#i love looking at anyone in my social circle and going 'i'm going to train you up like a dog' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imagine-knb · 2 months

Note

i just want to say that i literally love LOVE your blog, thank-you so much for writing for us! <3

for the match up : -

name - cherry

likes - food (italian the most!), art, sports

dislikes - seafood, bugs and i have a bit of trypophobia so dots!

i am someone who likes to try out many things, i can be quite ambiverted though my mbti is entj- but i promise that i'm quite sweet to my friends <3 i have a habit of rambling on sometimes but i can be quite a good listener at times too! i like reading fantasy, thriller and self-help/guidance books and i also prefer to draw/write/play videogames in my free time. i am someone who actually liked going to school (usually), just because it felt more productive to me- as i do have a tendency for procrastination. it's hard for me to get addicted to things, but when i do- i hyper fixate on it until i somehow lose interest in them after sometime (the unfinished drafts are side-eyeing me lol). i asked a few of my friends about my first impression, and they told me that i came off as a sophisticated and polite girl with bookish smarts; their present impression of me is snarky/funny, kind, strong and very guarded (even for them). for some reason i am usually the first friend who people tell their difficulties to even if they might not share all their secrets to me (so i believe that i'm a good advisor on that front)

i try to be nice when i meet people for the first time (but i won't hesitate to be rude if they are)

currently- i am wishing to be more consistent with my work, and join a few sports such as basketball and golf and also manage my time more appropriately.

thanks and have a nice day! <3

Type of Romance

Acquaintances to Lovers

How You Two Met

Himuro had known you through school and, like most people upon first meeting you, thought you were just another studious girl who kept mostly to herself. His social circle didn't bleed over into yours very often, so the two of you rarely interacted.

On the flip side, you also had the impression of him that he was another good looking guy who didn't give girls the time of day. He was smart and calm, also keeping to himself usually if he wasn't with his teammates.

It wasn't until you caught him outside one day, practicing on his own, looking rather frustrated and completely out of character, that the two of you got to know each other better.

The loud curse that had come from Himuro as he missed a shot startled you. You stared at him for a while, watching as he panted heavily, his eyes trained on the way the basketball rolled away from him. As if feeling your eyes boring into his back, he turned to glance in your direction. Having not expected anyone to be outside at this hour, he looked almost surprised to find you.

"Cherry," he greeted. Then, realizing you'd likely witnessed his outburst, Himuro glanced away to break your gaze. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be out here right now. I'm just a bit tired and fed up, I'll try to keep it down."

"No, I..." You trailed off, recognzing the frustration in his tone. It wasn't par for the Himuro you slightly knew and you wondered if there was anything you could do to help. "I, uh... I have some time. Did you want to maybe talk about it?"

How He Fell For You

He hadn't taken you up on the offer the first time you told him you'd lend a listening ear, but that didn't stop you from trying every time you caught Himuro acting just a bit out of character. Eventually, he did accept your offer and you found out that the poker-faced, stoic man who ever girl fell for was just a facade for the passionate and hardworking man underneath.

Similarly, Himuro learned that you were more than just the bookworm he had pegged you to be. He appreciated your helpful nature, but he loved your snark even more. It made him feel more normal that there were other people out there who had more to them than their initial perceived attitudes.

You'd think, with how often he was confessed to, Himuro would know how to do the confessing himself. However...

You'd found him outside again, looking contemplative. He was seated on a bench, fingers threaded together while his hands lay in his lap. His thumbs were fidgeting and his eyes were fixated on the movement, lost in thought. When you called out his name, he once again seemed surprised to find you there.

"I was just thinking..." he responded when you'd asked him what was wrong. After a moment, he added, "...about how to confess to someone."

His words caught you off guard and, seeing the surprise on your face for once, Himuro thought maybe you had gotten the wrong impression. He raised a hand to stop you from asking anymore questions, quickly adding. "I don't like anyone!" Then, realizing his mistake, he reiterated again. "I mean, I don't like anyone else." He was messing this up. He knew it. So he finally swallowed his pride and said, "I like you."

What a Relationship with Him is Like

A relationship with Himuro can be easy or hard depending on whether or not you're a jealous person. He still gets a lot of confessions from other girls, despite the fact he's gone public with his relationship with you. Of course, he never does anything to cause your jealousy; in fact, he always seems to come away from confessions a little angrier than he was before.

In spite of that, Himuro doesn't let others' outside perspectives change how he treats you in the relationship. He's the type of boyfriend who will try to help you better yourself, because you've done the same for him. Most of the time, that involves helping you with your procrastination tendencies.

It's one of the few times Himuro actually gets snarky with you right back.

"And just how long have you been on your handheld, Cherry?"

You look up at him over the screen of your game, finding Himuro staring down at you with a single brow quirked and his arms folded over his chest. Despite the disappointment in his tone, you can see the small quirk of an amused smile on his face. When you answer, asking him for just five more minutes, he clicks his tongue.

"Funny, didn't know there was an echo chamber in here. I could've sworn you asked for five more minutes an hour ago," he teases. Before you can respond, he tries to grab the controller from you, making you both laugh. "Come on, Cherry, you said you'd help me with the chores today!"

Match Up Requests are Closed

#imagine knb valentine's event 2024 #himuro #you didnt give me any pronouns #but you used “girl” once so I hope you don't mind I rolled with that #let me know if you want me to edit the post to be more gender neutral tho!

7 notes · View notes

tleeaves · 7 months

Note

you mentioned you're exploring neurodivergence: characters you relate to in a way that migghhhht be related to neurodivergence and why you relate to them and i'll do my thing that i do with the characters

Thank you so much for this ask, lovely <3 so, yes, I am exploring neurodivergence, specifically along the lines of ADHD and CPTSD, but if I've learned anything while learning about neurodivergence, it's that certain aspects of disorders can overlap or even be mistaken for something else. Eventually, I intend to consult a professional. In the meantime, I make do. And I do have characters I relate to, in ways that might be related to neurodivergence.

We'll mostly deal with TSC characters. So, this is sort of combined, but James Herondale and Matthew Fairchild. I don't self-identify with them the way I do more with Cordelia, but I relate to things about them that just aren't quite present in her that are important to me. It's a bit difficult to talk about all the ways in which I relate to both James and Matthew without sharing some incredibly vulnerable stuff that I generally just don't like to talk about, but I'll try and pick out the things that might be related to neurodivergence.

This is... so so so tricky, actually. I mean, how do I even pin-point traits and things? How do I do this without sounding way too random and vague and end up just talking about things that might have nothing to do with the topic at hand? Matthew's mannerisms feel like mine, theatrical, flourishing hand gestures to accompany speech, being able to switch topics quickly, feeling like my creativity is stifled, way too focused on my physical appearance though I personally do my best to hide it, my reasoning for keeping fit is half about self-defense and protecting my siblings and friends and half about looking good which always makes me think of the way Matthew would treat training, I love finding and wearing unique clothing items that may or may not cost way too much and so it's lucky I just find these treasures in thrift stores, I also have a tendency to Smile my way through social circles (there's a running joke that I can approach absolutely anyone and strike up a conversation. Anyone), I flirt with everyone because I like the thrill of it and it allows a sort of distance from vulnerability in a way I can't exactly explain, this guy has depression and I have depression, I am often the comedian of the group or at least the entertainer (my failed dates and weird social encounters make for exciting conversations), and because of that... I don't know. Matthew feels like he's almost always acting. The world is his stage. And I feel like that all the time. I don't even know who I'm performing for half the time. It gets a bit exhausting in some ways. I struggle to always be an entertainer, to be social, to respond to conversations properly and not get way too hurt over little comments people make that they probably don't realise were taken the wrong way. I am a massive overthinker and the only times I can escape that are in entirely different environments where I basically have permission to have no outside obligations and relax or when I have the rare alcoholic drink that forces my body and mind to lose tension. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), my health doesn't allow me to drink often if at all these days.

So, I get broody, and that reminds me of both Matthew and James. I can be a very deep brooder. Silent, stone-faced, almost apathetic. That reminds me more of James. I'm a passionate person with a temper that I've spent years getting under control, but it means I need a lot of outlets for all that emotion. Getting too stuck in my own head makes me restless and I have to move and push myself physically to make myself too exhausted to be so deep in my thoughts. It's interesting, to me, that I workout for defense and aesthetics, but that it's also a crutch at this point for letting out pent up energies. If I don't, I go into weird, fairly brief episodes of extra excitable and sort of reckless behaviour (more like reduced inhibition), which can be worsened at night compared to if it happens during the day. If you hadn't clued in yet: it was after I analysed James in the post I have pinned on my blog that I realised how much his night on the town in TMH reminded me of myself, which is why I couldn't think of a reason for a while of it being a symptom of anything but him being himself just as I know that's how I can act. His cause for that episode may be different to mine, but I definitely felt some similarities there. Even James' performance-like behaviour called to me, his Chesire grin, the absolute mischief--as much as I am charmed (it's James Herondale after all), I also have this feeling of "that's me! I get that!" And yet I can't even name or explain it.

Which in turn makes me think of Will Herondale. I very rarely talk about this because a) one of my friends is in love with him and I don't need her associating me with him or vice versa, b) an ex of mine has expressed an affinity with Will which makes me feel like I can't have it either since we relate to him in fairly different ways, c) everyone would just roll their eyes at me. Oh, and, you know, it's weird because he's the father of my fictional crush 😭 Anyway. There's something about Will growing up in the countryside of Wales (I come from the countryside of Victoria where I spent just over half my life so far on a farm) and caring so deeply for his sisters, being connected to his culture and missing parts of it, being loyal to Jem and, eventually, Tessa to a point it's almost self-destructive and yet feeling like he's stumbling in the dark when it comes to getting people to like him and to being a good friend to people, being a little shit in general, spinning tales (I've done this since I could even talk, to the point where I used to fabricate so many lies as a kid, simply because I could, and because so many other kids had experiences and things that I never did and I tried to lie about it to make up for it), and I just... in the weirdest way, I relate deeply to Will. I'm not even as attached to him as I am many other characters, but he's who I think of first most of the time when it comes to his rather silly behaviour, his excitability (after finding out the curse was not real), his solitary walks, going to rare bookstores and knowing a bunch of classics, having a tendency toward poetry but only for certain people and rather privately, the messiness of his room even. My best friend jokes that my room (whenever she sees it) is actually Jace Herondale's room because it's "monk-like and bare", but she doesn't see it when I have a burn out period and I'm too exhausted to even put clothes away or cups of tea, or do anything about my piles of books or pens and papers everywhere. I leave jewellery out too. It feels like a dragon's den, which is what I think of Will's room. I rarely make my bed properly. There's nothing necessarily stopping me, and in fact I feel happier and better when everything is neat and clean and organised, but I just can't bring myself to do anything for certain periods of time.

There's also Jem, but he and I understand each other on a chronic illness level, which to me has always been a separate sort of mental framework. But while he makes music to sort through his feelings, I listen to music to help me focus (I space out and my thoughts derail and I'm rather time blind and hours will pass unproductively and music (or urgency/deadlines) so far is the only thing that gets me honed in on an activity/work). That's also a little in connection to other things though where music is my crutch. I tend to dissociate from reality and it's an alarming and distressing feeling. I've never seen it done in fiction quite like how I experience it, so I tend to just write it myself (you can see bits of it with Lila in WBITHOM, such as outside The Devil Tavern going after Matthew and in the dark ballroom scene the night of the Institute dinner with the Lightwoods). I've reached out to others who experience it and even did research, and I actually cried with relief because I thought I was going crazy and losing my grip on everything, but I'm not alone and there is every chance I can end these episodes. Music helps me focus and sort of tie me to reality/myself/the present moment, so that I don't "slip", because when I do I forget myself and my surroundings and started wondering where I am and how I got there and who I am and why I'm here--it's like an existential crisis except you've forgotten literally everything and you're stunned and everything looks weird and the people are familiar yet unfamiliar and all the sounds are kind of loud but also muffled. This is often a dissociation that can occur due to trauma, though also unknown reasons and triggers, and sleep deprivation is thought to either cause or worsen it in some instances (and I have not had enough sleep in some time, let me tell you).

Edit: also, for the derealisation/depersonalisation above, I do relate to Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games who uses this technique where she mentally goes through a checklist of things that identify herself and reality, i.e. My name is [full name], I am 19, I live in Australia, I am half-Greek, I have such and such sisters and so and so brothers, I am here right now with my family/friends, we are doing [activity], I was born [birth date] etc. Recalling these facts and things helps reel everything in, but I am still left rather fragile feeling afterward.

So, there's kind of a lot going on in this noggin of mine. I don't fully understand a lot of it. Life can be scary and frustrating and downright exhausting. But I'm determined one day to finally seek some help. As I mentioned earlier, I do what I can on my own and with friends. Anyway, that's me on the nature of, well, me. Feels weird to talk about myself this way, even if it was tied with characters. Sorry for the wait, by the way, this was really tricky to try and write (and then I kept forgetting, whoops).

#if you made it this far congrats you know a little more about me than you did previously #lee talks mental health #personal post #characters can really be important to help comfort people #and let them see themselves represented so they feel less alone

7 notes · View notes

redheadspark · 2 years

Note

for benedict

[ CLOSE ] sender reaches out and pulls receiver into their lap as they’re walking by.

❝ bored? of you? impossible. ❞

thank you.

A/N: Cute Cute suggestion, anon! Thanks for the suggestion!!

Impossible

This ball, in one word, was a utter bore.

You've been to plenty of them before, beyond plenty of them. It was second nature for you to know when to curtsey, when to make polite conversation to lighten the mood, and you knew how to make yourself beyond presentable in front of potential suitors You've learned how to play the game at balls since you had your first season.

But the more balls and evening social events you went to, the enthusiasm was slowly wearing off.

You finally made a break for it, moving out of a small circle of other young ladies who were all a twitter about the bachelors that were in attendance. To you, they seemed decent, nothing too stunning or handsome to look at. But of course, the ladies that you have known for eyes were only looking for suitors and potential marriage partners. That too was booming a bore for you to go through, and after a good 3o minutes of the ladies giggling and pointing to men being too oblivious with their own body language, you finally moved away and into a deserted hallway.

Of what you seemed to be deserted,

"What do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

You whirled around to see a young man in a chair, hidden away in the darkness and with one leg over the other, hands folded in his lap and a coy look in his eye. It took you a moment to see who it was because of the darkness, but once you realized the identity, you grinned widely and cocked your head back at him.

"Oh Benedict Bridgerton," You said in a murmur, "Why are you hiding in the darkness? I take it the ball was just as a bore for you as it is for me?"

"What makes you think I'm bored?" He countered back, the smoothness in his voice as he clicked his tongue and shrugged, "Not much to say with the other men there around the drinks table. Plus, they are all about the ladies out there and it's gotten bland to talk to them,"

"I see," You replied, "None of them caught your eye?"

"No one, sadly," He smoothly answered, though his eyes were on you to see your reaction in some way, "I have yet to find myself in one civil conversation tonight,"

"Not even now with me?" You challenged, feeling a bit bold. Yet Benedict said nothing to your question, making you think your boldness was now in vain. You were about to leave, moving away from him and going back to the ball when you felt a hand on your wrist. Within a second, it yanked you back and you nearly yelped, falling right in Benedict's lap.

Before you could say anything to him, to almost scold him for acting such a way at an event, Benedict placed a hand on your jaw to have you look at him, leaning in to kiss you softly in the arm chair. You lost your train of thought as he kissed you, his fingers tracing your jawline as your hands were clutching his sleeves as some kind of anchor as you kissed him back.

If anyone were to talk by, seeing a you woman in a young man's lap and kissing like lovers would, it would be seen as a scandal. But to you, this was nothing knew. Well, the kissing at a public and popular event was new. But kissing Benedict, whom you have been secretly seeing for the past few months, it was natural and real for you. You two wanted to be together, but it was a fragile situation for both of your families. The salt thing either wanted of you wanted to do was to bring along a scandal for your family names, so you both chose to wait for the right time to deliver the news.

He pulled away, and you saw the light in his eyes even in the darkness of the hallway.

"Bored? Of you? Impossible." He said to you with love laced in his tone, "I could never be bored of you, my heart,"

"I feel the same way, Benny," You cooed back at him, tracing his lips slightly with your fingers to feel the warmth on his lips, "Come, why don't you and I take a stroll in the garden....nice and alone."

To see the look of happiness on his face was enough. More than enough.

The End.

#benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #luke thompson #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fandom

115 notes · View notes

typical-simplelove · 2 years

Text

Strangers -> Jacob Markstrom (as part of the Alternate Universe to Peter Pan)

Summary: The prologue to Body Language and Peter Pan. The night that started it all and brought you into Matthew’s and Jacob’s lives. The night that Matthew and Jacob fell in love with you, told from Jacob’s point of view.

Author's Note: This is another installment of the Happiness Begins Series and the Peter Pan Universe! In terms of the Happiness Begins series, this is a stand-alone, but in terms of the Peter Pan Universe, it might be beneficial to read the two fics linked in the summary. I'm tagging @2manytabsopen because you are my true motivation to continue this series! I hope you enjoy this installment, and please, let me know what you think!

Word Count: 4.3k (including song lyrics)

Warnings: explicit!female reader; mentions of alcohol; Matthew's an ass in this

With his eyes trained on the end of the aisle, Jacob’s attention is captivated by the tunes of the song that was picked out. Anytime now, she’d be stepping out, and at that moment, Jacob’s life is going to change once again.

I came here looking for another excuse To run away from something beautiful It's like it's driving me closer to you Every step back pulls me right back to you

Walking into the bar, the boys take their regular tables in the back as jackets cover chairs. They play a few quick rounds of rock-paper-scissors to determine the designated driver and who was to pay for the first round of drinks. Once those people were designated, the group takes their seats and set in for a night of drinks and hanging out.

“What brings you out tonight?” Matthew asks, probing Jacob. “You don’t come out often.”

Jacob glances at Matthew for a second before he trains his attention on other guests walking around the bar.

Matthew was right; Jacob didn’t go out often. Although it was fun, he’d much rather spend the night at home on the couch watching a movie with a glass of wine or under the blankets with a good book. Recently, though, spending the nights in his apartment on his own was starting to get boring. There was no one there with him because, well, he was alone. Sure, Jacob liked being single and didn’t have any major issues with being single, but sometimes, only hearing his breathing or the only sounds in his apartment being the quiet local traffic drove him crazy. Jacob was craving some acquaintance or companionship other than his teammates that happened to stop by after practice.

What Jacob really wanted was someone to share his life with. He wanted someone to have and to hold. He wanted someone to be there when he left or when he got home (or to come home to him). He wanted someone to laugh at his silly jokes. He wanted someone’s laughter to echo through the apartment.

Jacob wanted a life partner.

All those thoughts swirled in Jacob’s mind as his focus trained back on Matthew. “Just wanted to try something new. You know, get out of the house. Broaden my social circle.”

“What, are we not enough for you?” Matthew teases, a glint in his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” Jacob responds, holding back an eye roll. Matthew opens his mouth to say something else, but thankfully, drinks were forcefully placed on the table, stopping Matthew from talking.

As conversations build up across the table, Jacob returns to his normal wallflower state. It wasn’t that anyone was leaving him out; he just wasn’t really in the mood. If Jacob was going to go out in this atmosphere, then he really had to be in the mood, and currently, he wasn’t in that mood. Jacob kind of regrets going out. All he wanted was a nice glass of wine, to sit on his couch, and relax. Maybe a movie on the TV, too. Just anything but here.

His eyes dart up when he notices everyone at the table has stopped talking. Jacob’s eyes follow their eye line and notice them starting at a group of girls that walked into the bar. Just like that, Jacob’s life changed forever.

She was standing there, fiddling with the hem of her shirt, as she let herself soak in the atmosphere.

Jacob’s eyes scanned over the top half of her body—the only half visible from where he was sitting. That’s when it all made sense. He finally knew the person that would complement his body and fit in the crevices perfectly. He finally knew the person that would never fail to put a smile on his face. He finally knew the person that would make the ridiculously cheesy sitcoms and rom-coms bearable. He finally knew the person that Jacob risk it all for. He found the person that he’d conquer the world for. He found the person that he’d give it all up for.

The world and Jacob were moving because they had to, but now, Jacob’s world was spinning the way it was supposed to. It finally made sense.

“Woah,” Matthew says under his breath. Woah, indeed, Jacob thinks to himself, knowing that Matthew was probably talking about the same person. Matthew looks at his friend and says, “What do you say? Should we go over together?”

Jacob doesn’t say anything. He just stares ahead at the girl. How was he supposed to talk to her? “I’ll go over in a bit.”

“Did you want me to make you an introduction?” Matthew asks, slightly teasing.

Jacob shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

That’s a lie. Jacob couldn’t do it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. Who was he kidding? Jacob was frazzled and flustered, and he hadn’t even talked to the girl yet. What was he to do?

Jacob sat at the table, gripping his drink as he watches Matthew walk up to the group of girls. The entire group was filled with beautiful people. Matthew could have picked anyone, but he went with her, with you. When Jacob saw you smile at Matthew, his heart fell to his stomach. You were supposed to be smiling at Jacob. Jacob was supposed to be the one who elicited that smile from you. Jacob was supposed wrapped around your finger, not Matthew. Jacob was supposed to be enamored with your personality and aura, not Matthew.

It was supposed to be Jacob, not Matthew, but it ended up being Matthew because Jacob was too chicken. Jacob let the person who he knew would change his life slip through his fingers. He messed it up, and Jacob knows he’ll never be able to have the chance again.

How did Jacob let himself mess up so badly?

Time stands still and it's only us What we feel started way before we ever touched Just imagine only us Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

It was four days later, and Jacob was still reeling from seeing you for the first time. How did Jacob find someone so perfect for him, yet he couldn’t even talk to them? How did Jacob find the person he’d feel immense pride and joy to bring home to meet his mother, yet they don’t even know he exists? How did Jacob finally find the person that makes all the love songs and poems and sonnets make sense, but he couldn’t even muster the courage to talk to them?

It was frustrating, to say the least.

Jacob has spent his entire adult life assuming that when he met the one, things would work out according to plan and in his favor. Jacob never thought that one of his teammates would feel the same pull that the person had and gravitate towards them first. Jacob thought he’d be able to talk to them, and then everything else would make sense and work out for itself.

How did everything get blown to pieces in a matter of seconds?

Oh, right, Jacob didn’t have the courage to talk to you, but Matthew did. Matthew always seemed to have the courage to talk to someone else. Normally, Jacob didn’t care, but then it was you that Matthew managed to talk to first. It was you, bright eyes and smile, who got Matthew’s attention instead of Jacob's. It was you, and he wished that he didn’t clam up and stand there, frozen. If he could do it all over again, he would.

“So, you got lucky last night. Again.” Jacob hears someone say to Matthew. Jacob rolls his eyes, not wanting to hear about another one of Matthew’s escapades.

“It was fun,” Matthew says, a smirk covering his face. He eyes Jacob knowing that Jacob wanted the same person. “I don’t normally hang out with the same girl more than once, but—”

A few hoots and hollers fill the locker room. That’s when Jacob realizes who Matthew is talking about—you. You captured Jacob’s attention like a fisherman setting his net out to sea. Your radiant smile lit up his life like a spotlight. You slowly became everything to Jacob, yet you’ve never even spoken to him.

Jacob doesn’t notice the sneaky glance that Matthew gives. Matthew knows exactly what he’s doing, but having no reaction out of Jacob isn’t what Matthew wanted.

“Jacob, any fun plans last night?”

That little shit.

“Nope,” Jacob grumbles. He hurries out onto the ice before anyone can comment on his mannerisms.

He’s skating around the ice to try to clear his thoughts. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. He hasn’t spoken to you. He’s only looked at you from across a bar. How’s that for depressing?

In movies, when it’s love at first sight, both parties fall in love. In this case, though, only Jacob fell. Only Jacob fell head over heels for you. Jacob doubts you even looked at him at all that evening.

Even if Jacob had a chance with you, he knows he could never take it. There was an unspoken code, and if Jacob tried anything, he’d be breaking that code.

For all intents and purposes, Jacob has to find a way to forget about you even though he knows you’re the one.

I just saw the lightning strike Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers" Strangers tonight Must be from a different life Been here before and it just feels right No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers Strangers tonight

During warmups before a game, Jacob doesn’t normally scan the crowd. He gives a few quick glances to see if there are any young kids who he can give a stick or puck, and that’s it. Jacob tends to focus on warming up and leaves the crowd and that interaction for during the game.

This time, though, something was drawing him to scan the crowd. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for or why he’s so drawn to that one section.

As he’s skating around, Jacob’s eyes keep going to that one section of seats. Why is it striking him tonight? As per usual, it’s filled with fans. No one struck him out of the ordinary. That is until he saw a familiar head of hair. He knows that hair. It’s been plaguing his dreams and thoughts since that first night.

You.

You were there. At the game. A game that Jacob was at. A game where Jacob was currently getting ready for.

In a matter of seconds, seeing you knocked all of the wind out of him. He continues his motions, but as he looks over at you again (you have yet to notice his obvious staring), he trips and falls.

“You good man?” someone asks as they skate over to a fallen Jacob.

He nods. “Just lost my footing for a second.”

The player nods and skates off. Jacob’s grateful that they didn’t ask why Jacob fell. What was he supposed to say? Yeah, the girl that one of our teammates is dating or kind of seeing is here. Did she distract me? Yes. Why? Oh, because I’m in love with her, too. Why didn’t I go talk to her that night? She distracted me, and I couldn’t even open my mouth to breathe she was so captivating.

Jacob has to get a grip on his thoughts. This was no line of thinking to have before a game. It was an important game, and if Jacob wasn’t at the top of his game, he couldn’t protect his teammates, his family.

Still, though, Jacob is watching you from the corner of your eye. You must have brought a friend because you’re chatting and laughing away.

The minute that Jacob gets a glimpse at your smile, all the loud cheers and noises of the crowd fade away. There’s a faint ringing in his ears as he watches you laugh along to whatever your friend was saying. A faint smile crosses Jacob’s face and a blush warms his cheeks as he thinks of what it would be like to be the one on the other end of that smile. That laugh. Those warm eyes. His heart bursts just thinking about it. What would it be like for Jacob to make you smile? What would it be like for Jacob to make you laugh? What would it be like for Jacob to look into your eyes as you talked? What would it be like for Jacob to wake up to your smiling face each and every morning?

Jacob’s taking a few practice shots off his teammates, but the roaring sounds of the crowd still haven’t returned. He’s still in a daze, acting on autopilot, as the shots come at him. He’s able to stop many of them. He’s not acting dull, but he’s not as sharp as he could be. Jacob can’t tell if you being there is a good thing or a bad thing. Good thing? Jacob gets to see you. Bad thing? You’re distracting but a good distracting. Good thing? Jacob gets to see your smile.

Yeah, it was an overall good thing for you to be there.

When the time comes for the team to skate off the ice, Jacob tries to huddle around the back. This way, if he trips when he sees you, fewer teammates will tease him about it.

Jacob’s staring at you as the file of the ice. He so badly wants to catch your eye, but what would he do if he did? Would Jacob wink or smile? He could barely breathe and you were a couple of hundred feet away. Jacob has no game when it comes to you. You just make him too nervous.

He’s sitting on his spot in the locker room as the coaches are talking. Should Jacob be listening? Sure, but it wasn’t anything new. As long as Jacob showed up and played hockey, he’d be alright. His thoughts continued to wander to you. He should really get a grip on his thoughts. How would he be able to play the game properly if you were sitting there? Would he be able to get his head in the game?

Jacob’s still on autopilot as the team makes their way back on the ice for the anthem. He’s excited to see you again, even if you don’t see him.

His eyes look up to find your familiar face and head of hair, and when he does, his heart falls. A ringing sound echo through his ears as dread fills his stomach.

You’re wearing a Tkachuk jersey.

Jacob doesn’t know why he’s so upset at seeing you in a Tkachuk jersey. Obviously, Matthew would invite you to a game, and of course, you’d be wearing Matthew’s jersey. But Jacob wanted you to be there for him. Jacob wanted to be the reason why you were sitting in the arena.

He shakes his head. That wouldn’t happen. Of course, Matthew got the girl because what girl would ever want a guy who can’t even get the nerve to talk to her?

You say my name like it's been on your lips Familiar in ways I can't explain You got a heart that I know I can miss Hold me like that and pull me right back again

“Who’s that?” Jacob asks. He wasn’t familiar with who the girl was sitting at their table at dinner. She was pretty, but Jacob had no idea why she was there or who she was there with.

“What?” Elias asks, quizzical.

Jacob nods his head at the mystery girl. “Her.”

Elias shrugs. “I don’t know her name, but she’s here with Matthew.”

“But what about—” Jacob trails off. He doesn’t have to repeat your name. Elias knew. Johnny knew. Everyone in this whole damn universe knew that Jacob had feelings for you. There wasn’t a single person on this planet who could look at the way Jacob looked at you and say it was as “friends.” It was impossible.

Whenever Jacob saw you with Matthew, he pushed his feelings aside. After all, if Jacob being with you wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out, then he’d want you to be happy. And if that was Matthew, then Jacob guesses he could be okay with it even though Jacob would never let a sister or daughter of his anywhere new Matthew. Jacob knew Matthew’s tendencies to date and sleep around; Jacob doesn’t understand how Matthew doesn’t get lonely or doesn’t want to find that someone.

“I guess she wasn’t invited?” Elias answers, pulling Jacob out of his thoughts.

Why wouldn’t Matthew invite you? Jacob’s never seen you in fancy, cocktail outfits, but he just knows that you’d be the most stunning person in this room. If Jacob had brought you as his date, he knows that he wouldn’t ever be separated from you. You were just too radiant.

Jacob knew that Matthew wasn’t a commitment person. He tended to just have short flings here and there, but this was different. Matthew had the most spectacular person on this planet—someone who could make Jacob the happiest person ever—and he refused to see it. Matthew refused to see who was right there in front of him, and instead, he found solace in his bachelor tendencies.

“Yeah, but—” Jacob trails off once again in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Elias understood. The other team members understood. If Jacob had you, he’d never let you go. What he doesn’t understand, though, is why Matthew can’t see it? Matthew has the love of Jacob’s life right in front of them, yet he can’t see it. He can’t see the life he’s missing out on by messing around with other people.

“Why is he doing this to her?” Jacob mumbles, not sure if his friend heard. Elias did, though, and gives his friend a side-eye. What was Elias supposed to say? Matthew’s heart and mind were wired differently. While Jacob saw someone who’d make him happy for the rest of his life, Matthew saw the same person as short-term happiness. Matthew’s head was so far up his ass he didn’t realize what he had right in front of him.

“He’s going to hurt her so much,” Jacob mumbles once again. He shouldn’t be saying any of these sentiments out loud, but he needs someone to hear them. Jacob could stand watching you with his teammate (even if it were Matthew) if it meant that you’d find happiness and wouldn’t be heartbroken. What Jacob couldn’t stand was Matthew stringing you along. Matthew was giving you bread crumbs to keep you going back to him. No matter what, the little crumbs Matthew would give you would satisfy you. Jacob didn’t blame you; Matthew was a catch. You, though, could do so much better than Matthew and his ways. Jacob doesn’t think he deserves you either, but Jacob could be so much better to you than Matthew.

Although the notion hasn’t been addressed, everyone who knows Matthew knows that the girls he’s “seeing” don’t know that they aren’t the only ones. Some do realize that it’s not a forever thing with Matthew, but some don’t. They take the bread crumbs that Matthew has to offer and spin them into a fairytale romance. Jacob can’t blame them, though. Matthew is a charmer and is good at the game. Someone can go from being strangers to Matthew to thinking he’s the light of their life.

What about Jacob? He might not be as boisterous or cocky or there. He might tend to be more quiet and reserved, but that doesn’t mean Jacob doesn’t have as much to offer. That doesn’t mean that he can’t make someone happy. He can. Jacob can make someone so happy if he had the chance. He’s been waiting his entire life to find that person who would be the one that would change his life. He finally did, but instead of Jacob getting the girl, Matthew did. And when Matthew gets the girl, Jacob knows he won’t ever get the girl.

Jacob can give a whole loaf of bread, but instead, you take the breadcrumbs.

And Jacob knows that as you continue to take those breadcrumbs, your heart will get more and more vulnerable until Matthew shatters it.

Jacob only hopes that you won’t cut him out of your life when that happens.

Time stands still and it's only us What we feel started way before we ever touched Just imagine only us Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

One day you were there, and the next you weren’t. One day, Jacob was calling you to see when you were free to watch that book-to-movie adaptation you were going on and on about, and the next Jacob can’t get a hold of you.

Jacob wasn’t shocked when Matthew brought another girl to the Gala, but he was disappointed. Every time that Matthew brought a different girl as his date to various events or nights out, Jacob prayed and begged a higher being that Matthew would see you. He would see how amazing you were, and how much he was missing out. Only Jacob saw that, though; Matthew never seemed to notice what he had right in front of him.

That could be the only reason why you weren’t picking up the phone. However, Jacob wasn’t at fault. It wasn’t Jacob’s fault that Matthew brought a different date and you were hurting because of it. All he wanted was to tell you that everything would be okay, but would it?

And then one day, you left. One day, you were there, and the next, you were in Toronto. You didn’t even tell Jacob. He had to find out from Annica and Elias. For being best friends, it wasn’t fair that you didn’t tell him. Jacob thought you’d tell each other everything, but then you left Calgary, never to return, and didn’t tell him. You didn’t have the heart to tell him. That, somehow, hurt worse than you blocking him and not picking up his calls.

Then, you called. You were in Toronto, only moving a few days ago. He was ignoring your calls for a few days, but then he couldn’t take it anymore. Every time he saw your phone number, his heart lurched. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he finally picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

But then you hung up. Jacob sighed. Maybe you weren’t ready. But then you called again. There was some yelling and some tears. Mostly, though, Jacob realized he wasn’t angry at you anymore. You talked to each other, and Jacob realized that all the love he has for you wouldn’t fade. With you in Toronto, maybe you’d finally realize how much Jacob loves you.

Two years after that first phone call, Jacob got the best news he’s ever received. You were back. You’re back in Calgary, and you want to see him. After discussing plans on when and where to meet up, he finally saw you. You were just as radiant and beautiful as the first day he met you.

And just like that, a happy routine followed just like before. You were there. He was there. And Jacob had his best friend back. And he was okay with that.

Until he told you. He was drunk, lonely, and wasn’t thinking straight. When you left him after his confession, his heart pooled and tears fell from his eyes. This time, he knows he lost you for good because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

But then you showed up at his door with your own admissions of love.

“I love you, Jacob Markstrom, and if you don’t listen to me and let me love you, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next day,” you pleaded.

And with that, everything made sense. You loved Jacob, and he loved you.

Finally, it seemed, Jacob got the girl, and there wasn’t a greater feeling in the world.

I came here looking for another excuse To run away from something beautiful It's like it's driving me closer to you Every step back pulls me right back

The past few years of his life flashed behind his eyes as he watched you begin your descent down the aisle. The train of your dress flowed behind you as you took each step. Jacob knew you were stunning and beautiful. Seeing you, though, in the white dress didn’t level to how he’s seen you before.

When you were at the end of the aisle, Jacob took your hand in his and escorted you to where the officiant was standing.

He looks at you with a shy smile. It was just like the first Jacob saw you, but this time, he had the girl, and he was nervous because he had the opportunity to cement the seal. He was going to spend the rest of his life with the love of his life.

It may have been painful, but finally, Jacob got a happy ever after. And he got the girl, too.

Jacob went from being an absolute stranger to being your best friend to being the cause of your heartbreak to being the person you couldn’t spend the rest of your life without. It all made sense, and it was all worth it.

33 notes · View notes

divaofthadamned · 2 years

Text

If this isn't a deep organic soul bond that occurred naturally, then foul play is involved.

It's a well known fact that you know your way around magic and psychology far better than the average person.

Not that it would have taken a whole lot. I'm sure it's not hard to get yourself ingrained into someone's subconscious if you choose to.

But when I think back on all the dreams, going back to my teenage years, the way you came at me from dawn until dusk everyday for a year, training me to look for you.

Even now, how you watch me incessantly. As if you're afraid to let me out of your sight..

Something is really wrong here. You won't let me get away, but you won't let me come any closer.

You have a lot of explaining to do regardless. This is not how normal people behave.

Gaslighting me, and pretending this is all in my head- when you're actually behaving this way day after day, is only gonna go so far.

It doesn't matter if I fell in love with you. Even if that was organic and not manipulated- which I seriously doubt.

I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's some kind of obsessive closed loop or pattern I can't seem to escape. No matter what I do, I'm going in circles all day thinking about you.

It feels like far more than energy theft even. My attention and consciousness has been hijacked, taken captive. I go back to the love feelings because it's easier to process that way. But if I'm being honest with myself, I don't even like the person I remember you to be from the dreams. I haven't even spoken to you in over a year.

Why can't I break this spell?

Why do you have me trapped?

Why have you forced your way into my life and why do you continue to steal access to my social media?

What is your motive?

If you don't give a shit about me, as you've made so abundantly clear.. then what gives?? Why do this at all?

There's definitely a reason. You don't force your way into someone's attention field, steal access to their energy, and abuse them the entire time for no fucking reason.

You've shown absolutely no concern or care for the damage this has caused me.

I deserve to know wtf this is.

0 notes

imaginechb · 2 years

Text

New Year's Eve Kiss

Synopsis: You've never been kissed on New Year's eve. Connor is about to change that.

The amphitheater was alive tonight, with 2000s pop music blaring and demigods mingling. It was true that a lot of campers went home for the school year and for the holidays, but it was also true that the large number of year-rounders attending the New Year's party meant it would have to be held in the amphitheater rather than in one of the cabins.

Of course, this wouldn't be pleasant for most, the cold of the December night would be enough to drive anyone inside (except for those weirdos in Times Square). Luckily the magic weather of Camp Half Blood made it just warm enough that the teenagers could wear a hoodie or jacket and be entirely comfortable.

So demigods mingled and danced, solo cups filled with sparkling ciders and soda or whatever they happened to smuggle in. You sat near the top of the amphitheater, watching your friends have fun with a fond smile. You loved this. It was a chance for you and your friends to be entirely normal, which didn't come often.

"Wish it could be like this all the time."

You turned your head at the familiar voice and saw the younger of the Stoll brothers sitting down next to you. Travis was probably off flirting with Katie Gardner or something.

"Yeah, me too. But I don't know, being in constant danger's pretty thrilling," you joked, accepting the energy drink he was offering.

"Oh, yeah, not that I don't love the near-death experiences. It's just nice to get a break sometimes. You know, so that the excitement doesn't wear off after a while." Connor kept up the joke with a smile and a shake of his head.

You laughed and said, "I do love nights like these. It's really nice to see all these people outside of combat training and monster fighting."

"Plus nobody parties quite like Camp Half-Blood."

"Oh definitely not."

The both of you turned your attention to the bottom of the amphitheater, where Sherman Yang was arm wrestling some poor sap from the Athena cabin. A circle had formed around them and started yelling. If arm wrestling were a strategy game Sherman would be in trouble, however it wasn't, and the guy lost in three seconds flat.

You looked back at Connor. "So, with only half an hour left before the new year, any resolutions?"

He thought for a moment. "Nope. New year same me," he said, grinning like a madman.

"Oh, great," you said, rolling your eyes.

He laughed. "How about you, y/n?"

"I'm gonna do more things that scare me."

He smiled. "That's cool, although I think we do things that scare us a lot around here."

"True," you said. "But I don't mean scare me in the way a drakon scares me, I mean like, go out of my comfort zone. Talk to more people, try new things."

He hummed and a comfortable silence fell. This kind of thing happened a lot. You could sit in silence and still be enjoying each other's company.

You'd been friends for a very long time, for years in fact. You were close and it was pretty clear that the two of you had something, evidenced by the lingering glances and shy smiles, but neither of you ever did anything about it. So you were just friends.

You gazed out at the party, watching your friends dump sticky drinks on each other and run. Eventually he broke the silence.

"Have you ever kissed someone at midnight? For new year's I mean."

You shook your head. "No. Have you?"

"No."

It was your turn to hum before silence struck once again.

Pretty soon there was only five minutes left, so you both made your way down to the crowd of demigods passing around drinks. You socialized with the other campers while the Hephaestus cabin readied their full-sized confetti cannons.

5...

Your head perked up as the crowd began counting down.

4...

You smiled at Connor.

3...

He smiled back at you.

2...

He grabbed your face in one hand, wrapping the other arm around you.

1...

He kissed you.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The crowd screamed. 'BOOM', went the confetti cannons. 'BOOM', went the fireworks over your heads. 'BOOM' went your heart. But all you were thinking about was the boy whose lips were on yours and whose arms were around your waist.

Rae

#heroes of olympus #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #toa #trials of apollo #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #stoll brothers #x reader #percy jackson imagines #heroes of olympus imagine #percy jackson

223 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 3 years

Note

my school works are piled up this past few weeks (graduating tingz) and i just started reading the deadlock novel it feels like i'm reading a sokkla fic every time Mcashe has a scene because they just give off the vibes skskskskksksks. BTW, what's your top5 fav scenes from the novel? PS: I'm smiling like an idiot while reading the novel ughh i hate myself

I KNOW, RIIIIIGHT?! *-* and don't hate yourself, my anon friend, I spent the whole novel smiling and laughing and losing my goddamn mind because I was having the time of my life xD enjoy this beautiful content as best you can!

I mean, frankly, Reunion already had all the Sokkla vibes I could've wanted/needed to ship these two like FedEx and I always knew I wasn't getting off this ride anytime soon. But gosh, this book... it gave me everything I wanted and MORE! Their dynamics are soooo similar to Sokkla team-up dynamics, two power couples kicking ass and taking names... oh, I just love it so much. I probably will end up reading the book a third time soon x'D

As for my favorite scenes, damn, this is tricky xD

KEYCHAIN! HE MADE HER KEYCHAIN!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! God, it's just amazing how the book explains the "vintage" look for Ashe's hoverbike the way it does, and that they literally built it together *screams!!!*, but then he gives her that keychain for her birthday present, and the implications!! THE IMPLICATIONS!!! He gave her a keychain she's held onto for TWENTY YEARS?!?!?! Ships in the OW fandom have sailed far and wide with less than breadcrumbs: we literally have been granted a boon from the GODS with all this extra context for the little things in Reunion xD

Ashe going to hell and back to save her kidnapped BFF-for-whom-she-totally-doesn't-have-feelings-yeah-yeah-sure-Jan. I love the fact that McCree is, in a way, Ashe's damsel in distress and not the other way around xD Of course, it's what you'd expect from an Ashe-centric story, but it's still an amazing sequence, all around. Gotta highlight how she loves the way he smiles like a madman when they have that shootout at the end, and how he worries so much over Ashe's injury when he took an even worse one than she did (the Sokkla vibes in that particular situation were SO STRONG! I SWEAR!).

"Jesse McCree, are you trying to make me say you're handsome?" "Am I?" ... do I need to say more. That FLIRTING. These two were on fire already and they'd only known each other for like... weeks, at this point? x'D He has no sense of moderation, he's soooo into her and doesn't hide it at all. Ashe is so busy trying to plot all the crime and Jesse's practically like a shojo heroine, "oh I can feel it, this is how my love story begins!", basically xD

Finally I pick a not-McAshe scene... to bring up the one where Ashe picks up the Viper on her last moment in Lead Rose Manor. That moment was just... POWERFUL. The feeling of epicness in that scene just overwhelmed me when I was reading it xD

The ending of the book :'D the fully formed Deadlock Gang ready for business, down to the explanation for the Est. 1976 in the logo... *sobs* the fact that so much about the character design choices in these two characters is a shoutout to the past they share is just... *gross sobbing* oh, I just love it to pieces, I'm not even sorry.

Ashe's bike race to save B.O.B. x'D that whole situation was bonkers but I looooved how fierce she was about protecting her one and only buddy while growing up (AND THAT JESSE BLUSHED WHEN SHE TAUNTED HIM WAS JUST THE CHERRY ON TOP!). I appreciated learning more about the Omnic War and its consequences, how Ashe reflects on having escaped it practically untouched in virtue of her money and societal privilege while her new friends all faced many hardships to survive. But I can't help but also love that, however uneasy others could have been about the Best Omnic Butler, Ashe was so fiercely loyal to B.O.B. that she nearly broke Julian's nose herself over his ridiculousness x'D That's HER big omnic buddy and she's not about to lose him to anyone, not her shitty parents, not a bet in a race, NOTHING! (and it's so cute that B.O.B. is just as loyal to her, too *sobs*)

Ashe grabbing McCree's arm to explain things to him on their first heist and him being all "you gonna leave that there?" and only then does she realize her hand's still on him x'D what a McCree line, and he was absolutely enjoying the attention, he doesn't even pretend otherwise.

Everything poetic McCree says or does... meanwhile Ashe's like "um yeah I don't care about poetry I want money", right until his poet soul totally smashes her square in the heart with the KEYCHAIN!!! But damn, I swear I thought McCree would hold back a lot more, and yet there he was, saying things like Calamity was brilliant and mysterious... you could practically hear B.O.B., Julian and Frankie going "I can see what's happening..." in the background xD

The conversation about what they wanted to do once they were loaded with all the cash they could possibly want. That one was a real number on my heartstrings. It ties up to what I said earlier with Ashe finally being in touch with people who are completely removed from the ridiculous social circles of her parents and her school, people who really lost a lot in the war. But where Julian and Frankie seem to look at the past a lot, I loved that Jesse is basically just thinking about the future. The fact that he says he wants to chill out in a farm and that this is what he wants in life... many, MANY, shippy wheels have turned in my head since I read that <.< maaaany...

WHEN JESSE NEARLY FALLS AND ASHE CATCHES HIM!!! UNDERRRATED AS HECK!!! The fact that he's taunting her about fear of heights, then he nearly plummets to his death because ironies are beautiful xD and Ashe pulls him back to safety only to say that she's not afraid of heights but afraid of ~FALLING~??? I mean, okay, sure, maybe I'm reading too much into that line... or maybe I'm not <.< either way, the truth is I just love how absolutely broad of interpretation that scene and that DIALOGUE are :> ehehehe.

Oh, their first encounter. The fact that it's so cute and fun, and that it's this low in the list tells you how GOOD this book was x'D "You've got an awful lot of grit for a rich girl," first words he spoke to the love of his life xD then how they talked and laughed together about the crazy stories he shared (she was crying of laughter for the first time in her life! precious girl!), and then how she sat in the car thinking about the strange feeling she was left with after meeting him... they seriously had a meetcute in prison, how can a ship get any better? xD

WHEN HE COMES BACK TO HER WHEN THEIR FIRST HEIST GOES WRONG!!! That Ashe expects him to just leave after she falls off their getaway vehicle, but Jesse saves her and goes "pfft that's just not my style", basically... *sobs* without realizing it she ends up picking up that particular philosophy of his, saving her friends no matter the cost...! Honestly, though, the fact that every time something like this happens it hits Ashe like a truck racing downhill with no brakes because she's NEVER been cared about by anyone but B.O.B. and she's completely new to friendships and bonding with people... and in the mean time, Jesse immediately is "ride or die" with her because that's how he rolls... beautiful relationship dynamics between characters who influence each other for the better are just beautiful :')

A silly one here: Jesse enjoying the good life in Lead Rose. That description of him looking like a marshmallow in the CHAISE LOUNGEEEEE!!! (the one he references in their in-game interactions *CRYING SO MANY TEARS*), was just too cute to bear x'D Ashe just jumping back into work mode... while he was just thrilled to be a marshmallow in a towel xD

... So, um, I went overboard because I love this book a little too much for my own good :> what can I say? When things I love are good, I go wild xD There's probably more scenes I loved, but these... thirteen? XD are the ones that came to mind.

I think one of my favorite things now is reexamining Reunion with all this extra context in mind. The first time I watched that cinematic I, of course, fell in love with these two outlaws because how could I not? But while subsequent rewatches revealed a lot of things I didn't pay enough attention to the first time around, the book has done even more than I could imagine possible for a short that was already as shippy as could be xD

Ooookay so, shippy ramblings about Reunion, coming up! (simply because I have to put these down SOMEWHERE XD and your ask was a good idea for that, anon!)

First off, Jesse very much staged the whole rodeo in Reunion. He sent the tip to Ashe, he wanted Echo's crate specifically. He thought they could work together, basically, despite knowing it was entirely possible that those hopes wouldn't pay off. This train, according to the wikia, was a government train, so Jesse is very much telling Ashe to give a finger to the government for all he cares, all he wants is one (1) crate.

Ergo, Jesse, for all his "nice guy bountyhunter" deal, doesn't disapprove of Deadlock's actions. If anything, he counts on them to be exactly what he needs in order to get what he wants. He practically trusts Ashe to pull off the train heist disaster perfectly and only steps up when it's time to collect Echo.

Then the wacky shoot-out happens, it's veeeery charged (the UST is so thick, I swear...), and Jesse wins. He ties up Ashe, floats her off on the payload with the rest of the gang, and he sets Echo free. He's helping her out very nicely and everything, but the context in question is... he received the recall notification thingy XD Winston called him back to Overwatch, and Jesse...

... Jesse doesn't want to go back.

Jesse says "they want me", and the displeased tone of his voice, paired with the look on his face when he says that line, speak for themselves.

That, in my humble opinion, isn't the sequence of expressions you'd expect from someone who intends to return to the group where he thrived, had the time of his life and found his true calling. To me, he actually looks irritated about the recall (the sequence of expressions during that line is much better when you watch the full thing x'D), as though he REALLY doesn't want to return. He's not against Overwatch, I'm not quite saying that, otherwise he wouldn't have set Echo free and told her to go back at all... but this isn't remorse. It's not "Oh, I'm not good enough for Overwatch anymore". Nope... this is "My time with them is over and I don't plan on going back unless I have no choice", as far as I can tell.

If OW2 does bring him back into the fold and he's a perfectly chill and happy guy about it, I'll seriously be surprised. I mean, he could have set Echo free and, once his business is over, returned to Overwatch with her, he could have been in the Paris cinematic if he'd done that...

But he's not there.

Which outright says he didn't do that :> oops.

Basically, I think Jesse's reaction in Retribution (where he's markedly the most morally correct one of the bunch, and he's the former outlaw :'D) tells you his displeasure with Overwatch ran very, very deep. And someone can very easily say he felt the same way about Deadlock and that's why he left them for Overwatch... but that's conjecture. His displeasure with Blackwatch (and, in consequence, Overwatch), however, is FACT. And the previous conjecture falls flat pretty quickly considering he's perfectly fine with Ashe's train heist, even sets it up himself, from what the story suggests, so... how ~appalled~ was he over her choices and actions? Not appalled at all, if you ask me, and after you read Deadlock Rebels, you actually understand why: Jesse trusts Ashe.

From the first moment she enters the same prison block he's in, he's drawn to her. He wants to impress her, he absolutely enjoys her company and making her laugh (just as much as she enjoyed laughing at his wacky stories), and he's plain thrilled that she comes back for him when she does. Ashe manages the gang with inexperience but she's always willing to improve, and you see Jesse sticking with her through thick and thin, supporting her at the best and worst times alike, always putting his faith on her and constantly watching out for her (he protected and shielded her from attacks with his own body sooooo many times *sobs*). Ashe starts out intending to keep most profits for herself, and Jesse doesn't care much at first... but then she starts to share profit equally between their team. She works on her own bike herself, her own ride, and she plans and solves problems as best she can, to a point of even going overboard with planning too much. She's wild, reckless and takes insane risks... and this guy loves every second of it. The matter of morality regarding the actions of a criminal gang is, of course, something to think about... but as far as the book goes, Ashe mainly targets her own family, their specific brand of bullshit, and in the process she ends up helping lots of people and even saving lives that might not have been saved otherwise. I'm not going to put my hand on the fire here and say Deadlock never ever did anything absolutely wrong to people who didn't deserve it... but for a criminal gang? They're honestly the most wholesome one the OW team could have come up with, if you ask me.

So where you see Jesse is very much antagonistic with Reaper/Reyes, where he loses his temper with the guy's choices, he doesn't ever do that with Ashe. Overwatch ARE supposed to be the good guys... so how weird that Jesse McCree, reformed outlaw, ends up so disappointed with these guys when he was actually thrilled with Ashe's managing of their gang, as far as we saw. So much so that, when it came down to it, Jesse McCree, 20 years later, still counts on Ashe to give him a hand (without her full awareness) with a little operation to help out an old friend of his. Also worth pointing out: he doesn't want to fight at all, while Ashe, of course, does. Deadlock for life, is what Jesse said... and he's not Deadlock anymore, hasn't been for who knows how long. Worse yet... his tattooed arm is gone. It's like all his ties to Deadlock have been severed.

And even so, he came to Ashe and hoped she wouldn't want a shootout with him. Even when he knows she might be beyond unforgiving because of the betrayal (he has seen directly how outraged she was about a certain someone betraying her in the book...), Jesse goes back anyway and hopes it won't come to this.

THE IMPLICATIONS, MAN!!!

Carrying on: Echo is surprised that Jesse shows no intentions of going back to Overwatch. She asks him what he's going to do... and what does Jesse say?

He puts his cowboy hat back on (the symbolism in this short, I swear...), and when she asks him what he's going to do, he tells her "I've got some business to attend to."

THE MUSIC PICKS UP.

AND THEN HE CLIMBS ON THE BIKE HE BUILT WITH ASHE.

YOU GET A DELIBERATE CLOSE-UP TO THE KEYCHAIN.

THEN THE CAMERA PANS UP TO FOCUS ON THE PICTURE, TORN AND TAPED BACK TOGETHER, THAT ASHE CARRIES ON THIS BIKE, A BIKE WHICH, LET'S BE REAL, IS BASICALLY A MCASHE BABY CHOPPER/HOVERBIKE HYBRID, AND AS SHE PUTS IT LATER, IS...

HER

BIKE!!!

When Jesse says he has business to attend to, he could pick up any bike he wants (since it'd stand to reason that the other guys Ashe came in with would have bikes of their own). He could escape on horseback for all we know xD so there are lots of options... but no. He takes HERS. Right after saying he has "business to attend to".

Look, I could be wrong. I could be dead wrong. I can absolutely be digging around and going INSANE because nothing I ship EVER gets this much content.

But we literally get a guy saying he has "business" to take care of, and the cinematic focuses exclusively on elements that, even BEFORE Deadlock Rebels, all point towards Ashe?! You could easily say that taking her bike is just the final nail on the coffin, his last trolling idea to mess with his one true love... but that picture is right there. That picture, with them in their youth. The picture, btw, was bigger than just them: B.O.B.'s hand is there. The top of the picture is uneven, suggesting Ashe probably tore it to shreds in a fit of rage... and then specifically put together THEIR PART. And then she taped that to her bike's dashboard. Meaning, she carries the goddamn memory of Jesse with her EVERYWHERE SHE GOES. And she does it WILLINGLY.

Which, in turn, answers why Jesse expects MAYBE Ashe wouldn't go full-on hostile when they meet: this trolling cowboy knows exactly what he means to Ashe. He's not surprised when he sees that picture on the bike. He doesn't toss it away, which he could have, if he were saying "we are history now, forget it gurl" (and let's be honest, what a dick move that would have been @_@), he doesn't flinch after noticing and then goes "yeah, no, I'm picking another bike".

NOPE. The familiarity with which they talk, the way he hopes she'll just let him walk away, the fact that she DIDN'T change the keychain and bike in all those years and he's not even SURPRISED...

Jesse knows how much she loves him, point-blank. He's completely aware of it... and he's very much okay with it.

So much so... that I'm something of a 90% sure that the business he intends to deal with is ASHE HERSELF.

And no, I don't mean he's going to go on another shootout with her... I mean, evidently, that Jesse wants to come home. That he's tried the life of Overwatch, and he's decided to leave it behind. He's turned bountyhunter now, vigilante, pretty much... but he comes back to Ashe all the same. He's come back for the first time in who knows how long (going by Ashe's expressions and sarcasm with the "you promised you'd write" line, it miiiiiiight be they haven't seen each other since he got recruited into Blackwatch), and he expected a peaceful encounter, no less.

A good question to ask here is... what did Jesse hope would happen, if the encounter HAD been peaceful? He would've released Echo, sent her away to her business, and stayed behind anyway because he had business to deal with. Which business? :'D why... the business that would've been standing right in front of him.

There's no other, logical reason why this cinematic would put Ashe and McCree's picture into focus right when McCree says what he does to Echo. There's no other reasonable choice why McCree would turn his back on Overwatch quite so firmly. We know he had two important ties in his life: Overwatch and Deadlock. And Overwatch stole him away from Deadlock for a VERY long time. Well over half the time Deadlock has been in operations, as far as I can tell. He picked Overwatch over Deadlock once before... and now, it seems he's picking Deadlock over Overwatch instead :')

The follow-up short, Roadtrip, doesn't do anything to change my mind. The trolling jerk, Jesse McCree, hovers past Ashe's payload, where she's just... complaining, as she hovers xD going by what I know of the game and that map, the payload may just be en route to the gang's hideout, so that, I'd say, could explain why she hasn't climbed off it or escaped in any way (which she reasonably would have, if Jesse was trying to, I don't know, send her and her people to the authorities).

My point here is, however, that Jesse is headed the same way the payload is. If his destination is the same one, he'll beat it there for sure. Maybe, yes, he'll go away and drive well past the hideout... but maybe that's exactly where he intended to go.

Maybe, in the end, Reunion is about a man who's finally coming home :D

In addition, goes without saying, Ashe's rant about how everyone falls to pieces over Jesse showing his "stupid mug" (uh-huh, stupid, ANGELIC mug, we know what you really think, girl xD) ends with her saying she should have "put a bullet in him the minute he showed up".

Which begs the question of why didn't she.

Then, of course, she says she hates McCree when he drives past her while listening to some really ridiculous honky-tonky-sounding music x'D I cannot even help but imagine him deliberately picking that radio station or whatever it was just to annoy Ashe when he drove beside her, and so that she can get extra pissed when she retrieves her beloved bike, turns on the music and it's just more honky-tonky stuff x'D but anyway, the thing is she shouts after him, tells him that's her bike and says she hates him. B.O.B. wordlessly speaks for us McAshe shippers by giving Ashe the most "sure, Jan" side-eye in the history of side-eyes, and Ashe notices and is outraged enough to knock B.O.B.'s little hat right off his head again.

Again... this is renowned outlaw Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe, sitting on a payload, groaning about the guy she once very much had feelings for (and that doesn't even begin to cut it, if you ask me x'D) and for whom she tooooootally doesn't anymore, that picture on her bike doesn't MEAN that, OBVIOUSLYYYY!!, and so, she sits up, complains and doesn't do much of anything to get out of her current situation, right? :>

So, summing up my current understanding of EVERYTHING, thanks to Deadlock Rebels and my obsessive rewatches of Reunion + Roadtrip:

Jesse deliberately sought out Ashe so she would indirectly, unknowingly, help him set Echo free from the government's clutches.

Jesse hoped for a peaceful encounter despite knowing he might not get one.

Jesse has no intentions of returning to Overwatch but was willing to perform one final act of service for them by releasing Echo so she'd go give Winston and co. a hand.

Jesse is NOT surprised to see that Ashe: 1. Didn't change bikes at some point in the twenty years since they built it. 2. Didn't swap the ignition key for a button, the way she says she thought to do it in the novel until he gives her the keychain. 3. KEPT THE POETIC AF KEYCHAIN, despite resenting Jesse for his betrayal. 4. KEEPS A PICTURE OF THEM IN THEIR YOUNGER YEARS PASTED ON HER BIKE'S DASHBOARD.

Jesse claims he has business to deal with: he doesn't clarify said business verbally, but every shot after he says those words focuses on elements related to Ashe... and then, along with the novel's context, it's elements related to their BOND. Everything in that shot, EVERYTHING, is connected to the two of them. Elements that weren't shown before or during their shootout, and that are only introduced in that final moment when McCree is off to deal with his "business".

Ashe doesn't climb off the payload or stops it (which, going by how McCree simply pressed a button, and Ashe isn't immobilized in the least, she easily could have done it too if she had wanted to). Suggesting that, wherever the payload is heading, it isn't anywhere dangerous for Ashe and her crew, ergo, she is 100% sure McCree isn't trying to screw her over by turning her in to the authorities or so (or, at worst, she's completely confident that, even if he is going to do this, she'll be able to get out of it easily).

Jesse drives in the same direction the payload is headed. Another hint that suggests he might intend to head to the Deadlock hideout and that, whatever business he has left to deal with, it involves them.

If his intent ISN'T to go to the hideout... Jesse is still guaranteeing that Ashe will come after him by stealing her bike, the 18th birthday gift he gave her, and the picture she keeps of them. That he takes that very bike practically serves as painting a target on his back for her to hunt down, and he KNOWS IT.

In short: Jesse will have plenty of business with the Deadlock Gang in his future, and going by how pleased he seems to be when riding the bike, he's perfectly happy to handle that business on his terms, whenever he wants to handle it.

Extra tidbit: there's nothing in Deadlock Rebels about Jesse's smoking habit, something he definitely did pick up at some point while in the gang because, hahaha, he IS smoking in the picture Ashe keeps of him :> Which makes me wonder why, of all pictures Ashe chooses to keep on her bike's dashboard, she picks one where he's smoking.

Then, it makes me wonder about the fact that Jesse deliberately starts smoking when he's standing right in front of her (and then he winks at her!). He tosses that cigar after things get kind of dangerous for him because B.O.B. does something, and then... then he goes back to smoking.

RIGHT WHEN HE'S CLIMBING ON THE BIKE.

Like... seriously...

*unintelligible fangirl screaming*

I could be looking too deeply into this. I know I could be. Maybe Blizzard just wants me to go CRAZY with little symbolism and hints charged with SO MUCH MEANING that maybe don't have as much meaning as I thought it did...

... But man, I've sailed into the depths of the shippiest oceans for many ships that have gotten actual breadcrumbs from canon. I've gone wild over ships that have zero opportunity to become a thing in canon continuity. I've written a nearly 3M words story based on a ship that is just UNEXPLORED AMAZING POTENTIAL and ngl, I love exploring it myself, so I don't even begrudge canon that much for not giving it to me anymore.

But the fact is, no ship in OW, as far as I've seen, has remotely as much content, hints and strong ties as McAshe does -- at least, no ships between heroes. We had a cinematic that was CHARGED with significance, with little gestures, with even the smallest facial expressions that carried soooo much more meaning than whole episodes or even seasons in TV shows. And then? We got a novel. A full novel depicting their origins and exploring their dynamics, how tight their friendship was, and how some strong feelings were certainly brewing there, even if neither one was ready to act on them yet (as far as we saw...).

Finally... I'll say I did start working on a Sokkla Western AU ages ago because the idea I had for one was pretty amusing. Then Reunion dropped, and I said "Why would I need to finish that story anymore when the Sokkla Western AU is RIGHT HERE?!"

And that's it, I will stop rambling now because this got insanely long x'D but thank you very very much for giving me this chance to go WILD on everything I can see, within all those canon hints, with these two *-*

#anon #mcashe #the fact that canon is treating me right for once #is blowing my mind and always will #look I can end up crying in a heap when OW2 drops and we find out that nothing I thought of was real #it's entirely possible #... but we already got so much #SOOOOO MUCH #that I can't even say I'd be mad x'D #I am one happy camper on this ship #and I love them to pieces #I wish I had the time/chance to make all the art I've been inspired to about them *cries ten rivers*#one day... one day

31 notes · View notes

nomazee · 4 years

Note

saw you responded to my prompt idea (Heather) and I'm really sorry for not including a specific character the first time! i did send in a second ask as a follow up. but ushijima pls

Starting Over

(original ask: hi there 😎 hope you're doing well!! just dropping by to suggest a prompt idea!! IM THINKING; Heather by Conan Gray? There's flirty banter going on w/ u 2, and you think the feelings are mutual.. but then there's someone else in the picture. He's giving them all of his attention and you're kinda pushed to the side. Angst pls ): hurt my feelings but then hold my hand after. fluff maybe)

ushijima x reader; tendou & reader

word count: 3000+

content: unrequited crush, angst, loneliness, personal development

(thank you so so so much for this request!! don’t worry about forgetting to add the character, it’s completely alright!! i sort of strayed from the prompt a bit but i tried to maintain the primary concept as best as i could. i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope you enjoy this!!

also just a fun fact--i was absolutely prepared to make the reader and wakatoshi’s gf fall in love with each other and elope and i’m very close to rewriting this and making it go down that route 😃

ALSO-ALSO—i have a multi-part series in the works right now (by “in the works” i mean BARE BONES PLANS) and im gonna share some details + a sneak peak soon!!! i’m kind of excited cause it’s gonna be the first long multipart series i’m gonna make, so i hope you guys are excited about it too!!

thank you all so much for the support recently, every like and commment and follower i receive motivates me so much and i love u all to bits <3

happy reading!!)

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Wakatoshi is not a romantic. You know that best out of anyone—knowing the boy for years gives you a decent awareness of what type of person he is. He doesn’t have much of an interest in things that aren’t volleyball. Even his friends are scarce, limited to you and Tendou and some of the other third-years on the volleyball team. It’s not like he’s lonely—he’s reserved by nature and choice, never really expanding his social circle and putting his energy into extra practices rather than nights out.

You suppose that’s why you get along so well with him. You also suppose that’s why it was a shock to hear that Wakatoshi accepted someone’s confession.

You were no stranger to hearing about these confessions—not because Wakatoshi tells you about them, but because you’re often the one who has to act as the messenger between the confessors of the week and Wakatoshi himself. It’s a bit draining, frankly, to be looked at as a tool to get closer to the ace, but you put up with it because at least you still have him.

Her name is Hana, and she was one of the very few people who confessed to Wakatoshi personally.

He told you the details while walking you to your dorm, and you were a little suspicious of how in-depth he seemed to go about the event. He was interested, you deduced, and in the moment you forced yourself to shove down the ball that rose white-hot in your throat.

“She invited me to dinner on Sunday. Her family owns a restaurant. She said she’ll make me my favorite.”

Oh, you think, I’ve made his favorite plenty of times—you cut that thought off in fear of sounding bitter over losing someone who was never really yours.

“So you’re going, then?”

It’s silent. You stare intently at the way your feet step against the concrete. At the persistent lull in the conversation, you glance up to Wakatoshi.

His cheeks are red, and his gaze is trained pointedly away from you.

He’s blushing, you realize. He’s blushing because he’s embarrassed, embarrassed that now he has someone he’s interested in.

You know you should be happy, and the robotic voice in your head chants, “That’s cute! That’s great!” But you know yourself a little better than that, and decide that you aren’t the happiest with this epiphany.

But you’ll sure as hell make it seem like you are, for Wakatoshi’s sake and Hana’s, too.

You give a smile, one without crinkles at the corners of your eyes, and elbow him playfully. “That’s cute, Toshi. I’m surprised you found someone you’re interested in, but I’m really happy for you.”

He’s smiling, now, and it’s a gentle smile you rarely see form in your presence. As you wave goodbye to him at the steps of your dorm building, you wonder if you’ll have to stop calling him Toshi in fear of upsetting Hana.

---

You’re getting ahead of yourself, you think in the days following Wakatoshi’s unintentional admission of feelings. He’s just trying out a date for once. It’s not like you’re going to lose him immediately.

For the remainder of the week, Wakatoshi still walks you to your dorm after practice (you stay in the library until he’s done), and still lets you sit with him at lunch. By Friday, you make an excuse to avoid the cafeteria (read: avoid him, but you don’t tell him that) and tell him not to wait for you after practice.

You text him on Sunday asking him to tell you how the date goes. He responds with, “It was very fun. I really like her :)” and you feel your heart crack under the strain of your unrequited feelings. But you suck it up, like a good friend, you think, and tell him “that’s great!! i’m so happy for you :)”

On Monday, you go back to sitting with Wakatoshi at lunch. When you smile and place your bento box on the table, he waves awkwardly and blinks at you.

Oh, you think, yet again. Maybe I shouldn’t be sitting here.

You feel a stifling lack of familiarity in the air, and it pains you to admit it. You nod back at Wakatoshi, then blink at your lunch tray, feeling too awkward to even open it up and start eating.

He doesn’t say anything. You uncharacteristically take the initiative.

“So… your date,” you begin. “Did you like it?”

His eyelids flutter yet again, and a fond smile crosses his features. “Yes, I did. Her restaurant is very nice, and so is her family. The hayashi rice was very good. She wants to go out again this weekend.”

“You’re going again?” It’s rhetorical. You know the answer already. He nods, and goes back to eating his lunch. A few minutes pass by, and you still can’t find the strength to pick at your bento.

Just as you open your mouth again to babble about a random topic to fill the silence, Wakatoshi’s head darts up and his eyes focus on something behind you. You twist around to see what it is, but a cold feeling in your veins tells you you already know.

She’s pretty, you think as she waves at you and Toshi and takes a seat next to him. Really pretty, actually.

And an angel. She greets you politely, with a wide smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. Her hands are soft and she has pastel yellow acrylics on her nails. “Hi! I’m Hana, it’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

The question sends another wave of cold electricity through your system, and you feel like crying at the realization that Wakatoshi probably didn’t even talk about you. He probably never talks about you, you think, because there’s just not much to talk about when it comes to you.

You give a smile. Your eyes don’t crinkle. “[Y/N],” you tell her. “I’m Ushijima’s friend.”

Maybe the use of his family name is a bit petty, but you convince yourself that you’re just trying to make yourself distant, trying to make yourself appear as less of a threat to Hana. You think it’s natural that she might get antsy about another girl being in Wakatoshi’s life, but then think that she’s probably too kind to ever get jealous or upset. It only makes your heart ache more.

You see the subtlest flinch from Wakatoshi at the use of his surname, but you assume he doesn’t really care much. Him and Hana start talking casually, and tears prick behind your eyes as Hana does her best to involve you in the conversation. She’s so nice, so so nice, and it isn’t fair for you to be so bitter.

“I have to go study in the library now,” you tell them, picking up your untouched bento box from the table and standing up. “But it was really nice meeting you, Hana.” She smiles again, glossy lips and pearly teeth before Wakatoshi interrupts you.

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving early?”

You pause, and think of the irony of that—he didn’t tell you Hana was sitting with him, otherwise you would’ve left them alone in the first place. But you brush it off, and maintain your smile. “Yeah, I guess I forgot.” You huff a humorless laugh. “But I’ll see you guys later.”

You don't end up going to the library, instead settling for the nurse’s office. She’s nice, you think, nice enough to let you get away with a stomachache and sitting out of class for the remainder of the day.

When you’re dismissed, you habitually wait for Wakatoshi at the side door of the school building. It’s a Monday, and he doesn’t have practice, so he’d be able to walk you back to your dorm rather than making you wait in the library.

It’s a fruitless effort, and you hit yourself for not anticipating it earlier—maybe if you did , you would’ve been at your dorm already. If you did, you wouldn’t wait for twenty minutes with the empty hope that Wakatoshi would still walk you home. If you did, you wouldn’t have to watch them pass down the sidewalk together, his team jacket draped over Hana as they talked with each other, hands interlocked and smiles persistent.

As you blink away tears and walk away from the scene, you think that Hana must really be someone special, to break down Wakatoshi’s walls so quickly and make him be so familiar with her in a matter of days.

Either that, or you were never anything special. Just complacent with the relationship you had with the boy, which you think was only formulated out of the coincidence of growing up together.

You try not to let the thoughts get to you, but after a heartbreak it’s a little difficult to think positively about yourself. You settle for taking a nap once you get to your dorm, and hope that the school’s library is open during lunch tomorrow.

---

Thankfully, it is, and you wordlessly leave Hana and Wakatoshi to their own devices during lunch. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t text you, doesn’t ask you after lunch or during class about it. When you dismiss, you don’t wait for him to walk you to your dorm, and for the second time, you’re left walking alone. It’s a little nerve-wracking, having such a sudden change in your routine, and you’re starting to regret not expanding your social circle. If you did, you’d have someone to talk to at lunch, someone to walk with after dismissal, someone to hang out with during the weekends, another contact in your phone that wasn’t just your parents and Wakatoshi.

The week ends. Wakatoshi never texts you, never asks you if you’re okay or questions why you’re so distant. It’s simultaneously painful and relieving—knowing that your presence could so easily be deducted from his life made you rethink a lot of things, but at the same time you think his lack of action makes it easier for you to deal with it.

During lunch on Monday, you’re alone in the library. Until you’re not.

Red flashes by your vision until you can properly process the form of a boy sitting across from you, chin resting in his palm as he looks at you curiously, a teasing expression on his face.

It’s Tendou—you know him fairly well. You can’t consider him a friend just yet, but you’re somewhat close to him, what with both of you being friends with Wakatoshi.

You blink at him, and cock your head to the side. He follows suit. He’s interesting, you think.

“Hi, Tendou.” You greet. “What are you doing here?”

He narrows his eyes at the stiff greeting, and the arm supporting his head drops to the table. A smile peeks through his features, and while his eyes don’t crinkle you can still tell it’s genuine and friendly.

“Just wanted to say hi. I didn’t see you in the cafeteria with Wakatoshi like you usually are. Actually, I haven’t seen you there for a while now. It took me some time to find out where you go, but I’m here now!”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you settle for a blank stare. He huffs in mock annoyance, and throws his head back with a groan that nearly alerts the librarian.

“Aren’t you happy? Now you can stop moping around and hang out instead.” A pause, then, “So what’s up with you and Toshi? Why don’t you sit with him anymore?”

So this is a therapy session, you think sardonically. Alright, sure. I guess I can tell him.

“He has a girlfriend.” You wince at how sad the words sound coming out of your mouth, and quickly try to defend your tone. “Which is a good thing! I’m not upset—” oh yeah, definitely not, “—but I wanted to leave them alone, so they can hang out. I don't want to get in their way.”

Tendou doesn't respond immediately, instead settling for tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. You’re sure he already knows the real reason, but give up on trying to clarify yourself any further.

He gives a wordless hum, eyes darting to the bento box you’d set aside at the beginning of the period. “You’re not eating.” It’s not a question, more of an observation, and you tense up. Tendou isn’t a threat, you know that, but his hyper-awareness of everything and everyone around him intimidates you greatly.

“Not hungry,” you respond, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. “I eat breakfast, and I don’t normally get hungry until the afternoon.”

“It is the afternoon.” Technically, he’s not wrong. It’s almost 1:30. Regardless, you huff at his technicalities and remain silent.

His gaze is still locked on you. You wonder what he’s still here for, and jokingly tell yourself he’s going to give you a letter and ask you to give it to Wakatoshi like everyone else does.

“You don’t have to stay alone just ‘cause Toshi got a girlfriend.” He’s blunt in his words, which you detest and appreciate at the same time. “He’s not your whole life—doesn’t have to be. You’ve got me now. I’m your new friend, Tendou Satori!” By the end of his spiel, he’s back to his playful self, tone turning childish as he strikes a pose and winks at you.

You make an agreement (more like, he makes a proposition and forces you to comply) to wait for him in the library after school and let him walk you to your dorm. As he leads you to the building, chatting loudly and making you laugh harder than you have in weeks, a strong resolve plants itself in your head.

You have a new friend, and his name is Tendou Satori.

---

For the next week and a half, Tendou is complacent with your dismissive attitude regarding Wakatoshi and indulges you in mindless activities to distract you from any stresses. During the weekend, he takes you out to the mall, buys you boba, and forces you to try on clothes of his choice with the promise that you can do the same to him. While you both giggle in front of the mirror of the dressing room, he pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of you and him in the mirror, and posts it on his Snapchat. You don’t think much of that. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while, and even before then you don’t remember enjoying your time with Wakatoshi as much.

That epiphany makes you hurt a bit, but then you feel Tendou grasp your wrist and lead you off somewhere and things are better. Things are a lot better, really, until a new week approaches and Wakatoshi texts you for the first time in nearly a month.

You hung out with Tendou?

You blink. It’s an interesting way to start a conversation. You suppose Wakatoshi’s not one for formalities, and conclude that he must’ve seen Tendou’s post. Frankly, you’re a bit insulted that Wakatoshi seems shocked at the concept that you can make friends on your own, but you brush it off and text him back.

yeah!! we started talking a while ago. he’s cool.

Are you mad at me?

You don’t know what to think of his question. You don’t know where it came from, or how to respond. Discerning his tone of voice is a bit difficult over text, even more so than it is in person. Nevertheless, you answer honestly.

no? not really? why are you asking?

It takes him a while to respond, and your anxiety grows with each passing second.

You haven't talked to me recently. You don’t eat lunch in the cafeteria anymore. Did I do something wrong?

You don’t know how to explain it to him—don’t really have the energy to go on a rant about how you were avoiding him for your sake, his sake, and his girlfriend’s sake, how you had feelings for him for years and he never noticed and how it was kind of a dick move to be upset over you avoiding him for a month and not even bothering to approach you about it in the first week you started going to the library or the nurse during lunch and walking to the dorms alone.

You settle, once again, for something simpler.

don’t worry about it :) i wasn't avoiding you, but i wanted to give you and hana time alone, so that i didn’t bother you.

Are you and Tendou dating?

You’re sure you’re going to get whiplash from this conversation. You let out a breathy chuckle and tap away on your phone.

no, ushijima, we’re just friends

Oh. Okay

Would you like to sit with me and Hana at lunch tomorrow?

You read the text, then reread it, and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure that Wakatoshi knows what he’s doing, but you still appreciate the intended kindness behind the words. You straighten out your posture, look at the blinking line in the message box, and turn your phone off.

The library doors open, and Tendou bounds through with a cute little hop, immediately going to your usual table with a smile.

“Ready to go?” He asks. You check the time—it’s nearly half past six. Tendou notices and apologizes.

“Sorry for making you wait so long. Practice ran a little longer than usual and I didn’t get the chance to text you about it. Wakatoshi was kind of out of it, so Coach made us all suffer the consequences.” He coupled his statements with a laugh, and it eased the unpleasant feeling that arose with his last sentence. His thin fingers wrapped around your wrist carefully, and he tugged you out of your seat to lead you back home.

Wakatoshi left a bit of an empty gap in your life. And you knew that you’d still be reminded of him often and that pain in your chest will return sometimes. The doubt of your previous friendship and the personal guilt of not trying to get closer to him sooner would still linger for a while. But Tendou Satori was a good distraction, and a great friend.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader

331 notes · View notes

cavehags · 4 years

Note

i realize this will probably bring up old drama so you might not want to answer it. but do you ever regret, however on purpose or on accident, bringing all that unnecesary hate towards Katara? i'm really sad and dissapointed tbh. i'm a woman of color and katara was so important to me growing up. my favorite animated woman ever. and then this resurgence comes and theres so, so much unnecesary hatred for her and everyone ignoring everything that makes her a good character.

(2/3) 2- and you know, i expected this from the male side of the fandom. they were misogynistic to her and the others even back then so i would expect it to be even worse with how internet culture is more mysogistic now that ever. and i wasnt wrong. male atla fans had some truly horrible takes and views that just came across as racism and misogyny. but, i expected these circles to be better. to be a safe space for us woc who love this character. but i found the same weird hatred for her.

(3/3) 3-i just, i cant believe i feel less welcome now that i did even back then. and back then i didnt even paricipate really. but at least i could enjoy fandom content without stumbling into misogyny and racism every other post. also sorry for sending this to your personal blog b i just wanted to let you know you controbuted to that too even if it wasnt your intention. at least you realized that and arent contributing to it anymore right? cause honestly the hate has only gotten worse not less.

hey anon. thanks for asking this question, because i hadn’t addressed this topic previously and this gave me an opportunity to do so.

no, i don’t regret publicly interpreting a character whom i love through a nuanced and human lens. and i don’t regret combating the one-dimensional interpretation of this character, which posits that she’s merely an vaguely defined object of attraction for some boy or another, and a singularly gentle, mature, maternal figure whose sole purpose in life is to nurture others. those interpretations suck. they rob her of the humanity and complexity that make her character unique and they stem from misogynistic tropes that reduce women to the services they can provide to men. the thing in the world that matters most to me is fighting misogyny, and this trend to diminish a proud and powerful and angry teenage girl by exaggerating only her most socially acceptable traits is misogyny.

unlike you, i did not grow up watching avatar: the last airbender. the shows i watched growing up did not have a lot of girls who felt real to me. the girls i saw on tv growing up were simple. they were the main characters’ crushes. they were simple, desirable, usually sweet and loving, and not much else. if they had a flaw, it was that they were, at best, “awkward.” whatever that means. or if they were the protagonists, which was rare, they were nice enough and tried to do the right thing, but they never had strong feelings like resentment and anger. they weren’t allowed to be unfeminine which meant they weren’t allowed to be bitter, angry or in any way flawed. they didn’t look like the version of girlhood i knew to be true for me personally, which included a lot of anger and frustration and powerlessness.

that crappy representation left me with internalized misogyny that chased me for longer than i’d like to admit. i did not learn to think of girls as humans who could be as interesting and flawed and messy as the boys were. i did not value myself as a girl, and later a woman, because i thought the best thing a girl could be was... bland. boring. pretty, but empty. passionless.

it would have meant the world to me to see a character like katara.

because katara is angry. she has every right to be: she’s had so much stolen from her, including her mother, her people, and her childhood. katara has a short fuse. she yells. she snaps. she fucks up. sometimes she makes mean jokes! i never saw a single one of those dreamily perfect cartoon love interests make mean jokes when i was a kid. she is extremely idealistic--it’s her defining character trait--but we see the bad side of that as well as the good. we see that her need to help others leads her to act rashly, to get herself into danger, to put others in danger too.

and she has her very own arc. it’s not about her love for another person, either (what a snooze of a storyline); it’s about growing up and learning to break down some of that stubborn black-and-white thinking that we all indulge in as children. it’s a true coming-of-age arc and it belongs to a fourteen-year-old girl.

when i, to use a phrase i find crass, “entered the fandom,” i quickly realized that other fans’ perceptions of katara did not line up with the things i valued most about her. other fans seemed to valorize her most socially acceptable feminine qualities: her generosity, her kindness, her dedication to helping others. and of course i love those parts of her--i love everything about her--but what is really remarkable about avatar: the last airbender is that katara’s many important virtues are also counterbalanced by equally significant flaws. a good character has flaws. katara is a good character, and a deviation from the characters who made up my formative media landscape, because she has flaws. her temper, her idealism, her stubbornness--these are flaws. flaws make her seem real and human and challenge the mainstream sentiment that girls are not real or human.

it simply did not occur to me that celebrating these aspects of katara that make her a realistic and well-written teenage girl would spark ire from other adult fans. it absolutely did not occur to me that i would then be blamed for somehow causing misogynistic interpretations of this character, particularly given that misogynistic interpretations of this character are the very thing i sought to correct when i began to blog about this television show.

i’m told there are “fans” on instagram and tiktok who think katara is whiny, annoying, and overly preoccupied with her trauma. i do not use instagram or tiktok, so i wouldn’t know, but i’ll take your word for it. respectfully, however, they didn’t get that from me. misogynistic takes on katara have existed since before i came along. i have never, ever called katara whiny. and seeing as i have been treating my own PTSD in therapy for nine years, you can safely conclude that i don’t think anyone, katara included, is overly preoccupied with their trauma. that’s not a thing. do i think she’s annoying? of course not! as a character, she’s a delight. does she sometimes find real joy in aggravating her brother and her friends? yes, because she’s 14. i, an adult, am not annoyed by her. sokka and toph often are, because that is katara’s goal and katara always succeeds in her goals. she’s not “annoying.”

if there are “fans” who are indeed following lesbians4sokka and somehow misreading every single post and interpreting them to mean that we hate katara and they should too, i don’t really know what you want me to do about that. l4s has over ten thousand followers and we have already posted so many essays disavowing katara hate. our feminist and antiracist objectives in running the blog are literally pinned with the headline “please read.”

furthermore, you cannot reasonably expect my co-blogger and me to control the way our words will be received. we should not have to, and are not going to, add a disclaimer to every post saying that when we critique or make jokes about a teenage girl we are doing so through a feminist lens. our url is lesbians4sokka, and we are clearly women. if that alone doesn’t make it obvious, then refer back to that pinned post.

it is indescribably frustrating, and really goddamn depressing as well, that people are so comfortable with the misogynistic binary of Perfect Good Women and Flawed Wicked Bitches that they perceive any discussion of a woman’s flaws to be necessarily relegating her to the latter camp. if that is how you (a generic you) perceive women, then i’m sorry, but you’ve internalized sexism that i cannot cure you of. and it’s unjust to expect my friend and me to write for the lowest common denominator of readers who have not yet had their own feminist awakenings. we do not write picture books for babies. we write for ourselves, and with the expectation that our readers can think critically. reading media through a feminist lens is my primary interest; i have no intention of excising that angle from my writing.

as i go through my life, i am going to embrace the flaws of girls and women because not enough people do. as long as the dominant narratives surrounding women are “good and perfect” and “unlovable wh*re,” you’ll find me highlighting flawed, realistic, righteously angry women in the margins. and for what it’s worth, it’s not just katara. i champion depictions of angry girls in all sorts of media. that’s sort of my whole thing. my favorite movies are part of the angry girl cinematic universe: thoroughbreds, jennifer’s body, hard candy, jojo rabbit, et cetera. on tv, in addition to katara, you’ll find me celebrating tuca and bertie, poppy from mythic quest, tulip and lake from infinity train, korra, and more. i adore all these women and see myself in them. i hope you find this suitably persuasive to establish that i have sufficient Feminist Cred, according to your standards, to observe and write about these very flawed and human fictional women.

what i’m saying is this: i decline to take responsibility for the misogynistic discourse orbiting a children’s cartoon. as someone who writes about that series from a perspective that seeks to add humanity and nuance to the reductive, one-dimensional, overwhelmingly sexist writing that already exists, i am pretty taken aback that i am the one being blamed for the very problem i sought to address. except not that taken aback because i am a woman online, haha! and this is always how it goes for us.

finally, i think it sucks that you’ve chosen to blame me for a problem that begins and ends with the patriarchy. i can’t control the way this response will be perceived, just like how i can’t control the way anything will be perceived because i am just one human woman, but i do hope you choose to be reflective, and consider why you’ve chosen this avenue to assign blame.

#anyway! this answer is too long and it's undignified to answer ''fandom drama'' queries on le blog #but here we are in 2020

233 notes · View notes

angelic-serenade · 4 years

Text

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms)

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

1K notes · View notes

lezliefaithwade · 3 years

Text

A Breath of Fresh Air

The summer after my first year of theatre school, I was sleeping on the living room floor of my cousin's apartment in Toronto, trying to figure out what to do with my life. My cousin had been an actor before he became a quadriplegic in a car accident, and as I unadvisedly bemoaned my unemployment status, he said something like, "Seriously? You're complaining about your life? Don't make me burst a colostomy bag." He was right, of course. I wasn't in a wheelchair, though I did have a stepmother who had rendered me homeless because of her dislike for me. She was always saying things like, "Your hair can't be as ugly as that hat you're wearing." Or simply refusing to invite me to things like Christmas dinner. I always admired people with families. My boyfriend at the time was one of five kids who were always doing things together. Their house was always full of noise and activities. Even as a shiksa, I felt more at home there than with my stepbrothers and sisters, who never lost an opportunity to point out that I was weird. I wanted to stand up to them, but not wanting to cause my father any grief, I held my tongue and sought refuge elsewhere. It occurred to me that perhaps I was using the theatre as an opportunity to say things through characters that I couldn't find the courage to express myself.

The Toronto Star was still open on the kitchen table, and I rummage through the Want Ads, that dirty part of the newspaper near the back where complete strangers will soon become complete assholes in your life by forcing you to work menial jobs in humiliating uniforms for minimum wage.

"Find anything?" my cousin called from the bedroom, where two attendants helped wash and dress him.

"Social services are advertising for camp councilors to work with emotionally challenged kids."

"Oh yeah," He said. "That might suit you."

I'm not sure I knew what he meant but, I was beginning to think I'd outgrown my welcome. My cousin probably would have encouraged me to join the circus if the option had been available. Knowing my living room days were numbered, I thought it best to make an effort and apply.

I had no experience teaching drama—no experience working with kids and no experience going to or working at a camp. Despite all that, I was hired. It's worth noting that it's probably not a good sign if you get a job with no qualifications whatsoever.

My official position was Drama Councillor, and I prided myself that with only a year and half of theatre training behind me, I was well equipped to help others benefit from the wealth of my experience. I imagined myself, Maria Von Trapp, teaching children how to sing while they looked at me adoringly. Somehow, I conveniently blocked out the rebellious early stages she experienced and skipped straight to the good parts. Also, I might add, forgetting about the Nazis and having to climb over a mountain. Still, visions of me biking around camp with a group of happy campers behind me filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction.

As I packed my knapsack with deet and a secret stash of Twinkies, I thought of how only three weeks earlier I'd been in New York walking through Central Park and savoring Cappuccinos at outdoor cafés on Columbus. Now, here I was, ready for something different. The wilderness, I imagined, would be a welcome change—fresh air and loons instead of smog and sirens. I thought smugly about my classmates sweating behind visors at take-out windows shoveling fries into cardboard cups or wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. Thumbs up to adventure, I told myself. The fact that I'd never once in my life enjoyed the great outdoors didn't factor into my mind. All of this changed with each accumulated minute of the 391 Kilometer drive north.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the compound. Overcast, sullen, it was a place so secluded you'd need flares to find it. It had that distinct aura of someplace time forgot. A place left behind and neglected. In the brochure, the sun was shining, flowers filled the meadow, and you could practically hear laughter floating off the page. What I was looking at bore more of a resemblance to a situation in a Stephen King novel where camp councilors discover a pack of hungry teenage zombies have lured them to a seemingly idyllic retreat. Situated right in the heart of black fly country, I spent most of my days swatting insects so big they seem Jurassic.

During our orientation, child care workers warned us that children with mental health needs tend to run away - a lot and to keep strict attendance records and all eyes on them at all times. "These kids are resourceful and clever," they cautioned. I couldn't imagine being so determined you'd risk your life by escaping through the woods that surrounded us, but then again, I'd never been around children who weren't allowed cutlery before either

I shared my cabin with three other women with who I had absolutely nothing in common. Delia, a humorless 27-year-old cooking instructor who answered every question with a monosyllabic grunt, Jennifer, a 26-year old tennis instructor with massive blond ringlets who talked so quickly she sounded like a record on high speed, and an older aboriginal woman named Sunny who made us all dream catchers and offered advice about how to heal ourselves on days when we'd feel spent. "Remember, these kids need us," she said while purifying our cabin with sage. As I glanced around my assigned bunk, taking in the spider webs and loose floorboards, I had that sinking feeling that comes when you know you've made a terrible mistake. Before long, I was eating copious amounts of peanut butter on stale bagels amid a never-ending supply of starch. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to feed children with challenges like anxiety, depression, hyperactivity, and eating disorders copious amounts of sugar and carbs. It certainly did nothing to help them or me.

On the first day of class, I sat everyone in a circle. "Welcome to drama class," I said with a smile. "Let's begin by sharing with everyone a little bit about ourselves. Anything at all you'd like us to know?" A hand went up.

"I'm Tracy, and I hate my stupid ass brother. He can go straight to hell."

"Okay," I said, "That's a start. Who's next?"

Another hand. "I'm Jonathan, and this place sucks so much I wish it would burn to the ground!"

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"I'm Jo. I'm schizophrenic. So sometimes I'm Rachel and Julia. You'll know the difference because Rachel has a British dialect, and Julia talks slang."

"O-kay." I glanced at the social workers who sat on the edge of the room and looked at me with an expression that basically said, "We can't wait to see what you do next."

"Let's write a play," I suggested. "Write anything you want. Once you're happy with the work, I'll shape it into a cohesive piece that we'll rehearse and then present at the end of the season talent showcase."

The kids liked this idea. The showcase was a big deal. It was an opportunity for them to blow off some steam and express themselves to friends and family in a creative way. My only stipulation was not to use profanity. As the weeks passed, I was impressed with how well they all threw themselves into this project—all except Eric, the oldest boy in my 12 to 15-year-olds. Eric often wandered around the rehearsal space, unfocused and sullen.

"Any ideas for your piece?" I ask, checking in to see if I could help.

"I'm thinking," he'd say and then pace.

With three weeks left in the summer, I took my well-deserved week off to decompress. My boyfriend came up from Toronto and drove me to his parent's house at Post and Bayview, where caterers were preparing the tennis courts for an outdoor party. I walked into his mother's living room, and she gasped. "What happened to you?"

I didn't blame her. I hadn't spent much time looking at a mirror the past four weeks, but one glance at the large one in their bathroom told the full story. My hair was ratty; I had scabs on my knees, bruises on my arms and legs, and I was sunburnt. I was wearing a vintage skirt and blouse that was probably more Value Village than vintage and a pair of worn, scuffed purple moccasins; in essence, I was wearing slippers on my feet.

"Please take her to the mall and at least buy her a pair of shoes," his mother said, handing me her credit card and then rushing off to make sure the stuffed alligator would float in the pool. That week I ate my way through rugelach, hamantaschen, brisket, and bagels while his family watched me with awe and disgust.

Back at camp, the smell of burning insect repellent greeted me along with the news that the sailing and tennis instructors were sacked for disorderly conduct. Never mind, I had renewed energy and a sense of purpose. There were costumes and props to make. Sound and lighting effects to create. And we needed to rehearse. It was only a tiny stage somewhere on a remote camp in Northern Ontario, but the excitement was palpable. I was excited. This would be the best talent show ever, and my kids were going to blow the socks off everyone there!!!

"Eric," I said, "How's your piece coming along?"

"I finished it," he mentioned casually

"That's great. Can I see it?"

"I want to surprise you. You're going to love it, though. I promise."

I patted myself on the back. Eric had a breakthrough. All my encouragement and patience had paid off. Perhaps I'd helped him have a developmental breakthrough.

"Can you tell me what it's about?" I asked.

"The Beatles."

"Great. Okay," and left it at that.

Talent Night arrived along with parents and family friends. The lights dimmed, the kids performed, and the audience enthusiastically applauded as each "Mighty Mite" or "Spirit of Paradise" breezed across the stage, acting out skits about fairies and monsters and assorted escapades. Finally, it was Eric's turn. Out he came, looking serious and theatrical. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"This is called, The Beatles Last Recording Session. By, Me."

Three of his closest camp friends filed out and took a space on the stage. The audience was silent.

There was a dramatic pause, then the piece began.

"Fuck you, Ringo,"

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Fuck you, George."

"Well fuck you, John."

Then they bowed and left the stage.

Personally, I thought it was kind of brilliant. Needless to say, I wasn't showered with accolades about my teaching methods or the effect I had on kids. I left there having no catharsis about mental health except that giving people the opportunity to express themselves without censor is probably a lot healthier than insisting they stay quiet. I admired the honesty displayed in the kid's work. If only, I thought to myself, I could be half as brave. Wasn't that what I was spending time and money learning how to do?

A week after being home, I found myself packing, once more, for school in New York. Our term letters had arrived with instructions on where to buy character shoes, leotards, copies of The Children's Hour, and Death of a Salesman. The camp already felt like it was 391 kilometers away - soon to be 659. My father drove me to the train station with my stepmother beside him; she was there, no doubt, to ensure I boarded.

"You going to be okay?" my father asked, giving me a hug and slipping a $50 bill into my pocket.

"She'll be fine." Elsie chimed in. "You don't have to worry about her. Let's go."

But I wanted my father to worry about me. Not all the time and to the exclusion of all else, but certainly the appropriate fatherly amount.

As I settled myself on the train, I watched my stepmother pull from father from the platform to the car and thought of Eric's brilliant play. Under my breath, I whispered the immortal words of the Beatles, "Fuck you."

#stepmother #mental health #children #young people #summer camp

3 notes · View notes

teenagebeautyqueen · 4 years

Text

[Image description: a young person holds a mobile phone with a blue case and a paper on the other. the paper has a drawing of an umbrella colored with the trans pride flag. we can only see their upper body. they are looking down and to the left of the image. they're smiling without showing their teeth, and look relaxed. they're wearing a black, loose hoodie and some shorts can be seen at the bottom of the picture. they're also using black nail polish. on the background there is a door and a star wars poster. the other image is a close up of the paper. end ID]

🌈ʜᴇ/ᴛʜᴇʏ🌈

happy trans day of visability to all my fellow trans*!! here is me and my project for peace's day... i personally love it. it's on spanish, but i'll translate it for y'all.

the text on the left says "cada persona que conoces está luchando una batalla de la que no sabes nada. sé amable. siempre", which is the translation of that quote that goes like "every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. be kind. always".

the one on the right says "¿qué sentido hay en pelear? ¿por qué insistimos en sabotearnos mutuamente? Todos caminamos por el mismo sendero embarrado, todos nos dirigimos al mismo final." its translation is something like "what's the point on fighting? why do we insist on sabotage each other? we all walk the same muddy path, we are all headed for the same end."

and above the umbrella there's words like "odio", "acoso", "ignorancia" & "discriminación", which mean "hatred", "harassment", "ignorance", and "discrimination".

yeah i'm very subtle.

i've decided to share my story with the world. but i got kinda carried away. it's not s fairy tale, so don't read it if you're sensitive to themes like bullying, mental health issues, and toxic people.

——————————————————————

it's been... one ride of a journey, to say the least. i've said a few times that i started to question my gender around summer. but that's not quite true.

growing up, i never was fond of... anything that i associated with femenine, really. this included, but wasn't limited to, any color that wasn't blue (pink and purple get a special mention, i despised them), flowers, clothes too loose or too tight, shorts if they weren't from some sport, etc. i think you get the idea.

this collided with me being afab (aka a girl for everyone including myself) & neurodivergent. i wanted nothing to do with those things. but society wanted me to love them.

5 yo me said she didn't like Monster High. 5 yo female classmate said i was a weirdo. 7 yo me loved football. 7 yo male classmate said i couldn't play because i was a girl. 9 yo me hyperfixated on minecraft. 9 yo pretty much every classmate called me a geek.

so i stoped trying. for a while, i loved pink, wanted to have rapunzel's hair, watched disney channel, etc. but i already was the weirdo. i remember being three and friends with all of them. i remember playful fights for the toy rocket and reading books with the only other boy who could read, to ourselves, each other, and the whole class. but people grow up, and they change. so yeah, i was bullied. always the last one to be chosen, left alone on the bus rides, on my own at the playground.

and you'll be thinking "that sucks, but pao, how is it related to you being trans?"

you'll see, i didn't have many friends. i was kinda alone until i turned 7. then two new kids came to my class. let's call them eva and john. i made friends with them asap. i loved them so much!! they were my first friends since kindergarden. so i allowed myself to let go. i was already hated by most of my peers. why wouldn't i be myself with those who didn't despise me? (i was 7 when i thought this. 7 years old, and i thought that out of 20 people, 18 hated me. and then people wonder why i've got self-steem issues lmao. i'm tryna make the point that bullying in primary school isn't just some mean kids calling you names. i'm currently in high school and it still has its mark on me. but that's for another moment.)

so yeah. i went "wild". eva has adhd too (noice, right? i mean she has her diagnosis becaise she's primarly hyperactive, while i'm primarly inattentive, but we understood each other way quickier than with neurotypicals– even if i didn't know why yet), and john was kinda shy & corpulent (he wasn't fat, but he didn't look slim either), just like me. so we became friends. and i slowly opened up a little, while still playing my role of "the freak kid". i knew i was seen as that AND as the smart kid. double pressure, double bullying. but i had my small circle. it evolved until my current friend group, in which, god bless, there's a trans girl!! (eva's still on it– she's my best friend and i would die for her, no doubts. john can go fuck himself, the goddamned fascist).

but it ain't that easy. it never is. i'm 14 and afab. shit happens. y'all get it.

my first period happened while i was on a school trip (bad), on a hotel with no pads avaliable (very bad), on another country so i couldn't call my mum unless i had wifi because politics & stuff– and i did not have wifi (really bad). cue a lot of dysphoria (even if i didn't know it was that) + not being able to contact anyone. add the fact that i was the second one to have it, and it was some kind of taboo– it meant the other girls wouldn't leave me alone, and the result is clear: one of my worst panic attacks ever, on a tiny bathroom of some shitty hotel room.

from there it went downhill. my body started to become femenine, and the football short didn't make my hips smaller. my face, my oh so alarged face, suddenly became rounder. puberty hit me not only physically, but emotionally. and if that wasn't enough, we, as a class, were entering what's called here "the turkey age", a.k.a. teenagerhood, where looks become even more important. it didn't take long until i hated my body.

[WARNING: from here, this gets hard. mentions of eating disorders, depressive episodes/thoughts, toxic enviroments, homophobia/transphobia (both internalized and external), anxiety attacks, and thoughts of self-harm]

i thought "it's big, it shouldn't be big, it's fat. besides i don't want it to grow so fast. i want to make it stop growing. how? well, i grow up by eating. no eating=no growing".

yeah. eating disorder. when i think about it, i want to laugh. because it only took a few comments and "jokes" for me to be so angry at myself when i should be mad with them. i'm big. always have been, very likely always will. i've been told that i could make a very good rugby player. i probably would. i shared my cantine table with people (😔). and they wouldn't shut up. "[deadname], the rest wants to eat too!", "look at [deadname], she's gonna eat it all!". things like that. i stoped eating. i would pick up the smallest amount of food i could, even if my stomach was begging me to please eat something. eventually, my mum found out. and she helped me to grow out of it. i sometimes releapse, but never for that long. because i went on a whole year like that. and it sucked.

so, last year. socially anxious neurodivergent girl with several doubts on her sexuality gets to eight grade.

i play basketball. since i was little. i used to enjoy it a lot. we weren't a team– we were a family. loved 'em so much, 1000/10 one of the best things of my life. BOOM. now you're old enough & good enough to be on the "good" team. in the good time there's the cool kids. i am not a cool kid. oops. i was left behind, they all laughed at my back, no one cared about me (except one girl, but she was in the group and was scared to act until almost the end of the year. love her for that tho). i felt like shit. i was too scared to go to train. the sight of a ball scared me, because i couldn't help but think everyone was talking shit about me. we went to a national championship and when they went out to the city, they didn't tell me, then sent a pic of them having fun to the groupchat & delated it saying "oops it was for the other group". i had several breakdowns on my room that night. it was such a bad experience i can't even hear the name of the city without tearing up.

not to count that a new girl decided to make my life a living hell. now i know how to deal with her, but then i didn't, and i ended up curled up on the bathroom floor crying.

all while i discovered my own identity. i was so scared of being non-straight i hated myself for it.

it was a tough year and there were times where i would wish i'd never existed. it was too much for me to deal with, and i was just miserable. but i got out of it. remember the trans girl i mentioned? she's closeted, and she told me just this october. but even before that, she was my friend. she bought a new life to it all, a fresh one. i owe her a lot, including accepting myself as i am.

she is here, despite everything.

i am here, despite everything.

you are all here, despite everything.

some of us aren't here. they are the ones we remember. each one of us has our history. i shared mine with you all. it is not an easy road. you know that. it's hard, and it's tough, and it's difficult, and it's unfair.

but we are here, despite everything. the ones who made it, the ones who didn't, the ones who are halfway through it, and the ones who are to come.

we are here. we are trans. and we won't be erased.

3 notes · View notes

stickswrites · 4 years

Text

Keiko Aizawa: Origin “Her Shadows” (Chapter One)

It was the first day of classes at UA and I was less nervous than I probably should have been. I hadn't met anyone new from my class yet and I wasn't sure how well we would get along, not that I cared too much about making friends, but it's nice to get along with heroes you could work with in the future. You see, I got into the prestigious UA High School on recommendation from a few different pro heroes.

Allow me to back up for you. My name is Keiko Aizawa and I am a part of the 80% of the population that has a unique ability called a quirk. Mine is known as shadow manipulation and it does exactly as the name suggests, plus a few other things. I've been using it for years, training and pushing my limits so that I could be like my dad, the pro hero Eraserhead. He's not my biological dad, but he's more of a father than my real one. My biological parents are a story for another time.

Like I said, it was my first day of classes and the first day I would meet the rest of my classmates. I had to drag my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn in order to get to school on time and do my morning routine of going for a run and working out. I'm not exactly a gym rat because my social anxiety would actually manifest and kick my ass for making me go out in public to train, so Dad and I made a small at-home gym and training room so that we could both train, occasionally inviting my best friend over. I guess you could say my personality fits my quirk. I'm like a shadow in a room and lots of people don't notice me, which is fine by me. I don't want to be a pro hero like All Might, although I do respect him (who doesn't). I'd much rather be a hero like Dad, who stays out of the public eye as much as possible.

After I got out of bed, I walked sluggishly out of my room, petting my cat, Yuzuki, who was laying at the foot of my bed. I opened the door to the hallway and walked to the kitchen, where I figured Dad would already be waiting. Sure enough, there he was, sitting at the table and looking like he was half asleep, which he probably was. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that Dad and I were related by more than a name. We acted extremely similar and I even looked kind of like him after spending 8 years with him.

"Good morning," he said lazily, bringing his coffee to his mouth and taking a sip.

"If it was a good morning, I'd still be asleep," I retorted.

Dad snorted into his coffee as soon as I said that, but he composed himself again very quickly. I went about the kitchen looking for something to eat but didn't find anything. Guess we'll have to go grocery shopping sometime soon. I thought to myself. Instead, I poured myself a cup of coffee and grabbed a bag of chips that were definitely not meant to be eaten as breakfast. I was about to sit down across from Dad to eat when our two long-haired cats started circling around me and meowing, signaling that they were ready for their breakfast. Sighing, I set my breakfast down and poured their food into the designated bowls on the ground. I grabbed my breakfast again and sat down across from Dad.

"Are you still not going to tell me who my teacher is?" I asked for the millionth time since I found out I was accepted into UA.

"No," he responded. "You'll figure it out later today. Besides, you already know the majority of the teachers there."

"I know," I pouted while tossing a chip into my mouth. "But still, what's the point of having a dad who is a teacher at the school I'm attending, but not being able to know in advance who my teacher will be?"

"Maybe I should have just kept my job a secret then," he mused with a small smile on his face.

"Maybe you should have," I responded with a smile.

The rest of our breakfast was eaten with very few words exchanged. That's just how Dad and I were though. We didn't use a lot of words, so we showed our love with our actions instead. That's why he got me Yuzuki when I was eight years old. I had been bullied at school for my quirk and my eyes, which were obviously things I could control, and Dad happened to find Yuzuki, who shared a unique eye color with me, at a shelter. After that, I'd been bullied a few more times because of the scars I had on my face. There was an x-shaped one under my left eye and a vertical scar on the right side of my lips. The kids in my classes always found them unnerving. It was after those incidents that he finally pulled me out of public school and homeschooled me instead, which led to me hanging out around UA facilities a lot and meeting almost all of the teachers and faculty there.

"Are you ready for today?" Dad asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I will be after I go for a run," I responded with a smile. "I don't want to get lazy just because I was accepted into the UA Hero Course. Also, Mako is coming over to go on my run with me this morning."

"Good idea," Dad said with a smile.

Mako, or Makoto Saeki, has been my best friend since Dad adopted me. He got accepted into U.A. through recommendations like I did. What he didn't know was that Dad was the one to recommend him. Makoto has an amazing quirk called 'buffer'. It basically allows him to create gravitational plates that he can use to walk on walls, ceilings, air, etc. We've trained with my dad for as long as I can remember and are practically siblings at this point. For the majority of our childhood, we've been over at one of our houses. His parents were both pro heroes, but they'd been killed in action by a pair of villains. So his grandmother, who owns UNERI CO., bought the house that was right next to ours for Makoto and his little sister, Ichika. They had a nanny, Shiore, over at the house, so Makoto was able to come over a lot to hang out with someone his own age. So it was only natural that we became as close as we did and that we began working out together when we decided to apply to U.A. At least three times a week we would go on a morning run together before our days really got started. Today was one of those days. I glanced at the microwave clock to see that I still had half an hour before I was supposed to meet him in front of the tree that stood between our houses.

As soon as I finished my "breakfast", I went to my room to grab my pill bottle and take my medicine, noting that I would have to ask Recovery Girl for a refill in a day or two. Then I changed into some sweats and a muscle tank top before pulling my dark purple hair back into a ponytail and pinning my bangs back so that they were no longer in my face. As I reached down to tie my sneakers' laces, I scratched Yuzuki's chin as he tried to force himself under my hands. Finally being able to tie my shoes with the cat on my feet, I stood up and stretched a bit. I grabbed my phone, earbuds, and the armband I put my phone in when I ran and walked out of my room. I passed by the kitchen as I put my armband on and put my phone in it.

"I'm heading out now, Dad!" I called into the house as I bent down to pet Hana, Dad's cat, one more time before I left.

"Be safe!" he called back. "Tell Makoto I say 'hello'!"

With a promise that I would, I walked out the door and closed it behind me, making sure neither of the cats escaped. I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air before walking to the tree Mako and I always met in front of and saw that he wasn't there. I checked the time just to see if I was early or if he was late, but was disappointed when I saw I was a few minutes early.

"Damn," I said quietly. "Now I don't have anything I can hold over him."

While waiting for Mako, I took the time to plug my headphones into my phone and find a song I wanted to listen to when we would start running. The few minutes passed quickly and Mako was right on time. His messy, deep maroon hair catching the morning light like his eyes. One of the things the two of us had bonded over was our eyes. They didn't look the same, but we'd both been bullied for them in the past. While my eyes had a kaleidoscope of blues and purples, Mako had heterochromia. His right eye was bright orange and his left eye was an equally bright red.

"Hey, Koko!" he said cheerfully, a bright smile on his face as he pulled an earbud out of his ear.

"Hey, Mako," I responded with a smile. "How are you doing this morning?"

"I'm doing alright," he said with a small pout appearing on his face. "Although, my orange shirt was still wet from the wash, so I had to wear my yellow one."

"Oh don't pout," I said with a small laugh. "Yellow suits you just fine."

"You're just poking fun at me because you were able to find your purple tank top today," he retorted.

"Whatever," I said while putting an earbud in, knowing it was true. "Are you ready to head out?"

"You bet," he responded, clicking shuffle on his music."Normal route?"

"You know it," I said with a large smile as I clicked play on my music and put the other earbud in.

The two of us made our way on our usual jogging route. As usual, we didn't talk about anything while running, but that may have also been because we were both anxious about what U.A. could bring for us. Within a half-hour, we got back to our houses and said our goodbyes so that we could do our separate morning routines. I walked back into my house, not breathing super heavily because I was used to the run, but my face was still somewhat flushed with exertion.

"You back already?" Dad asked from the kitchen sink, washing his coffee mug. "That was pretty quick."

"Guess Mako and I both have some nerves then," I responded, pulling my earbuds out of my ears and wrapping the cord for storage. "After all, we are starting the Hero Course today."

Dad hummed in agreement as I went back to my room to do some stretching before showering. As soon as I walked in, Yuzuki greeted me from my bed with a meow.

"Good to see you too," I mumbled while scratching under his chin, causing a purr to come from his throat.

Glancing at my alarm clock, I realized that I only had another half an hour before I had to leave with Dad to get to the school. Sighing, I stopped petting Yuzuki and began stretching. Afterward, I quickly showered and got changed into my school uniform. Pulling my mostly dry hair back into a half-up ponytail, I looked at myself in the mirror and gave myself a silent pep talk. I wrapped the hair tie around one last time before letting my hands fall back to my sides. I nodded at myself as I fixed my bangs a little bit, satisfied with my appearance, and walked back into my room from the adjoined bathroom. I walked over to my bed and grabbed my backpack and made sure it had all of the school materials I would need. After seeing I had all of my stuff, I slung my bag onto my back and gripped the strap.

"Kiki, you ready?" I heard Dad call from the front door.

"Yeah!" I responded. "I'm coming!" I turned back to my bed and bent down to give Yuzuki, who was still laying on my bed in "loaf mode", a kiss on the head, which he shoved into my face as an attempt to get attention faster. "Goodness, you're so needy," I mumbled, standing back up straight.

I pet his head one more time before walking out of my room and to the front of the house, where Dad was waiting with his hero gear on. When I got over to him, he didn't open the front door right away, but instead straightened my tie, which I had spent 10 minutes on to try to make it look presentable but apparently failed to do so. After he fixed it, I gave him a grin that he responded to with a wide smile of his own.

"Let's go," he said, pulling the front door open.

We both walked out of the house and to the car in the driveway. Makoto, with his hair styled this time and his school uniform on, walked out of his house at the same time and came over to the car.

"Hey, Mr. Aizawa!" He greeted cheerfully. "Thanks for agreeing to take me to school! Shiore wasn't sure what she was gonna do with Ichika if she drove me. She gets carsick, you know."

"It's no problem at all, Makoto," Dad responded. "I'm happy to help out. And please, as long as we're not at school, just call me Shota."

Makoto and I were two of the only people Dad ever let his strict and uncaring facade down around. With me, he never even bothered to try to keep his facade up but he tried to keep it up with Makoto around. He gave up on that too though after we'd seen him cry while watching the Lion King with us when we were kids.

"Alright," Dad started. "Hop in the car and let's get going, you two."

Mako and I nodded and both got in the backseat of the car. The car ride was pretty quiet, but that was also normal for us. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence like one might expect, but to someone outside of us three, it might appear to be so.

The car ride wasn't very long, maybe a half-hour or so, but it felt longer as I thought of all the possibilities of today. Soon enough, Dad pulled into the staff parking lot of the school, by the back of the building, and parked. As he turned the car off, Mako and I grabbed our bags and stepped out of the car, taking the time to stretch our legs before stepping toward the building. Right before we walked into UA High School, Dad stopped us.

"I'm proud of you," he said. "Both of you. You're exceptional young people and I'm sure you'll be some of the best students this school has ever seen."

I swear both Mako and I started tearing up as we practically threw ourselves into Dad's arms, hugging him tightly. I squeezed his waist tightly as I felt the tears start to overflow. Dad wrapped his arms around the two of us and we stayed like that for a few more seconds before Mako and I released him.

"We'll make you proud, Dad," I responded, wiping the tears from my eyes.

Mako nodded vigorously as he wiped his eyes as well. Dad let out a small chuckle and placed a hand on top of my head.

"Both of you already have," he responded with a smile.

Mako and I turned to each other with wide smiles before turning back to Dad, who put his hands in his pockets. Without another word, he gave us another smile and walked in through the door we'd opened, kissing the top of my head as he passed by.

"He's the kind of hero I want to be when I graduate," Makoto said.

"Same here," I replied with a small smile. "He does it for the right reasons and not for the fame."

"It is strange that not many heroes choose to be humble," Makoto told me with a newfound determined glint in his eyes. "I'll be one of them."

I nodded in agreement and we finally walked into the building, looking at the place that would be our path to becoming the heroes we longed to be. We stopped in the middle of the empty hallway.

"Ready or not?" I asked with a small smile, holding my fist out to Makoto.

"Here we come," he responded with a grin, bumping his fist with mine.

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

A/N

Hey everyone! This is my first MHA story and I'm super excited to share it with you. A few things, unless it is otherwise specified, all artwork is done by me. I don't claim to own any of the My Hero Academia characters or plotlines. Those all belong to the creators. I do, however, own Keiko Aizawa as well as her parents. My friend owns Makoto and his family, including Shiore and Ichika. He has given me permission to use him in this story. The picture at the top of this chapter is what Keiko looks like! On the left is her everyday clothing and the right is her hero suit. Anyway, I'm super excited for you all to read this story that I've spent so much time on!

-Sticks

Word Count: 3007 words

#mha fanfiction #mha oc #her shadows fanfiction #kirishima x oc #bnha fanfic #bnha oc #fanfiction #writing #writer #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #her shadows #keiko aizawa

1 note · View note