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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Formalities and Introductions (a RushBit one shot)

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: It's mother's day and you get to meet Javier's mom.

Word count: +2k

Chapter warnings: mentions of death and dead people and nostalgia.

A/N: This is canon RushBit after the main story, it will make sense once we throw ourselves into it. I just wanted to commemorate Mother's Day with this.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

May 9th, 1996.

You turned on the driveway and pulled over; when you turned off the car and grabbed your bag from the co-pilot’s seat, you felt your smile creep up on your face again and you tried to hide it, unsuccessfully.

You got out of the car and immediately the big black ball of hair that was Pepe ran out of Chucho’s house and you crouched to greet the old pup.

“Hi, good boy,” you cooed to him as his large tail formed whiplashes around the space “where are our men?” you asked him, standing up. The dog huffed and turned around to walk back to Chucho’s house.

You followed him and walked in. The first thing that welcomed you was the stern voices of two men arguing in spanish. You walked behind Pepe into the kitchen and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the arch frame of the entrance, neither of them seemed to notice you.

“No, viejo terco, no,” (stubborn old man) Javier chastised from the chair he was sitting on, his back to you, as Chucho chopped something on the counter, his back to Javier.

“Is that the way to talk to your dad?” you asked out loud, Javier seemed to wince and turned around to see you.

“It’s my dad,” he replied, Chucho chuckled, turning around to wink at you and to clean his hands with the kitchen towel hanging on his shoulder “I talk to him how I want to.”

“No, you don’t, shut up.” you teased, Javier smirked and took the can of beer that was resting on the table in front of him and took a gulp. Chucho sat next to him as you left your bag on the opposite chair.

“How’d it go?” Javier asked, watching you walk to the fridge and take out the water jug and make your quick way to the dish rack for a glass.

“I hate the DMV,” you mumbled, pouring the water on the glass and placing it in front of Javier, along with a kiss on his temple, “I got yelled by a lady trying to cut in line,” you chuckled and Chucho followed, you left the jug on the table and took the beer can from Javier’s hand, “but I got it.”

“Hey that’s mine,” Javier frowned as you walked to the sink and left the can there, “show it to me.”

“Was, drink your water,” you said, Chucho chuckled again and shook his head when Javier let out a huff, he knew better than to say something at that point, he knew how much you cared about Javier, “I even got surprised, I don’t look half bad in the photo.” you raised your eyebrows as you walked to the chair, took your bag and rummaged around it, finding the small plastic rectangle and handing it to Javier when you sat down.

“Half bad? you look gorgeous.” Javier mumbled, Chucho leaned to the side and Javier handed it to him.

“You do, Florecita.” Chucho said, smiling at you.

“Well thank you,” you smiled back at him, “with that driver’s license I’m officially a citizen of Texas.” you rolled your eyes and Javier frowned in feigned hurt.

“What’s wrong with Texas?” he said as you took the license from Chucho’s hand.

“I’m not saying there’s something wrong with it.” you shrugged, taking the water glass you had put in front of him and taking a sip of the cold water.

“You’re suggesting it.” he narrowed his eyes with that shit-eating grin of his.

“I’m not! what do you care? you hate Texas.” you rolled your eyes again and Javier faked a gasp.

“I don’t hate it, I’m just not fond of it.” he let out, taking out a laugh out of you. Chucho muttered something along the lines of chamacos locos (crazy kids) and stood up to resume his chopping.

“And yet you’re making me live here,” you chuckled out and Javier just shrugged, “what are you cooking, suegro?” you asked, and Javier took the glass from your hand to drink out of it.

“Meatloaf,” Chucho replied “Javi, remember to pick up the flowers in the morning.” he said without turning.

“Yeah.”

“What flowers?” you asked Javier.

“Tomorrow’s mother’s day.” he let out, moving on the chair to face you better.

“I thought it was this sunday,” you narrowed your eyes until your brain remembered that the holiday was celebrated on the tenth in México, “oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed,” Javier teased, knowing you just had to remember it, his hand snaked on the table to take yours “we’re gonna go see mom,” he muttered “wanna come?”

Javier felt a bit nervous asking you that; to go with him and his dad to the cemetery and look at a tombstone he hadn’t seen for a long time.

He didn’t talk about his mom often, because it all reminded him of the last time he saw her and the image of his smiling mother tortured him more than do him any good; he spent a long time of his adult years wondering if the choices he was making would disappoint the woman that had birthed him and wrapped him in so much love since the first minute he was on earth; he spent most of his life thinking what would his mother say if she found out what he was doing or why. And he still needed to work on restoring the memory of his mother in his mind, because she would smack him on the nape if she knew he avoided talking about her at all.

He saw your eyes, wrapped in that warm kindness that had settled in them since you had moved in with him and decided to stay by his side; he knew you wouldn’t say no, but he still had to ask.

“Sure, you don’t have to ask me.” you said, Javier nodded and gave you a tight lip smile and turned to his dad.

“You need help, pop?”

“No.”

Javier padded inside the room when you got out of the ensuite, towel drying your hair, he walked around the bed, sat on the edge of the edge of his side, his back to you, and picked up the book you two were reading before falling asleep.

“You ok?” you asked him, he hummed in affirmation while looking around the nightstand, “you sure?” you asked him again, he turned his face to look at you and saw you with your eyes narrowed as you threw the towel in the hamper.

“I’m fine.” he said, following you as you walked to the dresser and picked up his glasses, you shook your head slowly and sat next to him, handing the glasses to him.

“Liar, liar.”

He scoffed when you stood up and walked around to your side; he stood up as well, and you began that half put together routine you had before bed; pulling down the covers, throwing some pillows on the bed’s end bench and climbing on the bed to snuggle together right in the middle of the mattress.

“Do I have to ask you again?” you muttered, resting your head on his shoulder as he picked up the book. He sighed and shuffled to face you.

“I haven’t been to her grave since I left.” he mumbled.

“I don’t think she judges you for it.” you let out, he chuckled humorlessly.

“You didn’t know her,” he said, “she does.”

“I don’t know her because you won’t talk to me about her,” you whispered and Javier sighed again, you turned your head to face him, he was already looking at you. “I understand it’s hard, but I’d like to know about her.”

Javier looked at you without saying a thing for a few seconds. His hand reached to your cheek and he nodded a few times.

“Ask away.” he whispered, you gave him a smile that he could only classify as the smile of a curious child and it made his chest turn around with love.

May 10th, 1996.

The bouquet was heavy, but you insisted on carrying it yourself, the smell of the pink carnations invaded your nostrils as Javier’s hand gripped yours in that entangled mess that was your fingers when you held hands.

“Por acá.” Chucho said, he was guiding you both through the narrow dirt paths of the Laredo’s Cemetery, Javier was helping you not step on any graves out of respect, he had said.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled, Javier snorted “I’m about to meet your mom, I’m nervous.”

Javier let out a nostalgic chuckle.

“You met her last night.” he reminded, you smiled, remembering him abandoning the book when you started asking what you wanted to know about his mom; where was she born, when, where she grew up, how did she like to be called, her favorite kind of music, how she used to call him when he was a kid; all the things you didn’t know.

The ones you did, Javier was not the one to tell them to you, it was Chucho; your non-father in law loved when you were in a curious mood because you nagged him until you got responses, and from him you had learned her name, how did they meet, when they got married and how did she die.

But you were eager to learn Javier’s perspective about his mom, because Chucho spoke about her with all the love and devotion of a husband, a man that knew her soul and her body; but Javier knew her kindness and her protective side.

And you loved every bit of her he handed you, it made her more real and it was as if you knew her too. Or at least part of her.

“So carnations were her favorites?” you asked him in a low voice, Chucho turning right on another path.

“Yeah, those and jacarandas,” he replied with a smile, you turned to see him and smiled at him “but those don’t grow here.”

“Isn’t Guadalajara filled with those trees?” you asked, almost in a rethory, remembering the brief time you spent in that city and seeing the streets filled with purple little flowers, Javier nodded.

“I saw some of those in Colombia too, most of them in Medellín,” he mumbled, gripping your hand tighter absentmindedly, it was still hard for both of you to talk about Colombia, but it was harder for him “reminded me of her.”

Chucho stopped in front of a white tombstone, on each side there were two stone vases with some half-dead flowers on them and he took his hat off, you looked at Javier and he breathed in heavily, you handed him the bouquet and he gave you half a smile.

“Hola, mi amor.” Chucho let out, “happy mother’s day” his usual stern tone faded and you felt a tight knot in the middle of your chest and bit your lip.

“Here, pop,” Javier undid the bouquet and gave him half the carnations, “hola, mami,” he whispered to it and you just saw them moving silently around the grave, you stood there, in front of the gravestone.

Margarita García de Peña. Beloved wife and mother. 1926 - 1967

The two men in front of you took out the dead flowers and put the carnations in the vases, Chucho stood there, a hand on the cold stone and started whispering to it.

Javier walked to you and you opened your arm for him to settle around.

“She was so young.” you said, he nodded.

“She had me young.” he mumbled, you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Gracias.” you whispered. He looked at you with half a frown and saw you looking at the grave.

Javier huffed and shook his head with a soft smile adorning his face; he tugged you to him and wrapped you inside his arms, you put your arms around his waist and Javier kissed your temple.

“She would’ve loved you.” he murmured on your skin.

“She loved you.” you said, making him hug you tighter.

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spactcle · 3 years

Text

you say it first

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou Language: English

Summary: “I can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “Because then he’d know.” Kirishima and Bakugou seek advice from their friends about UA's worst-kept secret (except, apparently, from them).

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou.”

Kaminari is bent over his homework, cheek resting on his fist. His shoulders freeze, he doesn’t look up from his workbook, but his pen stops scrawling across the page. After a few beats, he lifts his chin and plops it on his fist instead.

“I mean… obviously.”

“What?”

“Dude, c’mon. I know I’m me and this will sound weird but let’s get serious and study, please? My grades don’t have time for you to state the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Kirishima pops up from where he's sprawled out on the ground, looking at Kaminari in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows, slick,” Kaminari retorts, sarcasm dripping from the nickname. “Now we have finals next week, can we please focus?”

“Everyone?”

“Okay.” Kaminari’s hands clap together and he snaps his workbook closed. “Clearly we are focusing on the wrong thing. Why are you bringing this up,” the tip of his finger jabs as his closed workbook, tapping at it for effect, “now?”

“Why have you not brought it up?” Kirishima accuses, arms gesturing widely.

“Because I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

Kaminari jabs his finger accusingly at Kirishima instead now. “They’re your feelings, Kiri!” His finger curls back into a fist and he brings it to his lips, brow drawing in with concern as he thinks. “Your weird, weird feelings. But still.”

Kirishima blows a raspberry at him, leaving his lips out in a pout with the gall to look offended. “How are my feelings weird?”

“Bakugou is an emotionally constipated trash can,” Kaminari deadpans. “And you’re… I don’t know? Whatever the opposite of that would be.”

“Diarrhea recycling bin.”

A beat. Kaminari’s face pulls back into a disgusted grimace. “Really could have done without that mental image.”

Kirishima shrugs and starts to nervously pull at his hair. It’s a Saturday and he didn’t style it today, just has his bangs pulled into a half ponytail behind his head. Kaminari has told him to just chop it off but Kirishima insists that it’s part of my brand, and besides how is Blasty going to call me shitty-hair if I don’t have any?

His confusion is what’s most baffling to Kaminari. They’re in their third year and it feels like Bakugou and Kirishima should have figured each other out by now – they know one another better than anyone else could, so how are they so bad at this? Kaminari figured out his feelings for Jirou the previous year, Midoriya and Uraraka got together just a few months later, and even Kendou and Tetsu finally stopped beating around the bush. Now that he thinks about it, a lot of people more emotionally dense than Kirishima have confessed to their respective partners, like Todoroki and Tokoyami.

One of Kirishima’s sharp teeth hangs over his bottom lip as he chews at the skin. It makes Kaminari feel a little bit bad. But only a little. He really should have joined Jirou and Momo for studying instead.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he repeats his previous question but without the edge to his voice, trying to exercise patience for his friend.

Kirishima collapses on the table, voice muffled by his arm. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Kirishima lifts turns his head up slightly to glare at him from over his arm. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he’d know.” He hides his face again.

Kaminari rolls his eyes so far back he’s surprised he doesn’t see the inside of his skull. “That’s usually the idea.” Kirishima’s answer is a wordless scoff, tongue sputtering around words he can’t form. “Just tell him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.” The sputtering worsens and Kirishima snaps his head up from the table, gawking at Kaminari as his face turns as red as his hair.

“I said I was serious!”

“Yeah, seriously blind.”

“What?”

This time Kaminari is almost positive he sees his skull, but that could just be his vision whiting as he strains his eyes. “Kirishima Eijirou,” the full name absolutely required to get his full and undivided attention. “The fact that you and Bakugou have got it bad for each other is the worst kept secret in the entire school – except, apparently, from the both of you. I’m almost positive that there’s some kind of bet going around about when you two will stop being complete boneheads and make it official.”

Kirishima’s eyes wandered around the room as if searching for a cosmic answer to all his problems. “We… bet? Bakugou… I’m…”

“Yes. Now can we please study? And you can deal with your love life later?”

Kirishima’s cheeks grow big as he puffs them up with air and stares blankly at their workbooks. Kaminari gives him a full minute then clicks his tongue and starts to pack up. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here to process. Good luck, bro.” He sets a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder as he wraps his other arm around his schoolwork. “I know I said it was weird and all – and in my defense, it is – but I think we’re all rooting for you two.”

Lips formed around words that didn’t seem to want to come out of Kirishima’s mouth and Kaminari just sighed, patting him on the back before making his exit. He really should have just studied with Jirou and Momo.

- - -

“I think Kirishima is in love with me.”

Uraraka looks up from her place at the desk. She spins in her chair to find Bakugou collapsing on her bed, then she looks to find the hidden camera that someone must have hidden in her room. No one pops out of her closet laughing, and Bakugou is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, arms lying limp at his sides. He’s frowning in the way that he only does when he’s encountered an obstacle that he can’t quite figure out. So, this isn’t a prank.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He snaps up, rage normalizing his expression again, and argues, “Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell?”

Uraraka frowns at him pointedly and his lips fall out of the snarl and into a resigned grimace, a sign that she has come to recognize as his apology. “Kirishima, for starters.”

“Fuck that.” Bakugou flops back onto her bed. “Why should I have to do anything when he’s the one in love with me?” He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it’s the one that he came to for advice on his love life.

“Are you in love with him too?”

Instantly, his expression closes off. He turns his face away from her and lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Bakugou?”

“Shut up. The hell are you asking for anyway?”

Uraraka’s cheeks blow up with air before she huffs at him. “It’s the obvious question.”

“The fuck it is.”

“If Kirishima burst in here, just as rudely as you did, and declared his love for you – what would you do about it?”

Bakugou’s head turns away from her, but she can see the back of his neck redden and she isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied by that. He’s treating his and Kirishima’s feelings as if it’s some huge secret and revelation – but she, Deku, Todoroki, and Tsu have a bet about how long it will go before one of them does something about it. Iida disapproves.

If it happens in the next week, the pot goes to Todoroki.

Her bet starts the week after.

He’s lucky that Uraraka is at least a big enough person to help him now instead of waiting.

“Probably something along the lines of,” she clears her throat, bringing her hands together and resting them against her cheek, then continues in a high pitch, “oh, Kirishima, I love you too! Sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sits back up before she’s even finished, hands poised to attack, and face screwed into a scowl, but the effect is decidedly lessened considering the deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up if you want to graduate, round face!”

She leans back in her chair, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t fucking bother me.”

“It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.”

“It—” His mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart away from her. His ears also start to turn pink and then he zeroes in on her with a sharp glare. “You bother me.”

Uraraka rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Everything but Kirishima bothers you.”

“He bothers me too.”

“Because he hasn’t told you that he loves you.”

“Fuck off.” He throws himself backward on the bed, again, arms crossed over his chest as he glares are the ceiling instead of her.

She observes him. Over the years, she’s learned to read Bakugou – being one of the few to earn his respect early on had those perks, if it could be called that. But she knows when he’s thinking too much – which is what he’s doing right now.

“Bakugou, why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you need me to tell you that you need to tell him?”

“I don’t need you at all,” he snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.

She ignores him. “You should tell him.”

Bakugou makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “He’s the one that always goes on about manliness. What the fuck is manly about keeping shit to yourself?” His arms uncurl from his chest and his fingers make a fist. “Fucking own up to it.”

“Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want,” she points out, tilting her head to the side. “So… if you want Kirishima, then shouldn’t you say something?”

He doesn’t reply, and his arms fall back onto the bed. Uraraka shrugs and turns back to her desk. Their finals are coming up after all and he interrupted her studies.

“I’m fucking going to sleep,” he says finally, pushing himself off the bed.

“Or you could help me study,” she offers without turning around, voice airy. She knows the answer to that.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You only ever help Kirishima.”

There’s a small explosion as the door slams behind him, but Uraraka smirks and isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied.

- - -

What the fuck does Uraraka know anyway? She’d shacked up with Deku a year ago, so Bakugou clearly overestimated her judgment and overall sense.

Truthfully, not that he would ever say this out loud, Bakugou doesn’t know why he went to her room. He doesn’t know why he was so tracked on this when his main objective should be elbowing his way to the top of his class. Finals were soon for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was he worrying about Kirishima or feelings for, anyway? He is Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he is going to be the undeniable number one.

Hands clenched into fists, the right one still steaming from his outburst at Uraraka’s last words, he takes the girl’s elevator down to the common area. Water first, then he’ll take another practice exam before sleeping. He shoves his clenched hands into his pockets and stalks across the common area.

It’s dark outside and the rooms here are empty, everyone already separated into studying groups or gone to bed. If this was two years ago, Bakugou would already likely have been asleep. He didn’t normally stay or socialize in the common room, and if he did it was only for a few minutes or maybe an hour. But Kirishima persisted and it was annoying. He wouldn’t fucking leave Bakugou alone or stop nagging him about hanging out with his peers more (Your friends, Kirishima would correct him, but Bakugou only started calling them peers in their second year). How was he ever going to connect more with their classmates if he just holed himself up in his room to study?

Fuck you. I fucking help you, don’t I?

Exactly! And now we’re best bros!

When the hell had Bakugou asked for more friends? He hadn’t even asked for the one!

But, honestly, he’s quietly glad he’d been forced out of his room, even if he won't admit it out loud or say it in so many words. Some – and only some – of his classmates were actually pretty cool. His friends from before hadn’t really been friends. Lackeys, maybe… Kids that were taken with the boy with a great quirk and a domineering personality. Other bullies, he reminds himself. And he’d been fine with that at the time. He hadn’t needed anyone else, and he hadn’t wanted them. He would think that other people would hold him back, ask for things, for compromises – or worse, look down on him.

Then Kirishima decided they were friends and Bakugou hadn’t really done anything to stop that from happening. It changed him… for the better.

Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s got more control than this.

Bakugou gnaws at his lower lip, glaring at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table. Blue bell-shaped flowers that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. What he does remember is everyone’s look of surprise when it had been Todoroki carrying those flowers, and with the confidence that he always seemed to possess, walked right up to Iida and asked him on a date. Four-Eyes turned redder than Todoroki’s left side and started sweating so badly that his glasses wouldn’t stay on his face. But the takeaway from the story for Bakugou was seeing Kirishima’s soft, almost sad smile and the awkward way he laughed it off when Bakugou asked him what was wrong.

Well, more specifically Bakugou asked, What the fuck is wrong with your face?

The petals were starting to wither at the edges, but Class 1A had really come together to keep them alive for this long, though he’s pretty sure it was the girl with the vines in 1B that was doing most of the work. The two classes met and hung out a lot more than they used to. It was always so damn loud now.

Scowling, Bakugou keeps moving toward the kitchen. Yeah, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe. Like he doesn’t already know it was the wrong thing to say.

Are you in love with him too?

“Fuck,” he swears, throwing open the fridge. The water bottles were running low, and he frowns, taking one of the last four after a moment of consideration.

When he rights himself, he starts to close the door when Kirishima comes around the corner. Because of course he does, and of course he has his shitty hair down and not styled since Bakugou always thinks he looks so goddamn pretty like that. He looks just as caught off guard to see Bakugou. “Oh, hey man, what’s up?” He asks, his hand going to the back of his head and that fucking adorably shy, little smile on his lips – the one where Bakugou can only see his top teeth and his eyes crinkle a little.

You should tell him.

Bakugou grits his teeth at the thought and wills away the blush that threatens to dust his cheeks as he remembers what Uraraka said. “Water,” he grunts, the fridge door standing awkwardly open as a physical barrier between them. “What are you doing down here?”

“Snack,” Kirishima replies, with a small shrug as he moves closer and further into the kitchen. “Kaminari abandoned me to go study with Jirou and Momo, I think.”

“You think?”

And dammit the huffy little laugh Kirishima lets out, the one that Bakugou recognizes as him being embarrassed makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Yeah. I was distracted…” He starts absentmindedly looking through the cabinets as he speaks. “Thought some food might help, though.”

Bakugou shakes his head at Kirishima. “You’re always getting distracted. You need me there to keep you on track.”

Kirishima glances at him with that smile. “You study by yourself on Thursdays,” he replies with good nature as he moves to the next cabinet, the one full of nothing but dishes. When his eyes return to see the contents, he still stares into it like he’s looking for something, clearly feigning interest and clearly still distracted.

“You could’ve asked if you were having trouble,” Bakugou grumbles, his brow wrinkling as he watches.

Kirishima lets out another awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could,” he agrees. He doesn’t move from the dish cabinet.

Is he pointedly avoiding looking at Bakugou now? A frown lowers on Bakugou’s lips and he stares at Kirishima’s profile for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. Kirishima fills silences, not Bakugou. Kirishima doesn’t avoid eye contact, Bakugou does. Kirishima doesn’t stare into dish cabinets when he’s hungry and looking for a snack, Bakugou—well, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head, annoyed with where this thought process is leading.

Bakugou doesn’t shy away from conflict. And neither does Kirishima. So…

“What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?”

That seems to startle him, and his eyes tear away from the dishes. “Oh! There’s no food in here.” His sheepish laugh returns, but this time it’s annoying because that's the one he uses when he's trying to brush something off. “Guess I’m still distracted.”

“No. You’ve been acting weird all day.” Ever since the Todoroki-Flowers incident, but Bakugou doesn’t say that.

“Have I?” Kirishima asks, closing the cabinet as his eyes dart around the room and look anywhere but Bakugou.

That makes him grind his teeth. He knows Bakugou hates being answered with questions. He was going to wring this shitty-haired, perfect piece of shit’s neck. His gaze zeroes in on Kirishima and he narrows his eyes. “Kirishima.”

At the sound of his name, ruby-red eyes find Bakugou’s own, and he blinks rapidly. “Uh…” He stutters as sharp teeth worry at this bottom lip and Bakugou hates the way he can’t help but follow that movement. Pink dusts Kirishima’s cheeks and Bakugou’s hand clenches into a fist as he tries to avoid moving over there to touch and see if his cheeks are warming with the color. The bottle crackles in his hand as he squeezes it. “Sorry, Bakugou. I’m really just a little distracted, honest.”

Bakugou looks at him, his expression gradually easing out of irritation. He feels like there’s something in his throat and he still hates it. “Tch. Just come get your damn food,” he says, stepping away from the fridge like an offering. And he hates that he knows that Kirishima will recognize that as Bakugou looking out for him in his own way – that it’s his way of saying eat something and maybe that will help.

He hates it even more that it works.

A knowing smile flits across Kirishima’s lips and he nods. He says something that Bakugou doesn’t register because all he can think about is that Kirishima is moving closer and stepping around him to take a look in the fridge. He stands back, watching the back of Kirishima’s head as he looks through what he could eat, and the proximity makes Bakugou’s chest feel full, and his hands sweat, and he hates it.

No. Fuck. He doesn’t hate it.

Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.

Uraraka really got in his head. Because she was right. It did bother him. Kirishima was good with feelings. He was the one that was always encouraging Bakugou to embrace his emotions – shit, all the nights they’d spent staying up talking after Bakugou woke from nightmares to a panic attack and Kirishima could hear him through the walls. Kirishima vocalized his worries and his anxieties, he used them to talk and relate to their classmates and lower classmen, hell, even villains. Because Kirishima was good.

It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.

Of course, it bothers him! Why should Bakugou have to take the initiative here? He was never the one who had to take the initiative before. Kirishima brought him into a friendship kicking and screaming, but that didn’t deter him. Even on Bakugou’s worst day, he knew Kirishima would still be there.

Are you in love with him too?

Fuck.

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima rights himself and looks back at Bakugou like he’s surprised to hear his name again. He turns around and he’s backlit by the light from the fridge like a goddamn angel and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bakugou’s ever seen. Bakugou’s brain feels like mush for the first time in his life and all he can do is glare at Kirishima’s confused face while he tries to decipher what exactly possessed him to say this stupid, wonderful, infuriating, amazing boy’s name.

Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want.

Before he manages to catch up with himself, Bakugou finds himself stepping into Kirishima’s space and reaching up to hold the sides of his neck. He's never done this before because no one has ever caught his attention like this, no one has ever felt so close to him as Kirishima, but fuck if it isn’t perfect when he presses his lips to Kirishima’s, swallowing the small gasp that passes his lips.

Kirishima is still for a few beats, but he moves just before Bakugou begins to worry that he made a mistake. His hands find Bakugou’s hips, and he presses back, tilting his head into the kiss.

Bakugou might not know what he’s doing, but even to him, it’s clear that Kirishima does. The hands at his hips don’t stay there for long as they wind behind him to lie flat against his back, just under his shoulder blades as Kirishima bends and pulls Bakugou up into him – when did he get so damn tall? And he will never admit to the noise that he makes into Kirishima’s mouth when his tongue pushes gently into his mouth, or to the way his arms secure around solid shoulders as his fingers twist gently into red hair. He’ll die before he ever says he feels lighter and over the moon and like he’s having a moment straight out of those stupid American movies that Ashido likes so much.

The kiss is slow and sweet and everything like what he thought a kiss from Kirishima would be, because now that he’s actually kissing him, he will admit to thinking about it before. He lets Kirishima explore his mouth with his tongue, letting him lead and he’s never been so happy to follow.

As it slows to a stop, their lips press together in a lingering way and it’s Kirishima that finally pulls away. Despite the way he’d been so confidently and thoroughly kissing Bakugou, his eyes are completely full of questions and some uncertainty, wide and staring at him.

Bakugou looks back at him and realizes they’re still wrapped around each other and he’s a little out of breath. He doesn't know what he did with the water bottle he had in his hand, but it's gone too. No, right now, nothing else matters. So, he sets his jaw and tightens his hold slightly on Kirishima’s shoulders. Resolve. He’s full of resolve. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he goes after what he wants.

“I do what I want,” he says, his voice sure even if a bit winded. “And I want you.”

The way Kirishima’s eyes light up and a slow, blindingly happy smile creeps onto his lips sends Bakugou’s heart into fits and his stomach turns upside down with fucking butterflies.

“You want to do me?” Kirishima asks, a laugh tinging the back of his throat.

Moment ruined.

Bakugou’s cheeks warm faster than his quirk and he knows he’s turned the shade of Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck you,” he says, putting a hand on Kirishima’s face and shoving him away as that piece of shit laughs – and goddammit if it’s not Bakugou's favorite sound.

He pulls away, pushing off of Kirishima’s face as he goes and extracting himself from his arms. He storms away, hands balled into fists at his sides as he swears at himself because he doesn’t know how to fucking do this. The door to the fridge closes somewhere behind him and Kirishima’s laughter follows him to the elevator.

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it!” He says, catching Bakugou’s upper arm and letting himself get dragged onto the elevator as the doors pull open.

“No, it wasn’t,” Bakugou snaps, but all the fire there is just to mask his embarrassment. “I take it back. I hate you.” He shrugs off Kirishima’s hand and jams his finger against the button to their floor.

It doesn’t deter Kirishima in the slightest. It never does. “No, you don’t,” he laughs brightly. He takes his hand back, but steps back into Bakugou’s space as the doors close. “You like me.” His hands find Bakugou’s waist, and he turns Bakugou to face him, his lips pressing warm against flushed cheeks.

Bakugou turns his head slightly away, his hands grasping Kirishima’s forearms, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. “The worst,” he mutters, but still leans into the kisses pressed along his cheekbone.

A low chuckle rumbles through Kirishima’s chest – oh, oh that’s a new one and Bakugou doesn’t know what it means and he’s a second away from worrying about it because he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize Kirishima’s laughs or nonverbal cues and that’s new, but then Kirishima is stepping forward and pushing him back slowly. He presses against the wall of the elevator and it’s cold through his shirt but Kirishima is warm at his front and oh okay, fuck. There’s a little huff that works its way unbidden from his throat and his arms are moving without thinking as he clings to Kirishima.

“The worst, huh?” Kirishima grins, nudging his nose against Bakugou’s cheek for his attention.

And he gives it to him, turning his head back and letting Kirishima kiss him silly again. He feels hot all over, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with his quirk. The cold at his back is exhilarating, somehow, as Kirishima presses him against the wall. He’s vaguely aware that the elevator has stopped moving and the doors are opening but he doesn’t care because Kirishima’s tongue is in his mouth again and it’s such a weird feeling but so, so right when it’s Kirishima.

Those lips trail away from Bakugou’s and he grunts at the loss, but then bites down on his bottom lip as Kirishima makes his way over his jaw and mouths at this throat. That’s when a whine – a fucking whine – forces its way past Bakugou’s tongue. His hands drop to Kirishima’s shoulders and he grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he growls, forcing his voice lower.

Then this mother fucker giggles and pulls away – and Bakugou honestly doesn’t know which one he’s more pissed off at – smiling at him. It’s blinding. “You’re so cute,” he exclaims. “I like you so much.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou groans, digging his fingers into Kirishima’s shoulder and ducking his head as he feels his cheeks redden again.

“Say you do what you want again! Say that you like me!” Kirishima pleads, laughing the whole time.

“Fucking—” Bakugou cuts himself off, not even sure what he wants to say. “You—” He growls unintelligibly again, and pushes Kirishima away from him, even if it is the gentlest push he thinks he’s ever given in his life. He slams his finger on their floor again, and the doors open immediately. He stalks around this laughing, amazing mother fucker and into the hallway, making a straight line to his room.

As always, ever since they were first-years, Kirishima follows. And he’s still laughing like an idiot, and there’s a section of Bakugou’s chest and stomach that is absolutely giddy, and he grinds his teeth instead of smiling. “Bakugou,” Kirishima calls, elongating his name and fuck it’s cute and he’s going to wake the entire floor up and if that happens Bakugou knows that he’ll die.

The door recognizes his fingerprint – a security measure that the school added in last year, but Bakugou knows it’s because some people just couldn’t ever keep track of their damn keys – and the door opens. Kirishima still follows him, stopping the door with his foot and a hand flat on the door. Damn, he is so lucky that Bakugou wasn’t slamming it because he didn’t even harden.

“I just want to talk,” Kirishima says, smiling sweetly at him. The laughter has mostly subsided, but it still shines in his eyes.

Bakugou’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he softens. He loves this boy and it’s so weird to think that so openly to himself now, but he likes it.

“And then, maybe you can cross a few things off your to-do list.” Kirishima waggles his eyebrows, that sweet smile turning into a knowing smirk.

Nope, nevermind, Bakugou hates him.

“You shithead,” he groans. But despite that, he walks away from his door and makes no move to close it again. A silent invitation for Kirishima to enter which is wholeheartedly taken.

It amazes Bakugou how relaxed Kirishima is in his room. He treats it like his own, acting perfectly at home and comfortable as he collapses on Bakugou’s bed. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s brain is reeling. It’s like there are red flashing lights in his head that are screaming at him, Kirishima is in your room and on your bed, as if Kirishima hadn’t ever been here before.

But it’s different now because he just had his tongue down your throat in the elevator and you’re hoping that he does that again, his brain points out.

And it’s fucking right, and Bakugou doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this unsure in his own space. At least not about something this stupid. Sure, there had been his first year where he was the reason that his childhood role model and reason he decided to become a hero had to retire because of him. And the fact that, at the same time, his childhood rival was starting to rise to his level and surpass him. Kirishima had been by his side then, though, and that made things just a little better. And it made him want to be better. But now Kirishima was in his bed and laid out like a fucking angel—

“I can hear you thinking, babe,” Kirishima said, looking up at him with that smile again. The soft one that Bakugou thinks is probably the reason he fell in love in the first place.

Wait. Babe.

Fuck, he’s on fire, he knows it.

Kirishima laughs and holds out his hand, gesturing for Bakugou to take it. “Come sit down. Don’t worry, I promise I just want to talk.”

Bakugou feels so tense. His shoulders feel like they have rocks on them, but he takes Kirishima’s hand and the sweat that’s layering his palm doesn’t seem to be a bother as he’s tugged forward and onto the bed. “I’m not worried,” he grumbles, crossing his legs under himself, sitting across from Kirishima and he knows that his lie is utterly unconvincing in his presence.

The reassuring look on Kirishima’s face is almost enough to make him actually not worry. “Yeah, okay, tough guy,” he chuckles, looking down at their hands and rubbing his thumb over the top of Bakugou’s. It feels nice. Really nice. Bakugou didn’t know he could like physical touch this much, but it feels so genuine coming from Kirishima, who’s one of the only people who’s never been afraid to touch him. And now he’s holding dangerous hands so gently and, fuck, lovingly.

Bakugou can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s overwhelming, or dive in headfirst and drown in it.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Kirishima tells him quietly.

Bakugou wants to say I know or That’s because you have good taste or something confident but instead, his throat feels too dry and he swallows, watching Kirishima’s hands stroke his own.

“I kinda… love you, actually.”

Bakugou dives. Kirishima’s not going to let him drown.

“Me…” He clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Kirishima looks up at him and he looks hopeful, which Bakugou thinks is stupid. He doesn’t need to look hopeful, he should already know. Kirishima knows him better than anyone. For fuck’s sake, Bakugou had been the one to move first – for the first time in their friendship. Relationship? Shit.

“You?” Kirishima prompts him, and Bakugou realizes he’s just been staring at him like a dumbass.

“I love you,” he finishes because Kirishima deserves for him to actually say it, even if his voice is an embarrassed, low grumble. Not just say me too or yeah or some kind of quick exchange where Bakugou gets to leave it unsaid while Kirishima keeps carrying the burden of initiating everything. He doesn’t need Kirishima to initiate everything. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Kirishima’s smile puts every other smile in his arsenal to shame. This one is Bakugou’s new favorite. This is the one he’s going to think about every waking second. The one that’s going to get him to do whatever Kirishima wants, and he’ll do it happily behind a mask of annoyance because that’s just how he is and Kirishima accepts that about him.

He’s Kirishima fucking Eijirou and Bakugou is so damn in love with him.

It is weird to say, though. Bakugou has never said those three words together before. But it’s not a bad weird, and he still feels like himself. That’s how he knows that it’s true.

“I love you, too!” Kirishima exclaims, reaching for him and cupping his face gently at the jaw.

“Yeah, you said that already,” Bakugou replies, averting his gaze for a few moments for his own sanity before inevitably being pulled back in by the magnet of Kirishima’s pure joy.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” Kirishima insists. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I’ll be fucking pissed if you don’t.”

Kirishima’s lips are already on his by the end of his sentence, because he already knew the answer would be yes. It’s just as good as the last three kisses, and Bakugou wonders when he’ll stop keeping count.

This one is different though because Kirishima is pulling Bakugou closer but they’re sitting down. But he wants to be closer, too, so he moves and it’s strange. But this is clearly not the first time for Kirishima, because his hands are on Bakugou’s waist to help him move and arrange them in a mess of limbs where Bakugou sits on Kirishima’s lap. Now his hands are on Kirishima’s neck and he’s above him for the first time. Hand spread over his back and the tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he feels so helpless but safe like this.

Then laughter once again bubbles up from Kirishima but this time Bakugou ignores him. He’s just happy. That has to be all it is. But it doesn’t stop and increases a little when Bakugou experiments with his own tongue, sliding it over Kirishima’s lips.

Bakugou pulls back and glares down at him. The tips of his ears are red. It’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone before so, of course, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it confidently. “The fuck are you laughing for?” He frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. One of his hands leaves Bakugou’s back and covers his face, pressing the pad of his finger under his eye, tears leaking out of the corner. “This is just crazy. I just went to get a snack.” He pauses, wiping at his eye and looking up at Bakugou with consideration. “Well, actually. I mean, I guess I did kind of get one.” He grins and his hands go back to Bakugou’s sides, looking him over appreciatively.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou groans, dropping his head onto Kirishima’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize how natural that was, so he doesn’t move, turning his head into Kirishima’s neck.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck off.” His voice is muffled on Kirishima’s skin and he fists his hands in the back of Kirishima’s shirt.

“You would miss me too much.” And fuck, if he isn’t right about that.

“Maybe,” Bakugou concedes, a little huffy.

Another bright laugh and this time Bakugou doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “Alright, so now we can hold hands walking to class. I want to cuddle in the common room on movie nights too, okay?” Bakugou scoffs indignantly, but he’s ignored as Kirishima continues with his list, “You have to kiss me good luck before the big exams, too. And before we go on patrol. Oh! I wonder if Fat Gum would let you patrol with us, sometime!”

“You wanna be the one to ask Endeavor?” Bakugou retorts.

“Oh. No.” He feels Kirishima shake his head before he turns down and kisses Bakugou’s forehead. It’s so sweet and domestic and it’s a gesture that Bakugou doesn’t recall ever experiencing before. It makes him feel warm and he picks his head up to press a lingering kiss to Kirishima’s lips instead.

“I will, maybe, do some of that,” he says, knowing full well that he will do all of it if it means Kirishima will keep smiling like this at him, about him, for him, because of him.

“Can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend?” Kirishima asks, brushing a gentle hand through Bakugou’s spikes.

Wow. He really likes the sound of that. Kirishima’s. His. Boyfriend. Which also means, Bakugou’s, mine. It means he’s Kirishima’s and Kirishima is Bakugou’s. He doesn't mind being someone's if that someone is Kirishima.

“…yeah,” he agrees, nodding.

The smile. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see.

“Can I call you Katsuki now?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You can call me Eijirou.”

“Get out.”

Bakugou isn’t sure how long they stay in his bed. They switch between kissing and talking for hours, and he knows it’s getting late because he’s exhausted and falling asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder. He vaguely realizes that he never studied more, which means Kirishima didn’t either. But they were distracted. He’ll make them study tomorrow and hold kissing hostage until Kirishima passes his practice exams.

To avoid Aizawa’s wrath, Kirishima eventually picks himself up to leave and Bakugou finds himself following him to the door. More lingering kisses by the door and Kirishima complains that he doesn’t want to leave and makes another joke about a to-do list. Bakugou pushes him out by his shoulders, Kirishima cackling and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Goodnight Katsuki,” he smiles, kissing him one more time as he leans back in the doorway.

“Goodnight,” Bakugou insists, mostly closing the door.

“Hm?” Kirishima hums, followed by another peck on the lips.

“Goodnight Eijirou,” he says again and receives a very triumphant look from his boyfriend. Fuck, he really likes that. Kirishima’s beaming like he’s won, but Bakugou doesn’t feel like he lost.

“I love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too. Go to sleep!”

It takes a few more tries, but he finally gets his door to close. He can practically see the heart emojis coming off of Kirishima as he leaves.

Finally, he collapses in bed, curling up under his blanket. He stares up at his ceiling blankly for a few minutes before he smiles, biting down on his lips to try to stop it. Then he finds himself laughing quietly, barely a breath and mostly out of his nose, but he’s laughing and he’s so happy.

No. No, he doesn’t hate this at all.

#kiribaku #bnha #bakugou katsuki #Kirishima Eijirou #uraraka ochako #kaminari denki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #p: my writing #ff: bnha

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

Hi I really loved your "yandere Juuzou with ghoul reader" text so can I ask yan Tooru with ghoul reader? That would be very intresting.

I feel like the situation for them would be very interesting since he’s part of the CCG.

Tw: Yandere themes, obsession, unstable mentality, vicious behavior, violence, threatening, killing

Ghoul darling

🟢Tooru met you most likely whilst on a mission with the CCG, probably on the auction where he had to work as a spy to infiltrate the whole place. Tooru was at that time pretty nervous, standing in front of so many ghouls who all started wanting to buy them after it was revealed that they were a one-eyed ghoul.

🟢After the whole massacre had broken out, Tooru had been forced to fight, feeling anxious and scared, insecure about their skills since they hadn’t even been able to activate their Kagune at that time. And they had to fight quite some ghouls in there, partially being all on their own. And that’s when they met you, their savor.

🟢They had been cornered by a ghoul who had proven to be stronger than expected, having forced them in a corner and leading them to trip, leaving them in a vulnerable positions, having lost their knifes in the process. They honestly thought it would be the end of them, the ghoul already making themself ready to finally finish them off after finding out that Tooru was part of the CCG, explaining that they would kill and then eat them, their Kagune snapping towards them. And in the next moment blood was splattering around, splashing onto Tooru’s face and staining his clothes. And for a short moment Tooru thought that this was the end for them, thinking that they would now die. But that’s when they realized that they didn’t feel any pain, that in fact it wasn’t even their blood. It was the blood of the ghoul, their head having been chopped off.

🟢And as the corpse fell down, forming a pool of blood, Tooru was at first top shocked to do anything, staring with wide eyes at the corpse before slowly letting their eyes travel upwards, being met with the stoic yet slightly worried expression of a ghoul, standing right over him with their Kagune still visible, dripping from all the blood. And for a short moment Tooru thought that you had only killed the other ghoul to eat them yourself, crawling on his four limbs scared back when you stepped closer, but frowned slightly when you suddenly deactivated your Kagune, instead bending down a bit and offering them your hand. At first Tooru just stared shocked at your hand, too dense to understand what you wanted. And even if they did, they were still warily of you. What if this was just a trap?

🟢But the moment you suddenly told him in an almost jokingly tone that you wouldn’t bite, looking like you were about to return your hand, Tooru just quickly grabbed it, more out of reflexes since he didn’t want to be impolite. You helped him getting up on his feet, asking if he was okay to which Tooru could only stutter a yes out, too flustered to do anything else. Was this really happening? Was a ghoul helping them?

🟢You were really kind for someone who openly admitted to them that they would kill them or other investigators, emphasizing that it would be out of self-defense, picking their knifes up and giving it to them, telling them that they would need those, even explaining to them in which direction they had to go if they wanted to meet their friends again. A short wave and a “Take care!”, then you left them completely speechless there, quickly making your way out of the building to save your own butt.

🟢This short moment, this encounter was all that Tooru needed to form an obsession with you. They never told others about you, scared that they would hear the scoldings of the others that they couldn’t trust you and that you were a ghoul which they should have killed. They didn’t want to get their illusions about you destroyed. They were wrong! You were different! You had saved them instead of using the chance to kill them, even having helped them to find the way to their comrades. You had to be better, cut above the rest! They owed you their freaking life!

🟢Tooru wanted to meet you again, to ask you why you hadn’t killed them, hoping that your answer would confirm their delusions. That you weren’t as bloodthirsty and messy as others. They started digging up as much informations as they could about you, finding out that you weren’t in any records, meaning that you weren’t a big number which led to a huge relief from their side. For two reasons. The first one was that this meant no one knew about you so far, Tooru hoping that it would remain this way for forever. The second reason was that this was an enhancement to their delusions. They knew that you were different! You weren’t even known by the CCG yet, meaning that you weren’t as tasteless or unnecessarily cruel like some other big numbers in the records of the CCG!

🟢They did about everything to find you, trailing often through the streets of Tokyo in hopes of magically bumping into you, all whilst never telling anyone about you. And the more time passed by, the more desperate they got with their actions, going even as far as starting to search for other ghouls to question them about you in hopes that they knew you. Whilst also being ready to threaten them, Tooru knew that it would be better to distinguish themself as a ghoul, using the mask made from Uta to mix themself under the ghouls.

🟢But in the end it was the complete other way around than planned even though Tooru couldn’t really complain. You ended up finding him, a few ghouls telling you that recently a strange fellow had started searching for you. Whilst you at first didn’t know who they were talking about, after they had tried to describe that person as good as possible you had a very clear image in your head about who it could be, leading you to searching for Tooru and one day suddenly confronting him on the streets of Tokyo.

🟢A short walk through a park to get a bit more isolation was made, Tooru at first non believing that after so many weeks of searching you were finally here again. And you were a bit amused by all of this, obviously noticing how flustered and nervous they were. It had been a while since someone seemed that way around you. But you hadn’t only searched for them to have a nice talk. You wanted to know why this investigator here had searched for you, going as far as pretending to be a ghoul.

🟢There had wanted to show their gratitude, obviously, you had saved them. And whilst Tooru had of course wanted to see you again, they also had a couple of questions for you. Why had you saved them? You were a ghoul weren’t you? This question surprised you a bit, not knowing really why you had done it either. You guessed...you had just a feeling that their time hadn’t come yet. They seemed to have potential and it would be a waste to let someone die who hadn’t even reached their full potential yet.

🟢The situation was rather interesting, you having never heard, seen or witnessed a CCG investigator before thanking a ghoul for saving their life. And you knew that this should be kept a secret for safety reasons because if the wrong people would find out about this, either you or him would get in bad trouble. In the worst case scenario both of you, but luckily Tooru ensured that they hadn’t told anyone yet. And both of you agreed to keep it that way.

🟢That should have been the end of the story, it should have. But it turned out to only be the beginning, Tooru suddenly asking if you two could see each other again. And that surprised you. Weren’t they a ghoul investigator? They knew that they would get in really big troubles if someone would find out, right? Or did they not care at all? Wow, they had more bones than originally thought.

🟢Tooru wouldn’t kidnap you or lock you away, knowing that they have no right to do so. I imagine it to be really hard for them to meet up with you constantly, needing to be careful with their every movement so no one will catch them. If someone finds out they wouldn’t care that much what will await them, but the moment someone finds out and wants to either kill or catch you in hopes to get some informations, that would be the moment Tooru would start acting. What other choice would they have, meaning a triggered switch to their crazy fellow side. They wouldn’t want this to happen though, so being warily of every step they take should hopefully prevent them from needing to kill someone.

🟢But you yourself would have to do a few things to next to not telling anyone about this. Tooru wouldn’t request much, only that you try to not kill any investigators and be careful with hunting food down. They can’t say that they’re necessarily the most happiest with you killing humans, but on the other hand they know you need food in order to survive and have the strength to defend yourself if needed.

🟢I feel like you two most likely revealed your relationship after Kaneki was trapped in the dragon (this huge tentacle thing known as the dragon). Let’s just imagine that instead of Tooru someone else cornered Touka and threatened to kill her, leading Kaneki to his transformation. Because then ghouls and humans worked for the first time ever together and whilst you two were probably a bit unsure about finally opening up, some people started suspecting naturally that you two knew each other. And when you two were confronted about this, you by your ghoul friends and Yooru by his co-workers, both of you decided to make it public.

🟢Let’s just say the CCG wasn’t exactly happy with this, knowing that Tooru had been secretly having a relationship with a ghoul for this whole time whilst his friends and your friends were kind of buffled, but some were also happy, taking this as a good sign that the CCG and ghouls could live in peace together, your relationship being the living proof of that.

🟢Even if there would have been a few voices who demanded you two to break up or wanting to punish Tooru for what they’ve done, I imagine the most people being supportive of this or accepting this as long as nothing bad would happen. Tooru’s friends (Urie and Saiko) would most likely want to get to know you better whilst your friends would like to get to know Tooru better.

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere tooru mutsuki #yandere tooru

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foursideharmony · 3 years

Text

Okay, so remember this post I made a few months ago about how I think the Mindscape “works” in terms of structure? I thought I should also share some of my headcanons about how the Sides themselves work.

(Note: I prefer to capitalize Side because it’s a fairly common word on its own, and this distinguishes the characters we love so much from other uses which are likely to crop up.)

Question #1: Do they need to eat, sleep, etc.? You know what? I think they do. Your brain functions need energy and downtime in order to keep operating at peak efficiency, and that translates, in the Mindscape, into actual food and sleep.

It can be entirely literal—the food that Thomas eats becomes stored caloric energy, and that manifests in the Mindscape as the stuff available in the Sides’ fridge and pantry. What they have available reflects the kind of stuff he’s been eating lately, so they try to influence his eating habits in accordance with their tastes. Logan wants perfect nutritional balance, Patton’s into comfort food, Roman wants to experiment with flavors and try gourmet and exotic cuisine, etc.

As for sleep/rest, I think they need differing amounts, which may or may not correspond to Thomas’s own sleep schedule. Logan sleeps when Thomas does, almost by definition. Virgil has to drift off before Thomas can sleep…but he is the lightest sleeper of the lot, and might well wake up in the middle of the night and start poking Thomas’s dreams. Roman and Patton can both remain active all night, on and off, but balance it by being the most likely to need naps during the day. (Ever had a night of intense dreams that leave you with subdued emotional affect the next day? That happens to Thomas too...it means Patton stayed up way too late and is sleeping in.) Janus and Remus have, I think, unpredictable sleep patterns, and are especially prone to timing their bouts of activity for when at least three other Sides are asleep, so Thomas is caught off-guard.

Question #2: Can they be hurt? Well, the answer to this one is an unambiguous YES, as proven in several episodes, so let’s tweak it: How can they be hurt, and how do they recover from being hurt? Yeah, that’s much more fun to speculate about!

Not only can the Sides be injured, but the show gives us two ways it can happen. The simpler one is, they can hurt each other, just like real people can hurt each other. We have several instances in the series of Sides throwing things at each other and causing pain or injury as a result. I extend that to mean that they can also be injured within the Mindscape via household accidents, misadventure in the Imagination, etc. That’s their “world,” and it can affect them just as the physical world affects physical people.

The other way they can be hurt, of course, is if something happens in Thomas’s life that negatively impacts his self-image vis-à-vis their function. We saw this happen in “My NEGATIVE Thinking” when Roman, as Thomas’s ego, was “bruised” by his fumble at the audition. It’s easy to imagine situations where this happens to other Sides. Thomas’s feelings might be hurt, which means Patton takes a hit. Or he might have his intelligence called into question, which could damage Logan. Fortunately, they apparently heal this damage as soon as Thomas gets over whichever crisis caused it. This leads me to my major thesis statement about their faux-physicality:

The Sides’ “physical” condition is largely determined by their expectations.

The Sides aren’t precisely human. They are, however, aspects of a human, which means they have human experiences of the world, human reactions to events, and human expectations regarding their environment. Thomas knows that when a wadded-up piece of paper hits your eye, it hurts, and so Roman knows it too, and so when a wadded-up piece of paper hits his eye, it hurts. It’s actually the same mechanism by which Thomas flubbing his audition causes Roman to become bruised. The audition goof changes Roman’s opinion of himself from “amazing actor” to “terrible actor,” and since Thomas’s acting ability is a major part of his function, that damages him. Being hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper changes his self-image from “person who is totally fine” to “person who has just been hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper,” and because he knows it’s supposed to hurt, that damages him. Not much, since being hit in the eye with a wadded-up piece of paper only hurts a little, and briefly, but that’s the process.

And that’s why Logan is able to shake off Remus’s violent attacks in “Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts.” As Logic, Logan is able to maintain the presence of mind to remember that they are not actually physically real, and therefore the attacks aren’t actually happening to anyone. He still reels when Remus hurls a shuriken into his forehead, because that’s a reflexive reaction, but he is braced for it; it does not affect his self-image enough to do any lasting damage. Perhaps the other Sides could also “roll to disbelieve” in this fashion, but it would likely be much harder for them, because they are not cold hard Logic.

If an injury does stick, expectations also govern how fast they recover. Fortunately for the Sides, it’s not as straightforward as the process of getting hurt in the first place. Although they know, like Thomas does, how long many types of injuries take to heal, for them it can go much faster because of the self-image thing. Say Patton trips going down the stairs. He breaks his arm because the fall changes his self-image to “person who just fell down the stairs OOOOOWWWWWW,” and he remains that way for a time. But with proper care, he soon starts to feel better, his self-image changes again to “person who is getting better,” and this accelerates his healing process.

All the whumpy goodness a fan writer could want, without the hassle of long-term impairment or permanent damage.

Question #3: Can they…you know…bite the big one?

I honestly haven’t given this one as much thought as the other questions…or as much thought as some other fans have. Here are the possibilities I’ve seen explored:

No. No matter how much damage a Side takes, he can’t actually die. Chop off his head, and he walks around carrying it. It probably looks annoyed.

Yes, but not permanently. They come back after a while. The exact length of the while depends on the writer, and sometimes varies by method of death. In some cases, they spring back to life, while in others, the “body” disappears and reforms later in some designated part of the Mindscape. They might lose some memories in the process or otherwise be altered slightly.

Yes, and it’s awful. Eventually a new personification will form in order to be that Side of Thomas’s personality, but the original is gone forever and we will all miss him terribly.

Yes, and it’s devastating for Thomas, who outright loses that facet of himself for the rest of his life. AND we miss the dead Side terribly.

I tend to lean toward the first two answers myself. It seems to me that the only way to outright erase part of someone’s personality is for the person to willingly and deliberately undergo intensive therapy to that specific end, and even then, I think it would result in the Side transforming into something very different, rather than going away forever. And it would be a slow enough process that the transformation itself would seem like a natural evolution rather than a replacement of one character with another.

But ultimately? I don’t know. More to the point, in my headcanon-verse, neither do the Sides. It makes for better drama if they have no idea how mortal they are and don’t dare to find out.

Wow, this went on longer than I expected. I hope you all enjoyed it!

#sanders sides #headcanons #theories

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rufousnmacska · 3 years

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I have a lot of thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames, and since it helps me to write them out, I thought I’d share.

It’s behind a cut because SPOILERS and it’s long lol!

Nesta

I had expected we’d learn that Nesta had suffered some type of abuse or trauma as a child that Elain and Feyre were not aware of. I wasn’t expecting it to be so subtle, for lack of a better word. Abuse comes in a lot of forms, which I think SJM is good at showing. Emotionally manipulating your daughter for power, ignoring her in favor of your business and money … those may not be as visible as physical or verbal abuse, but they still cause damage.

I’m not sure how to convey it properly, but I thought it was important to show how the parts of her that were born from the abuse and trauma, while dark or not always healthy, were still useful. The wolf she became to survive her childhood helped her survive the cauldron. Not being able to “turn it off” is what hurt her. My favorite quote:

“So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.”

And as Amren said later “That’s the key isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus on the good, the things that fill you with wonder.”

I’ve seen a lot of fans upset that Nesta gave up her cauldron powers at the end to save Feyre and the baby. Although I’d initially hoped (post acofas) that her training would be more about her magic than physical training, I’m okay with how it worked out. She never wanted that power and she never liked having it. She stole it as revenge and she fought constantly to suppress it. Was she a badass when she wielded it? Absolutely! But ultimately, her giving it back was the final big step in her healing arc and acceptance of herself. (That doesn’t mean she’s “cured.” This will be an ongoing battle for her. I only mean this in terms of the story in this book.)

She chose to sacrifice it, unlike so many other times in her life when things were forced on her or happened to her. Unlike the future her mother had set out for her. Unlike when they were poor and her father did nothing to get them through. Unlike when she was thrown into the cauldron and then a war. Even unlike when she was forced to move into the House of the Wind, and her apartment – the one place she had chosen for herself no matter how run down it was – got demolished. I’m not going to go into the intervention too much. It was poorly done, but I doubt any of them had experience in doing one. A conversation acknowledging that might have been nice. And I’m not ignoring Feyre and Rhys’s hypocrisy of Nesta being confined to a place where she effectively had no way to leave on her own. The stairway at that point was not an option. But the bottom line is that Nesta needed help and was not in a position to willingly accept it or seek it out.

Regardless, she is still a lethal badass. She still has some of her powers, along with her fighting skills, which will only get better and better. So, the idea that she gave up what made her strong, or ended up as some meek housewife … I don’t agree with that at all. She has the intelligence and potential to become a force in leading armies. Not to mention her skill as an emissary. (Which Cassian finally learned how to imitate lol!)

On a personal note, I’m intimately familiar with the depression and self-loathing Nesta experienced in this book. Although I don’t necessarily react to those feelings in the same ways or exhibit the same coping mechanisms (I tend to turn my anger inward rather than outward), I could still relate to her journey. Her stubbornness and feelings that she didn’t deserve love or anything good or kind were presented accurately in my opinion. Parts were hard for me to read because of that. But I loved that she was able to make her way through the pain and finally begin to accept and love herself. And I especially loved that she was helped not only by Cassian, but by her friendship with Emerie and Gwyn.

And the House! Holy shit. The magic houses in this world piss me off to no end because they are not real and I will forever need to clean my own place LOL! Her relationship with the house was beautiful and funny and I love that she Made it! She needed a friend, someone to understand her, not only what she wanted but what she needed, and boom! The House of the Wind came alive for her.

So, overall, I loved Nesta’s journey. I’m happy she ended in a place that brought her inner peace and the ability to better deal with her problems in the future.

Nessian

I loved them before this book and I love them more after. The smut was a little shocking at first lol but I’ve read the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which SJM loves, so really, it wasn’t that out there. I loved that Cassian showed that even with the mating bond, he could give Nesta space and freedom. In that respect, their relationship felt more mature to me than feysand. Their banter and the sexual tension was great! (The book is about a book.) They had some not great moments, as they have in past books. But those were realistic. People argue and say things they regret. But they also talk through it and apologize. This is a good time to point out – NOT ALL APOLOGIES INVOLVE EXPLICITLY SAYING I AM SORRY. There are other ways to show remorse and ask for forgiveness.

I don’t know if I had one favorite moment as there were quite a few. I think the most emotional for me was when they reached the lake. I know firsthand how difficult it is to speak aloud the things Nesta said. And I am also lucky to have people in my life who responded the way Cassian did – with love and support and kindness.

The nightmare scene, the prison scene, the dancing, the mating bond, Cassian turning the knife on himself … I loved them all!

The Valkyries

I fucking loved them! Gwyn and Emerie were absolute delights and I’m so glad Nesta made good friends of her own who she could be herself with. Their bonding over books, training, and their pasts was wonderful. Nesta urging them on and defending them from the Illyrians in the Blood Rite was a beautiful step in her healing. Before this book, I was hesitant about the foreshadowing that Nesta would take part in the Rite, fearing it would become some sort of white savior trope to help the female Illyrians. But I enjoyed the way it ended up happening. I know it seemed unrealistic for Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn to get that far against warriors who’d been training for years. But part of the point was the males were arrogant as fuck. They underestimated the trio, to their detriment. Nesta and her friends used cunning as much as strength and skill to get where they did.

And I loved the image of Emerie and Gwyn just sitting back, sipping tea and admiring the river after going through a week of pure hell and winning the Blood Rite.

I hope we get more of them all together in the next books.

ETA - I can’t believe I forgot! Gwyn writing their story because their stories deserve to be told 🥲💕

The sisters

Overall I liked how things turned out with them.

Elain is still a bit of a non-entity to me. I don’t feel like I really know anything about her. Which, to some extent, is the point I think. There will be a lot to reveal in her story and she has a shitload of healing to do. She may have the appearance of adjusting and fitting in, but I don’t buy it. Nesta telling Elain to fuck off was awesome and long overdue. But Elain was also right in pointing out how others treat her and the trauma she’s experienced. I think there is still more to be dealt with between these two in the next book.

Feyre and Nesta were the more interesting relationship to me. The eldest and the youngest tend to butt heads in my opinion (and personal experience). So I was glad they came to an understanding. And very glad that Feyre did not get angry with Nesta for telling her about the baby. Rhys deserved the wrath for that.

One thing I would have liked to see discussed was the role of their parents in their lives. Nesta holds a lot of guilt for how she reacted to their poverty and I think that is understandable. I think Elain does too. However, I do not think any of the sisters should harbor blame for what happened. Their father was responsible for them. Period. Even if he was physically unable to work or help around the house, he still could have been a father. Yes, Feyre stepped up and fed them. Nesta and Elain didn’t help. It was his role to make them. Not in an abusive way. But step up and tell Nesta and Elain to do something, whether it’s chop wood or gather food from the wild. I don’t know. In my opinion, it is wrong to place blame on young girls who had a parent that did nothing. His actions in acowar were noble, but they don’t erase his failures. That all of this was glossed over disappointed me. I think this was something Nesta needed to be told explicitly by both her sisters. She had things to apologize for and feel guilt for, but she was not the one who should have protected Feyre. All three of them should have been protected by their father.

The Inner Circle

It’s kind of funny to me how blind they all are about each other. I don’t even know what else to say about their dysfunction.

Amren’s sudden desire for Rhys to become High King was weird, and though I should know better, I still really hope the series doesn’t end that way. The IC tends to have good intentions about things, but I don’t think they know how to handle a problem without some kind of force. And controlling all the other courts is not something that would happen easily, especially with perceived allies.

Amren and Mor thinking Nesta belonged or should be sent to the Court of Nightmares was a spectacularly shitty take. The lack of awareness and acknowledgement that Nesta was suffering from multiple traumas was just … unbelievable.

But considering how much this group does not see about each other, I guess it’s not a surprise. I don’t know how much is willful ignorance or just really, really poor people skills. I understand how this all makes for good angst and drama, I really do. But I’m just at the point where it’s grating. They need to sit the fuck down and talk to each other. It’s been five hundred years for fucks sake. 🤦🏻‍♀️😂

Rhys

Okay. I liked Rhys in acotar and acomaf. But the sparkly exterior wore off big time for me in acowar and acofas. I honestly could have done without him in this book. But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to not be in it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that SJM has her favorites and Rhys is at the top of the list.

Having said that, he annoyed the shit out of me in this book. Someone really needs to explain to him that a choice between two awful things, one of which might be deadly, is not really a choice. I don’t have the energy for it, but better writers than me could write a thesis on the illusion of choice in these books. Which is, in my opinion, pretty clearly tied to the brand of feminism presented.

Not only is the choice given to Nesta at the beginning not a choice, Rhys doesn’t seem to consider Elain at all in his argument with Az. All other issues with that bonus chapter aside, he saw them. He saw the mutual attraction and consent. What happened to not forcing females to accept the mating bond? What happened to respecting her choice and autonomy? I considered the possibility that maybe since he knows Az, there’s a reason he thinks they wouldn’t work. But then, that pretty much flies out the window by him asking Az about Mor. Sure, Az is still hung up on Mor, but she is pretty fucking clear about her opinion.

The whole thing about not telling Feyre about the risky childbirth was awful. And not that I would expect it to happen, but not even mentioning abortion as an option was frustrating. That plot line was not good in any way. There were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong with the birth to push Nesta to act at the end. To be honest, the feysand dynamic is not great. While I appreciated her standing up to him about Nesta and other things, he very deliberately uses sex as a distraction to get out of arguments. Yet another way he never really seems to suffer consequences of bad behavior.

I will say I was really glad he got the opportunity to experience the full trauma of what Nesta went through. And my petty ass loved him kneeling before her at the end!

Miscellaneous

Where was Illyria?? My one serious expectation for this book was that we’d learn more about Illyria and deal with the revolution that was hyped up in acofas. To be written off in one paragraph was disappointing. It makes me think that if we are to ever get more details about the Illyrians, it might be in Az’s story. It was mentioned a few times that he hates them (with good reason) and would wipe them off the map if it was up to him. So I’m guessing his arc will require him coming to terms with that.

Elriel-Elucien-Gwynriel

I’ve never been super invested in this story line but I admit I’ve leaned more towards Elriel in the past. Partly because I like some of the complementary symbolism associated with them, but mostly because I’d really like to see a story about rejection of the mating bond. Even with the extra chapters, I feel like we still don’t know much of anything about who Elain truly is. And the same can be said of Az. So, those chapters didn’t sway me that much. With the exception of Az interacting with Gwyn. I agree with a lot of others saying Az has a lot of work to do on himself before he can be with anyone. I think Elain and Gwyn also have a lot of healing to do. SJM can take this in so many directions that I just don’t know what to think.

I will say that originally I was expecting the next book to involve a love square of Elain, Az, Lucien, and Vassa, because I did see a connection between the last two. But now … Was Lucien annoyed by Jurian and Vassa because he’s jealous? Just annoyed? I don’t know. I still think Vassa will be in the next books if only because of Koschei. But I’m not so sure about her involvement with Lucien. I think we’ve got enough people in this love polygon lol! Jesus, what a mess. But maximum angst 😂

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amachaheadcanons · 3 years

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CAN YOU GIVE FLUFFY HEADCANONS FOR AMACHA ON DATES??

YOU BET YOUR FINE BOOTY I CAN ANON

(⊙ω⊙✿) Me likes the way you think!!

Fluffy Headcanon Set of Amacha on Dates

You might wanna be sitting for this...there's a lot...

They study hard for an hour and a half before a well-deserved break, in which Rantaro starts cooking up a storm. Tenko insists on helping since he refused to take her money. "Tenko's sure you just want her to pay a high price! Tch, typical--"

Their first date is accidental. She came over to study/work on a school project/get tutored. Considering one of his father's Japan-based houses is close to a train station, the two decide to go there; it was quieter than the dorms.

It's a quaint traditional home for 1, on the larger side in comparison to typical Japanese apartments. Being a quiet, hideyhole for FatherAmami, it was vacant of maids/butlers. Of course, Rantaro cooks dinner for them.

'So that's why Rantaro took so long "getting study snacks" at the supermarket' Tenko realised. This unexpected thoughtful side of his making her soften inside.

"No need, Chabashira-san. Your thanks will be enjoying the meal I slaved away making just for you~." He teases. Despite attempting to refute and ensure he was aware she didn't mind chipping in some money, he refused with no end. Including the train fare and his precious tutoring time. He didn't want anything from her. Though that didn't stop her from asserting he was hiding ulterior motives, nor internally denying the fact she savoured every denial he made whenever she joked about him trying to get in her panties. She appreciated the constant dismissal, while silly, it reassured her; comforted her.

She starts chopping up veggies both spitefully and with pride. The food smells delicious, he can see it on her face despite her verbal denial. They get caught up in cooking and conversation, studying further never gracing their minds. They were too busy enjoying the other's company. He pleasantly surprised her, thus why she continued to launch questions at him.

She speedily sets the table before he can. A little too excited to eat his food.

Because the house is so old, the lights go out. The fuse box is a pain to figure out on an empty stomach, thus why Rantaro breaks out the fancy candles and they eat by candlelight. It's very romantic, Tenko starts to blush as it reminds her of romance manga. Now thankful for the light shortage since he couldn't grasp the extent of her embarrassment.

They talk for hours. By 9pm they're too tired to even attempt studying, and instead finish the night with a Disney movie and tea and biscuits on the pull-out sofa bed. "How luxurious!!"

Tenko's excitement never looked more beautiful/endearing.

Rantarou's dozes off first, his light snoring made her giggle. He was so dainty. She gently lays the blankets he previously prepared over his sleeping form.

Sitting a comfortable distance to finish the movie. A lullaby plays on screen and Tenko is easy prey. She ends up sinking into the bed beside him, the cool autumn air didn't help her sleep-cuddling tendencies, thus making her spoon him for warmth. His sleeping form happily complies and fits in the mould she made.

Both being early risers, Rantarou's embarrassed to be in the situation, but smiles anyway, patting her hair, she instantly stirs, he pretends to be asleep.

When Tenko rubs the sleep from her eyes, she stares at him, their positions exposing she was, in fact, the instigator of such affection. She slowly slides out, utterly embarrassed and completely confused. She gets to work in the kitchen, {even wearing his apron} to surprise him with breakfast in bed. "As thanks" for dinner the night before... He is happily surprised, both at her way of showing gratitude and the feelings making his chest tight at the image of her wearing such domestic accents.

^ Those dinner/study/movie endeavours continue for almost 3 months before he has the guts to invite her to Disneyland, confident she'd love it. She asserts the idea and is all-in after Rantarou confesses the last time he went was with his sisters...he sounded so gloomy whilst reminiscing and she insists they go to restore the happiness it's supposed to invoke!! It'd be a crime otherwise.

He goes all out. He buys them front of the line, year-long passes. They're worth it. This one's the official first date. At least in his head, he tells her it isn't but he wants it to be, and it definitely looks like one.

Tenko is no longer scared or feels threatened around him, not in the slightest. Strangely though, anger stirs inside her chest and makes her lips thin whenever girls fawn/compliment him so boldly.

He waits patiently for Tenko when she's using the bathroom. On her way out, her appreciation is emphasised by a wide grin as he watched her with excited eyes. A stranger crosses their path. Tenko increases her speed, "He better not ditch Tenko for this beautiful and pure ginger fox-- oh how embarrassing that would be!! Not to mention low!"

A girl from school attempts to confess to him, in the happiest, most magical place of all. She's a year younger than them. So pure, kind and sweet. He doesn't have the heart to outright reject her, thus stumbling over his words awkwardly, Tenko can sense he's trying to be gentle.

Tenko smoothly approaches and wraps an arm around his, making him freeze his faltering, "Kasumi-chan. Tenko heard your beautiful speech. You're so brave and sweet and beautiful. Any boy would be lucky to have you, but unfortunately... Rantarou-kun is spoken for." She wants to break it to her as gently as possible, and pretends their dating, as a softer blow. After giving Kasumi the necessary confidence/reassurance, Tenko watches the girl trot back to her friends. A content smile marking her face.

She follows, willingly, paying no mind to the contact whatsoever, excluding the butterflies in her stomach.

With his free hand he pats her head, "Very smooth, Chabashira-san, I'm impressed. I would never have thought you'd-"

"Oh, shoosh avocado!" Avoiding eye contact and hiding her blush. Since their arms were still tangled, Rantaro interlocked their fingers and drags her along, "C'mon, Tiga~"

He showers her in mostly food but of course gifts her something cute she had her eye on.

They have a blast. Afterward, Tenko found herself often speculating when they could go again. Due to his big spending habits she tends to repay her gratitude in free Neo-Aikido training and the rare times she'd make sweets for Himiko, she'd give him a decent portion.

Because Rantaro is so loving and crushing hard but doesn't know how to love her, he often shouts her lunch or packs an extra bento for her. This surprises Tenko.

He's so thoughtful and wonderful she has her suspicions. But still blushes whenever he brings her lunch in public with her friends around.

To combat this, she insists on helping him with his studies and is a great confidence booster whenever she can sense her sparring partner is doubting/self-loathing. Due to their regular training, continuous study sessions, bonding over food and movie nights. They become really good friends.

One day, Tenko can't shake the rejection from Himiko, especially when Himiko happily hugs and is very clingy with Angie and the others. The stinging morphs into a deep cut. Rantaro finds Tenko pushing herself. He's at first impressed. Then majorly concerned after realising she'd been at it for 4 hours straight.

He confronts her, she breaks down in tears. It breaks his heart to see such a loving, devoted girl be treated like this. He knows Tenko would sacrifice everything to see Himiko smile, so instead of taking it up with Himiko...

"You know...we've been making great progress with our school work. This weekend, why don't we go to a theme park, as a reward?"

This marks the third/forth official date since they'd revisited disneyland a few times prior. He takes her on all the rollercoasters, they bond over the adrenaline rush, it's a good distraction. She's like no one he's ever met before, and only falls harder.

Plus, the slow love-story these two would have to build that loyalty, blind-trust and love that's indestructible is a big reason why I love amacha~! Hope it was ok! If not just lemme know and I'll do more future-date things, like further in their relationship haha!

Sorry got a lil' off-topic...BUT it's VERY vital Tenko gets over her dependence on Himiko before anything can really flourish between these two, BUT I love the idea of Rantaro happily pining after Tenko and making sure she's ok, cuz no one else would.

#tenko chabashira #rantaro amami #ndrv3 #amacha #headcanons #fanfic style #tenko x rantaro #rantaro x tenko #amami rantaro #chabashira tenko #amachaheadcanons #bisexual tenko

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kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

Aperture Sides Facility, Chapter 8: But I Think We Can Put Our Differences Behind Us. For Science. You Monster.

Masterpost

Chapter Summary: Test Chambers 2: Now Featuring More Things That Kill You!

Chapter Warnings: Death Mentions, Sex Mentions, Death Threats, Robotic Body Horror

Travelling with Janus is surprisingly chill, at least to start. He mostly seems to sleep, or whatever it is he does when his light is off, and you mostly focus on solving the puzzle Remus sets in front of you.

Said puzzle is actually pretty tame for the most part, which is pleasantly surprising considering who exactly is making the current test chambers, but also fills you with consternation about just what Remus might be cooking up in the meantime. Because there’s no way he’s just sticking to- what’s that blue spirally thing you just used to float yourself upwards? An Excursion Funnel? Yeah, you think that’s what Remus said. There’s no way he’s stopping at something as tame as Excursion Funnels, or at least ones that don’t end in spike traps or something.

Then you see the next chamber, and yup, that’s about what you expected.

“What’s the matter?” Janus says, noticing you hesitating. “The way forward is perfectly simple.”

You honestly can’t tell if Janus really does think the puzzle is easy or if he’s doing that sarcastic double-speak he seems to like. You can see the clearly intended solution of the puzzle easily enough- you need to jump into that horizontal Excursion Funnel, then redirect it using portals at the right times in order to switch the direction it carries you and get yourself over to the cube dispenser. What makes it not-so-simple, however, is the fact that these careful maneuvers would have to take place while hanging in midair over a freaking bottomless pit.

“I’m just not crazy about the potential for falling to my death,” you say. “Unless I’d be able to land on my Long Fall Boots, I guess?”

“He probably filled the pit with spikes,” Janus says.

“Great,” you mutter, nervously fiddling with the portal gun.

A large, black rectangle on the wall resolves into an image of Remus, and belatedly you realize it’s some sort of display screen.

“Hey dorks!” he says, peering down at you. “What’s the hold up?”

“Just… figuring it out?” you say, unsure how to respond to your current captor actually holding a conversation with you.

“Well get going! I need my orgasm, it’s time to Get. It. On!

He does a little shimmy during the last bit, his long, flexible body wiggling back and forth, before the screen once again goes black.

“His-” you choke, and Janus sighs.

“That body- my body- has a built-in euphoric response to testing. It can be… difficult to acclimate to, particularly if you’re not used to it. I was perfectly fine, of course, but Remus has all the self-control of a lemming on LSD. We may be in a bit of trouble here.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Why would Remus feeling good be dangerous to me? Don’t we want him to have a reason to keep us around?”

“You’re right, a human such as yourself is absolutely capable of fulfilling any and all demands necessary to accommodate an artificial intelligence who is literally addicted to the process of testing. You definitely don’t need to eat, or sleep, or take the occasional rest.”

“And once he gets bored with me…” you say, following the line of reasoning.

“He gets rid of you,” Janus confirms, “and likely me along with you. So let’s not do that, shall we?”

“We’ll call ‘not boring the out of control AI who wants to kill us’ Plan A,” you agree.

And that means actually doing the tests, instead of standing at the edge feeling scared. Staring down at the Excursion Funnel spiraling horizontally below you, you take a deep breath, then jump.

A few heart-stopping minutes later, you’ve successfully made your way over to the cube dispenser. Using portals you shift the Excursion Funnel so that it’s pointed upwards under the dispenser, then press the button. The dispenser drops a cube down into the abyss, and you wait patiently as the cube gently floats up to your level, buoyed by the spiraling Excursion Funnel.

Then the cube actually reaches your eye level, and you bite back a curse, stumbling backwards and falling on your butt.

Cackling sounds over the speakers as Remus once again appears on the tall screen. “Like my newest inventions, Tommy-boy? I made ’em just for you!”

“Why?” you groan, staring as the cube continues to rise, the two turrets that have somehow been fused into one of the cube’s sides chittering fearfully.

Remus laughs even harder. “It’s an improvement! I call it the Frankenturret: a true work of art.”

You shift the funnel away just long enough to let the- the Frankenturret, ugh, fall back down a ways before switching it back in order to lift the cube back up to your level. You gingerly reach out with the Portal Gun and grab the cube, before turning and practically running over to set it on the correct button.

You’re just congratulating yourself on another test solved when the turrets fused into the cube pop out legs and proceed to drag the cube forward and off the button, and okay what the fuck.

You shudder, then reach out and grab the Frankenturret again, watching it pull its legs back in as you do. You place it back on the button, this time upside down. You wait a moment, poised to grab it again, but the turret-cube seems to be staying in place.

You groan, practically falling back to sit on the floor. “That was a nightmare.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Remus says gleefully, popping back onto the screen. “Chop, chop, Tommy-pastrami, on to the next one!”

Your body feels like one massive bruise, and for a moment you’re tempted to sit a while longer or even lie down, Remus or no Remus.

Then you remember Janus’ warning: And once he gets bored… he gets rid of you.

Bracing yourself, you force yourself to stand, legs shaking, and make your way into the elevator.

When you enter the next test chamber, you find yourself stopping and staring. Instead of the enclosed test chambers you’re used to, this chamber appears to be missing the better part of one wall, giving you a view out into the massive cavern this chamber is apparently hanging in. As you watch, another large test chamber glides slowly towards you on a massive version of the Cores’ movement rails, grinding loudly against the cavern wall as it does so. You realize after a moment that the other room is on a collision course with yours, and you are just reaching for the wall to try and steady yourself when the other room connects with yours with a crash that sends you stumbling to keep your balance. The sides of the walls crunch and bend with the force, making a horrible grating noise of metal on metal.

Finally, the noise and vibrations subside, leaving you in a room that’s twice as big as it previously was, and also considerably more beaten up.

“Remus!” Janus yells, his yellow light flickering back to life. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Making a test chamber,” Remus says innocently. “I think it looks better now, don’t you?”

“The modular test chambers aren’t designed to be handled like that! You just broke equipment we have no way to replace!”

“Oh come on, Jan,” Remus says. “Who cares about some crummy old equipment when there’s testing to do? These chambers don’t just make themselves, you know!”

“This isn’t good,” Janus murmurs to you as you move forward to investigate the deep pit that the two halves of the chamber have formed. “He’s becoming more and more distracted from the well-being of this facility. There are functions that need to be maintained to keep the facility from undergoing complete destruction, and the longer he keeps this up the more likely he is to forget them entirely.”

It must be serious, if Janus isn’t even being sarcastic about the situation anymore. Mindful to not take too much time and risk boring Remus, you quickly redirect the chamber’s Excursion Funnel using a couple of portals, then use it to carry yourself across the newly created floor gap.

“How much time do we have?” you mutter as you press the dispenser button and get (oh joy) another Frankenturret.

“It depends on how far gone he is,” Janus says. “Days, if we’re lucky.”

You let out a breath. “Then it’s even more important to find a way to get out of here.”

Janus gasps melodramatically. “Of course, escaping! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Just see what you can do, okay?”

The conversation comes to a lull as you finish up the level, using the Excursion Funnels to direct the cube back across the chasm, and in one heart-stopping moment, using a special panel to launch yourself into a Funnel’s path halfway across. You end the puzzle by floating the cube up and then sideways, pushing it into a button on the wall.

“Ah,” Remus moans as the cube presses the button inwards. “That’s… huh. That was kind of disappointing, actually.”

“Oh dear, it’s happening sooner than I expected,” Janus says as your blood turns to ice. After a moment he adds, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

You don’t call him on the lie.

“I’ve got some old friends for you to see!” Remus says gleefully as you enter the next test chamber. The first “old friend” becomes clear as you see white Conversion Gel dripping from a pipe in the ceiling, into a chasm. Because there’s no clear surface the gel is falling onto, there’s no way to use your old strategy of shooting a portal onto the puddle of gel and letting the new drips fall through one portal and get shot out of the other. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any way of catching or redirecting the falling gel, not until you notice the familiar moving spiral of an Excursion Funnel.

You’re just using the Funnel to move the gel to where you want it when you hear a voice that you’re pretty sure at this point is going to echo in your nightmares:

There you are.

Instinctively, you drop and roll, putting a wall between yourself and the several turrets that begin shooting at you. You’re just preparing to sneak a look at them, and hopefully figure out how to take them down, when you hear the familiar “AaAaaAa” and frantic shooting that accompanies turrets being knocked over. How in the world-

“Of course when I finally find you, you’re getting shot at.”

You probably jump about a foot into the air, adrenaline already on high from the dangerous situation. You turn and smile at the source of the surprise.

“Virgil! You’re here!”

He gives a two-fingered salute. “Sup, Thomas.”

You look him over, looking for dents or missing pieces and finding none. “Are you okay? What’s been going on out there?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil says, rolling his eye. “Being a worrywart is my job, stop stealing my thing.”

“Sorry,” you say, grinning, “I’m just really happy to see a friendly face.”

“Sorry it took me so long to find you,” Virgil says.

You shake your hand. “No, I get it. Remus has been moving things around a lot, it must be really weird from the outside.”

“Remus,” Virgil hisses. “What has that bastard been doing to you?”

“Mostly just testing, at this point,” you say. “But Janus thinks we might be in more danger soon.”

“Janus?” Virgil shrills, looking around wildly. “Where is he?”

“Right here,” you say, nodding down at where he’s speared onto your Portal Gun, currently inert.

“The- the potato,” Virgil says dubiously.

“It’s a long story.”

Virgil closes his eye and shakes his center plates back and forth so hard you hear rattling. “Never mind, it’s not important. What the hell are you doing, carrying Janus of all people around with you?”

“He said he’d help,” you say defensively.

“And you believed him?”

You think now probably wouldn’t be the best time to bring up the deal you and Janus made. “He’s in trouble as much as I am, Virge. And he can’t really do much as a potato- if he even thinks too hard he’ll blow a circuit.”

Virgil looks at the potato with a narrowed eye. “You still can’t trust him.”

“I trust him to look out for himself. For right now, that works for both of us.”

“I’ll be careful, Virge,” you add when he continues to glare.

Virgil sighs and finally breaks your gaze. “All right. What do you need right now?”

Your heart gives a little squeeze of pride at the question; Virgil has grown so much from the snide, antisocial Core you first met.

“I’m okay for right now. Go find the others- I’m going to find a way to escape, and when I do we’ll need to be ready to face whatever comes next.”

“Okay,” Virgil says, “but you’d better not die. If you do I’ll get Remus to invest in figuring out how to reanimate the dead, just so I can kill you again. He’d do it, too.”

You chuckle at that. “All right. Same to you, Virgil. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil mutters, but you know him well enough to hear the smile in his voice. “See you later, Thomas.”

For a moment you get a strong feeling of deja vu. You had a similar conversation with Virgil right before Janus tried to kill you, you realize. Hopefully, that’s not a bad sign.

You shove the thought back down and do your best to smile at your friend.

“See you later, Virge.”

The rest of the test chamber goes by without much issue, as do the next few after that. Remus combines turrets, gels (which he gleefully compares to various... other types of fluids), deadly lasers and Excavation Funnels over bottomless pits with the frenetic glee of a kid at a Christmas party, while you just buckle down and do your best to survive.

It’s when you’ve just started the fourth of these chambers that Janus’ light flickers back to life.

“I think I have a plan,” he says quietly. “I’ll do it when Remus reappears. I’ll just have to be careful- hopefully the amount of power I’m using here is low enough that this won’t get me, too.”

That’s concerning, but Janus’ light goes dark before you can ask any follow-up questions, and you’re too preoccupied with getting through this chamber to dedicate too much brain power to it.

The test involves getting onto a long platform, then redirecting a laser to power it so that it moves to where you need to go. You use the portals to make the laser hit the right sensor and are feeling the pride of a task well done when a grid of deadly lasers suddenly flashes to life, right in the path of your now-moving platform.

You scream, images of hitting the laser field and coming out in pieces entering your head, and frantically shoot a portal to a different location, disconnecting the laser powering your platform and making it stop just as the lasers reach the center of your platform. The laser grid itself disappears when the platform stops, and running on the adrenaline of your near miss you move past the point where the lasers were, then restart the movement and hop off at the appropriate spot.

As soon as your boots hit solid ground you fall to your knees, breathing hard, and focus on getting your heart to stop beating out of your chest. That was a close one- a second later and you would have been filleted. If you had any doubt Remus is trying to kill you, that laser grid got rid of them handedly.

You’re just finishing up the test, still feeling a bit shaky, when Remus reappears on the display screen. “Hey, you did it! And all in one piece, too. Disappointing, but there’s always next chamber.”

Janus’ light flickers back on. “Alright, here goes,” he mutters to you, then yells, “This! Sentence! Is! False! don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutit-”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Remus says, his body shuddering and wiggling before coming to a rest again. “That was great! Like sticking a fork in an outlet and licking it! Give me another one!”

Janus sputters. “That was a logical paradox! It was supposed to temporarily short your circuits!”

“Aw, Jan,” Remus says, “you of all people should know I’m not a creature of logic. Hey, what about this one: A barber shaves only and all people who don’t shave themselves. Does-”

“Nope, nope, not listening!” Janus shouts, his light turning back off.

Remus cackles. “Ah, that was fun. Anyways, make sure to complete this test quickly, now. I’ve got a little surprise for you in a few chambers- one I’m sure you’ll be just dying to see.”

The screen goes blank, and you look down to see the potato’s light flicker back on.

“Was he… trying to be subtle?” you say.

Janus snorts. “Remus doesn’t do subtle. We’ve got to get out of here before he makes good on it.”

On that, at least, you’re both in agreement.

“Three more chambers until your big surprise,” Remus sing-songs as you enter the next chamber. The chamber has a large ditch in the middle, with a cube bouncing up and down inside it. A launcher panel is positioned in the middle of your current platform, clearly intended for use in reaching the other side.

“We’re running out of time,” Janus says lowly as you approach the launcher panel, trying to eyeball the timing you’ll need to catch the cube. “I think I can break us out of here in the next chamber. Just play along."

You step onto the launcher panel, then cry out as, instead of launching you forwards like expected it sends you careening sideways, the test chamber’s wall folding open to let you through. An excursion funnel catches you mid-flight and begins moving you forwards.

“Surprise!” Remus says. “It’s happening now.”

You look down to see yourself hanging over empty air, the ground too far away to see. Wherever it is you’re going, you don’t seem to have much choice in the matter. So just like always, then.

“I’ve got to hand it to him,” Janus says. “For someone who usually says every little thing that enters his head, that was quite a clever deception.”

“Aw, you flatter me, snakey-pie.”

The excursion funnel pushes you into another launcher, which sends you hurtling sideways with a yelp from both you and Janus. Hurtling towards a small platform, surrounded by giant metal plates. All of which are covered in spikes and poised to slam forwards.

Yeah, this is gonna suck.

#aperture sides facility #my writing #ts storytime

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unseeliefaelass · 3 years

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Darksiders: Origins

Chapter 1: How Things Start

Ale had begun things as always that day. Doing her work as Elder of her clan around their village. By midday however, the woods around her sang within her mind. Informing her of a coming visitor, who upon hearing the name of him Ale was quite apprehensive. Nevertheless she went on to greet the man who would be making his arrival. He stuck out against the natural beauty around him, clanking softly with his gait. He was already tall to begin with, his mechanical enhancements made him taller still. One rabbit ear was chopped in half, and barely twitched as the other remained intact. The intact ear twitched far better, but still held a sort of semiring around it. A small crystal on the ring's end was centered at his ear canal, which Ale recognized as his way of communicating long distance when away from his own clan. The rest of his body held a thin balance of his organic body and the mechanical 'enhancements' to it. The most well known of those, being his red eyes. They had originally been a different color, but Ale couldn't recall it anymore. They were red as currants, whilst any time his 'pupils' dilated or constricted they appeared like the apeture of a camera. Which very few races in creation had truly mastered by this time in history.

In this way and more, Llildan was a true reflection of his clan and ideals. He believed in achieving progress to become the best of one's self was the best path in life. His expansion however, was coming at the cost of his sanity. He even had a dial on the right side of his head that would switch off some of his emotions. Which he only did when in battle to make it easier on his psyche supposedly. So for now it was switched on, and he could feel some semblance of emotion. At least that's how it always seemed to Ale. Llildan could tell that much as he gazed upon his daughter. Her white kinked hair was worn down as she preferred it. Reminding him of her Mother in the moment. Her clothing was also made from natural material, from Limt fur gained from Limts Ale would shear during summer months. Ale also differed from her Father in ideals. Being a pacifist in nature, Ale always believed in trying to find peaceful resolutions first. That violence shouldn't be a first choice, and thus always the last resort. But most of all she didn't believe in her Father's choice to attach a dial to his brain and head that could turn off his emotions. As Ale always believed very deeply that emotions were something to let out when needed and not to keep bottled up or caged in. These conflicting ideologies often caused the two to come to arguments at times, and there certainly was a tension in this moment.

One could feel it easily between both scrutinizing gazes, though both just as quickly softened after a moment.

"Ceiser.", Ale greeted him.

Llildan nodded simply, "Atari."

Cocking her head Ale inquired, "I'm assuming this isn't a social call? Due to our past encounters and such."

"I'm afraid you're right..", Llildan sighed before continuing, "I've been commissioned by a being that I'm....less than thrilled to work with. But what she offers is...useful to me. More so than you may think."

Ale's head cocked the other way, "And that is what exactly?"

"Access to Arkaddian technology. They're among the most advanced in such things, if not THE most advanced. Their work could benefit the clan, our research, my advancements, and more."

"What is the price then? Who is it that you choose to work with despite not being keen without such bribery?" Ale chided.

"Lilith, the Mother of Monsters herself."

Ale froze a moment at Llildan's serious tone, and quietly gasped at the name he told her, "Ceiser....are you sure..that this is wise? Why would you..even consider it? What if she's just using you? She's known for such things."

Llildan raised his hand dismissively, "Yes I know, you needn't remind me girl. I am fully aware she may go back on her bargain, but I found a possible way to ensure she can't. Regardless I will work with her as commissioned to, and thus you will not be dealing with her much. If at all."

Ale's eyes widened, "You've told her I'd help you with whatever she wants?"

"No. What I told her, was that it was possible, yet unlikely given how strained things are between us. I'll not force your hand in this, due to the risks involved. I will say this however, she wants quick, efficient results. Through your magic, and the healing biopods the forest grants you with, we could make things go much more smoothly. The sooner it finishes, the sooner she's out of our hair after all. Am I not correct?"

Sighing Ale responded after some thought, "Very well Ceiser. Just know I do this NOT for that twisted Demonness, but because despite all our troubles you are still my Father. Losing Mother was hard enough, helping you now may prevent the same happening to you next."

Llildan nods before letting her return home for a time. So that she may sort out her affairs and leave someone in charge in her stead. But leaving herself open to being asked for anything her clan may need. Llildan handled things with his clan similarly, so he wouldn't judge or criticize this choice. Instead he waited patiently on his daughter. Once she was finally ready, the two used a teleportation spell to return to Llildan's clan territory in the Fae Realm's version of what would become Russia for humanity so many eons later. At this time however, Llildan led Ale further on to his home. Which was now a mix of the natural mountains and metals of various kinds humming with tech. Ale could even compare it to High Elven architecture in places. Even she could admit it was a beautiful if delicate balance of the two, though she wasn't in the mood to do so aloud. Instead she continued on after her Father in silence. That is until 'she' greeted the two.

A sultry, tempting voice rose up from the silence, "Welcome back Grand Elder Llildan."

Ale watched as the Demonness stepped forward. Lilith could only be described as the very concept of Lust given form, then twisted together with doses of the femme fatale and survivor archetypes respectively. Her mere presence alone would intimidate and turn on the Drow Elves' queen in Ale's eyes. Her voice and choice of words held a tender yet terrifying mix of authority and eroticism. Her body language captivated and enticed all who viewed her with deadly efficiency. Ale was suddenly caught off guard by Lilith being right in front of her.

Jolted from her thoughts with one sentence alone, "Oh my, she really is a spitting image of her Mother isn't she? Seems shorter than her though."

"You are inaccurate in that. Her Mother while taller was...closer to Ale's height than you may think. I just make....made it easy to miss with my own height." Llildan replied, forcing back the pain that rose up from mentioning his wife. As well as stepping between Ale and Lilith. Like her, Llildan wasn't keen on losing another family member.

"Oh? Ohohoho....well my mistake then." Lilith said as her hand, which had cupped Ale's chin a bit, slid away. Ale couldn't quite explain it, but the lingering feeling of longing washed over her as Lilith released her. Though it quickly passed as she witnessed the Demonness approach her Father next, "And it seems you are right...about your height hiding your wife and daughter's I mean."

Llildan grabbed the wrist of the hand attempting to touch him. His own hand forming a vice grip that he tenced in silence as he stared her down. The clearest of warnings he'd be giving the Demonness. Lilith chuckled before apologizing, giving Llildan reason enough to release her wrist. From there he told her, "If you're quite finished with...THAT..we have work to do yes?"

Lilith sighed in mild annoyance, "Well you're no fun. No matter though, I've plenty of toys waiting for me at home. In regards to our business, we need a private room. One that only the four of us can and should enter."

"Four of us?", Ale questioned with yet another slight head cock.

Lilith turned around a bit more annoyed before suddenly calming in realization, "Oh yes, that's right. You've not met him yet, the fruit of my recent labors. Which I intend to duplicate with your help. Absalom!"

Ale glanced towards a door that then opened, revealing a truly large man. As tall as Llildan was with enhancements added on, but far larger than him in terms of sheer mass. His body may as well have been pure muscle, though he clearly some fat to him as well. Just enough to still be fit, but it was in fact there. He lumbered towards Llildan and Ale slowly, and with authority to rival Lilith's own. A gruff, commanding voice came from his lips, "So, this small rabbit is the 'extra help' you mentioned?"

"She is needed my child, and therefore I expect you to show some kind of respect. Am I clear?" Lilith ordered him.

"Transparently, Mother. I shall hold my tongue, for now."

Llildan then ushered everyone to another room in silence, this time a more annoyed variant of it. Lilith went around it in seemingly pure bliss, clearly enjoying the space. Though she did briefly grimace at the structure in the middle, "Though this could've been...thinner I guess?"

"It is what the pods shall be connected to. Your...'children' will be grown in them, and this structure is necessary to that goal. I assure you of that much Lilith.", Llildan told her in his annoyance, however minor it was.

Lilith glanced his way with little care, "Oh is that so? Well then pardon me. I'll be more..considerate of your knowledge about the technology you possess. Just know you may find the Arkaddian technology I have to be more...convenient. In more ways than one at that."

With all said and done, Llildan pushed a button that revealed sliding doors in the floor that opened up. Each one leading to a patch of dirt as big as each door, and being deep enough to accommodate for the roots of each pod. Upon receiving a nod from her Father, Ale began planting the seeds of each pod into the patches. Llildan then started up his machine as Ale used her magic to get each pod to grow quickly. Once they were the size of the average person Ale stopped, but Lilith insisted she continue longer. Looking to her Father briefly, she received another nod and thus continued. Only when Lilith asked for her to stop did she do so. These were the longest, and biggest pods Ale had ever grown. Ale could barely make out Lilith's reasoning behind needing their exaggerated size. Luckily Llildan explained it once he had her laying down. In short, Lilith intended for each 'child' to grow into adulthood. However, she wanted them as 'unimpeded' as possible. Having stressed that vehemently to Llildan earlier on in their correspondence up to this point. Ale was to be the pods' caretaker, as she did grow the pods. Thus by proxy, she was to care for the 'children'. A sort of midwife type job as Lilith apparently put it. Ale agreed to the task, but reminded Llildan of her reason for aiding him with Lilith's machinations at all. He understood of course, and finally let her rest before continuing his own part of the task. Maintaining the machinical components of this whole thing.

#Darksiders: Origins #Darksiders OCs #Lilith #Absalom #Welcome To The New Story #Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics

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padfootagain · 4 years

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Girl Crush (IX)

Chapter 9 : A Breath of Aloe Vera

Here we go with an adorable chapter!!! Be careful, this is sooooo cute!!!

I hope you like this new chapter :) Tell me what you think about it, please!

Word Count : 2684

"So… how can I save it?"

"I don't know… I think… I think it's dying, Harry."

"Dying? There must be something I can do…"

"I mean… look at it…"

"You're the expert here, help me save my cactus!"

You heaved a sigh, but the poor plant was beyond saving. It had turned yellowish, and seemed ready to crumble, at least, that was what you could assess on the image on your computer screen. Harry and you were having an evening together, only he was in London, and you were in L.A, so your time together would be spent staring at the other painted in pixels on a screen. And well, with the different time zones, it was lunch for you and dinner for him. While the sun shone brightly in your sky, his was filled with stars. You had opened your window to let some of the fresh air in, making your apartment almost chilly. But you could hear birds chirping, so you reckoned it was worth it. Anyway, you had a warm pullover on, that Harry had left at your place in case he would need it while you were going through one of your movie nights or board games afternoon. As he was away, you often stole it, as it was comfy and warm… obviously not because it still smelt a little like him…

Harry's image wasn't as clear as you would have wished for, but it was alright though, you were still grateful to technology for giving you a chance to see Harry's face again.

He moved the cactus before the camera of his computer again to magnify it for you.

"What did I do wrong with this one?" he asked with a disappointed voice. "I'm doing great with the other plants, but the cacti just seem to not like me."

He pouted, almost childish, almost like a 5-year-old staring at a dying flower he had picked up for his mother, and you felt so soft staring at him like this.

"I think you gave it too much water."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I'm afraid it's a lost cause, sorry, Harry."

He pouted again, but gave up, putting the little cactus back on his shelf.

"Your Aloe Vera looks gorgeous though," you encouraged him, and Harry's pout was soon forgotten, as he took up his laptop to give you a better look of the little plant.

"It is! It's thriving!"

"You're doing great!"

"Oh, and I need to show you my Calathea too, hang on…"

"Did you change the brand of your fertile ground like I told you to."

Harry nodded, walking across his apartment to his bedroom.

"Yep, just like you told me to. Look! It's grown so much!"

"It is! It's quite big now!"

Harry hummed in agreement, and you couldn't help but notice that he had the novel you had lent him before he would leave for London

"Alright, now that you've checked on my plants, let's eat, I'm starving."

"Me too! And I'm excited to try this pesto recipe you sent me!"

"I hope you don't burn down your building in the process…"

You rolled your eyes while he gently put down his laptop on the end of his kitchen counter.

"Very funny!" you replied with sarcasm all over your voice, placing your own laptop on your own counter so you could still talk to Harry while you cooked.

You chopped your ingredients at the same time. It almost felt like you were side by side for real. You talked, and laughed, and it was practically as if he were standing in your kitchen again, nudging you all the time just to get on your nerves, eating some of the ingredients before you could throw them in the pan, just… just the two of you being mindless of everything else but each other and spending a simple and yet bright moment together.

It felt… domestic, almost…

His telephone rang and he excused himself for a handful of minutes. You couldn't help but wonder who was calling him. You felt guilty for the thought that crossed your mind, you reckoned that Harry didn't have to tell you everything. Yet, you still wondered if it was a woman on the other end of the line…

He was about to end the call when he re-entered his kitchen.

"I'll be there, no worries. Bye! Love you!"

Love you?

He put down his phone and turned to your image again.

"Sorry 'bout that!" he smiled, before taking his knife once more to resume his chopping.

You took a sip of your red wine, shaking your head.

"It's alright. I've used the time to finish cutting everything."

"You're always cheating, aren't you?"

"Me? Cheating? I never cheat!"

"How do you explain that I always lose whenever we play boardgames together then?"

You shrugged, a devilish smile forming on your lips.

"Maybe you're just bad at all of them, and it's simply easy to kick your fancy arse."

He rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue at you, making you giggle.

A short silence settled, and you nervously moved your weight from one foot to the other as you summoned your most innocent tone to ask the question that burnt your tongue.

"So… how's your girlfriend?"

"What girlfriend?" he asked with a frown.

"The one who just called you, obviously."

He laughed at you.

"It was Gemma, you dummy! I'm gonna see her and mom next week."

"Oh… How are they?"

"Fine. Everyone's fine."

"So… no girlfriend? Sorry, it's none of my business…"

"It's alright. Uhm… no, there isn't. Hasn't really been anyone since Jess, really. At least, no one worth mentioning."

"Oh… okay."

"Yeah…" he ran a hand through his hair, giving you a side-glance, feeling a little uneasy all of a sudden. "Uhm… nothing much going there, really."

He thought about the woman he had brought home the previous night. She was nice, pretty. They had exchanged their numbers, he would call her back because they had spent the night together, and he reckoned that it was the least he could do to be a decent person. He had no interest in seeing her again though.

He could have had. Honestly, in any other circumstances, he would have asked for another date and tried to see if things could work out between them. But the thought to which he woke up at the crack of dawn made it impossible.

That morning when he opened his tired eyes beside her, he found that she vaguely looked like you.

That was a little weird, and now that the thought had settled in, he couldn't look at her again without seeing you. Better not try it then.

"Because of Jess? Because you still miss her?"

"Not really. I just… I don't know… haven't had the… uhm… opportunity, I guess. Haven't looked for it either."

He cleared his throat, trying to sound as casual as he could.

"What about Gareth then? Everything good between you two?"

You nodded.

"It's nice. He's very sweet."

"Does he treat you right?"

"He's very kind, he's a good person."

Harry hummed in response.

What was he supposed to reply to that?

"We went on a date last night, he took me to a rather fancy restaurant," you laughed. "It was lovely."

"What does he do for a living?"

"He's an architect. He renovates old buildings, mostly."

"That's nice."

And it was nice. An architect. That was nice… definitely safer than a musician, no matter Harry's fame at the time.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. Why was he even comparing himself to that guy? He wasn't your boyfriend, he wasn't your ex, he was just your friend. Best friend, okay, but friend still.

But then his mind built the image that had woken him up several nights in a row since he had seen Gareth walk out of the flower shop. Why was his chest so painful all of a sudden? Was some form of asthma getting to him again?

What if… you and him… what if he had…

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself again, because he was well aware of your stare resting upon him. He couldn't refrain the question that burnt his tongue though. Because he kept thinking of him kissing you in your kitchen where Harry and you would spend long hours cooking and eating and laughing, and against your front door that you always left open for your friend, and on your couch… on your couch he could…

He needed to know. Needed to make sure that these places that meant so much to your friendship were still his.

His? He didn't own you though, never would. What a strange notion to think about…

He asked the question anyway.

"Did he… did he stay over last night?"

You shied away, hiding your reaction in your glass of red wine.

"Uhm… uhm… no, I… I stayed at his place, actually."

It didn't make Harry feel much better.

"Oh… that's… nice. How is it there?" he asked, thinking that he had to stop using the word nice.

"I mean, he is an architect, so… he knows how to make homes pretty," you awkwardly chuckled.

"… I guess," Harry replied, making a face.

You reckoned that it was more than time to direct the conversation towards another topic…

… and your lack of culinary skills was a perfect answer for once.

"So, what do we do now with all these ingredients, chef?" you asked, your tone much lighter, and Harry followed your queue without a hesitation.

He gave you some things to do, and you started to cook all the ingredients you had prepared.

None of you were talking while you mixed everything in your pots, and in the comfortable silence, you didn't notice that you had started humming.

Harry's lips curved into a smile at the sound, letting your sweet voice cover the void of his kitchen where you should have stood. Your voice was a little distorted through the internet and the distance, but he didn't mind. He still felt much calmer thanks to it.

You were making up a tune that had been more or less stuck in your head for a few days, and Harry couldn't recognize it. No matter how hard he focused and how much he dug in his old memories, he couldn't find any song that your tune belonged to.

He liked it though. Actually, he loved it. It was sweet and a little sad, a touch of melancholy wrapped in a soft tune.

After a couple of minutes, you were singing the same words over and over again under a breath, barely loud enough for him to hear you, but he didn't recognize them either.

Even my phone misses your calls, by the way

No matter how much he loved listening to you, he was just too curious.

"What are you singing?"

You immediately fell silent, and he regretted asking you.

"Uhm… nothing."

He rolled his eyes, his spoon stilling in his pot.

"Please, Y/N. I like the tune. What is it? I can't recognize it, I don't think I've ever heard it. It's driving me insane…"

"Uhm… I… I don't think it's something I heard, it's just… been stuck in my head for a few days."

He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, his mouth a little agape in surprise, and you shifted under his gaze.

"You… you came up with this?"

"I… guess…"

"Really?!"

"You know… I am aware that I am not a professional musician like the rockstar that you are, but that still hurts that you don't think me capable of coming up with a very mediocre and basic melody on my own…"

"No, no, no, no!" he shook himself. "That's not what I meant, you know it. But it's… it's very good actually."

"What?"

"I like it. The tune, I like it."

He put his pasta in some boiling water to cook, and disappeared before you could reply anything.

"Harry?" you called for him, leaning to the side in an attempt to spot him, until you realized that it was stupid, as it didn't make the camera move.

He reappeared with his guitar and leaned against his kitchen counter, right where he was standing before.

"Sing it again," he instructed.

"Huh?"

"Sing it again!" he repeated. "The tune, sing it again."

You were taken aback, but complied anyway. When Harry started to play along, you fell silent again though.

"Don't stop. Y/N, don't stop, it sounds great. Sing the words too."

You resumed your singing, while he played, changing the cords and rhythm until he had settled on the notes he liked best.

And then he joined you singing the words softly as well.

He added some lines that felt right, and you let him create a verse, twisting the tune a little.

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself where were you

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I've never felt less cool

He hummed again, and sang your line once more.

He seemed to struggle to get anything else, so when he sang your line for the seventh time in a row, you added another in.

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too

Harry smiled, his brow furrowed in concentration but he repeated your new line over and over again, changing the notes and bending the melody from time to time.

He fell silent again, but didn't stop playing, until he found new words to add, lyrics that made his throat and heart tighten, but then, it was only because they were true.

Woke up the girl who looked just like you

I almost said your name

He cleared his throat, refusing to analyse why he felt a little uneasy all of a sudden, a little too raw.

He sang your lines again instead.

Until your shout interrupted him altogether.

"HARRY! YOUR PASTA!"

He turned around and his eyes opened wide as he spotted the boiling water spilling out of his pot.

"Fuck! FUCK!" he cried, putting down his guitar in a hurry and grabbing the pot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit! SHIT!"

He carried it to the sink.

"Be careful, don't burn yourself," you admonished with a worried wince.

He went to clean up the mess he had made, only for you to finally notice that something in your own apartment was burning…

"MY PESTO!"

He looked at you hurrying as well, pouting at the sight of your burnt dish.

"It's ruined," you sighed.

"Mine too," Harry realized.

You looked at each other, before exploding with laughter.

"We really are both terrible at cooking!" you doubled with laughter, and Harry could only agree.

"Hey, you can't write a song and cook at the same time! Do you think I could use it, by the way?"

"Use what?" you asked, confused, as you threw the carbonized pesto into your trash.

"The song. Crediting you, of course. But I… it feels right. You know it feels… it feels like a last track…"

"You want to actually put it on your album?"

Harry shrugged.

"At least, I can finish it. See if it fits then. Can I?"

"Sure… sure! Of course!"

"Great! Plus, your name would look pretty on my album."

You giggled.

"It wouldn't. Don't you dare do that."

"Why not?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know…"

You looked at him again, and the two of you exchanged a shy smile, before letting out a breathy chuckle and diverting your gazes to the floor in sync.

"Well, right now though… Indian? Chinese?"

"Chinese," you nodded, and you both reached for your phones to order some well-deserved food.

You were two terrible cooks, but then, no one could be perfect, right?

************************************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters @staringmoony

@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #imagine

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bindi-the-skunk · 3 years

Text

Night is day and day is night In a world that's lost its mind! Chapter 2

"Deep breaths...deep breaths..." Robert encouraged well rubbing the back of his hyperventilating mate who did not react well to finding a disembodied hand in the cellar, not that the alpha could blame him, he had hoped to slowly explain things to him, too late, of course, his father had to leave a big mess!

Honestly, his father always stressed the importance of a clean image, too bad that did not extend to his other business! He took that a little lighter than Robert liked! Took his mother's special bleach blend and even then the whole stain did not come out of the carpet from the last one! He kept telling him to use a tarp!

He knew mother was just as tired of the constant mess as he was, though the tendency towards mess did nothing to lend itself to a more jolly personality...

"I thought you said he was on our side in this?" The elder Lanyon nearly growled, arms crossed in disapproval, if this was how his son's mate reacted to one severed hand there was going to be a problem...and that was another thing! His son had lied straight to his face that he was done with his attempt at a relationship with Doctor Jekyll!

He liked the omega fine, hard-working, and all that, but he was not what he had wanted for his son, too wiry and breakable, did not possess the iron core, some omega's could develop one with time, but still, not a good fit for their little family tradition...his wife had taken it all in stride and done her initiation ceremony flawlessly and without a moment's hesitation, he had been ready to call a preacher or a soul specialist right there as she stood tall, white ceremonial robes covered in blood and chocolate eyes burning with fire as she finished off her first, a child killer.

He wanted to go kiss her right now just thinking about her conviction! Now that was a mate! It only took a few words from her when Robert had nearly dropped out halfway through, then afterward he had thrown up and nearly made a fool out of himself in front of his grandparents...but that had not been her fault and nothing some ginger tea could not fix and he was much better later on.

She was just as skilled with an ice pick as with her knitting needles, he was somewhat disappointed she moved onto knives after her ice pick broke...too uninspired for her skill set and kept meaning to get her a new one.

"He is, I told you, but even I would not exactly be dancing about the room if I stepped in body parts!" Robert argued, he had hoped this would go smoothly, but it obviously was not, oh well, he just needed a verbal blessing in front of a witness so they could get officially married, that was all he wanted, soul bonds were not against the law, but the difference was sort of like being married by a justice of the peace and married by a preacher, some people did get picky when it came to those things and he wanted things to be perfect and leave no doubt.

He was just honestly glad it was something like this, as much as he was not a huge fan of Hyde's unsubtle ways, it was better than forcing his father to consent to their marriage via knocking his mate up, not that they did much to prevent that one...if it happened it happened, but this was a much cleaner method and showed his father that Henry could handle their secrets.

A little panic attack was expected, it was a lot for Henry to bite off in one go! Robert himself was still reeling from the night's events.

Oh! He would need to pick out the perfect person for his love's first time...he would worry about it later, right now he had more important things to do.

Henry's mind was in a jumble of emotions, his mate was a serial killer! Or at least his father was and Robert knew about it! What should he do? Demand the soul severance that he thought was going to be forced onto him? No, he still loved Robert and knew it would kill him to do that...he just...had to ..calm down...perhaps there was a rational explanation?

"Father, could you leave us alone for a moment? I will explain things to him, I think you are making him more nervous" Robert requested and was glad when all he got was a mild huff before his father disappeared down the hallway.

"R-Robert...I don't...understand..." Jekyll managed to get out, hoping it did not make the ..oh goodness...murderer...mad, just a few weeks ago they had taken two weeks off from their work at Roberts house so they could have the other to themselves, the alpha lying to his father he was on a business trip so there would be no disturbances.

What horrors unknowingly laid under Henry's feet the whole time? Did Robert also have a torture cellar? Or did everything take place in the Lanyon family home? Would he get mad if Henry did not agree with something?

Robert just smiled softly and put his warm hands over Henry's clammy ones "My father and I are working on ridding the world of a few...stains, we do not go after innocent people, that hand you saw in the cellar belonged to a serial rapist, he was even stepping up to murder when he was caught and captured, he had a knife to this young woman, no more than sixteens throat, he confessed a lot under...insistence...and was unapologetic for his crimes and even called those he assaulted, garbage, we have dealt with others like him and worse, Henry, you can help us, four is better than three! Mother adores you already and I will be right there with you when you do your initiation, father was very pushy during mine...but you can take your time...figure out what works for you"

He made it sound as if they were signing up for a dance class! But it was killing...Hyde made threats certainly...and the incident with Moreau...the man died from his injuries...but that was not...it was different! The fire did most of the damage, it was most certainly different...

Or was it?

Moreau did horrible things to animals...slicing them up well alive...sewing them back together well they cried out in agony...the worst kind of mad scientist...while the Lodgers still had a working moral compass, he abandoned his long ago and who was to say if given the chance he would not have moved onto people? Innocent men, women, and children yanked off the streets to be chopped up and sewn back together with nothing to dull their pain but death...and who was to say he had not tried it before? People whose families still wondered what happened to those they loved...

But Robert and himself were doctors! They were meant to heal people...innocent people...the same skills that lent themselves so well to saving lives, could just as easily take it away...

Henry did feel guilt over Moreau's death, the specter that had taken his form spoke to that, but should he honestly feel all that bad? He was going to hurt the Lodgers...take Creature and do God knows what to it...

A sixteen-year-old girl...was almost raped and killed...would that man have left her body there for the police to find? Discarded like the trash as Robert said he thought of his victims as? Or would he have disposed of her corpse, never to be seen again? No one ever knowing...her family laying awake every night, wondering where their precious baby was, or being forced to go down to some random morgue to confirm it was her violated corpse?

He had so many omega's in his society, and both Virginia and Rachel were pretty female alpha's he knew many of the scum in the black market would jump at the chance to try and take...young Jasper would not survive in the underbelly of the world...he would become a broken core...Henry would kill if someone tried to hurt any of his rogue scientists...that had been proven via Hyde's actions.

Would helping Robert in his quest really be that bad? He already was a murderer, and his mate made a good point, so many people who did horrible things just because it brought them sick pleasure...get rid of as many monsters as they could...but then they would be the only monsters left...

Did he want to become a monster?

He already was a monster...what was going a little bit further now?

"I'll do it...for the benefit of the world...and for you," Jekyll said, glad his voice did not waver too much at the statement.

Robert grinned and clapped his hands together and stood up "Excellent, now follow me!"

Henry just nodded and got to his own feet, wondering what on earth could be in store for him now.

The two headed down another hallway and Henry could not help but feel a coil of dread in his stomach as acid built up in the back of his throat at the idea of a tied-up person being on the other end of one of those doors... was he going to do this...initiation now?

"Do I have to....the ceremony...tonight?"

"Of course not, we have to make preparations! It's all more complicated than needed, but oh well...most ceremony does tend to have more intricateness than required...no need to worry about it, now, your night has been hard enough and you need to get cleaned up and into some better fitting clothing, I want you to relax, go in here and take a hot ba- FATHER! Get the severed head out of the bathtub! People live in this house!"

Welcome to crazy-Ville! Everyone gets a severed head hood ornament!

#TGS #tgs jekyll #Tgs Hyde #the glass scientists #The glass scientists AU #Jekyon #Robert Lanyon X Henry Jekyll #tgs lanyon #TGS Serial!killer AU

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

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See I think the problem is sweden is just.. cold amshnsdhdj we can’t really grow spices here so throughout the times it’s just been salt and pepper (until we started importing spice from the colonies like we thought we were the brits lmao) but traditional swedish food is like??? Potatoes and meatballs with lingonberry jam and sometimes you make the sauce out of the fat you fried the meatballs in and it’s gross. I’ve never been to Germany actually but that restaurant sounds disgusting I’m so sorry what are they doingggg. THANKFULLy we have so much food imported from pretty much everywhere that most people’s favourite foods is almost always something that didn’t originate here. Like tacos!! It’s a staple in pretty much any household here, at least where I grew up, and one of my friends is obsessed with Indian food, specifically vindaloo which is so so spicy but so good. As for the cream cheese sushi, at the restaurant here they put it in the maki rolls with veggies and a piece of omelet, i cannot stress how good it is ahaha. I love food so much!!! I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything Brazilian specifically, but since we’re talking about it I’m really curious. If you have a specific dish or anything you think I should try let me know!! I’m gonna ask google but it’s always fun to get tips from someone who is living with the culture behind it and everything!! - salmon anon (salmnon? salmanon? Swenson? I actually wrote swenon but my phone corrected me so I’m leaving it skhdkshd)

aaaa okay so when it comes to brazilian food you gotta understand that there’s...... so much stuff. our cuisine is super varied and rich and there’s just... a lot. so it all depends on what strikes your fancy. but i have a few suggestions, although keep in mind that again, brazilian cuisine is varied and rich and it’s a big country, so i have the mos contact with food from my region (the southeast), although i’ve been to the northeast, north, and south as well

so the basis of culinary in most brazilian households is the rice + beans + farofa combo. farofa is basically cassava flour with spices, it is made to add Big Crunch to the meal. we eat that in every meal, except for breakfast. it’s kinda the foundation/pillar of the plate. i do recommend trying it, absolutely. the most likely version of that for you to find is feijoada, which is a little stereotypical as far as brazilian dishes go, but i doubt you’d find regular rice beans and farofa around in a small town in sweden. in feijoada the beans come with pork parts, and it’s black beans, not regular beans. it is also traditionally served with kale and orange slices. it’s really good, personally i love it

[image ID: a plate with kale, rice, farofa (which is sandy-colored and has a grainy consistency), orange slices, and feijoada. end ID]

another great dish worth a try is moqueca. moqueca is (usually) fish/shrimp, coconut milk, dendê oil, bell peppers, and other spices. it takes cilantro so if you are a little bitch, i mean, if you don’t like it, you might skip that one. it is also usually served with farofa or pirão, which is essentially farofa but moist

[image ID: a pot of moqueca. it looks soup-like and has very vibrant colors, particularly red, yellow, ad green. you can see pieces of bell pepper and chopped cilantro in it. end ID]

i do recommend trying anything palm-heart related if you haven’t. palm heart pies are one of my favorite things. and okay i know that you probably won’t be able to find this but i doubt you’ll be able to find most things i’m talking about so i’m just gonna dream big here: catupiry is this kind of brazilian... cream cheese, except it’s creamier and tastier and just superior in general. we love putting it on shit, and when it comes to stuffing, palm heart + catupiry or chicken + catupiry are my favorites

i also love bobó de palmito na moranga, which is essentially palm heart inside very creamy squash. the most common version actually takes shrimp instead of palm heart, but i don’t like shrimp and they’re not super accessible in my city anyway lol

[image ID: a carved pumpkin with shrimp swimming in a creamy mixture of squash, coconut milk, and catupiry inside. end ID]

escondidinho is another great dish. it means “little hidden one” in portuguese and it is cassava puree with dried meat inside, gratinated. there’s also a version with mashed potatoes, ground beef, and tomato sauce, but cassava is better. honestly just go for anything cassava. it’s the basis of native brazilian culinary and it’s fucking delicious. fried cassava, roasted cassava, cassava puree.... if you’ve never had them, they’re like potatoes, but better in every way. and don’t get me wrong, cuz i love potatoes

anything from the state of minas gerais FUCKS and is highly recommendable. tutu de feijão might look bad for a gringo but i promise it’s worth a try. feijão tropeiro is amazing, and chicken with okra is one of my fave brazilian dishes. it’s also easy to make so you can make it at home, even. just don’t forego the rice beans and farofa. my eastern european friend had never seen okra so if you look it up, no, that is not pepper. it’s not spicy. seriously i know yall are afraid of everything but it’s not

as for snacks! one of the greatest institutions in brazil is coxinha. coxinha is a potato-based batter stuffed with chicken (and usually catupiry as well although coxinha without catupiry is also commonly found) and deep fried. you cannot have a kids party and not serve it, it is absolutely essential. but it is also eaten as a regular snack commonly. it is super good, everyone loves it, and i highly recommend

[image ID: a plate of coxinhas. they are round-ish thingies with a “beak” on top, making it look almost like a pyramid. they are orange-golden in color and have a distinctly deep fried texture. end ID]

another great institution is pão de queijo, which i’ll admit i’m not a fan of because i don’t like cheese (catupiry doesn’t count) but i can’t just forego mentioning it. it takes polvilho, which is tapioca (which is a derivation of cassava, i’ll get there in a minute) flour, with cheese, basically. it gets a fluffy consistency that is hard to describe and that many people love. it is most traditional in the state of minas gerais, but you can find it all over brazil and also in other places in south america although recipes vary

[image ID: a bowl of pão de queijo. they are small, round, and white-ish. they have a very thin hard-looking layer on the exterior, but it also has cracks that make you able to see that the inside is fluffy. end ID]

tapioca! you might have heard of tapioca as the bubbles in bubble tea are made of it. it is a kind of cassava flour, but it’s very different from the cassava flour used to make farofa. it is white in color. you just put that motherfucker in a frying pan (no oil needed) and the grains stick to each other, making a sort of... taco-like thing? it doesn’t taste like a taco but it looks slightly like one. then you just stuff it with Whatever You Want. can be savory or sweet, personally i prefer savory but the "classic” one is coconut and condensed milk. another good stuffing to try is what we call romeu e julieta (literally “romeo and juliet”), which is a cheese that we know as queijo minas, but if you have contact with mexican food you might know as queso fresco, and guava paste. i know it sounds weird which is why it has the name as these two things are not supposed to be together but they go WELL together. romeu e julieta is a common dessert and the basis for thousands and thousands of other recipes in brazil

[image ID: a plate with tapioca. it has the form of a taco, but the “batter” is thinner and white. the inside is coconut and condensed milk. end ID]

speaking of tapioca, DADINHO DE TAPIOCA (tapioca dice) is where shit’s at. it is tapioca flour with cheese rolled into a dice format and fried, served with pepper jam, altho you can forego it, but i DO recommend trying it with the pepper jam. it is not super spicy and so so very good. don’t waste an opportunity to try it

[image ID: dadinhos de tapioca. they are small cubic snacks with a golden color and granulated-looking texture. there is also a little bowl with pepper jam in it. end ID]

and an ESSENTIAL brazilian institution: pastel and caldo de cana. pastel is a flour-based batter with a bit of cachaça (sugarcane liquor) stuffed with Whatever You Want (most common tho are ground beef, and cheese. but personally i’m always a slut for palm heart and there’s a local pizza place near my home that also makes pastel with whatever flavor you could possibly want and broccoli with catupiry pastel? PEAK) and deep fried. it is kinda big for a snack but bro it is so very good. and then we usually have it with caldo de cana, which is sugarcane juice. now, caldo de cana is very sweet, so personally i like to put a little bit of lemon in it, which is how we usually make it in the state of São Paulo, but other states lowkey look down on that (brazilians as a whole have a sweet tooth, many of our desserts are Really Sweet) but they are wrong and we are right. anyway, pastel and caldo de cana are usually served at street markets, so once you are done with your groceries, you can sit down and enjoy some. highly recommended altho again i’ll be surprised if you can find any in sweden. but pastel is not hard to make! caldo de cana is tho, you have to have kind of a machine to extract the juice from it

[image ID: pastel and caldo de cana. pastel is a long, golden-colored, thin rectangle with, in this case, cheese inside. caldo de cana is of a brownish-green with a regular juice consistency. end ID]

onto desserts! an all-time brazilian favorite is brigadeiro. that is condensed milk, butter, and cocoa with chocolate sprinkles, essentially. i recommend using dark chocolate as it is otherwise really sweet but it depends on your tastes. do try it tho

[image ID: brigadeiros. they are little balls completely covered in chocolate sprinkles, each places in a smal paper holder. end ID]

romeu in julieta as i already mentioned is very popular and seriously, give it a try

if you’re into sweet stuff, try rapadura, which is our version of piloncillo. it is like 90% sugar tho so seriously, you gotta like sweets

pé de moleque, which literally translates to “boy’s foot”, is rapadura and roasted peanuts, and it’s one of my all time favorite desserts

[image ID: a plate of pé de moleque. they are thick rectangles with almost entire roasted peanuts parts stuck together by a rich brown sort of batter - rapadura. end ID]

paçoca is also grounded peanuts with a little bit of salt and sugar, usually coming in a cork format. they are absolutely amazing and i can’t recommend them enough

[image ID: paçoca. it literally just looks like a small cork, even the color is similar. looks like something totally underwhelming but i promise you it’s so so very good and worth a try. end ID]

and okay i think that’s what i have!! at least off the top of my head (yeah that’s just what i came up with off the top of my head. like i said. brazilian cuisine is RICH) sorry for the gigantic answer that is probably not very helpful, but welp, now you know what to look for, at least lol also if you’ve followed me for over a year you should have known i would do this. BITCH I’M LATINO FOOD MATTERS TO ME

#brazilian food is delicious i promise promise promise you that you won't regret trying it #if you do try it let me know what you tried and your thoughts!!! seriously it is so rich and good it's impossible not to find something #you'll love #ask #long post #food #swenon

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rabid-wolfchild · 4 years

Text

Like A Good Neighbor

Deep in the heart of Texas, two families duke it out for dominance in the hunting grounds. But wouldn't it be easier if the two families became one?

*kathy is the tea lady

The sun-baked dirt crunched under Daisy’s feet as she swayed from side to side, looking down the long, empty road. It was nearly noon and not a soul had come by, which was surprising for the summertime. She leaned back on the heels of her sandals, feeling her skin tighten from what could only be sunburn. ‘I should ask Mama for water next time I do this,’ she thought, ‘And maybe a hat, too. A chair, an umbrella, maybe a nice book…’

Daisy was about ready to call it a day when she heard the familiar rumble of an engine. In the distance, she could see the blurred image of a truck, and with newfound motivation, she straightened out her dress and smoothed back her hair. Maybe today wouldn’t be a complete waste.

~ “Don’t you wonder what they’re still doing here?”

Ludamae stilled in her work at Hoyt’s voice. She knew who ‘they’ were, but she never understood Hoyt’s obsession with them. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Hoyt huffed. “You know exactly who I’m talkin’ about mama,” he said, “Our neighbors. The town’s all dead, ain’t no one buying their sweets no more-- why are they still here? How are they still here?”

Ludamae sighed and put the rest of the dishes in the sink. The neighbors Hoyt was referring to would be the Perkins, a sweet, kind-hearted family who’d moved into town just months before the slaughterhouse was shut down. Ludamae had always liked them, they never stirred up trouble and always brought her cakes and breads whenever they stopped by the station to visit. A cute little family, really.

“They’re just good, hard-working people trying to keep their land, Hoyt.” She explained, wiping the soap and water from her hands onto her apron, “They got as much right to be here as us, and you know it, sheriff or not.”

Hoyt clucked his tongue. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’, mama. How are they living? Ain’t like they’re making any money out here, and if they do it ain’t worth nothin’.”

“They got their farm,” Ludamae said, “Plenty of livestock to keep’em alive, and Miss. Minniejoe says their garden is always plenty full.”

“Yeah? What about in the winter?”

“Maybe they got stuff stored up.” “What about when they ran out of livestock? What’d they live off then, huh?” Ludamae’s patience was running thin with all Hoyt’s pestering. How hard was it to believe a nice family like the Perkins were just a good, hard-working group? That they just did their best with what the Lord had given to them? “I don’t know, Hoyt.” Ludamae snapped, shoving her hands back in the soapy water to preoccupy her mind with something other than Hoyt’s conspiracies. “Maybe you oughta go over there and ask them.”

Hoyt started to hum under his breath. “Maybe I will mama,” he said, “Maybe I will.”

~ “Should you be out here all by yourself?”

The trucker stared down at Daisy from the window of his cabin, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Daisy smiled, looking down sheepishly to play with the hem of her dress. “I’m afraid I got lost, sir,” She muttered, her eyes flickering between the man and the ground, “I was just goin’ for a little walk, and all of a sudden I’m out here. This heat makes you real confused, y’know.”

The trucker nodded in understanding. Daisy always liked the dumb ones, there were easy to lure and even easier to trick. She smiled her prettiest smile, showing off all her dainty white teeth, and cooed; “I sure would appreciate a ride home. I’m sure my Ma and Pa are worried sick about me.”

For a moment, the trucker frowned. Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t pick up hitchhikers, Daisy thought. She could break out the waterworks, but she was already so dehydrated she was afraid she’d have no tears to give. Maybe a deal? Offer to pay him for the trip, or let him stay the night? Daisy could try using her ‘womanly charms’ as Ma called them, but she always found that a bit awkward--

“Sure, hop in.”

Daisy perked up as the trucker swung the passenger door open. She thanked him kindly and crawled into the seat, already relaxed when the air conditioning hit her hot skin.

As the trucker started the engine back up, Daisy placed a delicate hand on his. “I’m afraid you’ll have to turn around,” she said, “I live back the other way. I hope that’s not too inconvenient for you?”

The trucker shook his head. “Of course not. I’d hate to leave a pretty girl like you standing out here all alone.”

Daisy smiled that coy, bashful smile she always used when she got compliments. She toyed with her dress again and mustered out a “thank you” as the truck roared back to life, and swiftly started down the long, dirt path back to the farm.

The farm was where Daisy and her family lived now. Back when the slaughterhouse was running they had a pretty little house in town, one with flowers growing up the sides and nice, big porch with rocking chairs and daybeds. But once the slaughterhouse shut down and everyone scattered like cockroaches, the family agreed it’d be better to move out to the farm. Living in a ghost-town just made everyone sad.

Still, they kept the house in town clean for special guests, and they all helped out keeping the bakery up and running since you never know when a customer might roll in. But overall, the farm was home now.

“Lewis!” Daisy cheered as she hopped out of the truck, throwing open her arms as she ran towards her brother. He sat on the rocking chair outside, picking at his banjo, and only stopped when he heard Daisy’s voice. He held his arms out in front of him, and Daisy was quick to fill them with a tight hug.

“So, uh… this where you live?”

Daisy paused in her hug to glare at the trucker behind her. Sure, maybe the farm wasn’t much; just a big, fenced-in field with a barn and a little cabin Pa had patched together, but it was theirs and God help her if she was going to let anyone insult it.

“Now listen here, you--”

It was just as Daisy was about to give this man an earful when her Ma stepped outside. With a cheerful shriek, she threw her arms around Daisy and spun her in the air. “Oh, my sweet girl!” She cried, burying her face into Daisy’s hair. “I was so worried about you! Did you get lost again? Wander off to far?”

“Yes ma’am, and I’m--”

“And whose this gentleman?” Ma said, throwing Daisy back to her brother as she approached the trucker. The trucker removed his hat, clenching it between his hands. “Uh, good afternoon, ma’am. My names Tucker, and I just happened to be driving by when I happened upon your daughter--”

“Tucker! What a lovely name,” Ma sighed dreamily, “My name’s Minniejoe. This here’s my boy Lewis Jr., gotta be careful around him cause he’s blind, and this little wanderer is Daisy. My husband’s inside, but I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet you!”

Tucker sputtered. “Oh, uh, I really do appreciate it but I should get going--”

“Nonsense!” Minniejoe laughed, grabbing the man’s hand and dragging him to the house. “After all you’ve done for us, you must meet my husband. In fact, you should stay for dinner! I make a real good pork roast, y’know! Won the county fair once…”

Minniejoe’s chatter trailed off as she dragged Tucker inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Daisy sighed with relief as she knew this meant her chores for the day were done. Beside her, Lewis huffed; “You stink, y’know that?”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “Yeah? How about you try standing in the sun all day?”

“I got better things to do. Besides, you’re good at it. How big was he this time?”

Daisy shrugged, looking out at the pasture exhaustedly. “I don’t know. He’s a big one, probably will give Pa a run for his money once it’s time for eatin’.”

Lewis hummed as he plucked at his banjo, obviously content with the description. “I’m sure Ma’s real proud of ya. Now go up and take a shower, ya filthy animal.”

Daisy huffed and turned on her heel to the house. Before she went inside though, she paused to place her hands on her hips and stick out her tongue at Lewis, playfully scrunching up her face and wiggling her nose.

“I know what you’re doing,” Lewis said, “And you’d better stop before I chop your tongue clean off.” ~

Like most things, Thomas didn’t really have an opinion on the Perkins. They weren’t meat, as Mama had told him, but at the same time, they weren’t friends like Henrietta or Kathy. The Perkins were just there, like the feral dogs that hung around the barn; always around with no real purpose.

The only upside to the Perkins was their bread. He could smell it well before he heard them enter the house, a sweet, warm scent that blocked out the blood and gore he was surrounded with. Next would be the shrill voice of Mrs. Perkins, her insistence that the bread was no big deal and she’d only found it right to bring her neighbors something, and last but not least was the unfamiliar, soft steps making their way towards the basement and Daisy, the youngest Perkins, cooing a hello at him as she set a basket of sweets on the top step.

Thomas would wait until well after they left to go up and get it. His form of ‘thank you’ was letting Mama return it the next day, partially unscathed.

“Tommy! Tommy, you down there? Hey!” Thomas paused in his work when Uncle Hoyt called for him. He was really, really hoping it wasn’t another runner, he was so sick of runners.

“Charlie, you leave my poor boy out of your crazy conspiracies!”

“Mama I done told you it’s Sheriff Hoyt! Now hush up!”

The basement flooded with a dingy, yellow light as the door groaned open. In the light Thomas could make out the silhouettes of Uncle Hoyt and Mama, who stared right back down at him. Mama muttered under her breath, ‘Nobody ever listens to me,’ or something like that, before throwing her arms up in defeat and stepping out of view. Uncle Hoyt twisted his mouth and spat.

“Tommy-boy, you gettin’ your chores done?” Thomas nodded.

“Well. I got another one for you, if you’re feelin’ so inclined.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow and huffed. He couldn’t think of another chore he could do. He already watched the livestock, prepped the meat, took care of the ‘guests’ as Mama called them when they got rowdy, what more could he do?

“You know the Perkins, right? Little family living not too far from here?”

Thomas nodded, this time slower.

“I got a hunch ‘bout them.” Uncle Hoyt said, putting his hands on his hips with a grunt. “A suspicion, if you will. But they don’t trust me none, and I got to thinkin’ ‘Hey, Tommy always seemed friendly with that daughter of theirs.’”

Friendly isn’t what Thomas would’ve called it. He’d say it was more cordial, as Mama said once.

“So I need you to sneak on down there and keep watch on ‘em. No huntin’ or nothin’, just watchin’, like when you’re looking at the cows. You see anything suspicious, or if they spot you, you come right back home and tell me what happened. Y’hear?”

This time, Thomas just stared. Rather than acknowledging the confused silence, Hoyt smiled. “Good. Get goin’ now, Mama will want you home before suppertime.”

~ For a fat man, Tucker was fast.

Daisy pressed her back against a tree, taking deep breaths as the cool evening breeze tickled her skin. It’d be relaxing if not for the fact that in her hands was a bloodied sledgehammer and somewhere, deep in the woods, there was a man with a broken arm. “Tucker, please,” she cried, “Don’t make this difficult. You’ll only rile me up, and I really want this to be quick for you!”

In the bushes was a rustle. Daisy held her breath, waiting to hear it again.

“It won’t hurt, y’know.” She cooed as she stepped closer to the sound, hearing a panicked whimper in response. “Ma makes this special lemonade that’ll put you right to sleep. We’ll do all the bad stuff then, so you won’t feel a thing. You’ll wake up and you’ll be singin’ with the angels.”

There, Daisy thought. Her eyes settled on a thornbush that shivered with every step she took. She creeped closer to it, sledgehammer whiteknuckled in her hand, bringing it high above her head when-- “Oh please God, help me!”

Tucker came flying out so fast Daisy almost fell. He struggled to his feet, cradling his mangled arm as he flew towards the silhouette of a huge, hulking man. “This bitch is crazy!” He cried, “Call the police, call the army, do something--”

And then, that wet, ripping sound of flesh echoed through the woods like a bell.

Tucker hung limply from the man’s hand. From what Daisy could see, the familiar curl of hook jutted out from his back. With a shake, Tucker fell in a heap on the ground, unmoving. Daisy looked up from the body to the man in question. “You must be Thomas.”

Thomas recognized Daisy by her voice. He nodded, and she let out a breathy giggle.

“Well this is, uh, this is one way to meet, huh?”

She laughed, and Thomas just stared.

“He was gonna hurt me.” Daisy started to explain, placing the sledgehammer on the ground beside her. “I mean it, I really do. He was gonna hurt me real bad, and Ma too-”

“Daisy! You kill that bastard yet? It’s nearly suppertime!”

Both Daisy and Thomas paused at the sound of Mrs. Perkins. Daisy winced, looking between the body and the general direction of the voice, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Looks like I better get going,” she said before turning back to Thomas, “Let me just take care of that-” When Daisy reached for the body, Thomas grabbed her wrist. They stared at each other, like two cornered animals, waiting for the other one to move.

“Daisy! Don’t make me come out there! Daisy!”

“Fine.” She hissed, wrenching her hand away from Thomas’ grip. “You take it. Not like it matters anyways, turn’em into your uncle and get me framed up for murder. See if I care.”

With a huff, she shouldered her sledgehammer back on her arm and stomped back the way she’d come. Thomas heaved the body up over his shoulder as he watched her go, a strange sense of victory washing over him as he returned home with more than he’d bargained for.

#slasher #thomas hewitt #leatherface #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre

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