#the fucks they give about each other's feelings became a thing they can expend but are not required to!

[shalpilot]

do you ever think about how killer is 4 years older than kid. as adults that's not a huge age gap but growing up killer was larger, older, and probably had to take of himself and kid. how long do you think he has designated himself as kid's protector? what sacrifices might he have made for kid when they were growing up? when kid was 9 and killer was 13. when kid was 13 and killer 17. did he ever really shed the feeling of responsibility for kid's safety after kid grew up and became his captain? does he ever regret after wano following him? of course he loves him, but some fates might be worse than death. killer would follow kid into hell but how long can he keep charging after kid into unwinnable battles? how many sacrifices will he have to make? after wano does kid ever hear killer's laugh without feeling like he wants to throw up? does ever he think killer would have been better off loving someone else?

i hate them i hate them so much

I think about it the most when I draw them as kids and realize I have no idea what the hell a “child development” is /j

As someone who’s been the youngest in my friend groups for…ever… I’ve never been on the other side of that kind of dynamic but I can imagine that somewhere along the line Killer sat down and was like ohhhh my god. Oh my god he doesn’t need me to protect him anymore and just had a little moment of … do I feel happy? do I feel proud? I think he’d quickly realize that Kid does still need him even if it’s not to keep him from getting his head caved in. I can also imagine they might’ve had a few nasty fights about Kid being Killer’s captain now and things ARE different and you HAVE to listen to me I’m the CAPTAIN it doesn’t MATTER what you think

They make up tho… clearly

NOW. FOLLOWING KID INTO UNWINNABLE BATTLES. AUUUGGHHHAARGHH. This is me speaking as Shal Kid stresses me out SO much can he sit down for five minutes maybe. He doesn’t have to fight EVERY yonko actually he already got the one can he pl. please. so I would think Killer feels this x100 but at the same time he *also* likes running into battles but would greatly prefer. If Kid would give a little warning beforehand. Like Killer’s still gonna do it he will follow him anywhere but the years that have been shaved off his life by his fucking idiot partner can not be insubstantial.

Sacrifices… Killer and WCI Sanji would get along wouldnt they /j Killer is shown time and time again to be willing to give up EVERYTHING for Kid unquestionably and it makes me SICK. He’s Kid’s partner, yes, but he sees himself as expendable if it means Kid gets to keep on living. And Kid doesn’t even know!!!!! Does Killer think Kid would want this??? Does he really believe Kid would want his partner giving up his life for his sake?? what if I screamed what if I yelled so loud

When I think about how Kid sees Killer after Wano I go into a deep dark hole and I cry a little bit. I feel like Kid could read Killer’s emotions perfectly even under the mask but now that non-verbal communication has been shattered. And even when talking it’s impossible to tell how Killer really feels about something and that must really put a fucking strain on communication 😃👍👍 I have a lot of thoughts on some parts of tbis but they’re like. Kinda heavy and I haven’t thought of how to verbalize them quite yet?? but boiling it down… Kid pulling away because he doesn’t want to overstep while Killer’s suffering and Killer wanting to beg Kid to stay by his side but he can’t !! :)))))))) YEOWCH!!

They are perfect for each other and they deserve each other and I wish they had an easier life.

#ask shal #kidkiller

[this-strange-obsession]

Rant #4002746 (post-rant note: this is pretty lengthy boys and I’m not sorry bc it needs to be said)

(God I rant too much about this comic, but honestly this is the only place I can do that)

Okay, so, once again seeing a fairly common opinion among the fandom which I don’t agree with, so you all know what time it is!! That’s right! Another of my stupid piping hot takes!!

This episode is the result of the idea that Jekyll deserves all the hate and that he’s the bad guy in the story, blah blah blah. I know, I know, I’m just defending him because I relate to him to an alarming degree, BUT. I also think that everyone forgets that the rest of the characters we see in TGS aren’t exactly saints either.

I saw someone else point this out, but I didn’t know if everyone forgot or decided to ignore it, but Robert said some shitty stuff to Jekyll. And the thing is, he didn’t even do it as a one-off thing. I’ve warmed up to Robert, but I still don’t entirely like him. The biggest thing is obviously the whole breakup scene. And we could argue here that Jekyll interpreted incorrectly, HOWEVER. While Lanyon himself didn’t recite verbatim what was said, he still admitted it was “venomous” and he was lashing out.

Idk who needs to hear this, because it’s a very important thing to remember irl we tend to forget, but somebody taking their anger/stress out on their partner- physically OR verbally- IS NOT OKAY. In ANY situation.

It is NOT excusable. Regardless of the fact Lanyon was breaking up with Jekyll, especially BECAUSE he was breaking up with Jekyll, he has no right to yell or berate his partner the way he did. That’s the whole theme of this comic- not understanding how to communicate in a healthy way. It’s not just a problem Jekyll has and everyone is forgetting that.

You are allowed to be emotional in that scenario. You are allowed to be angry. But you have to understand how to feel angry in a way that doesn’t hurt anybody, whether that’s you or the people around you. You collect your thoughts beforehand, and at least somewhat try to articulate what you want to say. You blend the emotion with the logic, not just rid yourself of one or the other.

Lanyon did none of that. He was kind of self-destructing and in doing so, he pierced Jekyll with stray shrapnel. That was so not okay. And that’s me getting upset over the general description of the breakup. The fact that Lanyon essentially told Jekyll he was expendable?? Absolutely not. No. I was LIVID when I read that.

I don’t give a fuck, Lanyon in that moment was a piece of shit, and I hate him for it. And I’m even paraphrasing here, the actual quote was something closer to, “why would anybody give up their future prospects for someone like you?” OH MY FUCKING GODDD. “SOMEONE LIKE YOU?” “SOMEONE LIKE YOU????” OH HELL NO.

That’s not even touching on the fact that we can assume from how Jekyll described everything, this was his first gay relationship. This was the first time he acted on his “sinful desires.” And the way it ends is like this?

Once again, I relate to Jekyll a painful amount, and while it didn’t go exactly like this, it threw me back to the last argument me and my best friend had. Our relationship was… complicated. We liked each other, but it always seemed to be off. They would get into a relationship when I was acknowledging my feelings, and when I was repressing them, my best friend would starting pursuing me. At one point, we had a sort of unspoken thing going on where we both understood our feelings and we were VERY obviously gay for each other and even got a little too touchy for “just two good friends” frequently. But we never made it official. Over the last few months of the friendship, they became more distant and withdrawn. I confronted them about it, we had a huge and messy argument, and they said some really uncalled-for things. I have really bad mommy issues (TM), and they said something that really crossed the line.

I know I was no saint during our friendship or the argument, but jesus christ, there are just some things you should never say to people. And the fact that it was my closest friend and first queer crush/situationship(?) who said it? Of course I developed trust issues and trouble communicating my true feelings, like??

..Idk that just hit a nerve and I hate that people act like either of them are the victim. Again, I’m not saying Jekyll is completely innocent, but he’s also not completely guilty.

It’s not even JUST the breakup scene I hate. Lanyon is STILL kind of an asshole and enables Jekyll’s whole glass scientist complex. During the ball (I can’t remember the reason for it exactly, I think it was just for keeping appearances and connections.) when Jekyll was having horrible hallucinations and acting completely unlike himself, all Lanyon did was reinforce that idea that Jekyll just needs to pretend like he’s someone he isn’t.

If y’all don’t remember, Jekyll ran outside in the middle of the party because he was seeing a lot of disturbing shit and Moreau’s ghost grabbed him. When Lanyon found him, Jekyll was fervently babbling about Moreau following and judging him because he knows Jekyll’s “rotten on the inside.”

So how does Lanyon console him? He just starts his spiel about how it doesn’t matter if Jekyll is actually rotten on the inside, as long as he’s decent on the outside.

BRUH, I’M—

AHHHHHHHHH

..ehem..

I KNOW he immediately backpedals by saying Jekyll is the most decent guy he knows, but in that context, in Jekyll’s eyes, he was interpreting that as, “you are the most OUTWARDLY decent guy I know.” So that did jack-shit for Jekyll’s sanity because as much as Lanyon could have meant it about his personality, he didn’t execute it very well!?

There’s other little things I hate about him, such as the whole thing where instead of just fucking asking for an open and honest conversation, he goes behind Jekyll’s back and snoops in his office for answers. The thought of asking only occurs to him after this when Lucy points it out.

Idk, I like Lanyon as a character, I do- it’s just that I feel like we let him off the hook far too easily anytime he says or does something wrong just because he’s doing what he thinks is best for Jekyll.

There are better ways to go about supporting someone you care about. And it’s driven home a thousand times over that healthy communication is not a phrase these idiots have in their vocabulary, but I guess that keeps going way over some people’s heads and it’s been so goddamn frustrating seeing them drag Jekyll for things OTHER FUCKING CHARACTERS DO.

#the glass scientists #jekyll x lanyon #this is a callout post #their relationship needs to be addressed properly #so does every other character in tgs tbh #idc i’m calling out every one of these mfs #no one is safe lmao

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

Everything is Temporary !

Bodies will turn dust, castles will crumble, And Metal Will Rust !

Paper turns the dust computer hard drives and get wiped and if a computer gets too old glitches will occur and the knowledge and the data in there will be corrupted so bad that it may not even be present when you boot up the system and then again the whole system itself they're operating system is so corrupted you'll never get the knowledge back no matter what you do !

People like me who really say you should just don't give a Fuk

What a wisdom ones or the wise ones we are the ones who have seen Beyond

I'm not trying to say that I'm great at you I'm just trying to say I had the same amount of resources opportunities as you and I just threw them all behind me feel scattered them around me I didn't care for them

Nothing makes me happy I don't know maybe it's a mental illness maybe I'm just a miserable little Shit, Maybe that's why I'm just a a Negative Nancy Asshole

But I really don't give a Fuck

Doesn't matter your life is super pleasurable or your life is super painful it doesn't matter cuz everything in God's creation is just one giant middle finger to all the spirits in existence and all the ones you don't see creation as a middle finger to them are stupid at least they're blind there's they're believing in the great lie that creation is magical somehow

That there is purpose in creation that life has some greater meaning

Ever notice how humanities been searching for so effing long for this greater purpose or knowledge or wisdom and usually they just go insane or they make up some stupid schizophrenic evil cult like Christianity That rocks the minds and millions and drives hundreds of millions of people insane and maintain brings in lots of green paper

Ever notice how he man he's never found a higher purpose ever

Okay how many humans have died look how many animals have died and you understand that there is no higher purpose there's nothing greater there's nothing Beyond you yes there are deities but even they don't care about you and they usually fight each other and hateful mean they're what you would consider to be demonic

Life has no purpose it has nothing and anyone I really think of deep about the aliens who take life and so deeply that it has some greater purpose but how they strive for survival but survival is a joke

It's a stupid joke that they take extremely seriously

And I just look at them and I wonder when they were going to stop being so mentally ill

😐

Well I'm on the search for a way how to delete my unconsciousness for the longest time ever since I became conscious I was looking for a way how to destroy myself Cide Sui For . . . of the Soul !

I've always been looking for a way how to complete my quest and destroying myself because I don't want to live in Eternal pain I really don't want to live for all eternity a slave a trap slave of inside the human race being a slave to the people who gave birth to me and do a really really Shitty Government

I really don't want to live the rest of my expend the rest of my existence being this eternal puppet of the gray aliens

And I'm sure it's Fuck don't want to go to hell

I don't know where I'm going in the universe I'm getting real tired of people beating me over the head with a religion and they're believed that the absolute truth do you have any signs of back that truth about Mother Fucker if the answer is no then shut the Fuck Up !

🙁

I wonder if there's an exit, one thing has always made me angry big towards God is that the soul is immortal but if Souls can be destroyed eventually then All Souls die eventually because of the soul is not indestructible but immortal that means at some point the soul can literally die

Which is kind of really my mission I'm cursed be on your wildest dreams I have so many horrors after me that you can't conceive it and most of you who have not gone through what I've gone through won't believe it

And even if you did believe it what good would it do ?

I'm just looking for a way out of God's creation I'm trying to find an escape from the hellacious Master that is God

☹️

[winepresswrath]

okay but what jiang cheng is attempting the impossible by trying to get some goddamned peace and quiet for once in his life. and everybody calls it “seclusion” because they’re too embarrassed to say they can’t actually run anything without him. and jin ling finally admits that he got thirty-seven letters from his uncle. uh. this week. thirty-seven this week. look. all I’m saying is we are fandom. we can make even the most bizarre narrative choices do our bidding.

I definitely think we can make it work if we want to, and I'm sure I'll really enjoy a lot of fan works that engage with the premise, but I also think we can just ignore it? I'm sure there are donghua mains who have stronger feelings about it, but for me it's an adaptation of the thing that inspired the story I'm actually most fanish about, so what I really want is still fic about Jiang Cheng regularly and canonically getting loud in the cloud recesses.

#single perfect tear! #also like... ok controversial opinion but I think Wangxian are fine? #my Wei Wuxian would never! my Wei Wuxian goes home to lotus pier even in his dreams but like #mumbles about it under his breath so Jiang Cheng can't quite hear it! #there was a lot of extremely invested courtyard pining #but if he's not feeling it in the Donghua he's not feeling it! #he doesn't have to! #somewhere in between WWX hitting Yanli with a zombie and Jiang Cheng leading a siege against Wei Wuxian #the fucks they give about each other's feelings became a thing they can expend but are not required to! #don't get me wrong it's a dumb shitty ending but I am not vibing with the Wangxian sucks takes #it's definitely not worse than ditching Xichen to fuck in a ditch

[keigoslovebird]

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I��� I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 

 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #hq smut #hq fanfic #reader insert #hq reader insert #hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut #bunny scribbles

[americancowgirl19]

Expendable

Summary: Consumed by your grief over Jason’s death, you track down the Joker on your own. Only you end up finding some... thing very different.

Warnings: vampires, violence, depression, fluff, angst

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Platonic), Jason Todd x Reader (Platonic), Tim Drake x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 6,113

A/n: Enjoy

Masterlist

You heaved heavily hunched over the bathroom sink. Your fingers grip the edge of the counter top, knuckles turning white. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not fall apart for the millionth time that week.

It’s only been a month since Jason died and you felt as if you saw his freshly dead body a few hours ago. Your dreams are riddled with nightmares. You can’t even escape the thoughts while awake.

All you can think about is Jason’s beaten and burned body. You can hear the Jokers mocking laugh when you and Batman found him after Jason’s death. Bruce refused to kill him and stopped you from doing it yourself. Batman turned him into Arkham and like everyone could predict, the pale bastard escaped.

Slowly, your eyes open. You look at yourself in the mirror. You try to push back the tears as visions of Jason plague your mind. 

You were Bruce’s daughter. You were a few years younger than Dick but a few years older than Jason. You and Dick had a rocky friendship the first couple of years but you managed to work it out. With Jason, however, the connection was instant.

The both of you had tempers. Tempers which the other knew how to calm. The two of you just had an understanding. You became close quickly. 

You didn’t want to believe that Jason was dead. You didn’t want to believe that Bruce just let Joke get away with it. You wanted your brother back, you wanted Bruce to avenge him.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” You whisper. You wished you could have been there to save Jason. If only you had gotten to him sooner. Just 5 minutes would have made all the difference.

Your anger bubbles up to the surface all at once and before you know it, your punching the mirror until it’s all broken in the bathroom sink. Ignoring the stinging pain in your hand, you march out of the bathroom.

You storm out of your room and head toward the Batcave. You didn’t have to worry about running into your father. He’s either hiding in his room or out capturing other bad guys that have nothing to do with Jason’s death. Because apparently everyone else mattered while you, Dick and Jason were expendable.

Not to you, however. Your brothers were not expendable to you. They’re your world and the fact that you couldn’t protect Jason killed you. If Bruce wasn’t going to avenge him then that responsibility fell onto you.

You changed into your Sparrow uniform. By the time your pulling your mask on and making your way to your motorcycle, Alfred is entering the cave. You ignore him but he isn’t a man you can just ignore.

“Ms. Y/n?” He questions. You adjust your getup and swing your leg over the bike. Before you can turn the bike on, the man you’re closer to than your own father appears before you. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” You answer. He gives you a look but you don’t back down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He advises.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for permission,” You snap. “Why don’t you go tend to daddy dearest and let me do what needs to be done?” Alfred looks even more concerned as you turn the bike on. You don’t allow yourself to feel guilty for being rude to Alfred. You have to stay focused.

You speed away from the manor and toward Gotham City. The Joker could be in a number of places but you knew who to ask to narrow down his location.

Before Jason’s death, you weren’t as ruthless as you were now. You were a happy medium between Bruce’s temperament and Jason’s. But now, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. 

You wanted blood.

You interrogated bad guy after bad guy. You left each of them in the streets, inches from death like the scum they were. You felt no sympathy for them as they struggled to breathe. You ignored their pleas for mercy and for help as you walked to your bike to find your next target.

You were so consumed on what you were doing and your goal to find the Joker that you didn’t realize you were being watched. And Bruce wasn’t the one stalking you.

“Where’s the Joker?!” You shouted before slamming your fist into the guys face. “Tell me!” You screamed. He grunted when you resorted to breaking his rips with your foot. You kicked him before he rolled onto his back prompting you to switch to stomping on his chest.

“Oh, you poor child,” A voice sounded from the shadows. In an instant, you whip the gun you had stolen out of the thigh holster and point it into the dark blindly.

“Show yourself,” You demand. You listen to the steps before a tall man comes into the moonlight. “Who are you?” You ask.

“Someone who can help you,” Your head tilts. “You can put that gun away, it cannot harm me.” He states.

“Who. Are. You?” 

“As I said, I’m someone who can help,” He says, sauntering closer to you. Your eyes narrow at him. “I know where the Joker is, I can take you to him,”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll tell you, but that information isn’t free,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me or you’ll end up like this deadbeat,” You motion to the man on the ground that’s slowly choking on his own blood. The man in front of you looks at him and smirks.

“You surely have potential... and you certainly have anger. Oh, so much anger,” He whispers coming forward. “You live on the need for vengeance. I can give it to you and so much more. All I want is to make a deal,”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, tilting your head. 

“I give you the Joker, and you give me your allegiance,” He says, stepping up to the end of the barrel of the gun. If you pull the trigger, the bullet goes straight through his heart.

“My allegiance?” You ask, slowly.

“You get the chance to finally sate your need for vengeance and you work for me.”

You stare into his eyes for a few moments before lowering your gun to the holster. He smirks and scoops you into his arms. Before you can ask a question he’s running at a speed that could outmatch the Flash.

“What the fuck?” You gasp when he comes to a stop and sets you down. “You’re a metahuman?”

“Not exactly,” He smirks. “I’ll explain everything once you’re finished. Inside is the Joker along with a lot of his friends. If you survive, you’ll be an excellent addition to my collection,” He states, prior to running off.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” You mutter to yourself. Sighing, you turn towards the building. A moment later, people start coming out. Large men in suits. They stop and look at you. A few draw their weapons. You smirk. “Who’s first?”

It took you a half an hour to reach the Joker. You’re not sure if you killed anyone, although it’s highly likely that you have. By the time you reach the pale skin fucker you’re covered in blood and bruises (maybe a bullet hole or two). Some of the blood is yours but most of it isn’t.

The Joker talks. He’s taunting you. Yet, you don’t really hear what he says. As you look at him, your mind is filled with images of Jason’s dead body. You stalk closer to him. 

You put your weapons away and pick up the crowbar you had found on a lower level. You had set it down in order to take care of the goons in the room quickly. 

But now you had the Joker right where you wanted him. You weren’t going to make this quick. Every time you brought the crowbar down on him, he only cackled loudly. Every strike just fueled your anger. 

You continued to beat him. At some point, his skull caved in but you continued to swing. You scream, tears falling down your face but you hardly notice. You just swing and swing until you collapse on the ground.

You let out one large, loud scream that echoes throughout the entire building. When you quiet down, your body curls into a tight ball and you begin to sob.

“Easy now, little one,” The inhuman man whispers, kneeling before you. “I’ll take your pain away,” He promises, picking you off the ground. “Rest now, I’ll look after you,” He whispers, racing you out of the building seconds before Batman shows up.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up everything is different. You sit up from the unusually comfortable bed and look around. You don’t recognize where you are but at the moment it’s the least of your worries.

You never had absolutely perfect vision but now you’re eyes were acting like binoculars. You could see a far distance out the window and everything in clear detail that’s around you. Hell, you could even hear the cars going down the road miles from the house you’re in.

You move closer to the window but stop at the sound of the man who had taken you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You spin around toward him. You frown your eyebrows and look back to the window. You didn’t understand what he was warning you about. 

You soon find out when you step into the sunlight and find your skin heating up until it begins to burn. You gasp and speed to the other side of the room.

“What’s happening to me?” You whisper, watching your skin begin to blister. 

“Here, drink this,” He tosses you a bag. Your reflexes catch it. You want to ask what it is but your instincts take over as the smell reaches your nose. Within a minute, you have the bag drained of it’s liquid. 

When your done drinking, you look at the man. He nods to your arm and your eyes widen. You see your arm heal until there’s no trace of what had happened.

“Come, we have a lot to talk about,” You follow him down the hall. “My name is Vladimir but you may know me as Dracula,”

“Dracula?” You deadpan. “For real?”

“What? You do not believe that vampires are real? Even though you are one?” You stop walking. He stops as well and turns to you. “You are the daughter of Bruce Wayne, The Batman, you should be able to connect the dots,”

The blood, the enhanced senses, the vulnerability to light. You didn’t know how it was possible, but it was true. You were a vampire. You had made a deal with the devil... But oh, was it worth it.

****

“Whe-where am I?” A pale, redhead whimpers.

“Vicki Vale,” You state from the shadows. Your voice echoes off the walls making it impossible for her to pinpoint where you are. “So, you’re the one that’s obsessed with my father,” You growled. For a long time, the woman in front of you reported on both Bruce Wayne and Batman. She wrote article after article about him.

“Who are you?” She asks, in a shaky voice.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not me you have to worry about,” You assure her, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Alright, Y/n, that’s enough,” Vlad says coming into the room. Vicki gasps and turns to him. “Oh, you are beautiful,” Vlad whispers. “You will work perfectly,”

“Wh-what?” She whimpers, shying away from him.

“Y/n, leave Vicki to rest in peace, we have things to discuss,” Vlad calmly orders before turning to leave the room. You come out of the shadows, smirking when you startle her.

“So, she’ll work?” You ask him, the two of you walking toward his office.

“Yes, but we must move quickly. Your father and brother are causing trouble,” He tells you. Your head tilts at the information.

“They’ve killed more of your vampires?” You ask him.

“They found a way to cure them,” Vlad corrects you. “I need you to end them. I can’t afford to lose anymore vampires and I will not let them stop me from bringing Carmilla back,” He growls.

“Don’t worry, master, I’ll stop them,” You promise.

“I don’t want you to just stop them,” Vlad says, moving closer to you. “I want them dead and I want you to bring me their bodies. Do not fail me,” He growls.

“Have I ever?” You ask, smirking.

“Be quick about it,” Vlad orders. “The sun will be up in a few hours,”

****

“Viki Vale has gone missing,” Bruce informs Dick and Tim as he enters the Batcave. 

“Dracula?” Dick asks, crossing his arms in his Nightwing costume. His mask resting on the desk by Tim.

“He’s planning something. More and more people are being turned, we have to stop him before we’re too outnumbered.” Bruce says.

“Reports are coming in about a string of animal like murders in the Narrows. Fits vampire descriptions,” Tim says, reading the reports off the computer.

“Can you get a read on how many vampires there could be?” Dick asks.

“Doesn’t seem like a lot,” Tim mutters. “One, possibly two,”

“Let’s check it out,” Bruce orders. Tim nods standing up. He and Dick pull their masks on. Tim and Bruce get in the batmobile while Duke powers up the motorcycle. They both drive to the Narrows to investigate.

****

You hide in the shadows as the infamous Batman, Robin and Nightwing appear. You glare at the young Robin boy. Of course Bruce replaced Jason. It was typical for Bruce to replace someone. Fury fills your heart but you manage to control it knowing that if you waited a little longer, you would get the opportunity to unleash hell.

You didn’t want to hurt Dick. He’s your brother. But you didn’t have a choice. Vlad ordered you to kill them and that’s what you had to do. You wouldn’t necessarily take pleasure in killing your father and his newest protégé. However, you hoped that with Bruce’s death you would finally feel at peace with yourself.

You killed the Joker but your anger remained. You killed Jason’s bitch of a mother yet storm within you continued to rage. Maybe with the death of Batman you would finally know peace and tranquility. You didn’t blame Bruce for Jason’s death but you hated that he didn’t avenge him. You hated that he replaced him. That hatred mixed with your growing anger consumed you.

“This one’s still alive,” Dick announced, kneeling beside a woman. Bruce moved to kneel beside him while Tim wandered off. You smirked and followed him. You made some noise to draw him further from the others.

“You’re the new Robin, hmm?” You asked. Tim looked around. Technically, Tim wasn’t new. He had been at this for a couple of years now but you aren’t exactly up to date on the world around you. You’ve been training and isolated from the world for a long time. So, while Tim isn’t exactly new, he’s new to you.

He took a defensive stance but it wouldn’t do any good against you. You could kill him with a flick of your finger.

“We can help you,” Tim says, his eyes searching for you. “You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be a vampire,”

“Oh, but I want to be,” You smirk, walking around him but continued to stay out of sight. Tim looks confused by your statement.

“We have a cure,” Tim states. You sneak up behind him.

“I don’t want it,” You whisper, in his ear. By the time he spins around, you’re out of sight. You grin, loving the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. “Tell me, what do you know about the Robin before you?”

“What?” Tim asks, tensing.

“You’re not Jason Todd,” You growl. Tim becomes increasingly more nervous. “So, may I know the name of his replacement?” You spit. He doesn’t answer you. “Fine, don’t answer, doesn’t matter anyway,” 

Tim tenses as things fall eerily silent. He goes to fall for back up but before he can finish the first syllable he’s lifted off the ground. You hand becomes tighter and tighter around his throat.

“You’re not Jason and you will never be him,” You growl, glaring at him. Tim choke, gripping your wrist but your grip doesn’t falter. His eyes widen a fraction as he recognizes you.

All throughout the mansion there’s picture of you. Dick talks about you all the time. He knows who you are but he can’t believe it. Bruce assumed you were dead, Dick insisted you were just missing. For nearly 7 years Dick worked to find you. Almost every spare moment went into finding some clue about you but you had vanished. 

“If you were,” You smirked. “You would have been able to take me down... You’re pathetic... Weak,” You bring him closer to your face. He struggles to breathe, looking even more terrified when your fangs extend. “And I’m so hungry,” 

Before you can feed on him, you’re knocked to the ground. You let Tim go as you tumble away. The boy collapses on the ground, coughing and struggling to breath in.

“Has anyone ever told you not to get between a vampire and her meal?” You growled, standing up. You turn to the man who had tackled you and smirked. There, only two feet away, is your older brother.

“Y/n,” Dick whispers, his defenses falling.

“Hey, big brother,” You wink. You take advantage of his astonishment and attack. You don’t even realize it but you’re holing back. You’re not going as fast as you could nor are you striking with all your strength. Hell, you’re barely hitting him with 20% power.

“Y/n! Stop! This isn’t you!” Dick shouts but you don’t listen to him. You grab his shoulders and fling him into a nearby wall. He collapses and struggles to breath.

“I’m not you’re little sister, anymore Dickie Poo,” You say, stalking up to him. “And all you are to me is a meal,”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Dick groaned pushing himself up. You freeze for just a moment but Dick notices it.

“What can I say? I’ve always liked playing with my food,” You growled, trying to cover up your hesitance.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, sis,” Dick teases. You hiss as he stands. “You’ll always be my baby sister, you’re just more of a pain in my ass right now,” He smirks putting up his hands. “And you hit like a bitch,”

Crying out, you attack Dick once again. This time you hold back even less but you’re still not aiming to kill him. It angers you as you hear Vlad’s comment in the back of your mind. Your vampiric instincts are fighting against your humanity. 

Just when you’re about to give into your inclination to follow your masters orders a batarang sinks into your arm. It snaps you out of your instinctual daze. You look at it before following it’s path. You’re eyes land on Batman. For the first time in years you stare into your fathers eyes.

Before anything can happen, something catches your attention. You turn your head and watch the sun begin to peak over the buildings. You’re out of time.

“Wait!” Dick shouts reaching for you but you’re already gone.

****

You stand in front of Vlad for a solid five minutes. Five minutes of absolute silence. Intense, awkward, silence. You barely have the strength to hold his gaze for these few minutes but know if you look away you’ll look weak.

“I told you not to fail me,” Vlad tells you.

“I underestimated the skill of-”

“You’re a vampire!” Vlad shouts. It takes everything in you to not flinch. “You have the strength of a hundred men! I could possibly forgive you not being able to defeat your father, I failed that as well. However, you couldn’t kill an 18 year-old boy? Or your older brother?” Vlad asks, walking toward you.

“My humanity got in the way,” Vlad backhands you harshly.

“Your humanity,” Vlad says slowly. “For 6 year I’ve been working so hard to perfect you and yet here you are, a disappointment.” He spits.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You promise.

“You will,” Vlad nods, walking back to his seat. “And if you fail me again. I will rip your heart out,” You bow to him. “Wait for my word in your room,”

“Yes, master,” 

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asks, his voice horas. You had bruise his throat pretty good. It was a miracle he was able to talk at all at the moment.

“If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s him,” Dick assures him. Tim presses his lips together and follows his brother into the worn down building.

“How do we know he’ll even help?” Tim wonders.

“Because it’s Y/n,” Dick answers simply. Tim glances at him but says nothing else.

“You’ve got a lot of balls to come here, Dick,” Tim and Dick spin around to face Red Hood. Tim is in a defensive stance remembering the last time they had crossed paths. Red Hood and him fought, Tim barely escaping hospital time.

“Relax,” Dick mutters to Tim.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” He asks, looking around for Batman.

“Bruce isn’t here... It’s just us,” Dick assures him. They stare at each other for a moment before he takes off his red mask. “Jason,” Dick nods. Jason ignores the greeting and walks around them to get to his stuff. “Y/n’s alive,” Jason freezes completely. “We saw her a few hours ago,”

“Where?” Jason asks, keeping his back to them.

“Have you come across any vampires?” Dick asks. Jason turns to them.

“They’ve been crawling around town like cockroaches,” Jason says.

“Y/n’s one of them,” Dick tells him. “She attacked us a few hours ago. She tried to kill us but didn’t follow through.”

“We think that she still has some humanity left,” Tim says.

“I know she’s still in there.” Dick insists. “She could have very easily killed Tim and I but she held back,” Jason looks at the bruise around Tim’s throat. 

“She still mourns you,” Tim tells him. “If she knew you were alive, maybe we can get her back. If we can get her back to the mansion, we can cure her,”

****

“Everything is in place,” Vlad says. You stand in the background watching him. On the tables in the middle of the room lay two women. One is Vlad’s beloved Carmilla. The other is Viki Vale. The plan was to transfer Viki’s life essence into Carmilla to bring her back to life.

“Master,” A newly turned vampire interrupts. Vlad turns to her. “Batman, Robin and Nightwing have arrived.” Vlad snarls and turns to you.

“They must not stop the transference,” Vlad tells you.

“I will kill them once and for all master,” You vow.

“Kill the Batman, capture Robin and Nightwing. Take them to my office and keep them there,” Vlad orders. You tilt your head but nod.

“As you wish,” You bow and exit the room. You hunt down the three men but only find two of them; Dick and Tim. “I see your stubbornness has only increased with age,” You state standing at one end of the hall while they stand on the other. They look a little worn down but you can tell they still have plenty of energy.

“Guess I spent too much time around you as kids,” Dick shrugs, twirling his batons. 

“You should have stayed away,” You tell them, cursing yourself for how soft your voice had gotten. Your humanity, yet again, was showing. You pushed it back and locked it in a box but the little slip up was enough to confirm to both Dick and Tim that you could still be saved.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little sister,” Dick states. “It’s time to bring you home,”

“This is home,” You hiss. Dick shakes his head.

“This is a prison,” Dick corrects you. You smirk.

“You once said the same about Wayne Manor,” You remind him. You stare at him and your eyes flicker to Tim. “Join me,” You suggest. “We can give you the power you can only dream of,” You say, stepping closer to him. “We can be a family again,” You whisper, your humanity coming up once more. You allow it, for now.

“We can be a family,” Dick agrees. You perk slightly. “When you’re cured and back at the Manor,” Your face turns sour.

“Fuck the Manor,” You spat. “Fuck Bruce and Fuck Batman,” You hiss. “You think he cares?”

“He does!” Tim snaps. You laugh.

“Where did he pick you up from?” You ask Tim. “You must have a past. Bruce never takes in anybody mentally stable,”

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Dick cuts in. “If you don’t want to go to the manor, fine. Come with me,” Dick suggests. “I have an apartment in Bludhaven. You can stay with me... It’ll be like old times,” You’re so tempted to give in.

“I can’t,” You shake your head. “This is who I am now, this is where I belong,”

“No, you belong with us,” Dick insists.

“I haven’t belonged with you in years,” You mutter but he hears it. “I’m happy to see you alive, Dick... But you really should have stayed away,” You said, your voice hardening.

“We don’t have to do this,” Dick says. He and Tim fall into a defensive stance.

“I won’t go back,” You tell him. “Not with you, not with him and certainly not with Bruce,” You growl. “Why can’t you see that you’re not worth anything to him! All you are is an expendable tool! He’ll just replace you when you’re done being useful to him,”

“That’s a lie!” Tim shouts.

“Oh really?” You ask. “Then why are you standing here? Tell me, how long did he wait to replace Jason with you?” You wonder. “You’re nothing to him and when you die, he’ll move on like he always does and not give you a second thought!”

“You’re head is twisted, Y/n! You’re blinded by hatred and anger and grief, let us help you!” Dick pleads.

“No, I don’t need your help,” You growl racing toward them. Tim and Dick put up a good fight but you were done letting your humanity control you. Before they could pull any fancy tricks like they used to stop the other vampires, you knocked them out cold. Grabbing them by their collars you drag them to Vlad’s office. You lock them inside before hunting down your father.

You find him in the transference room fighting Vlad. You quickly join your master. With the both of you fighting against Batman, you’re beginning to overpower him. Until he uses a UV light which causes you and Vlad to scream in pain. When it’s gone, you slowly begin to heal.

“No! No! No!” Vlad screams seeing Vicki has disappeared before the transference  could complete. “NO!” You force yourself to a stand. You gasp when Vlad appears before you and grabs you by the throat. You struggle against him but he’s a great deal stronger than you. “I told you to kill him!” He snarls. You try to talk but he’s crushing your windpipe. “You’ve failed me for the last time,” He goes to rip your heart out when he’s pull away from you.

You fall to the ground and shake the dizziness from your head. You look up and see a grappling hook in Vlad’s chest. A man by the door holds the string and continues to pull Vlad from you until he gets his footing and yanks the man to him. You watch as Vlad throws him across the room.

“You vigilantes are a disease,” Vlad growls stalking toward him. You force yourself to stand. You feel your thirst begin to rise as your healing completes. 

Fresh blood gains your attention. You turn to the door seeing Dick and Tim at the entrance. You figured you had the guy in the red mask to thank for their escape

“Ah, look at this,” Vlad claps his hands. “A family reunion,” The red mask guy pushes himself up, grimacing at the pain in his back. “If you want another chance to live, Y/n,” Vlad turns toward you. “I want you to kill your brothers,”

You turn to Dick and Tim. They’re eyeing you as you eye them. The human voice in your head gets smaller and smaller as your animal instincts and need for blood overcome you.

“Kill them,” Vlad orders. Unable to fight his order, you advance to Dick. You stop when a clunk of stone is throne at your head. It doesn’t hurt you but it gets your attention. Your head snaps to the red mask guy with a growl.

“You on your period or something sis?” Your entire body freezes at the sound of his voice. No, it’s not possible. “You know how you get during that time of the month... I swear you turn into a fucking gremlin,” He raises his hands and takes the mask off. “Or, I guess, in this case a vampire,” Jason smirks.

“No,” You whisper shaking your head. “It’s not possible... You... you’re dead,”

“Didn’t stick,” He shrugs with that arrogant smirk of his. “Amazing what a Lazarus pit can do, huh?” Your breath hitches in your throat. It was possible.

“Y/n,” Vlad says regaining your attention instantly. “Kill. Them.” Your humanity vanished. With a hiss, you turn to attack Jason when Dick’s voice reaches your ears.

“You’re not expendable,” Dick states. You don’t look at him but it’s obvious you’re listening. “You mean so much more to us. We’re here for you and we’re not leaving without you. You’re one of us, not this creature he’s turned you in,”

“You know how much I hate agree with Dickwad,” Jason chuckles. “But on this, I do. Look, we’ve both changed over the years and that’s fine but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re brothers and you’re our sister. You went against father and killed the Joker for me. You beat the shit out of that one girl that cheated on Dick. You’ve stood up against Bruce for both of us on more than one occasion. You’ve always been there but now we’re here for you. It’s time to come home. Come with us,”

“Kill them!” Vlad shouts. Your eyes screw shut as you struggle between obeying Vlad and listening to your brothers. Realization hits Tim like a freight train.

“Don’t listen to him!” Tim encourages you. It finally made sense. All the vampires they came across were unnaturally loyal to Dracula. It was like they had forgotten their human lives and followed him. He figured it was just instinct but it was something more than that. Vampires were connected to their creator, Dracula, on a level they had severely underestimated. Tim theorized that Dracula had gotten to you, changed you, and manipulated/forced you to follow him. You had to follow his orders but that didn’t mean you wanted to.

You showed multiple signs of humanity. Dick and Jason were you’re anchors to your human side. If you could fight against Dracula’s orders then you could sever the connection. If that happened, getting you back to the manor and cured would be much easier.

“He’s the one who doesn’t care! He’s the one who believes you’re expendable, not us! We care about you, we’ll help you but you have to break his hold over you!” Tim said as clearly but as quickly as he could.

“Shut up!” Vlad shouted turning toward him. Before he could attack, Jason launches a wooden stake at him. It doesn’t kill him but it knocks them to the ground. “Kill them, Y/n! Kill them right now!”

You groan. Your hands grip your hair and begin to pull. You felt as if your head was being torn apart. You fall to your knees. A large part of you wanted to kill them, needed to kill them. Yet a big enough part of you didn’t.

“Y/n,” Jason says, softly. He slowly knelt a few feet in front of you. 

“Kill me,” You whimper, looking into his eyes. “I can’t hold myself back for long,”

“You can,” Jason encourages you. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dick or Tiny Tim,” Tim scowls but remains silent. “You’re Y/n Y/L/N. You were turned when you were 18 years old but you’re 24. You’re favorite food is y/f/f and your favorite show is y/f/s. You always let me sneak into your room if I was having trouble sleeping and you always helped me through the bad days just like I did for you. We look after each other, we have since we met each other. That didn’t stop when I died and it isn’t going to stop since you’re a vampire,”

In the corner of your eye you see Dick and Tim going to end Vlad. Something within you snaps. You snarl and before you know it you’re protecting your master. Before you can reach Dick and Tim, something pierces your shoulder. You look down to see a similar grappling hook hooked into you.

You gasp as Jason yank you back. You snarl and struggle but Jason is able to fight against you allowing Dick and Tim to destroy your master.

“No! NO!” You scream. The pain of your bond to Dracula is excoriating. You scream and writhe on the ground.

“It’s alright sis,” Jason whispers, knocking you out with a special tool they used on all the other vampires. “You’re safe now,” He whispers picking you up. “How do we cure her?”

“We have a serum at the manor,” Tim says,

“Bring it to my place,” Jason ordered. Tim goes to argue but Dick lays a hand on his shoulder. Dick nods and Jason nods back.

****

When you wake up you have the worst hangover known to man. You groan, your hand slapping your forehead. You try to think about what could have given you this feeling but you get nothing. Until everything comes rushing back to you a minute later.

All the killings, Dracula and the whole vampire ordeal hardly phases you. What makes your heart quench is the man you saw before you passed out.

“Jason!” You cry out, sitting up quickly. The motion causes you to groan again.

“Easy, easy,” You’re gently pushed back onto the bed. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” Opening your eyes, you look at Jason. You really look at him. He still has that spark, that anger in his eyes but there’s also relief and happiness. You lift your hand and gently caress his face. He leans into your touch.

“You’re real,” You whisper.

“Yeah, I’m real,” He whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “I thought I lost you there for a second,” He laughs.

“I did lose you,” You whimper. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Jason gently pushes you over and climbs into the bed. You instantly hug him with all your might. “I’m here now and I won’t be leaving your side for a damn long time,”

“You saved me,” You whisper. “You, Dick and Tim,” You whimper the tears coming down your face.

“You just got a little lost for a while,” Jason muttered. “You would do the same if any one of us was in your position,” You nod, snuggling into his chest. He rubs circles into your back. “Everything’s going to be ok, now... You’re cured, Dracula’s dead and you’re with me,”

“Can I stay with you?” You whisper, looking up at him.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t leaving my side for a long time,” Jason smirks. “We have 6 years to catch up on and I need my big sis to keep my head on straight,”

“I need you too, Jason...” You whisper. “God, do I need you,” You snuggle back into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and holds you even tighter. “I was so lost without you,”

“Shh.. You don’t have to worry about living without me again,” Jason promises.

“Good... Because next time, you die I die,” Jason smirks.

“We’re going to be one kick ass team,” Jason mutters. You grin closing your eyes. The both of you got the first real sleep you had since Jason died.

#Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Richard Grayson #Robin #Batman #Nightwing #Red Hood #Tim Drake #Jason Todd x Reader #Dick Grayson x Reader #Tim Drake x Reader #Jason Todd x Female!reader #Dick Grayson x Female!reader #Tim Drake x Female!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #female!reader #Vampire #x platonic!reader #platonic!reader #DC Comics #dc universe #Dracula #Joker #x sister!reader #Wayne!reader

[foulcrownkryptonite]

The Man He Loved

Erwin x Levi 

Levi disagrees with Erwin’s plan and confronts him after a meeting with the Scouts.

3.4K words

Content Warnings: swearing, bursts of anger, general meanness before the cavity inducing fluff comes into play :)

Levi sat quietly, arms crossed and eyes scanning each of the Scouts as Erwin laid out this coming mission's details. It was late and everyone was past the brink of exhaustion, but this meeting was unfortunately urgent. Eren and Historia… Those damned Internal Police lackies will stop at nothing to get their filthy hands on the two kids. And with the influence they have, their chance at success is more than possible. There was no time to waste. What they needed was a plan of action, an infallible one, at that.

“We still have many uncertainties about the titans and what the Beast titan’s plans are…” Erwin continued. “But keeping Eren and Historia safe is of the utmost priority. Humanity will fall if the Internal Police get their hands on them. In two days' time, we’ll need to devise a distraction.” Distraction? Levi swiftly side eyed Erwin as he continued his disquisition, his prominent features set in dedication. Why doesn't he tell me these things beforehand...

“Jean, you’ll pretend to be Eren and-“ Erwin was cut off by Jean’s groans.

“Huh? I look nothing like that brat. Clearly I’m far more handsome. They’ll think he suddenly became a model and Eren does not deserve that reputation.” Jean quickly retorted. Despite being crudely cut off, Erwin’s eyes remained weighted and unmoving. The stretch of silence that followed elicited an ugly snort from Conny, earning a poorly contained laugh from Sasha and a silencing glare from Mikasa. Once the punishing eyes moved to Jean, he quickly shut his trap and slunk in his chair, a curse being muttered under his breath. Are these damn brats capable of a single serious meeting? Levi scoffed to himself as Erwin resumed.

“As I was saying,” Jean somehow receded further into himself. “Armin will play Historia.”. Armin nodded, knowing there’s no saying no to the commander in this state. “I’ll lead the distraction as I’m perfectly fine with playing bait. They want me too, but that’s not important.” he went on. At this, Levi's jaw tightened. Not important?! They’ll kill you. What is he-

“Don’t worry, as this will not be for another week. The news of us hiding out won’t get to them for a short while.” Erwin concluded, standing up in his chair. Before he could finish his brief remarks, the scouts eagerly stood to attention. “Very well, that is all for tonight. Get some rest, Scouts. You’ve done good work. If there are any questions, feel free to ask. But for now, seek your sleep.” And with those words of finality, he receded back into his seat, the phantom pains in his arm ebbing and flowing as they usually did. Erwin never talked about it, but Levi could tell when it was bothering the commander. His eyebrows would furrow slightly, followed by a look of realization then poignancy. Whether he really wanted to or not, Levi always noticed these little changes in the man.

Hange let out a big yawn, waiting as everyone else quietly left the room. That is to say, everyone besides Conny, Sasha and Jean, those loud fucks. Levi instantly began mentally reciting what Erwin had previously said. Distraction my ass… Hange kicked up their feet onto the coffee table, expecting the usual post-meeting chat between the three of them. “Eyy I’m pooped, how about a-“

“Hange.” Levi said plainly.

“Eh?”

“Not today.”

“Alright… then why don’t we-“

“Not. Today.” Levi snapped, uncrossing his legs to stand. “Leave.”

Hange rolled their eyes, used to and unthreatened by Levi’s usual ire. “Whatever, I’ll just go party somewhere else then.” They stood too, walking toward the door. “You two buzzkills have a goodnight~!” They sang sweetly before sauntering out in an exaggerated confidence. Levi sighed before going to the door and locking it. Erwin just watched, unamused and unsurprised by his behavior. Levi leaned against the locked door and put his hands on his hips.

“So, a suicide mission? That’s your master plan?” he said coldly, grey eyes meeting blue in an unfriendly gaze. Erwin kept his lips sealed with silence, knowing full well the man across him had a lot more to say. “Tch, silent treatment too? Why don’t you tell me these things? Did you hit your head on the field before losing your arm?” He taunted, attempting to coax the tall man into talking.

Erwin’s eyes darkened just slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Levi. His plan was practically foolproof, Levi just wasn’t thinking rationally. His arm hurt and he longed for a good night's rest, not wanting to be barked at by the man standing across from him. Truthfully, he was tuning most of what he said out. Just let him ramble until he’s satisfied.

Levi stomped his boot on the door, causing it to judder in return. “You’re not even LISTENING. Oi, shit-for-brains, talk to me like a man and stop wallowing in your suicidal self pity. What the fuck are you thinking?”

Erwin took a steady breath, composing himself before finally speaking. “Is this really about the mission, Levi?” He was met with cold icy eyes set in a dead glare. This really isn’t what he wanted to do right now. “Y'know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna hear it tonight.” he dismissed.

Levi was beyond irked. “Eh- what are you even saying? Damn, that titan really did scramble your head. Do I need to spell it out for ya? Write on little cards so you can relearn your ABC’s? Eh?! You’ve gone mad. This is stupid-“

Erwin lifted his hand up to silence him. “You don’t have to agree. By all means, yell at me. But this doesn’t change my plan.” He lowered his hand and looked him in the eyes, his mind tired and begging for rest.

Levi could feel his face darkening into a prominent scowl. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this… Your self righteous fantasies of being the humble hero are clouding your judgement. Pride? Heroism? That’s just some bullshit excuse, Erwin. You aren’t expendable. Killing yourself now isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not going to fix anything.” He spat, poison dripping from each word as his gaze remained locked on target. Erwin eyed him in return, eyes growing darker with each passing second. A tense silence stretched between them.

Levi sighed before starting again.

“We need that damn head of yours if we want to have any chance of a future, so quit being a baby and let’s figure out some other plan.” He reasoned, hoping these words would make his commander understand where this bout of anger came from.

Erwin sat silent for a moment, contemplating his words and filtering them with his usual routine of rationality and logic. What was Levi’s goal here? It is putting his own life in danger, not Levi’s. Unless the issue was that fact itself...

“Levi…” He began calmly, his assuring tone of voice encouraging Levi to calm himself. “I recognize how you feel, but you must see the bigger picture. You need to understand, I am replaceable, Eren and Historia are not.“

Levi instinctively tensed again, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and knowing full well he wouldn’t like whatever Erwin would say next. “This mission is above me - above us. It’s our best option. We don’t have the luxury to achieve results without sacrifice, or at least without the risk thereof. I have abandoned many soldiers in the past, and to cower when that chance weighs on myself is unbecoming of a commander. I did not call a meeting tonight to discuss, but rather to inform. This is the plan, Levi. And frankly? I do not wish to speak about it further. That is all.” Erwin languidly finished, his usual punctuality succumbing to a tired dejection.

Levi realized then. He wasn’t speaking to Erwin, the man whom he trusted and dedicated his life to. Levi wasn’t speaking to the one who dragged him out of that shitty dump of a home and into the Survey Corps; He wasn’t here with the man who made badly timed jokes Levi could only roll his eyes at, nor the captain who suddenly took an interest in cleanliness upon Levi’s arrival, nor the friend who kindly lent Levi a shoulder and a warm cup of tea following his squad's extinction. This was not that man. Levi was stood in front of the Commander of the Survey Corps. An artificial hero who’d rid himself of his humanities in the name of freedom, eager to sacrifice what he must for the prosperity of the future. Erwin looked at Levi from behind that old table as if it were a wall of its own, made not for keeping titans out, but for imprisoning the man Levi knew him to be within.

A heroic façade. A selfless demeanor. That is what Erwin has chosen to be.

Bullshit. Absolute fucking BULLSHIT. There are at least a thousand ways out of this mess, why the hell is he so set on risking himself? An unbridled rage swiftly lifted Levi off the back of the door, boots stomping up towards the tired man in front of him. Levi seethed. He won't let Erwin succumb to whatever dumbass funk he seems to be in. He crossed his arms and scowled, voice biting and unsympathetic. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up under the ruse of heroism cause you don't feel well? Because you lost your fucking arm to some ugly ass titan?”

Erwin glare was maddening, something that would make any other soul cower in fear, yet it only fueled his own vehemence. He’s not going to let Erwin walk away from this. “Tch. And to think I’d thought so highly of you... Go on then. If this is really what you want, go and die a coward's meaningless death.” The air hung heavy as they stared each other down. Silence, tense uncomfortable silence and shit ok maybe Levi had gone a bit too fa-

BANG. His hand hit the desk hard, the sound of Erwin's arm slamming the old wood echoing harshly off the cold stone walls. He was standing now, chair forgotten and fallen behind him. The look on his face made Levi’s heart catch in his throat, a dry lump forming as Erwin's eyes bore menacingly into him. His small figure felt diminutive as Erwin’s chest heaved with ferocity, before finally cracking with pure fury. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do with my own life? Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your superior officer before I am your friend and I will not take this shit from you!”

Levi went cold, backing once more into the door as far as he could, gripping the handle for support, or perhaps a possible escape. He’s never seen Erwin snap like this and to see this eruption in him… It petrified him. “Well, now who’s the coward?” He said maddeningly, kicking the discarded chair further into the corner which sent Levi’s fight or flight into overdrive. Erwin towered over him, his hand slamming against the door a good two feet above Levi’s head. When did he get so damn close?

Levi opened his mouth, but could produce no sound. He was scared. This wasn’t Erwin. A primal rage had overtaken him and Levi could see it in the way his eyes oozed with hostility, in the way his astute demeanor had morphed into that of a feral beast’s. Taking a chance, Levi took a breath. “Erwin…” he whispered carefully, like a cornered animal trying to negotiate with its prey. Erwin’s eyes flashed with an indescribable something. He dropped his hand.

“Fuck,” he cursed, putting his hand to his head and wobbling backward before facing Levi again.

“Fuck, Levi, I’m…” he began. Once again, Levi was experiencing a new side of Erwin, a common theme tonight.  “You…” He paused, collecting his words and continuing. “You need to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to say. It’s my life and you said it yourself earlier, I’m as good as dead. This arm…  How exactly am I supposed to fight like this?” It was barely audible, but Levi picked up a slight crack to his voice. Infuriated Erwin was shocking to see, but this completely foreign vulnerability was something else. The two had been rather close, but nothing quite like this. It was jarring, but not at all bad.

Before Levi could say anything in return, Erwin continued, voice almost hushed and pleading. “Eren is the key to saving humanity and you damn right know it. If I can just lead the charge-“ he was cut off by Levi swiftly grabbing hold of his hand. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, some innermost part of him doing the decision making here. The action terrified the both of them, but it was a sign of comfort and that’s all Erwin needed. Besides, it stopped him from spouting more nonsense… So that's good, right?

Noticing the slightest squeeze of his hand in return, Levi found the words he wanted to say. Needed to say. “You know I didn’t mean that. I won’t let you die out there, Erwin. We need you…” his voice grew soft before he carried on. “I need you… So I won’t let you just throw yourself away, dumbass.” Ok now he really didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The air was stiff as Erwin only stared down at him, and Levi directed his eyes back to the discarded chair. Anything really to distract himself from Erwin’s wide eyed stare. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t Erwin saying anything? He had made it worse. Fuck.

“I- um I’m I’ll just, I’ll just-“ Levi stammered, earnestly fumbling with the doorknob to leave. Bad choice. Bad night. Time to go. Erwin promptly grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him closer, until he was flush with the broad surface of his chest. Levi’s face burned due to the proximity, and as Erwin snaked his arm around his middle, his dreaded blush only deepened. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he mirrored Erwin’s own actions, enclosing the embrace and- Oh. This is nice. Feeling Levi’s arms wrap around him, Erwin took the initiative to bend down, lowering his head to rest atop Levi’s shoulder.

“I need you too... More than anything” he breathed softly into Levi’s jacket.

Levi had never been one for flattery or sugared words. Lies only beget other lies and Levi valued honesty and definiteness. But this… This was something entirely different. Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper, purely unguarded and emotive. This wasn’t some false declaration to earn his sympathy, but rather raw feeling, something Levi is not used to having directed at himself.

The tears came before rational thought could beat them, and Erwin deepened the hug in response. The two didn’t say a word as they stood and kept their embrace, never wanting to let go. It was then that he realized Erwin was shaking slightly, tears falling from the man in his arms as well. Levi gripped tighter onto him, his cloak bunching up into his fingers as he held on perhaps harder than need be. Levi wouldn’t normally indulge himself in such juvenile behavior, but he supposed, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to hold himself back.

Erwin’s calloused hand slowly crept its way to Levi’s neck, causing him to shiver. Unsure if this reaction was a positive one, the taller man froze. Levi understood this fearful body language and strengthened the hug, signaling it was ok. Taking this in, Erwin began to rub gentle circles on the back of Levi’s neck, causing him to stir and the fine hairs on his neck to stand. They’ve never touched, not like this. Neither dared to speak, each fearing it would end this blissful spell.

Returning the intimate gesture, Levi began to softly move the palm of his hand along Erwin’s back. Levi wasn’t a touchy-feely person - or, so he thought because being touched like this… He could truly die right here. And that would be ok.

Erwin rotated his head so he was facing the crook of Levi’s neck, and Levi shuddered as he felt Erwin’s hot, shaky breath. This in turn made Erwin nervous. What are we doing? I shouldn’t be-

Levi snaked a hand up to the base of Erwin’s neck and began to tenderly run his fingers through his hair. Erwin took this as complete reassurance that yeah, this was ok. And Levi was ok with it too. Nerves were high as Levi gripped the man’s shirt, wanting to cling to him in silence forever.

Craving his touch, Levi bent his head to face Erwin’s. Erwin noticed the sudden change in movement and opened his eyes to see Levi staring right back at him. He pulled his head back ever so slightly, ensuring he was properly facing Levi. He searched his steel eyes and found only warmth. Still, not a word was said as they got even closer, noses just barely grazing each other before finally-

Unexpectedly, a jarring thud came from outside the door. This was promptly followed by a distant “I’m ok!”. Being so caught up in the moment, Erwin jumped, his heart racing and a mess as he lifted away from Levi. He muttered a curse word before being forced to talk about what just happened between the two men.

Levi just stood there, the sudden lack of intimacy making him realize exactly what had just happened. Feeling damn near faint, he sat on the couch closest to the warm fire and Erwin followed suit, placing his hand on the cushiony surface as he glanced at the visibly nervous Levi.

Erwin reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand causing Levi to meet his gaze. “Is this ok?” He asked gingerly. Levi’s expression softened as he put his other hand on top of his. “Yeah, this is ok”. They sat like that for a moment, deep breaths filling the silence.

“At least let me come with you,” Levi said hurriedly, and Erwin’s eyes grew wide. “Levi…” He began, moving his hand to cup his cheek. Levi leaned into his touch, body settling as he listened to Erwin. “Levi, when have I ever excluded you from a mission? We're doing this together…” he pulled Levi’s face closer to his as Levi put a hand to the man’s chest.

“Together.” Levi repeated before Erwin sealed the space between them with a feather-light kiss, still not wanting to scare the shorter man away. But Levi’s return to the kiss was immediate and desperate, once again wanting to be close to the man he’d admired for years. The man he… Fuck it, the man he loved. Being held like this, being needed like this, needing him in return, it all felt so familiar despite how foreign it really was.

It was like home. Not the putrid and disgustingly cluttered underground, but rather the sentiment of it all. Being in Erwin's embrace, he thought of Farlan and Isabel, his dedication and her compassion. He thought of the ever rowdy scouts, of Hange, of the feeling of Erwin’s lips against his: that was a big one.

Levi wasn’t sure where this mission would take them, or where any of their upcoming escapades would lead them. But he was sure of one thing, as long as he was at this man’s side, his warm eyes meeting his own, he could bear it. No... They could bear it. Erwin pulled away from his lips for what felt like the tenth time this night. Grey eyes met blue, and for the first time in what had felt like years, Levi felt himself fully smiling back.

That night, perched in that dimly lit safe house on a tawny old couch, was theirs and theirs alone, forever to be looked back upon fondly. They were safe. And most importantly, they were each other’s.

“SASHA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SEEING THIS!”

“CONNY SHUT UP!”

“MMPH!”

And most importantly, Levi had a couple of brats to silence.

#attack on titan #aot #levi #levi ackermann #erwinsmith #eruri #eruri feels #eruri comfort #erwin x levi #levi x erwin #fluff #hurt and comfort #our first ever fic #please be gentle with us #lmao

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 16, part two

(Masterpost of All the Rewatches) (Previous Post) (Canary’s Pinboard of Stuff)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes

Just A Box of Rain

The brothers find Jiang Yanli and tell her what happened. Pro Tip: a good way to deliver bad news is like this. 1. say "I have bad news" so the person can be prepared for a shock 2. clearly state the bad news. 

Standing in front of the person with tears streaming down your face and looking away when they try to meet your eyes is not, actually, a super effective method for delivering bad news. 

This episode continues to be punctuated by closeups of characters' hands as they respond to events. 

Yanli clutches her broken lotus pendant, cutting her palm and bleeding as she weeps.

Not-at-all symbolic rain drenches the three of them while they cry, standing apart and not comforting each other.

Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep You think that you're gonna drown Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep With all this rain falling down

(more after the cut)

They upgrade their boat with repaired seats and a real oar, and move along toward a hopefully-safer location. 

The scenery continues to be gorgeous, and it appears to be actually really raining on this river or lake. We see Wei Wuxian's hand on the boat's oar as he takes his siblings to what he hopes will be safety.

Maybe you're tired and broken Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken

OP is valiantly resisting dropping a chunk of "Don't Pay the Ferryman" lyrics in here, because projecting European symbolism onto Chinese media is not my bag. This scene does carry a lot of weight, though, showing Wei Wuxian’s sadness and isolation, his ever-growing distance from his siblings and reminding us of his servant status. While his siblings sit under shelter with tears falling down their faces, Wei Wuxian stands in the rain, laboring to protect them and not letting his own tears fall.

It's totally reasonable that Wei Wuxian is the one to man the oar, right? I'm sure Jiang Cheng is the more exhausted of the two of them even though Wei Wuxian started off his day yesterday getting whipped FIVE times by the Zidian and ended it by being choked for 45 seconds.  

Self-Isolation

They reach an inn, where Yanli has a fever, maybe from being left outside all night while her brothers failed to work out any of their interpersonal shit, followed by getting extremely rained on for hours and hours. 

Wei Wuxian carefully puts on a bright, optimistic face for her, practicing for his future fake happiness after the Burial Mounds.

Jiang Cheng sits and has a lot of feelings, totally not helping while Wei Wuxian tends to Yanli. This is not typical of him and just shows how deeply shocked he is by what's happened; usually he is extremely attentive to Yanli and careful with her health.

Wei Wuxian tries to get Jiang Cheng's attention, so that Jiang Cheng can take over caring for Yanli while Wei Wuxian gets medicine. Jiang Cheng is busy staring into the middle distance, and won't respond.

This is Wei Wuxian realizing that absolutely nobody is going to help him.  

Wei Wuxian goes out in his distinctive robes with no hood or anything, to buy some fever medicine, and is quickly surrounded by guards.  They hear "we caught him" and run off, leaving him be.  

What Wei Wuxian doesn't know, that we learn in Episode 50, is that Jiang Cheng and his death wish decided to take a stroll, and seeing the Wen soldiers approach Wei Wuxian finally snapped him out of his reverie.  So he let himself be caught in order to draw them away from Wei Wuxian. 

Let's talk about this choice. In terms of clan roles, Wei Wuxian is absolutely the expendable one. Jiang Cheng became the clan leader when his father died, and knew it from the moment he saw his father's body. 

So far he's 1. Tried to go back to fight and die, against his parents' express instructions 2. left his sister alone in an inn with a fever 3. given himself up to be killed in place of his chief disciple, when it's his disciples' job to die for him, if it comes to that. All but two of Clan Yao's disciples died to protect fucking Captain Blowhard, for goodness sake.  

All of these actions are emotionally super understandable; he's young, he's had a terrible shock, and he's an emotional guy who's never heard of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. And I'm not here to defend feudal power structures. But perhaps Jiang Cheng shouldn't ring the "YOU PROMISED" bell quite so loud in the future, considering his own relationship to his obligations. 

Wei Wuxian begs Yanli to stay put and stay safe while he goes to find Jiang Cheng, and he promises to take Jiang Cheng back from the Wens. Yanli clutches his hands and asks him to promise again that he will rescue their brother, and that they will all go to Meishan together. But for once Wei Wuxian is completely honest, and disentangles his hands and sets off without another word.  

More running ensues, this time in the rain. To quote Adam in Season 7 Episode 1 of Spooks, "all this traumatized running is starting to really annoy me." (Spooks is the shit. Don't watch it if you like characters to have a lifespan longer than a mayfly's)

Camera Operator: Finally, a little appreciation

Wei Wuxian arrives in Lotus Pier, and can we just take a second to appreciate the decor of this place? Look at that tile floor with the cobblestone border, and the bamboo wall panel behind him.

He grabs the first Wen he finds, who turns out to be a much-needed friend.

Rescue Me

The Untamed is the tale of a man’s devotion; devotion so strong it transcends clan allegiance and even death. And that man’s name is Wen Ning.

Initially Wei Wuxian chokes him, like bros do, until he recognizes him and lets him go...

...only to immediately grab him and demand to know if he had a part in the massacre. Wen Ning stays pretty calm, seeing the angry side of Wei Wuxian for the first time, and explains that he heard about what happened, and is there to help.

Wei Wuxian absorbs this and lets him go, giving us a closeup of their hands together, with Wen Ning not so much resisting Wei Wuxian's grip as giving a steadying grip of his own to his best friend.

Wen Ning, who Wei Wuxian saved from one water demon, has already saved Wei Wuxian from one horrifying animatronic dog, and does not actually owe him a life debt at this point. Wen Ning has defied his sister and his entire clan and flown to Lotus Pier with a team of minions, with the specific intent of fucking things up for Wen Chao to the best of his abilities, simply because "Wei Wuxian is a nice person." 

Wei Wuxian isn't feeling like a nice person just now, however, thinking that he can use Wen Ning as a hostage to...what, trade for his brother? Wen Chao would probably be happy to kill Wen Ning himself, but his dad needs Wen Ning as a way to control Wen Qing, so maybe that plan would work.

Then Wei Wuxian sees this small pouch hanging from Wen Ning's belt, and it stops him in his tracks.

For once we are not given a flashback to explain his thinking, so I’ll provide one

The talisman he gave Wen Ning to protect him, now protects him from Wei Wuxian himself. He lets Wen Ning's arm go, and tries to think of another plan. 

Wen Ning already has another plan, and has come to Lotus Pier prepared to enact it. 

Wei Wuxian can't believe he's found someone to help him. In a moment of wrenching vulnerability, he asks Wen Ning to save Jiang Cheng and to retrieve the bodies of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. Wen Ning immediately agrees. 

Wen Ning then embarks upon the least sneaky sabotage campaign of all time, chatting to the guards while messing with the wine, and generally acting like a person who is up to something. 

Nobody respects him enough to worry about it, though, and the party proceeds as planned.

The banquet is set up in the cleaned-up courtyard of Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, and features dancing girls performing in the center of the beautiful carved paving, and corpses hanging in the doorway. 

I bet Jin Guangyao hires this same dance troupe for his future parties.

Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao sit at the main table, snuggling and being gross, but mercifully not necking on-camera because this is a 100% no-necking show. The drinks are sent around and Wen Chao tells Wen Zhuliu to drink up. 

Wen Zhuliu is busy gazing wistfully at Yu Ziyuan's corpse.

Let's face it, Wen Zhuliu is the only dangerous person in this place at the moment, so what he does next is the make-or-break for Wen Ning’s plan. 

Wen Zhuliu smells his wine and immediately can tell something is wrong. He takes a long moment to consider the situation, eyes on Yu Ziyuan, and then downs it, letting his emotions--perhaps something in the neighborhood of remorse, perhaps simple disgust at his craven supervisor--get the better of him.  

In the morning he will be able to tell Wen Chao with 100% precision exactly what the drug is, probably from smelling it right here. This is the only miscalculation Wen Zhuliu makes in the whole show, and it eventually costs him his life.

Wen Zhuliu has no reason to think this decision will hurt him. It's definitely impossible for Jiang Cheng, whipped and crushed, to avenge himself and his parents. But Jiang Cheng, with Wei Wuxian’s help, is going to achieve the impossible. 

We end with Wei Wuxian hiding while he waits for Wen Ning, as strung out as we have seen him so far, although he's got worse mental states ahead of him on his journey.  He doesn't know yet if he was right to trust Wen Ning, and the episode ends with him, cold, wet, and miserable, waiting to find out. 

Next Episode: Still miserable, but with a cape! Soundtrack: 1. Patty Griffin, Rain  2. Grateful Dead, Box of Rain

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #rain #moar rain

[tsunflowers]

this is the sewer freak romance novel we have all been waiting for but that I will never actually write

Ok so the setting is in what used to be America in the aftermath of what was probably a nuclear war but no one ever goes into it and they just call it The Blight. Humanity rode it out by living in underground bunkers but within living memory they’ve finally been able to build habitat bubbles on the surface and fill them with breathable air so they can at least see sun again. There are several bunkers which maintained digital contact the entire time and while they were underground they built tunnels to each other so they could trade but they’ve had to seal off the tunnels and now you have to travel the blighted landscape to reach other habitats. Bc years back a bunch of people were like “we’re not waiting for your pussy habitat bubbles we can hack it on the surface right now” so they went out and got irradiated and the bunker people wouldn’t let them back in. So they started living in the tunnels and became sewer freaks. The sewer freaks are known to eat people and everyone is convinced they’re just biding their time until they can storm the bunkers and take over the habitats so they have to take the overland path even though it’s objectively more dangerous. The habitats are largely self-sufficient but there are some specialty parts that can only be produced in one habitat… and they just ran out. Enter our heroine

She’s named Ticonderoga bc lots of people are named after silly things from the old world but she goes by Ty. She has pcos or another condition that makes it very unlikely that she’ll ever be able to give birth which makes her uniquely expendable among the young women of the habitat. There’s this huge push in the community to expand the population now that they have the habitat bubbles but she knows she can’t be a part of that and people actually warn the boys her age away from her bc she won’t be able to have kids. Bc in a closed society like this everyone’s medical status is everyone’s business. This combined with the fact that she doesn’t have a job lined up for when she turns 18 bc her mentor died and The Council silently got rid of the job completely means that she’s selected to join the expedition to the other habitat. Btw the job is the storage and maintenance of physical artifacts and documents from the habitats history and from before The Blight. Everyone else has relied on technology for so long that they’ve forgotten the value of Real items and they’re like “didn’t we digitize that ages ago? who give a shit” but ty is Retro and she knows that holding something in your hands gives it a totally different feeling. She also likes to draw by hand. I kind of want her mentor to be a cool lesbian but she does die. Wait I had a great idea I’ll get back to this later

The rest of the expedition team is like older guys who’ve done this before and they’re kind of hazing her and telling her scary stories about sewer freaks. The general vibe is like “if you can’t keep up why are you even here :/" and she’s like it’s not like I asked to be here fuckers. But she’s actually kind of enjoying it in a weird way bc there are all these mutant plants that she’s never seen records of before bc the habitat bubble people ignore the outside world as much as possible. One morning while the guys are breaking camp (she tried to help at first but they were like “don’t chip a fingernail girlie”) she sits down to sketch a mutant flower. Which is hard bc she’s in a hazmat suit but she wants to record it somehow. And when she looks up she realizes the guys left without her. It’s not like they left her for dead bc she has a gps and radio communication. She could call them up and be like “hey fuck you guys.” But it was seriously a dick move and she’s really upset about it. She turns off her comms to kind of process and figure out what to do to catch up/how she’s going to confront them when she does and then suddenly….:.. a sewer monster appears on the surface!!!

We get like two full pages describing the sewer freak’s physicality at this point so as a reader you’re like ok she seriously wants to get hot and heavy with this sewer monster. He has, you know, smooth translucent skin and huge dark eyes and delicate long-fingered hands and he might be bioluminescent although she probably can’t tell that during the day. And he is definitely like cut also. He is one ripped sewer freak

Ty has this emergency signal she’s supposed to set off if she’s separated from the group and something happens to her but she’s not exactly in the mood to get rescued by a bunch of guys who just ditched her for fun. And besides her analytical brain is whirring at the chance to see and interact with a real sewer freak. So she tries to greet him. They have some trouble interacting bc sewerspeak (the language of the sewer freaks) diverged from English some time ago but they manage to communicate that he thought she was hurt but it’s only her feelings that are hurt. Btw sewer people can sense radio waves or some shit so he got concerned about her when he noticed hers cut off bc he knows habitat people always have radios on. So he thought maybe her suit stopped working. He acts like he’s gonna leave and she’s like “no wait!!” bc she wants to make a tangible connection with him bc that’s her thing. So she gets him to stay long enough for her to sketch him. He’s clearly super impressed by the sketch so she hands it to him and he indicates that he wants to borrow her pencil. He adds his own sketch on the corner of the page, a stylized drawing of the flower she was just drawing. She’s like “oh you draw too?” but he points to the flower drawing and then to himself and she understands that it’s a glyph representing him and he’s named after the flower. (This means the habitat people are named after relics from the old world while sewer people are named after things from the current world. Do you get it) They trade names and then he leaves. She’s like wow! Maybe everything everyone said about sewer freaks was wrong, bc clearly some of them are kind of sexy and intriguing. So she heads off to meet up with her party with a spring in her step. The party actually felt guilty and turned around for her bc they saw her gps signal didn’t move at all and she disappeared from comms but when they see her they’re like wtf why is she is such a good mood?? but something tells her she should not brag to them about her freak encounter so she pretends she encountered mutant wildlife and scared it off and they’re a little bit impressed

I just realized if they’re so paranoid and their technology’s so good they could probably invent some vehicles to go between habitats so they wouldn’t have to walk it. Pretend I have an explanation for that one

She gets to the habitat with the group. It has the exact same layout as her home but she can’t stop noticing all the things that are subtly different. They have different slang, and the food they grow and cook is different bc of the backgrounds of the people in this one, and stuff. Also the pregnancy thing is probably more intense compared to her home. Like in her habitat there’s social pressure but here it’s a civic duty. She sees a lot of really young moms and people who clearly don’t want children. She realizes that her infertility actually gives her more choice and autonomy than most women in her society and it’s an uncomfortable realization. Can I have uhhh, unsubtle grappling with conflicting feelings about motherhood as a prerequisite for adulthood using a sci-fi setting for 600, Alex?

Ty wants to get Out Of There and maybe see that spicy little sewer freak on the return trip but there are all these protocols and rituals they have to observe. They have to formally trade. They have to spend the night. They have to accept a meal and travel provisions. Since I guess this is the shitty evangelical Christian habitat the meal is probably like, unseasoned chicken and green bean casserole or something

Idk if Ty has any friends back in her home habitat. I kind of want her to have a gay guy friend who shares her reproduction related struggles bc he’s like “can I live openly as a gay man knowing that people will judge me for not Doing My Duty? even if I go to the medical center and donate sperm am I comfortable fathering children I will never actually be a father to?” so in that way her mentor could be a mentor to him as well since she’s an example of an adult lesbian in their society, and maybe that’s how they met. So she’s also like "man I wanna get back home and hang out with my bff again"

when shes home her parents are like omg we were so worried about you out in the Blighted landscape. while you were gone The Council gave us some of your mentor's stuff that she wanted you to have. and it's like a very tender handwritten note about how much she meant to her mentor that makes her cry and also some blueprints of the now-sealed tunnel opening?? basically her mentor left a coded message telling her to go down to the tunnel opening. she and her bff figure it out together and he's like Uhhh I dont want to go down to the tunnel with the sewer freaks??? but she tells him she met a sewer freak and not only did he not eat her he was smokin hot. if the sewer freaks are like cave dwellers they probably shouldn't have hair but I can't. I need them to have hair. sorry it's not Scientifically Accurate. so anyway she's like "listen it's not like we're going into the tunnels. we're just going Next to them. it's fine"

so they sneak down into the tunnels. it's kind of sad down there. ty's been down there before to cross-reference documents and just to see where her ancestors lived but it's totally different to be down there with just one other person and confront the reality of living in cramped quarters underground. kind of makes her empathize with the sewer freaks as well. when they get to the location the mentor marked they realize that there's a sealed hatch with a broken lock and inside it are mysterious items that were deposited by the sewer freaks! their mentor must have been in contact with the sewer freaks all along and she knew they weren't evil monsters! some weird shit she said starts to make a lot more sense. if ty kept the drawing she puts it in the hatch to try to make contact and if she gave it to him she sees it in the hatch as an attempt at contact

so ty and the sexy sewer guy strike up a gift cache based friendship. they don't meet in person but every time she manages to sneak away to the tunnel he's taken her gift and left something new. she's having to train in a new job that she's not that interested in but knowing that she'll have sewer presents makes her everyday life exciting. this goes on for a while and then one day she receives a drawing of a person crawling through the hatch and she's like omg. I could crawl through the hatch. there's also a drawing of a sunrise so she's like does that mean I should do it at sunrise...? will he be there....? and she decides to fucking go for it. her friend stays behind bc he's scared and also she needs him to cover for her but she has a radio. she wiggles through the hatch as early as possible in the morning and who is waiting for her but the handsome sewer freak!!

he brought a light bc he knows habitat people need them but he personally can see in the dark. she sees his bioluminescence for the first time and is like Wow.... and on his side he’s like amazed and totally hot for her once he sees her out of the hazmat suit bc he wasn’t 100% sure she was human until then. All the adults say habitat people are like humans under the suits but he had never seen one in real life so in the back of his mind he kind of doubted it. Both sides have the thing where they’re like “we’re the only People.” But actually he knew she was a People the moment she drew for him bc spontaneously creating art and then freely giving it away is such a uniquely human gesture

he takes her down through the tunnels and she sees that they've been decorated and added to and the sewer people have a whole civilization down there. they can also go onto the surface freely but they get sunburned real fast so they try to limit it. but the tunnels are now dotted with surface exits and that's how he seemed to appear and disappear when she was on the surface. they just kind of explore for a while bc she's so curious but he clearly wants to lead her somewhere. they get to a large but cozy room full of bioluminescent moss and mushrooms and a ton of sewer freaks just hanging out and who is there but... her dead mentor?!

It turns out The Council actually tried to kill her mentor for being pro-freak!!! They were like “see how much you like those sewer freaks when they’re eating you!” and left her for dead in the tunnels. but since she was friends with the freaks they did not eat her, they took her in and healed her using sewer freak blood and now she has some powers and she’s married to a lady sewer freak

The eating people thing IS true but listen. It’s hard to get protein as a sewer freak ok?? So they’ve been practicing endocannibalism all along (eating the dead members of their community). And they’ve eaten some habitat people who they killed in self defense, and maybe way back in the first few generations of sewer people they did kill and eat habitat people for no reason. But they don’t do that anymore and they feel really bad about. Actually they don’t even do endocannibalism anymore bc they raise cave fish and hunt surface animals but it’s ceremonial

so ty is like whoa i can't believe it, but I do believe it, and her mentor is like "you can't tell the habitat people. they're not ready to accept it. but you can change that. your generation needs to be open minded and accept the new earth and the new people and I think that you are a special girl and if anyone can change minds you can" and she returns to the habitat bubble with the gears in her mind turning over and over wondering how she can possibly accomplish this mission...

I said she would my fair lady the sewer freak but maybe thats book two. and I decided while writing this that the sewer freaks do have their own culture so it's not like he needs to be taught to be human. but I still want her to dress him up in normal clothes and take him home to her parents

#sewer freak romance

[seraphym100]

100 Days of Writing

[Day 5] Worldbuilding

The prompt we were offered today by @the-wip-project was to describe a worldbuilding detail in our WIP that we really liked.

I’ve been writing fanfiction only for the past few years. I hadn’t written for decades and fic was what got me writing again. I haven’t moved away from it yet.

So I thought I’d write a bit about that. Specifically, what writing fan fiction is like versus writing original fiction.

The amazing thing about fanfiction is that the world has already been built. Depending on the fandom, there might be centuries of history, an entire planet, countries and cities, races, and political systems. Dragon Age, for example, has all those and religious beliefs, human rights abuses and champions, several wars, a rebellion, I mean, it just goes on and on. For me to come up with a world even half as rich would take years and years.

Another thing that’s already in place when it comes to fanfiction is the plot. Again, depending on the fandom, there could be a huge, winding plot full of endless loose threads to explore (and exploit), or it could be a loose, overarching plot with lots of room to make up things that happened ‘behind the scenes’. But like the worldbuilding, it’s not something we have to come up with from scratch. We can add things, insert things, expand things, all of which is easier than building the scaffolding of the plot and making sure it works well and there are no holes or draggy bits.

If you don’t write fanfiction, I can hear the question forming in your brain even as you read this:

So… if the world exists, is already populated, and there’s a plot.. what’s the point of writing fanfiction?

I live and breathe analogies, so humour me, if you will. If you’ve ever been tasked with entertaining a group of children outside, you will likely be familiar with their amazing ability to have fun with next to nothing. I worked as a nanny a few times in my teens and 20s, and then became a parent much later, and kids have this incredible capacity to bring life and stories to a backyard littered with a few foam noodles, a three-wheeled skateboard, and a broken dump truck.

For a while. But if they see the same backyard day after day, eventually their enthusiasm wanes and you need to switch it up. Or sometimes, the kids have never actually played outside before… they’ve grown up in daycares and are overscheduled with lessons and activities and have no idea what to do when faced with an empty backyard or a bare field.

This is when a smart caregiver will take the kids to a playground filled with equipment or a water park. Then the bored kids and the clueless kids have two things going for them: there are structures to explore and interact with, and they have examples of possibilities from the other kids already playing there. They give each other ideas and they build on them and it’s really fun to see how pirate battles and alien invasions and touching ‘playing house’ narratives are spun out between kids who have never met before, but who are drawn together by the cool shit they’re playing on and their ideas.

The kids are writers. The empty backyard and bare field is original fiction and the playground and water park is fanfiction. Most kids can handle both the bare field and the playground equally adeptly, but one brings something to their play that the other doesn’t. We don’t ask ‘what’s the point’ when kids are playing in a playground. We don’t think their play is somehow limited or ‘lazy’ because it’s utilizing an environment or structure that already existed! In the same way, writing a story that uses an existing world and developed characters is still deeply creative writing.

Just like kids can adapt structures to their play - such as inventing games to play with the foam noodles - they can expend the application of existing structures to accommodate their imaginations. A swing becomes the launch pad for a rocket. A slide is now the preferred way to get from the bedroom to the kitchen. In the same way, a writer can invent a world made up of things they find in their heads, and they can adapt and extend existing worlds to accommodate their own stories.

It’s kind of fucking brilliant, in my opinion.

But… if the world already exists, and it’s already populated… and you know what happens… what exactly are you writing?

I get it, I do. I don’t know any fanfiction writers in real life, so I’ve had to try to explain it a few times and the question is genuine.

And the answer is, just about anything we want to. We invent our own original characters and then make them play with the canon (established) characters. We take a scene from the movie, or book, or game and we change a detail that gives the whole scene a new meaning. Or we take something the original content mentions in passing and we go to town on it and develop it to our heart’s content. Did you think those two characters deserved more than a chance meeting when their shopping carts ran into each other? Then write a whole story on how they helped each other deal with the mess, how they teased each other about the contents of their carts, how they stared at each other for a minute and a half because neither of them were ready to walk away until finally one blurts out ‘do you wanna get coffee’ and then they become best friends for life.

Should those two not have broken up? Write the characters working through their problems and staying together. Was the ending absolutely fucked up in that movie? Of course it was. You can do better. So do it and share it with all the other people who feel the same way you did about that ending. Oh, holy hell did you see what that writer did with this character and their OC? What if they… yas, Royal, you go!

I still feel like it’s lazy, tho. Like, are you really developing as a writer if most of the imagining has already been done?

This took me longer to understand. But the short answer is that yes, absolutely you are developing as a writer. I can say this so confidently because worldbuilding, plot-developing, and character invention are still just some aspects of what good writing is all about.

Being able to move within and build upon a world, recognizing opportunities within a plot for expansion and development, and character development are also important. And many writers who have ample skill with the first things actually struggle because they’re weak in the next few things. They spend a lot of time constructing a whole world and peopling it, but the rest of the story is cobbled together.

Fanfiction hones certain skills extremely well. In order to write a fic that resonates with other fans of the same fandom, you have to write the existing characters consistently. Which means you have to know this character so well that you can introduce new people and new scenarios and the character can grow and develop while still retaining the voice and features that make up who they are. Most fans like their fic to be at least somewhat canon-compliant (following the original plot, lore, etc.). So you have to be able to identify which scenes or plot devices in the original lend themselves to your story idea and the characters you’re writing. And anytime you’re doing these things, you’re practising your writing skills, and that is never wasted.

#100daysofwriting #fanfiction #writing #lord have mercy i don’t write a ‘bit’ about anything do i

[amwritingmeta]

S15: Dean and Cas

Pardon my lateness. Life is mental at the moment! I haven’t watched 15x17 yet but hope to do so today or tomorrow. Gods preserve me, for then there will be only three more episodes left. *is this real life??*

Okay, leaving that, let’s talk about Dean and Cas, shall we? Yes, we shall!

Dean and Cas’ relationship, or rather, how they relate themselves to each other, has been in focus this season, because it’s been pivotal to both of their arcs in canonically straightforward ways. Ways so straightforward that we haven’t really seen the likes of them since S11, and with the very heavy-duty callbacks to S11 these last two episodes, it all seems quite fitting.

I mean, Jack is a bomb like Dean was a bomb and Dean got to ask Amara why she would bring Mary back, and she got to clarify she meant it as a gift, a thank you at the end of S11, because Dean didn’t blow himself to kingdom come and her along with him, because instead he realised how he could broker peace and allow for light and dark to find balance.

Which is what Dean needs to find right now.

He needs to balance out the light and dark, the masculine and the feminine, the conscious and unconscious, the ego and the shadow. He needs to balance himself out in order to let go of his fury. Why does he need that? Why would the narrative continuously hit on him needing to let go of his anger? Because that’s the reason why he was put on this journey to begin with, this slow and steady coming-of-age-coming-into-his-own progression of finding forgiveness and feeling worthy and having faith that he deserves good things.

How do we know this?

Well, arguably this season through what happens to Dean whenever he gives his fury free range, whenever he allows it to hollow out his faith, his trust, making him one-track minded, suspicious and controlling: he loses something.

He loses Cas.

This season has been all about highlighting what happens when Dean is unable to be even the slightest bit self-aware, when he veers off the path of self-acceptance. This season, Dean has had Cas disappear out of his life twice: first when Cas walked out of the bunker and second in Purgatory, when Cas went with the Leviathan. (to get them away from Dean)

The first time Dean almost lost Cas was really all about highlighting Cas’ independence (thank fuck for that), letting us see how far they’ve come in their relationship, because Dean didn’t dig himself a grave this time, perhaps having faith, in spite of it all, that Cas would come back to him, and Cas went off on his own, feeling like there was nothing left for him at the bunker when there was no forgiveness to be had from Dean.

Except, Cas thought better of it. He realised it wasn’t just on Dean to push for change—it was on him as well. And, knowing Dean, Cas had the epiphany that he would have to lead the way. 

Dean, of course, not being able to forgive and forget all that easily, needed a final push, which is why the second time he almost lost Cas was all about Dean. He had to confront his anger. He had to, because naming it and admitting it as the root cause of so many of his actions (and reactions) is a cornerstone for him to begin letting that anger go.

Almost losing Cas brought him to a moment of clarity, brought him to take a knee and admit to being wrong and offering the forgiveness he’d been holding back, because being angry is easier, especially when, it could be argued, you were beginning to feel that trust in good things lasting.

Yeah, speaking of good things lasting, it brings us to this question: Why is Dean so angry? 

He doesn’t know why (or so he claims) and he probably does need to have his eyes opened for him, the way Amara tried to open them, the way his conversation with her was a highlighter for the point he’s being pushed to finally reach in his progression: forgiving the past, embracing the present, trusting in the future and in the fact that he deserves to live a long and happy rest of his life. 

The fact that she’s completely dressed in pink - hello positive femininity representative who kicks ass and who once almost killed God and then was balanced out so that she instead healed him with her light and they twisted into dark and light smoke and went off together - is just delicious icing on the cake.

Yeah, and that’s the issue, Dean, alright, buddy?

Dean is angry because his mother died and her death meant that he lost his father too, it meant that he didn’t get to have a childhood, it meant that he stopped believing that he could have good things that would last, because of a confused sense of identity and a crippled sense of self-worth—why did bad things happen to him if he didn’t deserve it somehow?— and pushed him to mold himself into what would make him feel strong and brave: the image that his father projected. 

The soldier.

The weapon and the shield.

And now it seems Protect Sammy has morphed into Sacrifice Jack, all because Dean’s fury at Chuck’s manipulation isn’t containable, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let Chuck live. Even if it means Jack dies in the process. As Dean said to Sam in 15x16: at least it’s not them this time. 

All the while we just sit here and witness Dean morphing into the revenge thirsty spitting image of his father one last time, for one final, big ole push towards the line he’ll have to cross if he’s to finally understand once and for all where it’s actually drawn.

At Cas’ feet.

Remember back in S12, before Cas died, there was that subtle (erm) motif of pointy things going through people’s hearts from behind? Yeah. It happened twice, if I remember correctly, before the pointy end of an angel blade went through Cas’ heart and he died an angel death in the season finale.

Yeah. That.

So.

So now, in S15, we have Cas caught in a motif again, only this time Dean is right there with him, because it involves both of them. 

We’ve had anger and loss, and then honesty and forgiveness.

We’re back to anger, we’re back to Dean seeing red, blinded by it, and the only thing—we’ve been shown—that can unblind him is…?

That’s right: losing Cas.

So he will lose Cas again. We’ve been on the precepice of this as fact for a good long while now, haven’t we, my merry macarons? We have indeed! The question becomes how will Dean lose Cas again? Is Cas actually going to die? Again??

I still sincerely doubt it.

I think Cas will find another way, and that other way will equal a sacrifice on his part. His life? I mean, it could be, but what about the Empty? What about allowing himself to be happy? It could add up somehow, I guess I just can’t see it. So I think the sacrifice will somehow involve Heaven, because we know Michael will be back, and I hope it will involve Hell and all of the forces God has brought into being working against him—together.

S p e c.

Now, I’m a sadist. No, not like that -> I’m a sadist when it comes to characters. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sadist. (Misha Collins is one, as we all know) (I joke!) (down Bessie!) What I’m getting at is that I want Cas having no other recourse but to do whatever it is he’ll have to do to save Jack to, quite literally, break Dean. 

We know they’re all teary eyed in 15x18 (feels like it’s Billie whom Dean is glaring at) and we’ve seen Dean crying against a wall and omfg I want it to be explicit and over Cas. Yeah? 

We ain’t getting them driving off in the Impala together (which is fine btw because the final episode should focus on the brothers more than anything else) (I mean, a hint that they will be driving around in that Impala post season finale while Sam goes to be with Eileen would be fab, but we can only hope and wish, yeah?) (horses held), so let’s get Dean broken over thinking he’ll never see Cas again. 

Let it be done with a big fat black marker in enormous circles around his emotional state. Let him TELL Cas to stay this time, like he should’ve done when Cas walked out the door in 15x03, only for Cas to be unable to comply, because this is all to teach Dean a lesson that this is where his anger gets him, and what he needs to do to save Cas is let that anger go, stop thinking Jack is expendable, and find a better way.

I mean, this is speculation, guys. This is hoping and wishing all over this narrative. But glory effing be if it’s anywhere in the ballpark.

It would be mind-blowing if there was a God intervention of some sort, a talking down off the ledge, as it were, as per end of S11, but I’m not going to hold my breath for *rainbows*…

I’ll hold it for balance, though. :)

Cas has waited for Dean for a long time. Dean being dismissive of Cas in 15x15 can, once again— because whenever he acts like a dick it comes back to bite him on the ass (there’s a visual for you)— be looked at as part of the tapestry that makes Cas feel there’s nothing more for him but being a father to Jack. 

Dean did nothing but instill this feeling in Cas after Cas came back from the black hole that is the Empty in S13, Dean being all “You were brought back because we needed you”—Dean saying zero things about how he was basically ripping apart at the seams from the grief of losing Cas just hours before Cas made that phone call. 

And of course not. Why would Dean admit that? Even to himself, once Cas was back. 

He wouldn’t! 

Ignoring how he really feels about stuff and taking Cas for granted is kinda what he does, so back to normal it all went. So normal and so leveled out that something had to happen, right? Because, in Dean’s mind, good things don’t last.

And then Mary happened.

Oh, my heart!

And Dean went off and cried, by himself, because he still couldn’t show emotion that openly, even to the people closest to him. But he went down on his knees and he cried in Cas’ ear during that prayer, and that really was something.

That said, Mary’s death was Dean proven right once again, and this person, who is the source of faith and hope and that budding belief that maybe, this time, everything was going to actually get better and stay that way, became the target of Dean’s anger over the injustice of it all. Because Cas was the root of it. He’s always been the root of Dean’s slow-to-grow hope that could bloom into belief and trust, if he just dared let it, that he deserves to be happy.

I wrote in an ask reply that I doubt we’ll get human!Cas, but then I remembered that Cas is still status quo-ing it. It’s why he almost left the bunker without telling anyone again, that choice of skedaddling without checking in getting interrupted by Dean, and Cas being brought into a situation where he had to divulge the information, not only that he was leaving and might not make it back (Dean’s face though!), but that Jack is going through a trial that will ultimately destroy him, which was a nice shift in this dynamic of theirs.

Now, look it, the writers may end Cas’ journey on him status quo-ing it... but for the Empty. 

And I would shrug at the Empty and think, well, maybe that won’t come into play... but for the fact that the deal was brought up just a few episodes back. 

So. Happiness.  

Somehow something will need to push Cas toward a moment of happiness. And letting himself be happy is such a climactic moment for his entire journey—and look at how it perfectly mirrors what Dean is being pushed toward—that I find it difficult to see how that moment would bring an eternity in the Empty.

But I’ve written a lot of words on why I just can’t make sense of why they would choose to kill him or have his moment of happiness be tied to a narrative punishment so I’m not getting into all that again, but because both Dean and Cas are being pushed toward happiness, I’m curious to see which route the writers have chosen to take with it.

It would be thrilling and satisfying in equal measure if we finally get Dean crying over Cas, and only Cas. No filter of Bobby or Mary to take away focus and allow for an argument that he’s not actually grieving Cas. 

It would be thrilling and satisfying for it to be very baseline Just Cas. As it has been just Cas this entire season. Cas at the center of Dean’s anger. Cas at the center of Dean’s push toward healing. Cas having had enough, drawing a line—the one that is still there, at his feet—and doing what he’s always done best: calling Dean out on his bullshit behaviour. Cas making Dean put words to his anger, express forgiveness and say that he’s sorry and all within the same moment to boot.

What all this will amount to, we’ll have to wait and see. 

In a few weeks. Or next week. Or maybe there will be strong indicators where the pendulum is actually swinging in 15x17!

Holy. Hell.

But I can’t see it ending somewhere tragic. If it does, it does. And it will be what it will be. And I’ll mourn a little, and accept it and move on. But I do believe it will end somewhere hopeful. Somewhere that leaves things quite tied up, but also open to interpretation, so that we can pick and choose who ends up where and how these men decide to continue on their journeys, now that this enormous leg of their progression is done, and they’ve learned to put the past to rest.

And if S11 is anything to go by, then the echoes of that ending would be a powerful way to tie everything up, as S11 was meant to be the end of the road, until Andrew Dabb picked up the reins with an idea of how to continue the show for a few more seasons. Or so I’ve heard.

11x23 also gave us the most gloriously frustrating exchange ever written for two characters in a car. Omg. Dean we-ing the absolute hell out of his speech when it was him, he was the one, the entire time Cas was possessed by Lucifer, who insisted they make sure Cas came back unscathed. “You’re the best friend we ever had” my ass, Dean! 

I wanted to talk about Dean and Sam as well, but there’s too little time at the moment for me to write more. And it’s painful, but I have to concede or hit a wall and hitting walls fucken hurts. 

I will mention that Sam telling Dean off at the end of 15x16 still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Finally, Sam. Finally.

As ever, sprinklings of salt all over this meta and speculation, my dearlings, but omfg it’s beautiful.

Right then. I’m off to watch 15x17! Wish me luck! *gah!*

#spn 15x15 #spn 15x16 #there's SO MUCH to unpack darn it #destiel #deancas #dean #cas #spn meta #sam #jack #chuck #amara #a long and happy life #letting go #choosing happiness #trust #individuation #the symbolism is so damns strong with this one!! #masculine/feminine #carl jung #bring on the growth spurt #come on dean #you know you're ready for it!

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 5: REVELATIONS

Word Count: 4471  Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader; teased Eudora Patch x Reader Rating: M Content Warnings: fairly graphic description of injury, blood, language Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Allegiances || Masterlist

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The first thing you were aware of was the high, tinny ringing. It was quite possibly the most annoying noise you had ever heard, and you were pretty sure it was coming from inside your own head so you couldn’t cover your ears and make it go away. Your eyelids felt heavy, like there was something keeping them from opening, and your mouth felt cottony. Your stomach roiled with nausea. The more of your body returned to your awareness the worse you felt.

“Ugh,” you groaned, voice cracking from disuse. As you forced your eyes to open, thankful that your power even in its most dormant form kept the light from burning them, you registered the meeting of concrete and grey-brown bricks wavering in your vision.

You tried to push yourself to a seated position and immediately felt resistance.

“Woah, hey, you shouldn’t move so fast,” Diego said, pressing lightly on your shoulder to hold you in place.

“Am I in your weird boiler room house?” you slurred. “How did I get here?”

You heard him chuckle. “Well after you passed out, I figured you could use some looking after…and then when you weren’t waking up…I was getting ready to take you to a hospital.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that sounded like you were worried about me,” you smirked, throwing back his own words at him.

“I was,” he said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Of course I was.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, and not just because your head was still fuzzy and ringing (the feeling was fading some the longer you were awake).

“How are you feeling?”

“Like death slightly warmed over.”

He grimaced.

“Seriously, two questions: how long was I out for, and why does my leg still feel like it’s on fire?”

“It’s been a few hours. That’s why I was…”

“Worried?” you supplied as he floundered.

He nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. As for your leg, you did get shot. It was pretty bad. I stopped the bleeding but the bullet is…still in there.”

“What?!” you jolted up at that, ignoring the pain and spinning sensation, staring at Diego in shock.

“I didn’t want to do anything while you were unconscious! In case you’d prefer an actual doctor do it or something went…wrong…” you registered the tinge of fear in his voice and felt a little less mad at him for leaving a hunk of metal embedded in your calf muscle.

“Well…I’m awake now so if you think you can get it out safely…I trust you to,” you admitted softly, reaching out to rest your hand on top of his where it sat on your bedside.

It was then you registered that not only were you lying in his bed, but he was kneeling awkwardly beside it, and probably had been since before you woke up. Your heart fluttered at the thought that he had been watching over you, taking care of you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Definitely.” You shot him a grin that you hoped looked convincing and not as crazed as you felt in that moment.

He nodded, rising from his crouch and wincing in a way that, once again, suggested he had been in the position for a while, moving about the fairly small room gathering the first aid supplies he’d need. Your eyes traced him as he washed everything down with rubbing alcohol and soap and water, as he pulled on a pair of cheap rubber gloves, and returned to your side.

“You’re going to have to turn for me to get to the wound,” he said, gesturing. “And so I can put down a towel so you don’t bleed everywhere.”

You rolled your eyes, complying with his direction.

“I notice you don’t have any lidocaine or anything there in your little bullet treatment kit…” you observed, biting your lip nervously.

“No, sorry. I could go out and get some, but it’s late so I don’t know what’s open and the sooner we get the bullet out the better.”

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice rising an octave, betraying your fear.

He knelt back down, carefully unwinding the bandage. You couldn’t help but stare down at the inflamed skin, the horribly red, still sluggishly bleeding opening in your leg, stomach turning at the thought that it was an actual hole through skin and muscle, and you were lucky not bone and not anywhere more severe than your lower leg. Diego, noticing your expression, reached over to give your hand a quick squeeze before turning to the work.

You hissed, doing everything in your power not to flinch away as Diego rested his hands on your calf.

“I’m s-sorry,” he murmured, and you frowned, catching the slight stutter in his voice, something which you hadn’t noticed before.

“It’s okay. It’s…are you sure you can do this?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve dug bullets out of myself before so…”

“Okay, gonna revisit that later, but for now, I trust you. I still wish we had something to numb the pain first though…”

After that, things became a bit of a blur. You were pretty sure at some point you screamed. It felt like your leg was being rent open by the fiery claws of the devil. You must have passed out again, because the next thing you remembered was someone lightly tapping on your cheek and opening your eyes to see Diego’s face, eyes wide in panic and lip quivering, swimming into focus.

“Fuck me with a cactus, it would have been gentler,” you muttered, wincing. “At least tell me it’s over?”

He smiled, chuckling at your colorful phrasing. “Yeah, bullet’s out, pretty cleanly and I redressed the wound. Now you just need to rest and recover and keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Well, thank you then, Doctor Hargreeves. I guess I owe you one, and should get out of your hair.” You shifted like you were going to try to get to your feet and he immediately reached out to stop you.

“You’re not…bothering me. And I’d rather know you were okay. Besides, there’s no way you can walk on that yet. Just…get some sleep.”

“You look almost as exhausted as I feel, and there’s not exactly another bed around…” you pointed out, watching him blush and look away with a slight flush of your own.

“I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s fine.”

“Diego…” you started to protest, but were cut off by a rapid knocking sound.

“Diego, you can’t keep avoiding me,” Patch called, from the other side of the boiler room door. “I know you were at the bank robbery so I need a statement, before someone else issues a warrant.”

“Really?” you groaned. “Terrible timing, Officer.”

“Relax, Eudora is…was…she’s fine. You’ll be fine,” Diego mumbled half-heartedly, moving to open the door and let her in.

You glared at his back as he did so, annoyed that he had managed to avoid the conversation entirely, and once again you two had danced, just out of each other’s reach. You shifted hastily and tugged at the quilt at the end of the bed to try and hide your injury without causing too much pain. Still, you whimpered softly, catching both their attention as she entered the little room.

“Y/N?! What the hell happened?” she said, rushing over to you.

“Heeey, Dora. Oh this?” you gestured down to your leg and the small spot of red seeping through the gauze. “Bank robbers. No respect,” you said with a forced chuckle and a shake of your head. You felt your head swim a little at the movement and began to regret expending the energy so quickly after the secondary trauma of Diego’s impromptu surgery. “Luckily it was just a little bullet and Diego here doesn’t make a bad triage nurse.”

“Wait you two know each other?” he asked, his tone maybe as much frightened as confused.

“While you were off the grid, we hung out. Dora’s great,” you said, flashing her a wink over his shoulder and giggling at his stunned expression, feeling strangely giddy.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “I think you need a hospital, not a little first aid from this idiot.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Why do you say that?”

“You just ‘winked’ with both eyes. And you look a little green around the gills.”

“Still knew I was winking though,” you smirked before frowning in puzzlement. “But I don’t have gills…”

You didn’t catch her response, or Diego’s as the darkness rushed back in to claim you and you slumped back into his bed.

~

Patch was headed for the payphone in the hall, probably to call an ambulance, while Diego hesitated, torn between stopping her and making sure Y/N was alright.

“Eudora, don’t,” he finally managed to get out. “She won’t appreciate it.”

“She won’t appreciate anything if she dies of blood loss,” Patch shot back, glaring at him. “Besides it’s just a hospital, what’s the problem?”

He sighed. None of this was his to tell. Y/N might never forgive him. But still, he had to try and make Eudora understand. He gestured for her to come sit beside him.

“Look. It’s not a serious wound. I’m pretty sure her exhaustion and slipping in and out of consciousness is from stress. I don’t think she’s ever…done something like that before.”

“Like what, Diego? Been in a bank robbery?”

“No,” he shook his head and his voice was soft as he continued, “stopped one.”

“I don’t understand.” Patch was frowning, that confused little furrow forming between her brows which Diego (and you) secretly found cute.

“You remember how I told you about my siblings and me?”

“Yeah your Umbrella School or whatever…”

“Academy.” He frowned at how quickly the correction, almost a defense, jumped out.

She rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, there were more kids that my father couldn’t get.”

“Are you saying Y/N has superpowers like you do?”

“Not just like mine but…yeah. She can control light or something. She had a more scientific explanation.” He shrugged.

“So the flares that stunned the robbers, and several hostages…?” There was something like awe on Patch’s face.

“Were her. When they turned a gun on that kid…she just reacted.”

“Shit.” Patch rocked back on her heels, pinching the bridge of her nose the way she always did when she was stressed, and Diego knew at least part of her was trying to figure out how that was going to screw with the reports, or if she was just going to conveniently leave it out. “But what does this have to do with taking her to the hospital?”

“She’s not…trusting doctors and hospitals is hard when you’ve got a big secret like this, especially when it contributes to the problem you need treated. Plus she’s stubborn; she won’t like being forced to accept help.”

She bit her lip. “I don’t like this at all. But if you’re sure…?”

He met her eye sincerely. “I am.”

She watched as Diego returned to his ministrations, checking your pulse and adjusting the bandages, which you had managed to rumple in your shifting about, such that the long gauze strips no longer fully covered the wound.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Patch mused. “And it’s obvious that you care a lot about Y/N.”

“You’re one to talk. You never let me call you ‘Dora.’”

She blushed, looking away. “It’s not like that. Not… really. Nothing like what’s between you and her.”

“There’s nothing…we’re n-not…” Diego suddenly found himself unable to look at either woman.

He had been in love with Eudora, once, and still felt strongly for her, even if the romantic connection between them had been severed and probably wouldn’t ever come back together. But there was something about Y/N that just felt right. She made him feel seen and understood and like he didn’t need to still be ‘Number Two of The Umbrella Academy,’ he could just be Diego. She made him smile, more freely than he could remember doing in years. He’d missed her terribly while he was away, while they weren’t speaking to one another, like there had been a piece of him missing. When he’d seen her collapse, he had felt like his heart stopped. But she also scared him. They were so different, so incompatible on paper. And he thought that having her just to lose her might actually kill him, so maybe it was better not to go there at all.

“Relax, Diego,” Patch said with a slight laugh, pulling his attention back to the room and her. “It wasn’t an accusation. I’m happy for you. And I like Y/N. She’ll keep you on your toes.”

He opened his mouth to deny once again that there was anything going on between the two of you, to assure her, but she shook her head and rolled her eyes affectionately. Still he blundered onward, changing tactics slightly but still determined to deny what he knew was real, what Patch could see with her own two eyes.

“She probably doesn’t even—“

Patch held up a hand to cut him off again. “Don’t give me that. Don’t use the excuse of not knowing what you could easily find out.”

“It’s not that simple, Eudora,” he sighed.

“Nothing about love ever is.” She stood up, brushing non-existent dirt off her pant legs. “I need to get back to work, but I hope you give what I said some thought at least. For both of your sakes.”

‘Love.’ The word echoed through Diego’s mind, but not in a way that felt intimidating or worrying. It felt more like suddenly having a name for the feeling he knew was there, like hearing someone else say it made it real. But that didn’t mean he wanted to say it out loud. Or did he?

~

The world swam slowly into existence for a third time, and you groaned, sick of the feeling as much as you were suffering any ill effects. Cautiously, you propped yourself up on your elbows, and the movement caught Diego’s attention. Almost immediately, he was up out of the chair he’d been sitting in and crouched by your side.

“How long was I out for?” you asked, hesitantly, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his closeness and how quickly he’d jumped to your side.

“Do you mean since Patch made you swoon or in general?” he teased, smiling.

You rolled your eyes. “She did not make me swoon. Although if anyone’s swoon-worthy…but no, I mean how long have I been in the Bat Cave, total?”

“You’ve been in and out for…two days or so.”

“Two…shit!” you bolted upright, trying to get to your feet despite Diego fighting you on it. “I need to go, and hope I haven’t been fired yet.”

“You need to rest! And why does it matter to you so much if you lose your job?”

“What do you mean why does it matter? I need that job. You know for rent, and food, and generally being able to survive.”

He frowned, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s a reoccurring thing for you it seems. What exactly has you confused this time Hargreeves?”

“You’re a thief. You’ve stolen plenty. Why does a dead end job matter to you?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve tried to figure it out: why you work at the diner, why you’re always wearing the same faded sweatshirt and jeans when you’re not working. You’ve got all that money…”

“Is my sense of fashion actually being judged by a man who wears leather like it’s a uniform and not just an uncomfortable invitation to awkward sweat?”

“It is a uniform. And you’re avoiding the question.”

You rolled your eyes. “Self-imposed means it’s not a uniform. Just a…fashion?...choice.” You cocked your head to one side and intentionally exaggerated the question in your tone, making it clear to him what you thought of his pick of attire. He certainly wasn’t wearing it for comfort.

“You’re really going to insult me after I saved your life?”

“You really think I steal for myself?”

“Who else would you be stealing for?”

“Saving lives isn’t always just stabbing and punching bad guys.” Your eyes flickered away from his face, fixing on some invisible point over his shoulder.

“What?”

You shrugged. “I support myself with a day job and then at night, I take from rich assholes who really don’t need it, or deserve to hurt, and I give it to people that need.”

He fell silent, frowning and avoiding eye contact.

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” he said eventually, pointedly ignoring your revelation. “Patch called in sick for you.”

“A police officer calling me in sick? Great now they’re definitely going to think I’m a criminal and fire me.”

“You are a criminal.”

You glared at him, wishing you had something to throw, especially when your reaction made him chuckle.

“She told them you were a witness and were in protective custody. You should be good for a week.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“It was…her idea…” for some reason he wouldn’t meet your eyes again, and you were pretty sure he was lying to you.

“I don’t just mean the work thing,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. “You didn’t have to help me out. You could have left me in the bank, or dumped me on the EMTs.”

He shifted, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the mattress and twisting to face you, instead of kneeling beside you. Hesitantly, he reached out catching an errant strand of your hair between his fingers and twirling it distractingly. Only a stubbornness warring with yourself (and maybe a fear that if you moved too quickly you would pass out again) kept you from launching yourself forward to press your lips to his. You hated how his proximity and the subtle scent of him made your heart race, how he made you feel weak and dizzy in a way that was entirely separate from the blood loss.

As you sat there, not quite locking eyes, each watching each other, it dawned on you that you might actually love him. Strangely, it sent a sensation of calm flooding over you. It just made sense, so there was no point in fighting it, just deciding what to do with it.

“I saw your eyes when you were talking about what you thought they might do if someone found out you had powers,” he explained finally, reluctantly letting his hand drop back to his side. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were that scared.”

“Oh.” The word felt small and inadequate.

You reached out hesitantly, to rest your hand on his where it sat between you. He turned his up so that your palms were touching and laced his fingers through yours. You both sat there staring at your joined hands, each trying to figure out what it meant to yourselves and to each other.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in the heavy, waiting silence. Finally Diego cleared his throat and pulled away, standing up.

“Are you hungry? I’m going to go out and get you some food, so you can get your strength back up,” he said awkwardly. “You should get some more rest.”

“Right, sure,” you frowned, biting back the questions dancing on your tongue. “Thanks…”

~

The next few days passed much the same way, with you trying to rest and recover, and Diego doing what he could to help you, including helping you change your bandages and giving you a literal hand when you started testing your weight on it finally. The thread of tension running between you was pulled taut and you waited for it to snap. Until, finally you couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Diego,” you started as you stood next to him, his forearm in a vice grip as you wobbled on your right foot and haltingly placed your left one on the cold concrete.

“Don’t start thanking me again, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head ruefully. “I keep telling you it’s no big deal.”

“Diligently nursing me back to health from a gunshot wound is no big deal?” you asked with a raised eyebrow and a demanding sharpness to your tone.

“No. It lets me know you’re okay.” He tried to shrug without moving the arm you were using for balance, resulting in a very awkward gesture and you giggled at it. “I’d do the same for anyone I cared so much about.”

You hobbled yourself around to be facing him, face blushing hotly. “You care about me?”

“O-o-of…c-c-c…” he gaped and floundered and the stutter that you had quickly come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness or uncertainty in himself was sharp.

“Relax, Diego. I care about you to, I just…it’s nice to hear it confirmed that the feeling’s mutual,” you smiled and gave a little shrug.

He stared at you, eyes roving your face as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because the next thing you knew, his free hand was cupping your jaw, thumb trailing across your cheek. And then his lips were on yours and the time for thinking or knowing was past you.

Your grip tightened further on his arm and the other hand curled around his shoulders, dragging yourself closer as his tongue parted your lips in askance, diving in to tangle with yours when you opened so willingly in answer, a moan escaping you only to be swallowed in his kiss. His arm slipped your grip to wrap around your waist as he felt you buckle, whether under the strain on your leg or the intensity of the kiss was uncertain and irrelevant to you both. Slowly, he backed up toward the threadbare chair in the corner of the room, dropping back into it and pulling you down onto his lap. You tangled your hands into his close-cropped hair, carding and tugging gently at it, making him groan, and his hands ran ticklishly up and down your sides.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, panting for air through your kiss-bruised lips.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, eyebrow raised and staring down at him.

“I think I’ve wanted to do that for six months now,” he murmured in response, gaze adoring as he met your eyes.

“I’ve certainly been waiting for you to. Maybe I should get shot more often.”

“Don’t even joke…”

“So what changed? Was it just about admitting that I cared too?”

“Yeah, I guess. Or, actually, I think it was something Eudora said when she was here. Something she made me see…I don’t know…” he shifted uncomfortably as if trying to get away from your vision and his voice had just enough of a hitch that you knew that his stutter would come out soon if you kept pushing.

So instead, you gently brushed your fingers along his jaw to turn his head back to you.

“Don’t worry about it, you don’t have to explain…I just…I’m glad we finally got here. Now kiss me again.”

He smirked, arms curling around your back to draw you downward. “If you insist.”

~

A few hours later, you both sat at his little table, picking at your takeout.

“So, you have to get back to work soon…” he started awkwardly.

“Yep. I mean, it was a nice week hiding out in the Bat Cave, but I knew I’d to get back to reality eventually.”

“What will you do about, you know, the other thing?”

“Why? So you know when to go back to failing to catch me?” you teased, cocking you head at him with a smirk.

“No. I just know you could be using your powers differently, so I thought…maybe after everything you might have changed your mind on it.”

You growled in frustration, dropping the cheap plastic fork you had been using to nose the vegetables around in your lo mein. “Not this again, Diego.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Well I really wish you wouldn’t. You can’t say you care about me and expect me to believe that, no matter how sweet you are, when you turn around and try to change me with every second breath.” You heard your voice crack, and fought back the accompanying tears of anger. You had thought, no hoped, that now that your feelings were out in the open, he would be more accepting.

“I’m not trying to change you! I just saw what you did at the bank—“

“What? Nearly kill myself? I spent two days slipping in and out of consciousness! I’m going to probably be limping for weeks. I am NEVER doing that again.”

“You can take direct action to save lives! Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

“Why don’t you ask your brother that?” You instantly regretted the words as they slipped off your tongue.

Immediately, it was like sheet-metal shutters slammed shut behind his eyes, those warm chocolate eyes that you loved so much now gone and stony.

“Shit. No, Diego, I…I didn’t mean that…or I kind of did, but I had no right…”

His jaw twitched but he didn’t speak.

“Fuck. I fucked everything up already. Shit. Please say something? Even if you want to tell me off, which I totally deserve…please?”

“We need to change the bandages on your leg.” His voice was flat. You had heard security alarms with more emotion.

“Oh. Right.” You sighed, twisting awkwardly to pull yourself out from under the table and give him access to the wound.

“Then I think you should go.”

You were silent for a moment, watching him closely as he rounded the table and carefully unwound the gauze from your leg.

“No,” you said softly. “I don’t think I should.”

He turned his head up to look at you, mouth agape.

“We keep doing this Diego. Every time there’s something between us, we end up snapping at each other and saying something that hurts the other person and shutting each other out. And I don’t want to do that again. I really like you, and I trust you and I want to be around you, like all the time, and that’s all new and confusing and…terrifying. But I don’t want to lose it.”

“What are you saying?”

“That we should, maybe, talk this out like adults this time?” you smiled sheepishly, hesitantly.

Silence rang over the room, but you felt gentle hands on your leg as he continued to inspect how your leg was healing.

“You’re…right. We should…talk,” he said finally, and you felt the relief settle over your body, tension dropping away.

“Glad you agree,” you said with a slight smile.

#this chapter really got away from me #and I already know the next one is going to too #but it was a lot of conversations that needed to happen #with wound-tending and other related bullshit to interconnect it all #I know nothing about injuries so...sorry? #Light Fingers #Diego Hargreeves x Reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #pre-canon #still haven't decided how far I want to take this Eudora x reader thing #I guess we'll all find out together

[thefriedbird]

Alright, hello! So I decided that last night after having a horrific anxiety attack, I was basically going to write two one shots based off a prompt I saw.

Yes, this is going to be a self-insert thing guys but you can replace the name with yours. There is not really much of a description other than that the character is disabled, she/her pronouns, wheelchair user with physical and mental health issues.

Overhaul is prob gonna be OOC since I’ve NEVER wrote him before. So be fucking warned.

ALSO I DID THIS ON A PHONE AND COULD NOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DEAL WOTH THE TEXT CHANGING SHIT IT HONESTLY CONFUSED THE HELL OUTTA ME SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE.

Morning Kiss

Aliza has never been a morning person. Never has and never will. She couldn’t tolerate it when people chatted in the morning, hated the bright luminescent lights that were all over the Hassaikai compound, hated Nemoto’s early bird self, hated Rappa’s booming voice in the morning, and hated Deidoro’s early morning drinking, and even hated the avian friends she would adore... if it hadn’t been for their annoying incessant chirping in the wee hours!

But Aliza began to feel incredibly touch starved. She always settled for the private hand holding and cuddling, but she couldn’t help now feeling dissatisfied with him leaving her without as much as a goodbye.

Apparently, Chisaki had noticed. He was always incredible at reading people, even without needing Nemoto’s quirk to know that they’ve been lying. But he had an innate skill at reading Aliza like his favorite novel. At first, Chisaki was leaving sticky notes for his love to find. Giving her self-care reminders for the day, and telling her the schedule he set in place for her that day. Aliza would smile brightly reading them. “Remember to drink at least 3 liters of water.”

“Don’t neglect yourself today. I will know.”

“Stop biting your nails. It is unhygienic. You’ve practically chewed them til they’ve bled. I ordered more latex gloves and a nail polish that will help you stop chewing.”

Yeah, Chisaki had a blunt round-about way to display his affection. Yeah, he was over-protective and controlling. But it was something that Aliza didn’t mind.

All her life, Aliza lived without routine. She was reckless, often ill, neglected herself, and quite frankly didn’t understand how to take care of herself. It’s not like her parents really helped her with these things as a child. She was neglected and never learned. She lived impulsively and sporadically, and often times exhibited her self harming behavior unconsciously. She CRAVED touch, but also HATED it. She was never sure if that loving feeling would turn sour and hateful. Not that Chisaki would hurt her. But her traumas of the past had ate away at her for years, and it wasn’t stopping. It was with Chisaki’s discomfort for touch that made being around him easier than with the others at the compound. (Though when she first met him, she frankly thought of him as an arrogant selfish prick.) When Chisaki began courting her, he was heavily satisfied with their shared discomfort for touch. But both made an effort to each other to slowly at least get used to the other’s. It was a sign of their trust to each other and it was evidence of how much Chisaki COULD love. Aliza saw his protectiveness as endearing. To her, it was proof of how much he cared about her safety and well-being. His controlling behavior, she disliked and liked at the same time. On one hand she hates how Chisaki gives her a schedule HE created. But on the other, it gave her a routine. It gave her a sense of predictability, which was something she never had living in a toxic abusive household. Their love language may not be words, but it was touch despite their discomfort to it.They were learning how to love together. It’s not the first time Aliza had a love, but she had been used and abused to find comfort in what she saw as meaningless words. She was a “show it, not spout it.” Type of person. She’s had too many people say their love you’s to only disprove it later on. Whereas Chisaki never really loved another person before. He loved and cared for Pops, that was his parental figure. The one who saved him from the streets, and the man he thought he was indebted to. But loving someone intimately was entirely new. He only ever saw people as pawns for his goals, expendables because they have no other purpose. Aliza was his exception. She was his Angel. She was someone that he wanted to protect heavily. What initially started as his disdain for her in the beginning, somehow became affectionate.

So when Chisaki amped up his affection, Aliza was surprised. They had grown passed the phase where he and Aliza always asked each other if it was okay to be touched. Now, they did it without a single word needing to be said. But him giving her a brief kiss on her nape followed with a “good morning” wasn’t something she was used to.

“Was that alright?” Chisaki asked.

Aliza just smiled, “Yes, that was alright. Could you...maybe do that every morning?” “Yes. Anything for you, Angel”

First Kiss

hey were an unlikely couple. Quite frankly, Mimic, Nemoto, and Chronostasis had thought Aliza would be matter on the walls the first day Chisaki had met her. They weren’t expecting their boss to have Chrono and Nemoto bring the quirkless disabled woman into the meeting room for him to ask for his chance to court her.

They were surprised to say the least.

Overhaul was once routinely aggravated with Aliza, who was their secretary at the time, because she was ‘dirty’ and ‘filthy’. He saw her as another expendable, a disabled woman hired to map out his schedule, brief him on any upcoming meetings, and to handle gentle affairs with other heads. He didn’t think he would feel any form of intimacy toward her. That was until there were days she dressed up.

He admitted it to himself that she was beautiful. On the days she dressed up, she aired confidence, she radiated with joy, she was cleaner, she looked pure, she looked like an Angel. His grounded Angel. So when one of the lower Hassaikai members began stalking you, harassing you, and even had the audacity to TOUCH you. When he saw you having a full on panic attack because of the aggressive touching, that man was matter. For once, he didn’t feel bothered by the hives breaking out on his flesh. He was concerned about his Angel. His poor sweet Angel that was hyperventilating and sobbing hysterically in her wheelchair.

He had Chrono bring her into his office, where he tried to calm her. But Overhaul is a rather imposing and intimidating figure so Aliza couldn’t just calm down... But this man made the effort. He had Chrono bring her a water bottle while she sat silently in his office. When her tears stopped flowing, he noted she constantly looked out of it. As if she wasn’t there, it was just a shell staring at the floor. Her makeup was ruined and he hated it. He hated having what was his sullied and filthy.

“I’ll have Chrono send you to your room to bathe. You’re filthy.”

Aliza just stared at him, and when he notice her tearing up again. He felt that what he said was wrong and when she began to panic again spouting apologies frantically...

Aliza honestly thought she was gonna die the way he crouched down to look at her.

“I believe I said that wrong. He TOUCHED you. You are not filthy because you did something. You are filthy because HE did something. I will have no more tears. I will have Chrono come back to get you and you will take the rest of the day off, are we clear?”

That was two years ago. Aliza was the only person that was allowed to call him by his real name when they were alone together. She was also the only person allowed to touch him and see him without his mask. She no longer slept in her room. In fact the same day Chisaki asked to court her, he already had all her stuff in his room. Already having her sleep beside him the first day. He took care of her. He loved her. He would kill for her. Plain and simple.

Chisaki had never kissed someone. His mysophobia wouldn’t allow him. But he wanted to try it with his partner. They already have gotten used to touching each other, but anything extremely intimate he had never done.

It was when Aliza had dropped by his office to brief him on his schedule for the day, that he asked her.

“I wish to try to kiss you.”

Aliza looked up from her tablet in shock. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to break out in hives, love.”

Chisaki was already bending down over her, braking her wheelchair so she wouldn’t slide, his hands resting on the armrests, caging her in. “Yes.”

“O-oh, okay! I’m not stopping you!” Aliza smiled, blushing in shock at his forward ness, and setting down the tablet in her lap.

Chisaki unfastened his mask, setting it on his desk before gently taking off her own. Leaning forward, watching as Aliza closed her eyes he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. The chaste kiss caused him no issue, to his surprise. When he pulled away, he couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement when Aliza chased after his kiss for another.

He wasn’t sure how many trailed after his first kiss

#chronic illness #fibromyalgia #chronic fatigue #chronic pain #spoonie #ptsd #actually ptsd #chronically ill #fibrolife #spooniepower #anime #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #disabled #wheelchair user #wheelchair #self-insert #self insert #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #x reader

[myaekingheart]

122. Honor

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Grunts and shouts echoed across the training grounds as Sekkachi Fumeiyo and Might Guy conducted their weekly training. While winter made Sekkachi restless and sore, spring seemed to invigorate her and restore her long-lost energy. Or at least as much energy as she could manage. She wiepd the sweat from her brow and ducked, dodging a strong kick from her opponent. “Nice form” she smirked, spinning around to attack from behind.

               As Rei watched from the field’s edge, her stomach churned at the thought of Sekkachi’s power. Of what she was capable of in the right conditions. Standing there, Rei felt like a sturdy imposition to her comrade’s weekly routine. The back of her throat burned with the promise of a question she wasn’t sure she could even verbalize. Kakashi squeezed her hand in reassurance. Rei looked up and was met with one his trademark masked smiles.

               “I’m sure everything will be fine” he said. He and Rei had discussed this in great depth: their master plan, the latest installment in their wedding planning chronicles. They needed support and assistance. They needed to figure out their wedding party and of course the foundational decision in that was choosing the best man and maid of honor.

               Rei scoffed and shook her head. “That’s easy for you to say” she mumbled. “You get to deal with the most enthusiastic man on the planet. There’s no way Guy is going to say no. Sekkachi is a completely different story.”

               Truly, there was no one else fit to fill the role of Kakashi’s best man but Might Guy. For Rei, however, the decision was not so simple. Naru was dead and Mikazuki an unlikely candidate. Yugao held promise but something about asking her just didn’t feel right. No matter what Rei did, the idea of Sekkachi kept swinging back around in her mind, punching her right between the eyes as if her choice was too obvious.

               And logically, Sekkachi made perfect sense. They had known each other for two decades, been on the same squad, spent so much time together they might as well be surrogate sisters. Sekkachi was realistic and grounded. She would undoubtedly keep Rei’s head above water when the stress became too much to bear. Unfortunately, Sekkachi was also blunt and apathetic. She couldn’t care less about frilly dresses and cake tasting. She was the least wedding-oriented person on the planet and yet she was somehow the only person that Rei felt, in the pit of her chest, was fit to stand by her side as she married the love of her life.

               So long as she accepted the offer to begin with.

               “Give her a little more credit” Kakashi assured. “You might be surprised.”

               Rei shook her head as she caught Sekkachi and Guy making their way towards the edge of the field. “I’d rather not be surprised at all” she murmured. Her heart rose into the back of her throat. She didn’t know if her anxiety could handle this.

               Sekkachi gave a simple nod in greeting as she took a long, barbaric swig of her water. “You ready to go?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Against her own accord, an anxious chuckle burst past Rei’s lips. She fought to contain herself with a single nod. “Good” Sekkachi said. “I want to get this over with quickly so I can come back and beat Guy’s ass fair and square.” She shot her comrade a sharp glare but Guy didn’t seem the least bit threatened. Why would he be? He knew better than to believe Sekkachi would realistically hurt him for her own selfish gains. They knew each other far too well. Besides, Guy liked her ferocious spirit. It made battles interesting. What was the point in fighting someone who didn’t even care?

               As she tightened her ponytail, Sekkachi nodded her head toward the street in a silent signal for Rei to follow along. She did so dutifully but not without glancing back at Kakashi over her shoulder. He met her uncertain gaze with a small smile and encouraging little thumbs up. Rei replied with a halfhearted smile of her own and hoped to heaven that this would go smoothly. She could not afford to mess this up.

               “So, Kakashi” Guy started, redirecting his rival’s attention. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Kakashi caught a knowing twinkle in Guy’s eye, the corner of his mouth slyly tugging upwards.

               “Well, Guy, the thing is…” Kakashi started, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew Guy was sure to say yes. It was not the question that made him apprehensive, but rather the aftermath of the answer. “Rei and I have been working on planning the wedding and we need to figure out the wedding party, so when I tried to think of who my best man should be…”

               Kakashi didn’t even need to finish his sentence for Guy to understand his point. His face lit up and emphatic tears streamed down his face. “Oh, Kakashi!” he exclaimed, taking the copy ninja by the shoulders. He locked his teary eyes on his rival and added as earnestly as humanly possible, “I would love nothing more than to stand by your side as you marry the love of your life!”

               Relief swept over Kakashi as he relaxed his shoulders and smiled behind his mask. “Thank you, Guy” he replied. “I really appreciate you being there. I can’t imagine giving such an honor to anyone else.”

               Sniffling, Guy released his grip on Kakashi and turned away in an attempt to compose himself. “You really are something, Kakashi” he murmured. He sucked in a deep breath and straightened his back before turning back around, adding, “I just hope you know this doesn’t mean I intend to slack off in challenging you! In fact, such wonderful news has inspired me! Such youth! Such passion! What do you say I challenge you to a celebratory sparring match right here, right now?!” The glimmer in his eyes, the enthusiasm, made it hard for Kakashi to refuse.

               “You’re on” the copy ninja replied with a confident smirk. “Just do me a favor and don’t challenge me to a race or anything on my wedding day, alright?”

               Guy smirked and replied, “I can’t guarantee anything!”

               Ichiraku seemed quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. But then again, with Naruto gone, Ichiraku always seemed quiet. Ayame’s face lit up as Rei and Sekkachi ducked inside, calling for her father that they had customers. Ayame was a sweetheart but Rei couldn’t help but fear that their presence and the consequent attention would make this way harder for her. She sucked in a deep breath and slid into her seat, smiling politely at Teuchi and his daughter.

               “Just a bowl of white rice and some water, thanks” Sekkachi ordered bluntly. Rei picked out a bowl of tonkotsu ramen for herself and hoped she could actually manage to eat it. Once Teuchi left to prepare their food, Sekkachi turned her attention to Rei. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked. She looked tired, apathetic, bored. Fuck.

               “Oh, it’s, uh…it’s nothing, really” Rei replied, swatting at the air dismissively. To be fair, she should’ve known better. Sekkachi was always sore and short-tempered on training days. The energy she expended on her taijutsu left little room for anything else. Like human decency.

               “Well, it must be something” Sekkachi replied. “You wouldn’t have asked me to lunch if it wasn’t.”

               Rei rubbed the back of her neck, trying to decipher the best way to word this. “Alright, so, you see, the thing is…” she started. She glanced to Sekkachi, completely unamused and growing more impatient with every second. Rei flashed a sheepish smile and quickly continued, stumbling over her words. “Kakashi and I have been trying to plan our wedding and everything, which is going fine by the way, or as well as wedding planning can go, but, um…well, okay, so you know how when two people get married, there’s always groomsmen and bridesmaids and stuff? And then there’s, like, a best man and a maid of honor or something, and those roles are supposed to be reserved for the—”

               “Alright, cut the crap, Rei” Sekkachi interrupted, clapping her hand over Rei’s mouth. “I already know what you’re about to ask me.”

               Rei blinked, terrified. She couldn’t read Sekkachi’s expression, somehow teetering between interpretations of pissed and pleased. All Rei could manage in response was a croaked, muffled, “You do…?”

               “Mmhmm” Sekkachi nodded. “You want me to be your maid of honor, right?” She released her hand from Rei’s mouth, wiping her palm roughly on her pants.

               Taken aback by the blunt delivery, Rei stammered and searched Sekkachi’s face for a hint of ingenuity or malice. She was always so hard to read but knowing Sekkachi, Rei doubted she cared enough to take on such a responsibility. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, then never fucking mind” Rei muttered, averting her gaze with a bothered pout. She wondered if it was too late to ask for her ramen to go. Ayame quickly placed their food in front of them before scurrying off to give them some privacy. The tension between her two customers was almost palpable. Besides, it was a slow afternoon. She could afford to slip out for a few minutes. She knew better than to meddle in other people’s personal affairs, anyway.

               Snapping apart her chopsticks, Rei violently stabbed at a slab of pork in her bowl and ripped it apart with her teeth in a careless, almost animalistic nature. The steaming broth dribbled down her hcin and splattered onto the counter. Sekkachi arched a brow as she watched, taking the smallest bite of her own bland food.

               “You do know that I’m not the best person for the job, right?” Sekkachi finally asked after a long stretch of silence. Or at least a long stretch of not speaking. Rei likely could’ve stood to eat a little quieter.

               “I know” Rei said bluntly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “But you know what? I don’t really want to talk about it.”

               Sekkachi scoffed and shook her head. “Well, while we’re here, we might as well talk about it” she replied. “Isn’t that why you asked me to lunch in the first place? To talk about it?”

               “Well, I made a mistake” Rei said. “I do that sometimes.” She sucked her teeth as she collected a large wad of noodles and pinched them between her chopsticks. When she shoved them in her mouth, the stray ends poked out of her puckered lips and trailed down her chin sloppily. “Let’s just eat in silence and then go about our day like none of this ever happened, alright?” she muttered after swallowing.

               A sigh broke past Sekkachi’s lips as she took a sip of her drink and stared ahead. She could feel the weight in her chest growing heavier. “I know you miss her” she replied. “I do, too.”

               Rei silently choked, slammed her fist on the counter. She could feel her eyes glazing over, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it” she repeated through gritted teeth.

               “She would know all the right things to say” Sekkachi continued, as if Rei hadn’t even spoken. “She would help you pick out the cutest dress and the prettiest flowers. She’d beam on the sidelines whie you and Kakashi said ‘I do.’ And she would almost look more beautiful than you would, and it would be an absolute crime.”

               The heat of the broth was beginning to sting Rei’s mouth. She paused and tried to swallow back her heartache, tried not to cry. “At least you wouldn’t upstage me” she croaked.

               Rather than be offended, Sekkachi laughed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of it” she said. She stirred the rice around in her bowl, knowing she wasn’t going to eat any more of it anyway. “You know all that fancy, traditional shit isn’t really my thing, anyway.”

               “I know” Rei replied. “You’d be like a fish out of water. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

               “I don’t, either” Sekkachi said.

               Rei slid her bowl back against the counter, sighed. “I’m tired” she murmured. Besides the piece of pork she had ravaged and the one large wad of noodles, she had barely eaten anything else. She wasn’t very hungry anymore. “Maybe we should just head back now” she offered. She knew better than to believe that Sekkachi was not finished. The rice was more of a courtesy than anything else. An obligation.

               Despite Rei’s desire to leave, she did not budge from her seat. Almost as if she was paralyzed. Almost as if her body was still waiting for the answer she knew was never going to come. Sekkachi watched her for a long moment before shaking her head and turning back for another bite of food. She never understood why Rei did these sorts of things to herself. Twenty years of friendship and Rei still existed in a language that she could not decode, all sideways letters and inexplicable images. Rei’s hand twitched against the counter. Sekkachi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yes” she then said, seemingly out of nowhere.

               Rei blinked, evidently snapped from her daze. “What?” she asked, staring at Sekkachi quizzically.

               Sekkachi turned back, repeated, “The answer is yes.”

               “Y-you mean…?”

               Sekkachi gave a single nod and the corner of her mouth tempted to curve upward. “I may not be the best when it comes to frilly dresses and china patterns and for the love of god, you better not make me taste cakes with you” she started, and Rei couldn’t help but laugh. “But who else is going to make sure you’re shit-faced the night before the wedding and sucker punch anyone who tries to shout ‘I object’?”

                “The perfect bodyguard” Rei mused, shaking her head at the blissful absurdity of it all. But that was the reality of life with Sekkachi. She was grounded and defensive. Blunt as she may be, she would always have Rei’s back no matter what. In times such as this, full of stress and uncertainty, that was exactly what Rei needed. Chuckling softly, she swirled her chopsticks around in her soup, watching the noodles swish this way and that. “Thank you, Sekkachi” she murmured. “I honestly can’t imagine anyone else standing by my side during all of this.”

               Sekkachi shook her head, smiling. “That’s a lie and you know it” she countered. “But I’d be happy tot ake on the job in her stead.” Rei nodded slowly, bittersweetly. She thought of the theory of residual chakra, and how sometimes people never really leave you even after they’re physically gone. She wondered if the same was true this time, if her wedding day would still be touched by Naru’s love and light even in death. Rei stirred her nori into her broth idly as Sekkachi grabbed a to-go container. “Besides” the blue-haired kunoichi started, “Someone has to make sure you don’t make a huge fucking idiot of yourself, right?”

               Rei laughed incredulously as she glanced back to Sekkachi. “Don’t I already do that every day, though?” she replied. “You don’t seem to be doing a very good job.”

               Shrugging, Sekkachi dumped her rice haphazardly into the flimsy paper pail and replied, “I guess I’m just gonna have to do better then, won’t I?”

               “Evidently so” Rei laughed. And suddenly, it was as if all of the day’s anxiety and paranoia had dissipated and Rei was reminded once more as to what, exactly, made Sekkachi’s friendship so precious. She was the sister Rei never had, an angel and a demon wrapped into one. The same person who slapped bandaids onto the very wounds that she caused, and fight tooth and nail against anyone who tried to harm her. A motivator, a protector, a companion. There was truly no one else more worthy of such an honor but her.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #kakashi x oc #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

[forsetti]

On Racial Justice: Time For Action

When I was in high school, a young girl went missing. There was a rumor she had been abducted. This was years before cell phones and then internet. Word spread through phone trees, in diners, at the gas station, in the barbershop and hair salon. The entire county became quickly invested into finding her. It was as if someone took a big stick and beat the hell out of our little beehive.

She was found, later that day, up one of the canyons that bordered the rural valley where we lived. She had been killed. I know this because my father was the county coroner, as well as the local mortician. As the news of her murder spread as quickly her abduction had earlier in the day, a wave of anger and fear blanketed the valley. Anger because of what had happened to “one of their own.” Fear because there was an existential threat to their own children out there, somewhere, still at large. The beehive was whipped up into a frenzy.

I can't remember if it was later that same day or the next but the local police soon found and arrested what they described as “a drifter from California,” for the young girl's abduction and murder. They locked the man up in the little jail that was located in our town hall.

Once news of the arrest and jailing hit the hive, the emotions that had been building over the past couple of days began to boil over. By that evening, after a number of drinks at one of the local watering holes, a number of men had worked themselves up into a frenzy over what had happened. At some point, one of the men suggested they drag that “mother fucker” out of the jail and administer some “good ol' country justice.” Before you could say, “vigilante justice,” a number of armed men in pickup trucks were parked in front of the town hall ready to reenact their own personal version of “Death Wish.”

With all respect to the local police force, the few officers on duty were able to talk the inebriated, heavily armed group off the ledge. The men eventually drove off to their respective homes, no one was lynched, and a crisis was averted. A few hours later, in the middle of the night, the police transferred the prisoner to a larger jail a hundred miles away.

The reason I bring up this story is because I am reminded of it every time I hear white people lecture black people on how to behave after one of their unarmed sons and daughters is killed by the police. I watched, in real time, an entire community get worked up to a fever, murderous pitch over the course of a couple of days over the murder of one of their own. Yet, people just like those I grew up around who, within a few hours, rationalized a lynching over one unjust death, cannot imagine the release of pent-up fear and anger many black communities feel that has been building for generations.

The reason Colin Kaepernick kneeled during the National Anthem wasn't because of the killing of one person. The reason there were riots in Ferguson MO in 2015 wasn't just because of the death of Michael Brown. The reason there are protests and riots in all fifty states right now isn't just because of the deaths of George Floyd or Breonna Taylor. The reason for all of these is the centuries-old, systemic practice of viewing and treating black bodies as expendable.

When citizens do this like we've recently seen with the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, it is horrible and deserves moral outrage and legal repercussions. When this happens at the hands of those entrusted to serve and protect the very people it kills, without consequences, it is evil. When this happens over and over and over and over....again, it is a moral failure not just of the law enforcement officers who do this but of our society because we've turned a blind eye to the deaths, pain, and suffering of our own.

It doesn't take a lot of thought to imagine what would happen if it was unarmed white people being killed by the police. One of the turning points in how the nation viewed of the way our government was handling the Vietnam War was shooting deaths of four young, unarmed students at Kent State in 1970. Like the rural area where I grew up, white America doesn't tolerate the killing of their own by agents of the government. Not for one fucking second.

Yet, a whole lot of white America can't seem to understand why Black Americans get so worked up whenever one of their own is murdered by the police. I've seen more video of white people screaming at police for pulling them over or for asking them to obey safe practices during a pandemic than over the killing of their fellow, unarmed citizens.

I know there are a host of hot takes as to why white America doesn't really give a damn about the killing of unarmed minorities. If the analysis doesn't begin and end with, “as a whole, white America views minorities as inferior and expendable,” it isn't worth a damn. This doesn't mean all of white America is racist. It means that, as a group, white America doesn't care enough to change the status quo. This shouldn't be a revelation to anyone who pays attention to the world around them. White America hasn't given a damn about minorities since, forever. They have really never cared about Native Americans. They've only given a half-assed care about blacks and that was only after seeing images of church-dressed men, women, and children being attacked by police dogs and brutalized with batons and fire hoses at the hands of racist, Southern police. Once the Civil Rights Act passed, White America pretty much went back to not giving a damn about black people. It almost seems like giving blacks the right to vote was all the care White America could muster and a lot of them couldn't (and still can't) do that. The fear and anger the people in my community felt over the course of a few days back in the late 70s led them to be willing to break whatever laws they deemed necessary to get the justice they felt they deserved. Imagine this same fear and anger not building up over a few days but a few centuries. Imagine not one member of your community being unjustly killed but dozens and dozens each and every year. Imagine the fear and anger not that these deaths were the result of some random person but by the very people hired and entrusted to protect your community.

The surprising thing isn't that black Americas are angry. The surprising thing is they've kept their anger in control as well as they have. White Americans protest and riot over their favorite sports team winning or losing. They protest and riot over a beloved football coach being fired. They protest and riot over having their favorite drink being taxed. They protest and riot over not being able to get their hair cut and flower beds properly tended. Black Americans are protesting over the killings of their loved ones.

I cannot imagine what it is like to fear for your life every time you encounter the police, regardless of the circumstances. I cannot imagine worrying about any of my children being harmed, let alone killed by the police. I cannot imagine being punished more harshly by the police and courts for doing the same things that others have done. I cannot imagine being viewed as “violent,” “lazy,” “a thug,” “a threat,”... , no matter how wealthy or successful I am, by a good portion of society, just because of the color of my skin. I cannot imagine my water supply being poisoned with lead and no one with any power gives a damn. There are thousands of things about being black in America I cannot even imagine.

Just because I can't imagine these things doesn't make them not real. It doesn't make them not important. That I cannot imagine these things just means I've been fortunate enough to be on the other side of the systemic racism in our country. As I watch the current protests over the latest police killings of unarmed blacks, I'm hopeful and afraid. Hopeful because the number of protests not just in big cities but around the country in towns large and small means, like the images on tv from the 60s of the Civil Rights marches, are having a real impact on white America. Fearful because I know the history of this country when it comes to the levels it will go to protect the white patriarchy.

Within the past few years, I watched the election of someone who is the personification of white supremacy as a backlash to the first black president. Trump won the election because the majority of white men and women voted for him. They may not do the same next time around but that they did the first time tells you all you need to know about where White America stands when it comes to racial justice and equality.

When it comes to the deaths of unarmed blacks by police, to the overpopulation of our prison system, to the gross wealth disparity of whites and blacks, to too many issues to list here, to my fellow White Americans, I quote Pogo, “We have met the enemy and he is us.” You know damn well you wouldn't tolerate being treated how blacks our in our country. You know damn well you wouldn't tolerate the killing of your sons and daughters by anyone, especially the police.

It is time to stop pretending the problem isn't systemic and it is the responsibility of minorities to fix. White America built the system. White America has and still does, to a great extent, support it. White America, all of it, benefits from it. It is up to us to dismantle it. We can either go down as the ones who did what was necessary to live up to the promises of our Constitution and Bill of Rights, or we can go down in history as just another era that made promises it never intended to live up to. This isn't something that could or should wait another day to happen. It is centuries behind schedule. Trying is no longer enough. To quote a Jedi Master, “Do or do not, there is no try.” We owe it ourselves but, much more importantly, we owe it to Black Americans past and present.

[silverlysilence]

A Somewhat Mythology Lesson for the Fae’s Sake

I am now seeing a lot of questions regarding the Fae and have decided to do another of my HoaDS Reference Material Lessons because this was one of the things I researched a lot. Yet again, I will add links to Wikipedia as it has the most basic and easily understandable information, but this time I will also be linking to various Wikia fandoms as I relied heavily on them for inspiration.

First off, Fae (both plural and singular form) also known as fay, fey, fair folk or the traditional fairy are a type of mythical being that does not have a single origin as they are a collection of folk beliefs from a verity of sources.  Some see them as a form of spirit, sometimes spirits of the dead, while others believe them to be demoted angels or demons, minor deities, or even as elementals.  They are not always small-statured winged creatures, as at one-point goblins and gnomes fell into their category as well.  Thus, there is a lot of conflicting information on the fair folk.

More often than not, the fae are usually attracted to those who are beautiful as well as wealthy and seek them out for various reasons.  They are masters of enchantment and tend to only care about themselves even when dealing with humans but fae can be persuaded for a price.  Traditionally, iron (and by extension, steel) is inimical to them and is often referred to as cold iron when used as a weapon against the fae.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fairy

For Heart of a Dragon’s Soul, I relied heavily on both Merlin and Dresden Files as reference rather than relying on the folklore since that gave me a more narrowed down basis to work with rather than too much conflicting information.  However, as many of my readers have found out, I used the pixies from Disney Fairies for my Wyldfae as to not have to create my own characters.  I also stuck to using Fae(rie) for the fair folk in the series to distinguish them as different to Toothiana’s Fairies.

In most folklore, the two most prominent categories of fae are the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classifications_of_fairies) which I stuck with for the most part but incorporated the Wyldfae as well.  However, it should be noted, that the fae, no matter their classification, are still dangerous if crossed.  Something I adhered to in my writing as well since it paralleled the dragons who are also Creatures of Magic willing to work with the Hairy Hooligan Tribe but are dangerous creatures in their own right.  

The Seelie Court is the more beneficently inclined fair folk whereas the Unseelie Court, are more malicious in nature.  These courts are also referred to as the Summer Court and the Winter Court and in HoaDS, there is a reason for the difference between Seelie Court and Summer Court as well as the Unseelie Court and Winter Court. But I’m not sure how far I will go into explaining that as it is a part of the storyline I haven’t yet to post and carries potential spoilers (there is a reason I am the Norn of Silence after all, and that is because I don’t give spoilers if I can help it). However, just know for the most part, the Summer Court is the Seelie Court and the Winter Court is the Unseelie Court.  

The Seelie Court more often than not would seek help from humans and warn those who accidentally offended them, returning human kindness with favors of their own.  As stated before, they are still dangerous and were quick to avenge any insults to their persons. They also were prone to mischief by playing light-hearted pranks without realizing how the pranks affected humans.

The Unseelie Court, on the other hand, needed no offense to deem it necessary to bring down assault and often attacked travelers out at night.  Just like how the Seelie Court were not always seen as benevolent, neither were the fae of the Unseelie Court always malevolent as they too became fond of particular humans if they were viewed as respectful.  Though, those humans often times made into something of a pet, which reflected their darker aspects compared to the Seelie Court.

The last classification I use is that of the Wyldfae (inspired by the Dresden Files: https://dresdenfiles.fandom.com/wiki/Wyldfae).  These are the fae that are bound to neither of the faerie courts as they are oftentimes seen as insignificant in the eyes of the higher-ranked fae.  Though, in the event of a war, most Wyldfae will associate themselves with the side that they are most inclined.  For the most part, they lived in harmony in the Wyldfae Haven, home of Pixie Hollow and the Winter Woods before it’s fall.  Now, they mostly live in the Nevernever or have carved out a small place for themselves unseen by humans.

Now that classifications are out of the way, let's dive into fae ranks.  Here is where I will go into the Summer and Winter Courts as laid out by the Dresden Files as it gave me the groundwork for the fae hierarchy.

Sídhe (pronounced ‘shee’) literally means “people of the (fairy) hills”.  This comes back to the idea that fae were spirits of the dead since the ‘fairy hills’ were often burial mounts.  Furthermore, Sídhe was the original term for fairies in general but has since changed over time to refer to the nobility of the fae.

In HoaDS, the Sídhe are the nobility of the fae, the upper echelon which is not hereditary—though that can be a determining factor—but based on status and their abilities.  In short, they are powerful as fuck.  They have fought their way to the top and are still there because lower-ranking fae respect their rule and power but also because no one has managed to kill them off yet.

Originally, the Sídhe were made up of the Sídhe Elders which I envision are the Sídhe Kings of Old from Merlin’s time (https://merlin.fandom.com/wiki/Sidhe_Elder) who have seen the Great Purge and witnessed the Balance disturbed.  They might have gone a little insane from their immortality, they could have decided a purge of their own was needed, or they might have seen an opportunity to fill the vacuum of power left from the Great Purge (I’m not saying which), which lead to the destruction of Pixie Hollow and the beginning of the Sídhe War.

During the time of the Sídhe Elders, it was taboo to kill another Sídhe Elder and the punishment was death unless it was another Sídhe Elder that committed the murder.  In which case, the Sídhe who committed such an offense was cursed to live the life of a mortal in body and soul.  However, if the cursed Sídhe sacrificed a human of great worth, either royalty or one with great magical potential, they’d gain back their life as a Sídhe.

After the Sídhe War, both Courts have their own territories in the land of Faerie within the Nevernever governed by the three queens.  The eldest of the Queen, otherwise known as The Queen Who Was, is either Mother Winter or Mother Summer, according to the court she belongs to.  They hold no official power over the court but are extremely powerful beings as the former queens who were not killed during their reign.  The ruling queen, The Queen Who is, is often referred to as the Winter Queen or Summer Queen and she controls the courts. Lastly, the youngest of each court is the Lady Summer or Lady Winter, The Queen Who is to Come, and is considered to be a Queen in training. The rest of the Sídhe are akin to the Lords and Ladies of the court and take offense at not being referred to faerie rather than Sídhe because they are above normal fae.  (https://dresdenfiles.fandom.com/wiki/Faerie_Courts)

The Dresden Files also has a Winter King and Summer King, both of whom are technically Wyldfae but are associated with their respective seasons and are independent of the Queens.  In SoaD, the Winter King and Summer King are more or less the protectors of the Wyldfae. It is an alliance of convenience as the two are not truly their Kings but they call them that out of respect.

Dewdrop Faeries are the weakest of the fae.  They typically only have the magical talent for one type of magic, be it a certain element or skillset, but not much else as their magical reserves are quite low. Their size is in direct correlation with their magical capabilities, the more magic they have, the larger they are but if they expend all of their magic, the dimmer their light shines. The majority of which are Wyldfae since neither of the courts see the need to recruit such lowly creatures into their services.

Brownies are what some would be considered domesticate fae as they come out at night while the owners of the house are asleep to perform various chores and farming tasks.  However, they are far from domesticated as they only complete the tasks in trade for a bowl of milk or cream or some other offering for the brownie left by the hearth. They are easily offended and will leave their homes forever if they feel like they’ve been insulted or taken advantage of in any way.

The Wee Folk are less of a faerie rank and more of a generalization of all the small size fae which include Dewdrop Faeries, Brownies, and the likes.

Pixies are a step above Dewdrop Faeries in power and were the original creators of Pixie Hollow, hence the name. However, upon seeing their power and capabilities, the Sídhe from both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts swayed them to their side with promises of power, forever garnering them as loyal servants to the Sídhe.

Please let me know if this clears things up and if there is still any confusion that doesn’t count as a spoiler, I will do my best to answer.  Hope you enjoyed the lesson.

#HoaDS Reference Material #Heart of a Dragon's Soul #HoaDS