that Atsumu’s jaw had fallen to the floor again. “Why’s Osamu ‘llowed t'call ya that but m’not?”

You blew a puff of air out of your nose, trying not to fully laugh, too not give away the small joke, as you looked lightly over your and Osamu’s touching shoulders. “Cause I actually like Osamu.” You said with finality.

Warm again as Atsumu looked distressed and Osamu laughed in your ear.

AGE 10

You picked up a sport, soccer to be exact.

You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little tiny bit because Atsumu and Osamu were getting so into volleyball. That you wanted to find something you liked like that too. It helped that your new sport was foot-based in contrast to their hand-based one. A difference enough to make sure you could have your own thing.

It was around then when they had come running to you after one of their volleyball camp days. Exclamations springing from their mouths, overlapping each other, that you needed to stop calling them Osamu and Atsumu 'immediately'.

“We’re changin’ our names!” Atsumu had exclaimed loudly, jumping in front of your face as you went to pull your soccer bag onto your shoulder so that you were forced to listen to him over his brother.

Osamu was quick to snatch your duffel from you before it fully landed, swinging it onto his own shoulder instead with a smile that made your heart constrict. With a smooth motion, he swung his other arm out to smack his brother in the face, not looking away from you nor stopping his smile.

You giggled as you watched how Atsumu’s face was stopped by Osamu’s hand as the rest of his body continued forward for a mere second. A sound of protest left Atsumu’s lips but Osamu’s voice greeted your ears, drowning him out. “We’re not changin’ our names idiot!” He shot over his shoulder at the boy now gripping his nose.

“Why I ought ‘a –” Atsumu went to move towards his brother but you fixed him with a glare and stepped between the two boys, ignoring the grumble that left Atsumu’s chest. You held his eye for a moment, a challenge, but both knew that if you were between them, neither would ever go for a hit.

“Go ‘head, Osamu. Knew ya wouldn’, grandma’d be mad at you.” You flipped your head back to Osamu, dropping the glare and painting a sweet smile on your face in its place.

“See,” he glanced over at Atsumu with a smug smirk, “knew she’d get it.” He rolled his eyes and his twin glared at you instead of him, blaming you for being in his way of the fight he wanted. “Jus’ new nicknames. I get ta be ‘Samu.” He looked at you proudly.

You hummed in thought. “’Samu.” You tilted your head and then smiled. “I like it!” You exclaimed and tucked your arm around Osamu’s waist.

“I picked it!” Atsumu said then, falling back into step with you both.

"Oh," you looked at him with a distasteful look, "well when you say that—” you looked away from Atsumu and tried to cover your smile as you locked eyes with Osamu, both of you knowing that you were just messing with him— “I don’t know about it.”

Atsumu made a sound at the back of his throat at your words, struggling to find his own. “But since ‘Samu likes it.” You smiled, trying your hardest to not giggle as you saw Atsumu throw his hands out in annoyance out of the corner of your eye.

He groaned before righting himself again, pulling his ego back together as easily as it had fallen apart. “Movin’ on ta me.” He'd clapped his hands together and slapped a smug smile back on his face. “’m gon’ be ‘Tsumu!” He shouted excitedly in your face.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him. “That sounds dumb.” You said and smiled as a harsh puff left Osamu’s lips as he tried to keep his laughs down.

“’Samu came up with it!” Atsumu’s voice raised an octave, defensive as his jaw dropped at you.

“Oh, well when you say that—” you laughed lightly— “it’s a great name ‘Samu, good job.”

“Yer biased!” Atsumu shrieked at you then, voice cracking as he ran a hand over his face.

“Absolutely I am.” You'd laughed as Osamu squeezed your side in response. “That’s why he’s Thing 1 and you’re the Thing 2. I like him more, so he gets ta be number 1.”

“I hate ya.” Atsumu grumbled at the same time as Osamu smiled over at you with a “Love ya too.”

AGE 12

Growing up with the Miya twins meant that when you started middle school, you started to find yourself at the Miya house more than your own. You'd spent more nights curled into Osamu’s bed than your own, preferring that to four screaming wake-up calls a night from your sister’s new baby.

You'd slowly found yourself more and more attached at the hip to Osamu and found Atsumu hanging around you both less. But in the middle of the night it was just the three of you and your meaningless talks. Atsumu and you, however, always stopped talking once Osamu fell asleep, keen to sit in silence amongst his soft snores.

It had been one of those nights when you'd woken to the room quieter than usual. Even with Osamu lightly snoring next to you, there were no sounds coming from the other bed in the room.

“’Tsumu?” You'd whispered it out, verbally reaching around the room for your other best friends, but there was no response.

You'd lifted yourself onto your elbows, looking around for a sign of him. The door to the room was lightly cracked and you tilted your head in confusion. You sighed, twisting yourself slightly to escape your blanket, and crawled over Osmau’s (might as well be dead) body. You were thankful that he was such a deep sleeper as you nearly knocked him off the bed.

Your bare feet hit the cold floor and you hissed slightly as you tiptoed toward the door. Pushing your way past it with a light creak of the wood, you heard a light and consistent thud coming from the back door of the house. Walking quietly to the slightly open door, Atsumu finally came into your view.

You rubbed some of the sleep out of your eyes and glanced over at the wall clock — 3 am — and then back to Atsumu, who was hitting a volleyball repeatedly, practicing his sets you assumed.

“’Tsumi?” You whispered, your voice laced with sleep as you tried to stifle a yawn. His eyes snapped towards you, momentarily forgetting about the ball until it smacked him in the face. He groaned and you couldn’t even find the energy to laugh at him. “Are you okay, ‘Tsumi?” You asked, stepping out and onto the porch and then immediately regretting your decision as the cold air surrounded you.

“Wha’ya doin’ up, a/n/n?” The nickname rolled off his tongue and usually you’d complain about the twist that he’d put on his brother’s nickname for you, but tonight, you couldn’t be bothered. You almost didn't even mind it. His face was flushed red from the cold despite the jacket wrapped around his shoulders and his breathing was uneven, eyes droopy.

“You were gone.” You whispered, stepping closer to him despite the cold that seeped into your body on all sides, raising goosebumps along your skin. “What’re ya doin’ out here? Its 3am, ‘Tsumi.”

“Couldn’ slee’.” He mumbled, abandoning the ball and walking up to you. “Came out t'think.” He motioned towards the abandoned throw blanket that was crumpled on the porch a few steps away from you. “Decided I needed t'practice.”

You sighed and waved him over to you, refusing to walk out any further. “Sit down. Calm down.” You sat on the porch and pulled your knees up to your chest. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the action and he fell onto ground next to you with a sigh. “Talk t'me.” You whispered, trying to stop your body from shivering. You were failing and Atsumu noticed.

He sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket over to you both and draping part over his shoulder. He held the other end in his hand and opened his arm. “C’mere.” You almost didn’t hear it, but you welcomed the gesture.

You scooted towards him and fell into his side. He wrapped his arm and the blanket around you and you sighed at the warmth. It seeped from him and radiated under the soft fabric, it slowly lowered the bumps along your arms.

“M’sure ‘Samu told ya he got setter on the team.” You sighed and nodded at the information Atsumu offered. “I wanted it.” He muttered, looking down. You knew that. Of course you’d known that. He thought it was the coolest position and Atsumu always wanted to be the coolest. “It all comes easy t’Samu. I have t'practice.”

“Not at 3am ‘Tsumi.” Your voice didn’t raise above a whisper, the warmth radiating off him and surrounding you seemed to make you more tired. “M’sure that you and ‘Samu will end up in the positions you were made for.” You yawned as you tried to reassure him. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head fell on his shoulder but you kept on. “But ya ain’t gonna get better by not sleepin’.”

“I like ya more when yer not bein’ a meanie.” Atsumu chuckled softly and pulled you a little bit closer to him. He played it as a joke, but there was a fondness that filled him at your assurance, a bit of calm that tugged on his mind.

“I like ya more when you're not bein’ a loudmouth.” You muttered back. You couldn’t bring your eyes to open again, but you could feel as his breathing began to calm down. “We should go back inside ‘Tsumi. S’warmer in there.”

“Jus’ a little longer?” he whispered back, a quietness about his voice that wasn't common. “I’ll keep ya warm a/n/n.”

You hummed in response and let yourself relax into him. “Jus’ a little longer, ‘kay?”

You didn’t remember falling asleep that night, or how you'd ended up back in the house. You could only remember waking up, curled up next to Atsumu instead of Osamu the next morning. You couldn't remember how you'd gotten there and neither of you ever spoke of it again.

AGE 13

Your second year of middle school. Atsumu was at his house less when Osamu and you were both there.

'Tired o’ third wheelin’ ya two as ya bully me.' He’d claimed and told you both he'd picked up new friends and would still be around but that they 'don’t tease me as much.'

You’d both, of course, teased him desperately for it and mocked his claims of 'See, this s’why I hate ya both.'

You would have been lying if you said you didn’t miss seeing Atsumu’s face around — actually, yes, you would be, because Osamu had the same dumb face. The lack of Atsumu only meant that Osamu and you turned your teasing onto each other more. But you could admit that you'd missed Atsumu’s presence now and then, ever the dramatic one of the group.

Don’t get it wrong, you were all three dramatic at your own pace, in your own ways. Growing up with the Miya twins meant developing your own way to display your dramaticism, or over-dramatization.

Osamu may seem mostly inexpressive, but you could almost always tell from just a small crinkle in his eyes, a certain change in their glint, exactly what he was about to do. It was in private that you pulled the most emotions from Osamu, the playful ones and the shouting along at your excitement, not just the anger and competitiveness that Atsumu pulled out of him regularly.

You were quiet most of the time, alike to Osamu in that way. But your quietness seemed to stem more from your shyness than the actual large indifference to the world around you. You had an awful habit of becoming way too easily flustered and the quieter you were the easier you could hide stuttering remarks when you were flustered.

Now maybe you shouldn’t be called shy per se, cause it’s not to say you didn’t get a mouth on you when you wanted to. All your friends, the twins especially, knew that you had a bad habit of running your mouth before your brain caught up. A bad temper, awful habit of taunting, spitting sarcasm like a second language, and getting over-excited way too easily.

But the second Atsumu ran his loud mouth to start taunting you, the only thing that could make your face any hotter was the absolute terror that was Osamu joining him. If they were bad when they were against each other, they were worse when they were teamed up.

But it was an almost comforting feeling having the three of you together. So like you'd said, you’d have been lying if you said you didn’t miss having Atsumu around sometimes. But you’d also be lying that at every moment you were missing him. Because there was one specific moment you were happy he wasn't there for.

A specific moment where you were curled up with Osamu on the couch in the living room. Being the only ones home you'd both decided that watching a movie would be the best way to pass time. Neither of you had really wanted to do the homework you’d been assigned and neither of you had wanted to go out.

You’d made yourselves some food. 'No ‘Tsumu to steal it' Osamu had laughed as you did and pulled a blanket out to the living room to throw on the movie. It was an American comedy that you had already determined could count as studying since it was in English. 'To help us with learnin’ the language, ya know.' You’d laughed while stealing the blanket all to yourself.

It had been you stealing the blanket that had wound you both in the position you ended up in. He’d returned to the couch and nearly physically fought you, trying to wrestle part of the blanket out of your grasp. You’d fallen off the couch in the middle of the struggle, nearly knocking his plate off the table.

“Miysam!” You’d exclaimed with a laugh, your nickname for him flying off your tongue as you tumbled towards the ground. Your limbs tangled in the fabric so you couldn’t rid yourself of it at that point even if you'd tried. Osamu’s mouth had fallen open in shock as he looked down at you, slight worry in his features as his did.

Your groan had been faint as the half of your body in contact with the ground ached from the impact. “Ya almost lost our food. How could’ya.” You'd looked up at him betrayed and were immediately greeted with his loud laugh. The laugh that you had gotten used to sending a warm feeling spreading through your chest.

Your cheeks flared up as you wiggled in the blanket, struggling to move. “Help me out ya idiot!” You'd shouted up at him, trying to control your laughs as you'd squirmed.

“’ey!” He laughed out, grabbing his phone to take a picture of you before even attempting to help. “Ya wan’ help? Don’t insult me, clumsy.” He smiled down at you and then leaned down ‘til his nose almost touched yours. “Say the words if ya want help, clumsy.” He taunted.

Your cheeks had only grown hotter. “I don’t need your help.” You'd shrugged an arm free and easily caught him by the shirt collar, shoving him back towards the couch. He'd laughed as he collapsed onto the couch, drawing you up with him. You'd collapsed on top of him in a fit of giggles.

You had stayed like that for most of the movie, you half on top of him with the blanket wrapped around the both of you. You'd occasionally pushed food into the other’s mouth when you thought the other was talking too much, but towards the end of the movie, you were the only one with any food left.

The main character of your movie on the screen was admitting that she was 25 and had never been kissed before. You'd hummed in thought and lifted your head up from his chest looking up. “What would ya do?” He'd only looked down at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Ya know, if ya were 25 and’d ne’er kissed no one?”

He snorted down at you. “Not gon’ happ’n.”

“I don’ know.” You'd singsonged at him. “That snort was pre’y un’tractive, Miysam.” His jaw went slack and he'd shoved at your face lightly with a laugh.

He'd suddenly went quiet while staring at you. “Wha’ if,” he swallowed and looked to the side away from you, nerves buzzing, “wha’ if we,” he cleared his throat and you'd looked at him expectantly but he'd went quiet. Quieter than his normal self.

You'd caught on, after a moment, to what he was saying and your cheeks flared up again. “I, um,” you were like a dear frozen in the headlights of Osamu’s stare, “you don’ know what yer sayin’.” He sighed and propped himself up more to look down at you.

“Well I jus’ mean I ain’ had ma firs’ kiss,” he'd muttered, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, his grey eyes flitted back and forth across the room, “an’ I know you ain’ had yours yet.” He snuck a look at your face, which you didn’t think could feel any hotter than it was then. “Righ’? I’d’ve heard all ‘bout it.”

“I-” you'd swallowed hard and blinked up at him, thought about lying to him then, then realized you couldn’t, “well, no.” He looked down at you again, and you locked eyes with him, both of you holding your breaths. “I mean, at leas’ we coul’ tease ‘Tsumi ‘bout bein’ the only one ta have not been kissed.” You'd joked with a half smile.

He'd cracked a huge smile and snorted again. “Plus then we don’ gotta worry ‘bout the firs’time bein’ weird.” You'd took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.” You'd looked at him again and felt your palms get sweaty. You remembered the internal debate, the question of were you really about to kiss your best friend from the last 7 years? The boy whose bed you'd slept in more regularly than your own. You'd might have been more comfortable with him than anyone else but you were both still just awkward 13-year-olds. “How-uh-how should we…” you'd trailed off and gestured awkwardly between the two of you with your hand, suddenly very aware of you were still laid on his chest.

“Um-” he'd looked at you just as awkwardly and shifted under you a little bit, “Gin was kinda talkin’ ‘bout tips for kissin' the other day.” He mumbled and you'd tried not to giggle as his smile turned more nervous. “Could I jus’ try?” You didn’t trust yourself to speak so you'd just awkwardly nodded at him.

He had been careful about placing his hand on your cheek and pulling your faces together. Just before your lips met, your noses smashed together and you pulled away from each other violently. “S’ry.” He winced scrunching his nose.

“A’least that won’ happ’n our firs’time now.” You'd mumbled with a small snort, rubbing your nose. “We can try ‘gain if ya wan’.” He'd nodded his agreement.

Blowing out a puff of air, he'd put his hand back on your face leaning to try again. He'd tilted his head this time and your noses didn’t clash again. You'd squeezed your eyes shut and his lips met yours hastily, pressing together harshly. He'd held you in place for a couple seconds before you both pulled back. Both of your cheeks were flushed, his ears a bright shade of pink.

“That was-” you'd trailed off again, searching for a description.

“Awful.” He muttered and you'd let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh than’ god.” You'd breathed out a laugh and he followed suit. “Thought i’might be jus’ me.” He shook his head and snorted. “Le’s not tell ‘Tsumi?” You asked wanting to forget that it had happened.

He quickly shook his head adamantly in agreement. “Ne’er.” You'd both quickly broke out laughing and separated. “Oh god.” Falling away from each other, he took the chance to suddenly lunge for your food and you screeched in protest.

“Miysam! No! Tha’s mine!” He'd shoved the food in his mouth as you moved to tackle him, both of you protesting, the awkwardness immediately forgotten.

a/n this piece will forever be special in my heart but i'm breaking it into bite-sized pieces lol part two coming soon <3

TAGLIST - OPEN @faumpje

#𓇻 Liberosis #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader #miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #atsumu fanfiction #osamu fanfiction #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya osamu fanfiction #atsumu miya fanfiction #osamu miya fanfiction

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lillybearrie · 2 days

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Guys- guys! I need to talk about this because omfg arararara

Ok so I was watching sherb's most recent hardcore stream, or more accurately got not even a minute in and ran to Tumblr because I have thoughts, and maybe it's because I just binged Icarus's pov post-centross death but the first like 30 seconds or so of the hardcore stream made me realize the difference between someone like hardcore!Sherbert and Icarus.

Icarus is in a deep state of self loathing and needing to grief so so many things so many people they need to process so so much but their own father has convinced them that it's pointless that it's not worth it that they should just focus on other things like helping him in his endeavors and so they don't and instead they bear the weight of this feeling of guilt and dread that they carry it around all day every day and they use it like armor because they don't have much else anymore. They pour all of the doubt they used to have into blind faith in fable's cause because they will not process and they will not grief over the fact that in only the past 4 months they have either indirectly or directly been at fault for 2 of their friends deaths and that their very existence prompted the destruction of so many peoples lives fable caused the resets for them to save their life fable destroyed reality over and over and over until the universe was delt what is likely irreparable damage all for them and honesty we really don't talk enough about the guilt they must carry for that. Icarus wakes up and even if it's been a few weeks is immediately so so tired the weight of everything going on in their life waking up with them waking up with the voices that constantly tell them what they already know the voices the yell and scream that their wrong that their hurting people again that their acting corrupted The voices that never shut up day in and day out. And they stretch because sometimes keeping a routine in times like this is key to keeping sane and yk stretching is just generally a good habit. Their alone except for the emotionally distant basterd of a previously immortal man that dares call himself a father ( we're not gonna talk about how the stuff he instilled in ick when they were little influenced a large part of how the corruption presented itself in them during season 1 because this is not that post but if it was I would have so many words you don't even know) life right now is one big distraction and when it's not they either have a break down or they're chasing the next distraction and you can see that when they wake up because you get 2 kinds of Icarus in the morning angry Icarus who will take it out on quixis or us because they need that emotional release and we're easy targets or planning Icarus who is only thinking about what they need to do today they do mindless chores or talk with co-workers or are figuring out how to complete task fable asks of them.

Hardcore!Sherbert on the other hand is for better or worse alone completely and utterly aside from the things their's not a single actual person in their life. they farm they build they vibe and weird shit happens around them sometimes and they hear voices, they wake up and look forward to the next day even when they've been asleep for months they look in the bright side "not a bad thing tho it's important to get your sleep" they are so... free in comparison with Icarus and you can hear it in the way they talk its lighter you can see it in they way they move it made me realize how little Icarus actually truly smiles nowadays hardcore!sherbert has their fair share of struggles don't get me wrong but at they end of the day they're happy they enjoy life for the most part.

And Sherb does such a good Job acting out this fundamental difference between these two variations of the same guy. I go ababababa it think it's neattt anyway go appreciate Sherbertquake56's phenomenal acting after this long ass post psychoanalizing they way their minecraft characters wake up which is a total sane and normal thing to make a Tumblr post about at 4 am mhm

#i just think they're neat #thank you for coming to my ted talk #i go abababababa #i hold them #i has so many think thoughts #so many #the psychology of Icarus Morningstar consumes my brain #send halp #icarus morningstar #hardcore minecraft #sherbertquake56 #sherbverse

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phantomphangphucker · 11 hours

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Phic Phight - Fool’s Crown

@hannahmanderr

Danny is very very stupid, Amity Parkers are very very oblivious, and a crown is apparently very very easy to hide.

Look okay, Danny had an issue, and, okay, he was also a dumbass. Meaning…

…

That’s right! He dealt with his issues like a dumbass.

His current issue?

One. Crown.

One crown that will not come off of his head even when he tries to yank the thing off with both his hands and his feet at the same time.

He even tried smacking it with a frying pan and only succeeded in giving himself a mild concussion.

Jazz had some words to say about that.

Sticking the crown in the portal and closing it with him still on the other side, also didn’t do shit.

So yeah.

He was NOT impressed. ‘Not’ with every single letter capitalised for the oomph… and to make a point about how not amused he was. Because he was very not amused.

So what was Danny to do about a floating green flaming glowing crown that will not fuck off?

Well get it to stop floating for one, which was surprisingly actually doable. Huh. Who knew. It’s got a cold metallic weightiness to it that felt like it was going to give him too many headaches; both literally and metaphorically (He was absolutely right on that one).

That just left him with the glowing problem, the flaming problem, the green problem, and the fact that it was a goddamn crown problem.

But flames plus frost from a kickass ice core equaled no more fire, nice and easy breezy, like he wished more things would be. Not out loud obviously, because, you know, Desiree. But yes, more easy things please! Thank you very much! Fuck his shitty luck. He could have technically just changed the crown over to cold blue flames instead of being frosty, but then the thing would still be on fire, which was the issue he was trying to solve.

The last three problems didn’t have some easy solution he could pull out of his ass on the spot, but you know what he could do on the spot and get nearly on the spot?

Amazon.

And you know what he could get on Amazon?

A thick leather crown.

And what could he do with a thick leather crown?

Why undo the stitching on the bottom so he could just… slide it over his actual crown.

Is it stupid? Like, very stupid?

Yes.

Does he buy the crown?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Sam is judgmental but lets him use her prime account and he’s got that bitch in hand with same-day delivery. Sam is also judgemental that he makes her undo the stitching, she was better at stitch work than him so he thought it made sense okay! Gosh!

And!

Guess what!

Shit fucking works.

He can just slide it right over his crown. It’s like whoever designed these leather crown things did it with the Crown Of Fire in mind! Talk about a win for him!

Tuck slapped his knees and Sam facepalmed with multiple groans. At least Sam still attached little straps to the bottom of the leather crown so he could actually fully attach it to his crown securely. It made him look like he had a floating leather crown! It was hilarious! And it made the metal of the crown dig into his head less when he forced it to stop with the floating.

All in all he’s tickled green with his success.

Does his ‘fashion choices’ get questioned, and mocked, and belittled, and attempted at being stolen?

Oh of course.

Did he care?

Ha! Not a chance!

He did have Wes pointing at him and shrieking about him having too big of an ego to be willing to hide being the ghost king though, that was fantastic.

Fantastic because that meant that no one would ever believe he actually was the ghost king.

Which he was and he was goddamn rocking it.

Rocking it while totally leather strapped, making him an absolute leather daddy.

Eh? Eh? Ha! He thinks he’s funny. Because he is. That shit was absolutely hilarious.

Oh! Maybe he should actually, like, get into the leather subculture to really sell it. Then he’d totally rock a leather pride flag at the next pride.

…

Johnny’s going to insist on teaching him how to ride a motorcycle then, isn’t he?

Oh yeah he totally is.

Sure he couldn’t wear a helmet over his stupid crown thing but ain’t fucking nobody going to question a Fenton about following road safety or driving laws.

Ah he was about to be a leather crown wearing, motorcycle driving, space nerd, who handled and made supernatural ghost weapons.

Poor Amity. Poor poor Amity.

That was a lie. Amity loved his stupid weird dumbass, and he knew it.

End.

Prompt: After becoming Ghost King, Danny discovers that his crown refuses to be taken off his head, or even to disappear. This might not be a problem, if he didn't have to worry about going to school.

#danny phantom #phandom #phicphight24 #phic phight 24 #danny fenton #phantomphangphucker #have a fic suck my dick #my writing #ghost king danny #Danny's a little shit #gothmoth #Teeny Tiny Itty Bitty Little Ficlet #ficlet #crowns #problem solving

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alycremie · 3 days

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Thinking about unitarian universalism... i know we all have our feelings on Christianity but I want you guys to hear me out here because I've been thinking about what I've learned almost all the time.

Unitarian Universalism is a sect of Christianity from Polish-Lithuania in response to both protestant and catholic establishments and a desire for true religious freedom and Primitive Christian Restoration (i.e. returning Christianity to what it was like at the actual biblical times, instead of agreeing with protestant governments or the catholic church.) Its ideas have changed over the past few centuries, but I'd like to share them with you because I find them fascinating.

They're incredibly far removed from what many Americans would associate the religion with. These ideas may be considered sacreligious or heretical by mainstream Christianity, but I find them to be great.

Hell isn't real and we're not doomed to go there when we die

The Original Sin did not happen, and all humans are not inherently born sinful

The "Holy Trinity" is not three entities; Jesus is the Son of God, but he is not the same as God, and does not have the same divine power

Jesus was a prophet first, and is the paragon of ethical behavior

All humans are born equal. All of them. God loves everyone equally. This includes nonbelievers, sinners, and ofc the LGBT

(Included in this is the fact that the UUA church openly supports LGBT people and considers homophobic and transphobia to be against God's wishes and design)

God's true form is indescribable to us, and each person has their own equally valid idea of who/what God is; they may even be male or female or nongendered, the only constant being that they are a "parental figure"

No religion ought to be prioritized over any other

Religion is covenant, and depicts more a community than a "correct" way of living

Humans have the freedom to act as they wish, as God intended; there is no determinism, and humans may be good or evil as they choose

Religious leaders ought to be chosen democratically

There is a goal of World Community; not everyone ought to be a Christian, but we should be able to coexist in peace and liberty

Respect for all aspects of the world and its interconnectedness; we are not just ourselves, but a single piece of the vast tapestry of existence

Science and reason can coexist with religion; it is not sacreligious to believe in ideas such as Evolution

And finally, all humans are inherently worthy and dignified as a principle.

Do I necessarily perfectly believe every single thing here? I don't know. I like most of it. I thought that it would be fun to share - I think we often get so wrapped up in online discourse that we forget what real people are like. And open-minded Unitarian Universalists are part of that. I don't know. I hope this did something for you.

#my silly little posts #religion #christianity #sacreligious #unitarian universalism

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teddybeartoji · 21 hours

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CHALLENGERS (2024)

i've been racking my brain for quite some time now to come up with a way to really express how i feel about this film - and i think the best way to do it is just to say that it truly made me want to get into filmmaking. and that it made me feel so fucking alive. it felt like a different type of oxygen. like crack or something. this is obviously going to be a ramblepost so i apologize if it's super fucking messy. also big spoilers will come with a warning so don't worry abt that. i am going insane.

+ btw here's the trailer if u don't know anything abt this hehehehe

anywayy i've never sat through a WHOLE film with a smile on my face bc i was just so fucking excited. elated is a really good word here i think. all of the following thoughts and words are in fact coming from my lower tummy bc no other film has turned me on so much as this did. it's not about sex btw.

luca guadagnino understands. he really fucking does. this guy is everything i want to be. it's all about the intimacy and the closeness. the sweat. the colors. the eyes. the dialogue. the camerawork. the build-up. staging and blocking. lighting. it is about sex but not in the way that you think. forget about porn and smut and whatever the fuck you think sex is. it's about watching and observing. taking everything in. it's about your heartbeat. the warm and fuzzy feeling in your stomach. a tightening knot. want and desire. anger. the rawness of it all. just the way things should be. forget about quickies and think about your best friend thinking about your lover. it's hot, right? it's about the rush. it's about sharing and not sharing. it's about greed and envy. think about sore muscles - how good they feel. think about flashing lights and thrumming bass in your ears. it's about music that makes you feel alive. it's about nudity, it's about power. humility and the absolute lack of it. it's about real humans, real people. eroticism. kissing. disgust. need. spit and saliva. tongues dancing together. muscles. skin on skin. laughter. love and something that's very akin to it but not quite the same. extreme close-ups and moments in slow motion, followed by fast-paced cuts and scenes. slapping. teasing and bickering. it's about everything i could possibly want in this fucking life and luca just handed it all to me on a silver platter.

i'm trying so hard to make this as coherent as possible lmao please bear with me i quite literally shed a couple of tears just from the overwhelming feeling this film gave me.

the casual intimacy is insane in this. one really specific thing made me absolutely lose it - there are TWO scenes where art spits out his gum into people's hands. the first is with tashi and the second time it's with patrick - both times they stand so close together that they're almost brushing against each other and they keep eye contact. there's zero disgust, there's no ew you just spit your gum into my hand. they ask for it. both times, patrick and tashi, hold out their palms for art to do it, and they do it without a word. no please or spit it out. i loved it so fucking much i wish i was better with words bc this genuinely had such a big effect on me. this type of intimacy is so important to me. it feels so real.

the dialogue was fucking great. i feel like the script is often where i might get The Ick bc i just hate when it's just so clear that it was written down without a second thought abt whether or not people actually talk like that (ok this actually might just be a problem with every single film my country makes but still). this felt good!!!!! they talk over people, they talk about small irrelevant things. they repeat what they said, they giggle, they laugh - again, it just felt so real and i loved it.

also. men in shorts. sweaty men in shorts. with shirts and without shirts. biceps. more sweat. muscles. we need more of that in life actually. i think men should wear shorter shorts and they should bend over more. ALSO MIDRIFF. SHIRTS RISING UP JUST A LITTLE, GIVING US A GLORIOUS PEEK OF WHAT'S UNDERNEATH. WHEN I TELL YOU THAT LUCA UNDERSTANDS I FUCKING MEAN THAT SHIT.

THE SOUNDTRAAAACKKKKKK RRRRRAAAAHHHHHHH EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU TRENT REZNOR AND ATTICUS ROSS WE LOVE YOU TRENT REZNOR AND ATTICUS ROSS!!!!!!!!!!!! i mean it's obviously not a surprise that the score slaps so hard bc well... these guys have yet to make a bad score lmao. but this one is genuinely one of my favourite scores i think. super fast paced, exhilarating - it suits the film so fucking good holy shit. fuck it i'll give you a few songs:

challengers: match point + yeah 10x + pull over +

the cast was incredible. and also very hot. i think they were all so fucking perfect and i have literally zerooo complaints abt them i loved them so much. but if i had to pick a favourite performance... it's josh o'connor as patrick zweig. fuuuuckkkk, man. ok maybe i'm a bit biased here i do wanna kinda eat him buTTTTTTT HE'S AN AMAZING ACTOR OKAY. i loved his character soooooo fucking much and i think he did such a good job at portraying this little silly fucked up guy. the way he looks at art, the way he acts around art...

here are two crazy fucking examples for you the churro + the chair uhhhhhhh i am very unwell abt them actually what the fuuuuckkkkk

oke but yeah i just might be really down bad bc i really do love overly cocky assholes with beautiful big smiles okay don't judge me

THE VISUALSSSSS OH MY FUCKING GODD THE COLORSSS!!!!!!!! IT WAS SOOOOOOOOOOOO BRIGHT AND PRETTY AND FUN AND ALIVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EVERYBODY CHEEERRSSS!!!!!!!!! it's such a big problem nowdays that all of the films are so fucking dark like bro where's the sun...... dark and just very dull you know??? and i hate it i hate it so much. this was great though. again - super birhgt and colorful, luca plays with the light like a god and he's really making me believe that the cinema is truly backk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they also mentioned spider-verse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i <3 luca fr

okay i think this covers most of it. i think. i have already decided that i'm gonna go and see it again next week so i'm sure that i'll be returning to this post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hope you can all feel my love for this wonderful piece of art and i hope that you all will go and watch it aswell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 ily thank you for reading<333333

#i got so tired just bc this was just so much #in a good way #i loved it i loved it i loved it #btw if any of you go and see it i'd looove to hear your thoughts too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#ceo of letterboxd says hello

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sheepispink · 19 hours

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A Pearl Necklace

HAPPY ENDING VER of A Pearl Series

Ch1 Ch2

Where leon doesnt mess up and also leons pov because THATS SO FUN!!!

Continued from end of chapter 1 👍 this is a BONUS chapter. It makes more sense if you read chapter 2 first then this one. This can also be read as a continuation from chapter 2 as in the time line is the same except that it is ends with a good way and its his pov and like a few lines r diff

“That’s good enough. I fucking hate being woken to push her away from me..” A surge of anger swims in his chest as he shuffles to the edge of his bed, fuelled by a fear he doesn’t dare to pay mind to. It’s true, he hadnt wanted to deal with your tears or the feeling of you so close to him; nowadays

it created a feeling that was like a gnawing at his gut. His body eventually settles as his head sinks into the pillows, fluffed by your hands. Even when he’s tucked underneath the covers and beside the love of his life, he just feels so, so.. vulnerable. He rolls onto his side, one hand under his head as he tries to settle a racing pump somewhere in his chest, his eyes squeezing close. His throat chokes and his muscles clench and although he hasn’t made a sound, the reminder of the past few weeks screams in his ears like bells. Every single day is starting to feel more and more like autopilot, blanking his head out in hopes he can do his job without being reminded of horrors of years ago. He was worked up tonight, having fought another B.O.W and hiding a nasty gash beneath his shirt. You’d definitely ask about it later; the mere possibility bringing a flame of anger and forcing him take a sharp intake of breath. He turns over, seeing your back face him now and his lips pull at a small frown, wondering if you woke up for a moment. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep, ever. But he leaves you this time, still revolting the thought of your touch and your skin if he dared to come closer.

When he wakes the next morning, he cant take it anymore. How is there another round of tears upon her face? He finally pushes away the nausea that creeps in his throat, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Hey, love, what happened? Who did this to you?” Forcing such honeyed words feels like a crime to himself, almost making him frustrated with himself for being untruthful. He also hates the way he’s grateful when you just wipe them away and force a smile, mumbling something about watching a sad movie. Not even for a moment does he dare challenge that, satisfied with a lie as he gets up for another gruelling day.

Over the next month, he feels a swell of pride for how much he has healed. For one, he’s managing his thoughts and emotions much better, no longer hanging on a loose thread whenever someone just speaks. He feels better, having finally gotten to the hang of closing his mind off whenever the thoughts arose. He was sleeping better, you barely even touched him in his sleep anymore— it was perfect. The one thing that slightly irked him is when you would leave the house. Why are you leaving? He hates that he’s curious and he knows he should just let you go; it’s another fuel for the temper that seems to take him easily these days. You’ve also been asking a lot of questions about him recently: how he finds the clothes you ironed for him, the food you cooked and, worst of all, his day. He’s already doing enough to push it away and you’re just bringing it right back to him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He smells the familiar scent of blueberry pancakes as he steps into the kitchen that morning. You’ve been making them again recently but he wont dwell on the why and how. He doesn’t really like to think too much anymore. He picks up the newspaper as he sits at the small kitchen island, hair tousled and muscles aching from the long rest he received after a particularly tough mission. He had woken up on the other side of the bed today, kind of confused how he didn’t squash you in his sleep but as always, he doesn’t question anything. You slide a plate over to him, stacked high with those tasty pancakes and a dollop of whipped cream atop. He always had a bit of a sweet tooth and it’s been a long time since he’d been in the mood for sugar. Regardless, he’s not in the mood to smile or thank you, just eating his food as per normal.

“So..? Did I finally get it right?” He doesnt need to look up to see the small laugh and the way your lips curve into a teasing smile, one he had grown to despise. You always do this, every time you ask about his damn day.

He just- he cant take this anymore. You’re always prying, digging deep into his head and ripping bandages he left on because the wounds wont heal, they never will. He keeps them patched up for a reason, he doesn’t want to see it again. Nor does he want to talk about it.

“Can you stop interrogating me every day about whatever you do? It’s fine, okay? It’s never been any damn different; I don't see the big deal.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth as he holds back from practically shouting at you. His eyebrows furrow in exasperation, one hand rubbing his temple; he cant bear the headaches your words bring.

“I.. Leon- I was just trying to get some feedback.. They dont ever taste as good as the ones you would make.” Now you’re reduced to a stammering mess, trying to stir guilt within his gut, but he wont give in today.

“Well, can you stop? It’s really fucking annoying having to answer your stupid questions every day over menial things. Are you that insecure?” He doesn’t know why he said that but he knows it’s left his lips before he can stop it and one pang in the back of his head tells him that maybe he really is just being honest. You are insecure, thats why you’ve been doing so damn much and annoying him all the time. He takes another bite of the pancakes, his body screaming for relief even now with each rumble of his stomach.

“Leon- I understand work has been stressing you, but I'm just trying-“ There it is, that stupid expression again as you speak the one thing he never wanted you to say. “Work? That's what you think this is about? Maybe you are just idiotic or too narcissistic to realise maybe you are the problem.” He drops the fork in his hand, the metal hitting the porcelain plate as he stands. Of course you just had to mention work, you could never let him get a break could you? You just always had to ruin it for him.

“I am trying to actually be understanding, I'm sorry if I annoyed you but Leon- there is no need to put me down like that.” Again. Work. Don’t you know how to stop? He can feel that anger fuel again, rising and burning with each an every word. Until it snaps.

“You think you’re being understanding.” He laughs at your pitiful expression, thick with a mocking tone, as he says the words. “I can’t believe it. You actually think that. If you can get one thing through your mind, know that you don’t understand anything about me. You never have. Hah.. ever since that night where I almost fucking choked you.” He sneers at you, pushing the chair back as he stands, walking over to the sink with footsteps that echo with uncontrolled emotions.

“I’ve been trying to ask you—to help you. I want to be there for you..“

“Yeah, as if. You know, on that night, I really thought that you might just understand, unlike anyone else has. I was stupid enough to even think that. You just told me your same stupid reassurances; I should’ve kept my hands on your throat a little longer that day. I wish it scared you off and out of my life.” He snaps, leaving a thick tension in the air, like a wall between the pair of you. It’s cruel and unforgiving and an ache in his heart tears the muscle. Bloodthirst, it’s all he can remember from that virus thrumming in his veins. He can’t just quench that bloodthirst, not to you, so his mouth does the work, wearing you down bit by bit. The consuming memory of devouring the very life out of a human, it’s almost like it’s returning to him now.

“You’re not what I wanted.” Words are just spilling out his lips and he cant even control them; he cant even hear each calculated insult.

“I shouldn’t have expected things you could never reach.” He speaks, the plate dropping into the sink with a horrible clatter. All your words are blurring into one, meeting, intersecting all at that one statement ‘work has been stressing you’.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stands before the sink, having splashed his face with water at least seven times for the past forty minutes. Only now does he finally feel more like himself—or well the version of himself he prefers to exist as—and his head is free from that invasive fog. Slowly his chest falls, letting out a long breath as his finger pushes the tap off. He hasn’t dealt with that in a while and it only served to remind him that he never wanted to again. That feeling of an aching chest, ribs feeling like they’d crack from the pound of a terrified heart, desperate for relief. Although he always manages to calm every time, the edge of the cut always remains unsealed. Theres no real relief other than the fact it’s all over, no peace in his mind ever. It frustrates him all the more, he’s tried anything and everything and yet theres still that pinprick of a hole which has cracked his mind and heart.

After that, he barely stopped interacting with you altogether. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. Maybe it was because you really were pissing him off about everything or that he had started to fall out of love with you. Or maybe, though he never liked to let it linger, he was terrified of the memories only you could resurface. He watched your every frown, the light in your eyes slowly dim out as you start to shift and change. It’s been two months since he last considered you his wife, let alone someone he even cared for. He barely feels the guilt of leaving you like this anymore nor does he feel anything anymore. It just feels blank. Like everyday, every hour, every minute of these days. He can’t remember when he last washed his hair; he just knows he did it. He cant remember filling out the reports, but there they sit on the desk. He cant remember what life was like before the missions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months. It’s been six months since he almost killed you, since his hands were on your throat and your terrified expression flashed through his eyes with your shaking pupils and beating chest.

Six months since he hurt you. He thought you had moved on, he thought he moved on. He thought he was doing okay.

Only having just stepped through the doorway, his eyes already found your trembling form on the couch. Your eyes were red and wet, salty streaks down your cheeks as you sob. The worst of all is that when you heard him enter, your eyes widened in a way that was far worse than just regular shock. Like you’d be scolded or mocked, shouted at or reprimanded; you looked like you were scared you would be hurt. He couldn’t shake that sight this time, every time he looked at you even when you scramble to reassure him that it was just hormonal. He knew it was bullshit; he had always known and he wanted to ignore it but he just couldn’t. Not anymore. Not when you were scared of him.

He sits at the breakfast table again the next morning, the air quiet from the lack of humming when you make your food, not even music playing in the kitchen or a pep in your step as you dance around the kitchen. You dont spend 5 minutes fluffing the pillows before bed, nor do you use those stupid face masks with the silly patterns. Hell, you dont even put makeup on anymore. The fridge is stocked and yet theres not even a trace of you to mark it as yours. Everything seems to have changed more than he expected. He cant fathom that he missed all these little differences and the fact there were so many. You’re not the same anymore.

There you go again, leaving randomly during the day after scrambling some excuse about needing spring onions. You barely ever use spring onions and he’s positive he saw some in the freezer yesterday. Whilst he usually would’ve ignored it, he finds himself edging closer and closer until he finds himself following you down the road. He saw the fresh tearstains this morning and you gave him no explanation again, this time he will find out.

You walk and walk and walk, and yet you never go to the grocery store like you said. So why do you even leave the house? It’s not like you were avoiding him, you still hung around him plenty and it’s not like you just needed fresh air, otherwise you would’ve just said so. He keeps his distance as he follows you, your depressed expression obvious, until eventually you pass by a friend. It doesn’t look planned but eventually the pair of you sit at a bench and as bad as it seems, he just cant turn around now. What if you tell her the reason you’re always upset? He needs to know.

“Hey, you know i always see you outside these days. I mean damn, do you really love nature that much?” Your friend teases, although a small pitiful look swirls in their eyes. Leon had been wondering the same thing as her.

“I uh.. well..” You give a sheepish smile as you lean into the bench. “I figured Leon would want some alone time.”

“Again? You come like everyday.”

You just shrug, sinking into the bench and quickly shifting the topic with a shake of your head.

A lot of things are starting to become clearer to him now. Every single action of yours held genuine love and yet he couldnt even bear to think about it. He wouldn’t dare to, he couldnt give in no matter how tempting it seemed. This is the life he chose; the life that would kill him slowly but it had it’s perks. He heads home after that, thinks about what happened for a bit before deciding ultimately to leave you alone again. Even so, you still plague his mind every night, every minute and second. It still makes his chest burn all the more, his irritation on an all high. He should not care, he cannot care. So why does it feel like he’s going to eventually break?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His body is covered in bruises when he returns home that night, a bandage around one of his hands and his eyes sunken. He had never felt worse in his life, feeling like he was tipping on the edge of fainting or just losing everything altogether. His heavy feet dragged him, feeling like weights were pulling him back as he reached the doorstep. After a few mishaps, he finally finds the keys and unlocks the door. His boots echo on the hardwood floor and though he’d usually collapse into bed, he needs some painkillers desperately tonight. The door for the kitchen is right there but he feels compelled to head to the living room and check if you’re awake. He hates that he’s actually glad he did.

This feels like the memories that resurface, only a new kind. You’re crying, again. You’re sobbing your eyes out and he’s had enough; he’d exhausted, bruised and battered and he’s not letting guilt consume him tonight. How dare you disturb the life he forced himself to follow? Anger swells at the sound and sight of you crying today, not because it hurt his hears but because it hurts his heart. The footsteps grow louder as he nears the couch and he hates the way you look up at him in a trembling fear, hands gripping the fabric of your pajama trousers. “L-leon, i didnt mean- it was a sad movie-“

“Stop giving me those fucking excuses.”

He’s pissed, his body feels broken, and he’s not letting you get by anymore. He’s letting that anger reign free. He nears the couch until he’s standing before you, no words spilling out your lips as you freeze up in fear. He could do anything to you but would he actually harm you? He knows he looks like he would, and he sees that realisation flash before your eyes. He leans down, closer and time seems to slow as his hand reaches out. His eyes focus on how you squeeze your eyes shut, the mere sight grasping his heart tight, brace for the impact and the sting of pain that should follow if he were anyone else.

But he’s not anyone else and he’s disgusted with himself that you would think so. His hand meets the small of your back as his arm wraps around you. He places your hands around his shoulders, knowing you seem far too frazzled to do so and takes you into his lap as he settles in your seat. In silence, he strains his bruised arm to grab the blanket you keep at the end of the couch. You always said it was for ‘cold nights’ but it always translated to cuddling sessions until you were caught by slumber and he carried you to bed. The warm fluff of the blanket is pulled over the pair of you, his hand keeping you firmly in place against his chest as he makes sure to settle you. He doesn’t dare say a word, the nausea in his throat creeping higher with each brush against your bare arms. But he’ll bear it for you, just this once. He knows your still unsure: he can see the way you sneak small uncertain glances as your hands twitch at his shoulders, begging to wrap around his form. So he doesn’t make you lift a finger, taking your hands in his and helps them to settle around his body before he returns to his embrace on you again. It’s utterly silent in the room yet the need to speak is desperate; the both of you know this isn’t normal and yet neither of you are complaining. With his chin resting gently on the top of your head, he rubs your back slowly until you relax into him and somehow grasp him even tighter. Even though his body feels like a block of ice, some part of him inside melts aswell; a small sign of that vulnerability he despised returns. Yet still he stays here until you begin to mumble small apologies which are only met by a small shake of his head and a motion to stay silent. You immediately fall quiet and he sees your eyes glimmer for the first time in months; he’s not sure if the crying caused it or true hope, but he prays you’re feeling just a smidge better. You end up resting your head against his chest comfortably, glistening tears staining your cheeks as you eventually fall asleep.

He takes you upstairs soon after, settling you on the armchair as he notices the dirty sheets from his lack of care. Despite his previous exhaustion, he couldn’t care less about his bruises as he takes out fresh sheets from the cupboard and changes them quickly. Once the bed smells brand new again, he scoops your drowsy body again, hushing you when you begin to wake, and tucks you beneath the covers. He cant lay beside you in such a state so he begins to head to the bathroom, considering a quick shower just to scrub off any grime. Much to his dismay, he’s quickly stopped, your weary eyes blinking as you sit up in bed and your fingers lightly tugs at his hand.

“I.. uh.. um..”

“Yes?” His voice comes out gruffer than he’d like, fingers twitching at the feeling of your skin against his.

“You- you’re going to come back, right? You’re not going to leave, will you?” The mere sound of your hopeless tone is enough to make him grit his teeth. The question sounds hopeful and yet it’s obvious you think you don’t trust him to say the truth.

“No, i’m not leaving, I’m just taking a a shower.” He states, voice just as cold as the one that would cut you through with insults. Still, his hands are gentle as they push your shoulders back into the bed.

“Go back to sleep..” He sighs, pulling the covers over you again. “I’ll be quick. I promise.” He watches as you reluctantly nod, eyes watching him with distrust before he turns around and disappears into the bathroom.

He stands infront of the mirror again, waiting for his mind to crack and fall as it usually does on these hallowed nights. He had done everything wrong tonight; he touched you, spoke to you, even promised you. He went near you when he shouldn’t have. But no onslaught of fears come today, or that sharp ache in his chest which reminds him on horrors in a foreign place. Instead, he just looks at his confused expression in the mirror, because for the first time in seven months he’s not acting mindlessly. He’s actually thinking, breathing and talking; he’s living. After everything he’s done to survive and live better, the one thing he needed was you. He understands now, after all this time, why his mind was so insistent on staying away from you, why he did everything. It was because he was scared.

Everytime he gets a nightmare, it ends with the fear on your face after that horrible night. The more he pushes it away, the more he tries to forget is the more he ended up harming you. He refused to touch you because of the fear he could do it again. Every single thing shut off in his brain because he was terrified of those traumatic experiences and he couldn’t ever admit it. He even refused to come near you because he was scared you’d try console him and he knew he would break within seconds. Vulnerability had never been his strong suit and the mere fear of it had ended up being the cancer that consumed every single part of him until he became a living shell. He never wanted to hurt you, or snap at you, or make you feel like nothing. He always figured it was better that way because it meant you wouldn’t have to deal with him and he wouldn’t have to open up. He was a coward and he had paid the price for it; the cost would’ve been your sanity if he hadn’t cracked tonight. He doesn’t want to think of what could’ve happened if he didnt, but he has to. Avoiding everything led to this and it will again. His hands plant against the shower wall as he starts to wash, and slowly begins to think about everything he did wrong even if it hurts more than those night terrors.

He watches your drowsy eyes widen upon seeing him when he re-enters the room, his heart aching at the tear stains that shimmer on your cheeks from earlier. “I told you to sleep..” He mumbles out, standing awkwardly in the doorway, wishing he could avert his gaze but that would be too cruel to you. “I..i… you..” Your lips fumble for words, eyes gazing up and down his unclothed body. Just in his boxers, he stands before you with his adams apple bobbing as he swallows sharply. “Yeah..”

From head to toe his once pristine skin was covered in scars and bruises of all kinds. He hadn’t let you seen him since his trip to Spain and the sight had been much more horrible back then. Scratches, bite marks, dark scars that show deep gashes and even fresh purple bruises from today’s mission. He knew he couldn’t bear to speak to you about anything just yet, but he mustered up his courage to at least show you. He was also aware this wouldnt make you magically forgive him and he wouldn’t accept it if you did. He fucked up, everything, but he’s not about to let it die when he can at least help you bounce back. He’d destroy himself if it meant seeing you as happy as you used to be.

“Leon.. i..”

“I know you’re going to feel bad, so don’t. I didn’t want you know, thats not your fault.”

He watches you nod meekly, quiet eyes still scanning all over his scarred form, before he begins to walk hesitantly over to the bed. Clenching his fists, he drives down the burn of pain that comes with each step and the guilt that blazes through his gut. Your hands reach out, tentatively before grabbing onto his own. “..Fine, i wont say that.. but can i say one thing at least?”He lets out a small sigh and nods in agreement, squeezing your hand as he sits in bed next to you. Your eyes flutter meekly as you swallow, his hands carefully lifting you to bring your head to rest on his lap with his back pressed against the headboard.

“I’m pissed at you. I- i really am and-“ Your eyes are persistent as they look right up at him, chest rising quickly as you spill everything out. “You made me feel like i was going insane and-“ He’s concerned at how your nails imprint into your palms before he gently moves your fingers to focus on something else—anything else, even himself. So he pulls you into him as you crumble, your fingers digging into his back as to express your desperation.  “I wanted to help you so bad- i didn’t want us to fall apart and we were, fuck- we couldn’t even be near each other. You looked so miserable every damn day Leon- I couldn’t even do anything about it-“ You let out a choked sob against his neck, his hand pulling you firm against him as he squeezes you protectively.

“It was never your fault, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. I was too much of a fucking coward to face life and i ruined us.” He confesses, the palms of his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. “Dont you dare forgive me, not now. I dont want you forgiving me until you’re absolutely sure.”

You quieten down almost instantly by his words, reaching your hands up to rest behind his neck until eventually you nod and he knows he’s made the right choice. His lips turn up just slightly and then you sit up a little better, trying to look firm even though you had been so vulnerable a moment earlier. That’s why he loves you, you’re just so perfect. Not once have you ever cared about what others think of you, nor do you let yourself be trampled over so easily. Even if you’re lips are wobbly as you narrow your eyes at him right now, coming off more adorable rather than angry. Despite everything he’s ever fought and the praises he receives for his work, you’re the strongest person in this very world and the reason he’s still here. You once told him that if he was a mountain, you’d be like those little flowers that grow at the top even when the conditions are beyond habitable. He’s never believed anything more until now.

“Fine.. if you really want that then i wont forgive you until you tell me everything. I refuse to forgive you until you tell me every little thing in your head.” His lips quirk into a slight smile, a first in too many blank days to count. His thumb rubs the curve of your cheek, so rosy and pink. “I promise, the day you forgive me will come.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before shuffling until he’s laying back in bed with you atop of him. “But for now, i want those dark circles under your eyes gone immediately.”

“You should sleep on the couch for all the days i did.” You feign annoyance, small huff leaving your lips and without a second thought he rises out of bed. It’s like it’s hitting him all over again, like a teenage boy trying to hide his crush, he misses the warmth of your body desperately. Even so, he knows he deserves far worse than sleeping on the couch, so he’ll bear it for now.

“I’ll make you breakfast everyday day going forward too. Blueberry pancakes, just the way you like it.”

Right now, it sounds like the bare minimum, but you had no idea how much he’d love you from now on. He’d tell you more but he’d prefer to see the glimmer in your eyes when you’re surprised. Though you tug at his hand before he can go.

“I think we can leave your punishment for next week. You owe me 6 months worth of love.”

That makes him finally grin and he’s under the covers again, arms enveloping you before you press your lips against his.

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