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drabblesandimagines · 8 months

Text

Hitched

Leon Kennedy x fem reader, established relationship Couple of swears, mentions of blood

The sudden noise behind you sends you spinning on your heels to confront it. Your pistol is raised, finger slightly squeezing the trigger in preparation to blow the next monstrosity’s head off only to see Leon’s alarmed face, his hands up in surrender, gun dangling from his grip.

“Whoa, baby, it’s just me.”

You exhale in relief, immediately dropping and holstering your weapon. “Sorry – jumpy. You okay?”

You look him up and down, looking for injuries after you’d been separated a little while ago. It felt like every other mission these days led to the two of you working your way through underground caverns, as evil scientists seem to just love setting up their bases there, with ill-maintained wooden walkways that collapsed below your feet. Leon had gone toppling down the last one, reassuring you he was fine - he did always manage to forward roll his way out of taking any impact – and said by the map he’d pilfered from one of the supply rooms, it looks like your paths would cross again eventually and it meant the two of you could cover more ground until then.

“I’m fine. You, however…” He steps forward, grasps you by the elbow and pulls it up gently in front of you to reveal a nasty slice across your forearm, dripping blood on the dirt.

“Slashed out at me as I took it out. Misjudged the space. I blame the moody lighting.” You joke, but Leon doesn’t respond, inspecting the damage.

“I’m okay. We should keep moving, we can’t be far from-”

“Uh-uh. Come on, there’s an alcove just back this way to provide us some cover whilst I see to this.” His grip is still firmly on your elbow as he tugs you back the way he emerged from.

“I promise I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna leave a blood trail if we don’t. Besides, as your fiancé, I insist.”

The fiancé card is not one that Leon pulls out often on a mission, but has started to do so considering how long your engagement has been. He’d proposed two years ago, literally the moment he got you within eyesight as he returned from a solo mission to Spain to rescue the President’s daughter. He didn’t have a ring – later rectified – but just dropped to his knees and asked you to become his wife. It wasn’t like you hadn’t started wedding planning. There was a folder of brochures under the coffee table, half-drafted emails to venues and caterers on your laptop, saved photos of wedding gowns and centerpieces… But it just felt impossible to ever truly put a plan in place, nail down a concrete date, you didn’t know where the two of you were going to be one month from the next. Sorry, terrorism, could you wait a week or two for the Kennedy wedding to pass first?

“Okay.” You concede and allow him to guide you back a few hundred metres to the alcove – it’s more a deep crevice in the wall, but it won’t be obvious the two of you are hiding in there if anyone or anything was to stroll by.

“Sit.” He points to the space furthest back and you drop down, crossing your legs beneath you so he can crouch down in front. You lay your wounded arm out in front of you with a slight wince. If you were being honest, it did hurt.

“Here, chew this. It’ll make you feel better.” He passes you one of those stupid green herbs from his supplies. The man swears by them as a natural pain reliever – useful in a bind, he claims.

“Ugh, really? But they’re so bitter.” You shake your head, “I’ll be fine without.”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, pulling out a roll of gauze from one of his pouches to begin to dress your wound. “Sweetheart, either you chew it, or I will go mamma bird on your ass, chew it for you and then kiss you so hard you’ll have no other choice but to swallow.”

You laugh, dryly. “I think that might be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Chew.”

Again, you concede. Leon won’t stop at anything to ensure you’re taken care of. As his gentle fingers begin to wrap the bandage tightly around your wound in an effort to stem the bleeding, you crunch the herb between your teeth. It’s scratchy, horrendously bitter, makes you want to gag almost. You can’t chew fast enough to get rid of it. He is right about them, though – a moment or two later the stabbing, stinging pain in your forearm where the creature slashed you dulls to a low, much more tolerable ache.

He has a smug look on his face, knowing your tells too well.

“Told you it would make you feel better.”

He finishes wrapping the gauze around your arm and ties it off with a tight knot, slicing the excess off with his knife. He puts away the roll before he turns and sits down besides you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, kissing your crown. You can feel his heart pounding beneath your cheek – he was worried about you. He knows you can take care of yourself, you’ve been through as much hell as he has, but seeing you injured always sets him off.

You know you should press on – BOWs wait for no man - but it’s clear the two of you need a moment to catch your breath, take stock of what’s occurred, work out how you’ve ended up here - again.

You begin to fiddle with the engagement ring that hangs around your neck. Too much risk wearing it on your finger when out on missions, but it felt odd and wrong to leave it at home on your dressing table, so you’d settled for having it like this, tucking it away on a chain out of sight, but playing with it had soon turned into a nervous habit.

Leon clocks your fidgeting immediately and takes your hand, lacing his fingers through. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About?” He probes, gently.

“What we’re doing here.”

“You forget the brief?” Leon teases and you elbow him lightly in the stomach – not that you’d manage much damage given how muscular he is.

“Like, is this just our life now? Every couple of months, another set of BOWs appears, we deal with and eliminate - rinse and repeat.”

“I…” He sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I hope not. I’d like to think that one day we stop them all and we get a pretty sweet retirement package.”

“I want to get married.” You say, softly.

“Hey, I’m the one who did the proposing, you’re the one who said you wanted to wait until-”

“I know, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I can’t keep holding off for a big event that I’m not sure we’ll ever get to have.” You pause a moment as you sit up, turning to face him head on. “The second we are out of here, I want to marry you.”

“Seriously?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Seriously. Registry office. We’ll wear what we’re wearing – blood splatters, camos, bruises, all of that. I don’t care. I just want to be your wife already.”

“My wife, huh?” He grins at the idea. “Yeah, I want that too. I can’t lie, though, I was looking forward to seeing you in a wedding dress.”

“You will. We’ll do that later – a party or whatever, something that can be rescheduled easy enough if the world goes to shit. But this, this can just be us, huh?”

“Just us, baby.” He places a hand on the side of your face and guides you in for a heated kiss, teasing your bottom lip with his teeth until you permit his tongue entrance and the wrestle for dominance begins. After a moment or two, you place your palm flat on his chest and push back.

“We’re getting distracted, Leon.”

“We sure are.” He gets to his feet and offers you his hand, pulling you up with ease. “Come on, let’s go kill these bastards and get hitched.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, handsome.”

“Okay, Leon said it was casual, but I didn’t picture this casual.” Hunnigan appears behind you in the restroom mirror, dressed in her usual work suit, albeit with a paper bag in hand. Leon had radio’ed in as soon as your objective was clear – DSO teams swooping in to clear up and confiscate and destroy the weapons retrieved – and asked Hunnigan to get them into the registry office today.

“Yeah, we were going for work casual, but we had to leave the weapons in the SUV.” You shrug, washing the grime off your face in the sink. You supposed you should at least prep that much. “Thank you for getting us in.”

She shrugs, “It was one of Leon’s easier requests, funnily enough.” She holds the bag in front of her in offering. “For you.”

“Just me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t think Leon will like it as much.” You take the bag with a smile and place it down on the counter to open it – a small bouquet of white daisies within.

“Just so I can catch the bouquet, obviously.”

Hunnigan acts as the witness, of course, as you find yourself standing in front of the officiant. He barely batted an eyelid at your attire and you think he must’ve seen all sorts come through the door in his time, so the couple who decided to get married in tactical gear, bruised and bandaged, is just another day.

“Do we have rings?” The officiant questions and before you can say no, Hunnigan steps forward again, handing over a box.

“Should’ve known you’d have our ring sizes on file.” Leon laughs.

“Had a suspicion it might come in handy one day.” She smiles, taking her place back in a seat behind the two of you. The officiant opens the box to reveal two simple gold wedding bands.

Leon takes your hand then – his leather gloves removed for the occasion – and smiles. He’s got a bruise blossoming on his left cheek, his hair’s a beautiful mess, but he’s here and you’re here and it’s perfect.

“If you’ll repeat after me.” The officiant looks at Leon, who continues to look lovingly at you, biting his lip in an excited smile. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy…”

He wets his lips with his tongue and squeezes your hand. “I, Leon Scott Kennedy….”

The vows are over before you know it. You feel giddy, a combination of exhaustion and love, surely.

“I pronounce you husband and wife. It gives me great honour to introduce to you,” he looks at Hunnigan, “the new Mr and Mrs Kennedy. You may now kiss the bride.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, pulling you in close and into a bruising kiss, dipping you back a little before returning you to your feet. “Just a little show for our guest.” He whispers in your ear, nodding his head over at an applauding Hunnigan.

“Dare I ask about honeymoon plans?” Hunnigan comments as the three of you exit the registry office. “I’m expecting the two of you back in HQ tomorrow for a debrief, after all.”

“I don’t know. Any ideas, beautiful?” Leon brings up your hand to his mouth, placing a kiss across your knuckles, the gold band sitting snugly on your ring finger.

“Yeah, I have one.” You nod. “I wanna burger – a real greasy one – and fries. And a beer.”

“I knew there was a good reason I married you.” He drops your hand and wraps his arm around your waist and slips another under your knees, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms and you squeal.

“Gotta carry my beautiful wife over the threshold of the nearest diner, don’t I?”

You grin. “That is the tradition. Oh, and speaking of traditions…” You toss the bouquet over Leon’s shoulder into Hunnigan’s arms. “Look who’s next!”

“On second thought…” she walks over to you and places them back into your hands, “keep it. I might as well wait for the redo. See you tomorrow, lovebirds. As a wedding gift, I won’t expect you in until the afternoon.”

“Too kind, Hunnigan.” Leon smirks as she waves over her shoulder and heads towards the parking lot.

Once she’s out of sight, you grab the back of your husband’s head, pulling him down into a chaste kiss and smile up at him. “I love you, Leon.”

“I love you too, Mrs Kennedy.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x 400 Followers Event.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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paperultra · 7 months

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eye to eye.

Pairing: OPLA!Monkey D. Luffy x Reader Word Count: 781 words Warnings: None

He’s been staring for five minutes now.

Five minutes and thirty-three seconds, to be exact. Twenty-seven more seconds and it’ll be six minutes, and you don’t know if you can handle six minutes of him looking at you; everyone on this ship has fallen prey to those big brown eyes, and you are certainly no exception – how many times have you scraped off the last portion of your meal onto his plate, or let him trail after you and chatter away while you did inventory, or sat on the figurehead with him despite your fear of heights because of those eyes? The answer is more than once, and you know you’d do it again in a heartbeat as you finally look up from your newspaper.

“You need anything, Luffy?”

“Nope,” he says.

He continues to stare at you, that achingly wide, sunny grin on his face. You blink. He does too.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“... Well,” you say slowly, more befuddled as the seconds tick by – surely, it’s now been over six minutes – “do you want something?”

(There is always a ninety-two percent chance that Luffy wants something, concrete or not. Seventy percent of the time it is concrete, and the thing he wants is food.)

Luffy shakes his head. He props his elbows onto his knees and rests his chin in his hands, and you swear you see his eyes sparkle underneath the tattered brim of his straw hat.

“I just like looking at your face,” he chirps.

The force of those few words is enough to stop your heart in your chest. It stutters in place, then starts again, jumping with glee.

“H-Huh?”

“I like looking at your face,” he repeats as if you didn’t hear it the first time.

You lick your lips, grappling for something to say in response to such a strange answer. “It’s … it’s not much to look at,” you finally say, curling up out of habit. “There’re better faces out there.”

“But I want to look at yours.” Luffy jabs a finger towards you. You shrink back a bit, cheeks beginning to warm. “And there’s lots to look at, like your nose and eyes and stuff.”

You wonder if you should take that as a compliment. But Luffy doesn't do compliments; he only does the truth, and maybe that makes what he’s said infinitely more valuable.

"Thanks for noticing," you reply, awkward but fond. He nods happily, and you find yourself adding, "I like looking at your face too."

It's not a lie, nor an attempt to return the favor. You do like looking at Luffy's face. You like the wild, coal-black curls framing it, the perpetually goofy smile, the scar, the eyes that turn into dark honey in the sunlight. The eyes that look back at you and promise freedom and joy and everything good the world has to offer.

"You do?" He sounds very pleased and scoots closer. "That's great! We can look at each other."

"Won't that get boring after a while?"

"If it does, we can go and eat something."

You snort, face now very hot as you move to sit cross-legged. "You're funny, Luffy."

And so you look at Luffy, and Luffy looks at you, knees touching and the room still with a few rare seconds of contemplative silence. A few seconds, because that is all you can take before you dissolve into giggles, half flustered and half entertained. (This is how you often are around him nowadays.)

It isn't long before Luffy joins you, and the two of you end up lying on the floor, cackling until you're out of breath.

"Ahhh! That was fun," Luffy gasps once he can speak coherently again. "Now let's get something to eat!"

"You're bored already?" you ask in between gulps of air.

"No, but I'm hungry." With a grunt, he rolls back and catapults himself onto his feet, then picks you up and sets you down to stand before tugging on your arm. "Let's ask Sanji to make us a snack."

You nod, and soon enough, the floor of the Going Merry thrums with the sound of two scruffy pairs of shoes running over it, laughter bouncing off the walls as Luffy's hand grips yours. It's the same way he holds your heart, tightly but kindly. You squeeze back.

Three words balance on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them.

One day, you think. One day, he will look at you like he did today, and you will tell him how much a person like him means to a person like you.

But right now, you're going to ask Sanji to make you and Luffy something to eat.

#opla #one piece #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy #opla luffy #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #this could also be read as platonic tbh #i think all of luffy's friends are platonically in love w him a lil bit :))#finally wrote a fic for our favorite captain of the straw hats !!! he's such a silly guy lol i love him

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lillylvjy · 1 year

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Wilbur getting upset because he doesn't see you at his concert when you'd promised you'd be there, only for you to have been backstage the entire time????

So sorry this took so long….. burned out things 🤭

But this is so good gapple!! And I enjoyed writing it

Warnings// kissing, making out, swearing, a little hint of angst, sexual innuendos, but nothing big! Tell me if I missed anything:)

Not edited and I tried adding the rest of the band but I don’t like that part at all😔

True love (and understanding)

“Wilbur! I swear I’ll be there! I just won’t be there for sound check. I’ll be there before you go onstage. I promise.” You promised to Wil as he put his guitar on his back and looked at you.

“Ok. I just really want you to be there. It’s a big gig.” He said while grabbing his bag and coming back over to you.

“I know! And I’ll be there. I promise. This won’t take long.” You said pointed at your work you have to finish by tonight. Of course your boss gives you loads of work to do on the day of one of the biggest gigs their doing this year. James was opening for them today and there were going to be news reporters there today too. Wilbur was stressed and he needed you there with him. It’s like when he looks at you, he knows everything will be ok no matter what.

“You better be. I need my before-gig kiss. It’s my good luck charm.” He said, with a smile on his face.

You took his hands in yours. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be there cheering you on.” You kissed his knuckles. He smiled at you as he took his hand and placed it on your cheek.

“I love you.” He said while leaning down and gently putting your lips together. The kiss was shorter than he would’ve liked it to be but you were shooing him out the door.

“I love you too. But you need to go before the guys get mad at you again for being late.” You opened the door for him as he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“They can’t blame for wanting to love on you!” He whined as he turned around to look at you. You smiled and raised your eyebrows. “Ok fine, I’m leaving. I’ll see you later darling.” Wilbur leaned down and gave you one last peck on the lips before walking off.

You sighed and went back over to the dining table. Let’s do this thing.

A couple hours later and Wilbur texted you that sound check went well and they have an hour until the band went on.

Shit. You still have around 2 dozen more pages to do.

You quickly do the pages as fast, yet efficiently, as you can.

30 minutes.

You submit the work and close your laptop as you sprint to grab your coat and purse as fast as you can, lock the apartment up and drive to the place.

10 minutes.

You check your phone as you curse yourself for not finishing faster. You rush to the side of the building and open the door into the back rooms.

You rushed around trying to find then band until you ran into Jack.

“Jack! Where’s Wilbur?!” You said, out of breath and rushed.

“Oh uh! They’re already on stage I think. Why?” He asked looking at you concerned.

“No! No,no,no! He’s going to hate me.” You said looking at your watch.

1 minute.

Shit!

“Ok, thank you I’ll see you in a bit! I promise!” You yelled as you ran to the stage.

You say James and ran up to me as you heard “Concrete” start to play.

“Shit.” You said as you frowned.

“Y/n? Where have you been?” James asked you, knowing about the before show ritual. “Wilbur had a nervous break down and almost cancelled the show!” James explains to you.

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m not very happy either! I got caught up with work.” You explained as you looked at Wilbur.

He didn’t look as pumped up as usual. Don’t get me wrong, he still looked excited and thrilled! But there was something missing. He looked upset. To say the least. Disappointed. You couldn’t blame him. You promised. You never broke promises. And he doesn’t even know you’re here.

“Just surprise him afterwards. It’ll make him feel 10 time better. He’ll have his “after show” adrenaline.” You laughed. One thing you loved about Wilbur preforming was his after show adrenaline. He was like a bee. Buzzing all about the show. How much he loved it, how they all played good, what they could’ve done better and what he could’ve done better. He just always had something to add. And you loved it. You loved how he payed attention to the little things . To the minor details barely anyone would catch. That’s one of your favorite things about him.

After the show, you waited for the band to come off stage with James. As Mark came off first, he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, but quickly jogged up to you and hugged you with a smile. You didn’t really mind how sweaty they’d all be. You were used to it.

“Ah! You were here the whole time, weren’t ya?!” He asked you.

“Yeah! Well I came a little bit late but I was here! You guys did amazing like always!” You smiles at Mark as he got pushed to the side.

Joe.

“You almost made him cancel the show…..” he said while smiling. “But I swear we could all tell you were here. Damn you y/n! You have a radiating energy!” Joe said while hugging you. You laughed at him as he went back to the back with the others.

Ash hugged you and looked at you like he needed to talk to you later so you nodded and saluted to him as he laughed. He saluted back and walked off, doing the lovejoy handshake with you.

You looked up and saw Wilbur talking to some fans still. James patted you on the back and told you to follow him. “We’re going to act like we’re having a conversation and see if he notices you. I don’t know how this will play out.” James said as you followed him to the back room where everyone else was and took you into a corner and just started talking to you. About cats. Why cats?

“James are we really talking about cats right now?” You asked him as he looked behind you with a smile.

“Well. Your cat is coming up to you right now.”

“Wait, what do you MEAN!” You squealed the last word as someone picked you up and spun you around. Once you were on the ground you turned around and smiled up at the person. “Hi Wilbur.”

“Hi love. When in the hell did you get here?! I almost-“

“Cancelled the show, I know! And I’m sorry for not being here. I lost track of time and I’m so sorry because I’m always here and I always give you kiss before hand and it helps, at least I think it does, and I didn’t get to and you were probably so nervous and I suck-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You do not suck at being my partner! You were busy, I get that. If anything I should be mad at myself. I let you and everyone else think you had to be here. As much as it is very nice!” You both laughed. “I don’t need it. All I need, is to know that you’re cheering me, us, on. Don’t blame yourself please. I love you. So so much.” Wilbur finished as he leaned down and kissed you. He holds your waist as you lean up to meet his lips and deepen the kiss. As you ran your hands through his hair, his grip on you tightened as you both continued.

“Ok. Maybe not in the middle of the room where everyone can see you.” James said in a monotoned voice.

You both break part quickly and look at James. He had a smirk on his face as he winked at you both. “There’s a storage closet back there. I’m just saying.” He says as he walks off. You laugh as you look back over at Wilbur. He had a glint in his eye. It bordered on playful and deviant. Your face fell as you shook your head.

“Wilbur no!” You pleaded, but he was already pulling you towards the closet.

“Have fun love birds!” James yelled.

“Screw you!” You yelled back.

Wilbur opened the closet and pulled you inside. You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “So…. What are we doing in here?” You asked.

“One to get away from them. And 2, so I can do this without interruptions.” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss as you pulled him down to meet his lips more.

Before anything could happen, there was banging on the door. “Never mind! It’s going to have to wait! We’re going out to eat!” James yelled.

Wilbur groaned as you laughed. As you both walked out you pulled Wilbur down by his collar and whispered in his ear. “Later love. I promise.” You said to him as you smirked at him and walked over to Aria.

Wilbur was just standing there with a smirk on his face.

“What happened?” James asked. “I need to know.”

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety @aimi-chann @jadeissues

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quite-right-too · 6 months

Text

Bitter Taste

Dark!Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: When the Doctor meets your ex-boyfriend, he reacts in a way you really should have expected.

His name was Jason.

You didn’t tell the Doctor much about your ex-boyfriend. Mostly little details regarding his treatment of you. Not that he was necessarily a bad guy, just that he was pretty distant and cheated on you with some girl he’d met at a bar one night during his shift.

Yet, here you were. Standing directly in front of the bar where he worked, hand in hand with the Doctor.

“It’ll be fun,” he said when he’d mentioned a visit home to see your family. “I can see little bits of your past.” You knew the real reason he wanted to go to Brook’s. It was just a shitty little dive bar in your city, nothing special — aside from the fact that he knew your ex worked there.

He reached for the handle, opening the door for you and pulling you in. His eyes scanned the faces of everyone in the room, keeping his hand in yours while doing so. “Why don’t you go get us some drinks?” he murmured, leaning down so his breath puffed against your ear. “I’m going to the loo.” And off he went, walking to the back where the sign for the restrooms was.

At the bar, the bartender walked up. “Welcome to Brook’s, what can I get you?” She had a nice smile — genuine and kind. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’ll take a-” You couldn’t even finish your order before you locked eyes with the other bartender. Piercing blue eyes bore deep into your soul as you felt a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. He set down the glass he had been drying and began to walk to your side of the bar.

“Oh, hey! It’s been a while. Fancy seeing you here,” Jason chuckled. “I'll be right back, Jess.” He placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder and walked around the bar to be at your side. “How have you been?”

“Hello, Jason,” you spat. “I’ve been busy. Travelling, you know?”

He reached out, grabbing your arm before you could move and pulling the two of you into the corner. “I’ve missed you. A lot, actually.” Your arm was stuck in a vice grip as he continued. “I tried to call but you never answered. I want to talk. I want us to be an us again. I’m sorry and I’ve changed, I swear.”

Yanking yourself away from him, you took a step back. “Thanks, but no thanks. You cheated on me, remember? You can’t just play the ‘sorry’ card and think you’re still welcome in my life!”

“Oh please, you miss me. I know you do.”

“I really don’t. Fuck off and find someone else who will entertain your bullshit.” Swallowing hard, you moved away from the bar and glanced nervously towards the bathroom. The familiar shape of the Doctor emerged through the doorway and looked around until he spotted you.

It was like he sensed it. The Doctor’s eyes narrowed as he pushed his way through the crowd. The Time Lord Victorious did not appreciate Jason talking to you, especially after what he had heard about him.

Standing next to you, his hand gripped your waist hard, pulling you against him possesively. “Sorry, love. Just needed a minute.” His cold gaze looked Jason up and down. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You ex didn’t flinch. “No, we haven’t. I’m Jason,” he hissed, holding out his hand. The Doctor reached out and gripped it with a strength Jason wasn’t expecting, smirking at the wince he pulled from the other man.

“While I do love a good chat, I’m afraid we’ve got to grab something to drink and actually enjoy our night.” His comment caused Jason to scowl, backing away. “Nice to meet you.” His tone was anything but friendly as he released you and took a step forward. His fist clenched in the front of Jason’s shirt, yanking him to the side and slamming him against the wall. “And don’t you ever think about fucking coming near us again, got it? Otherwise your brains will be splattered across the concrete outside.” He released his grip, letting the other man move again.

“Sure, whatever.” Jason huffed, brushing himself off, and made his way back to the bar.

You turned, burying your face in the Doctor’s chest. “Thank you.”

He held you close, not taking his eyes off the man he had just chased away. “I’ll always save you. You’re mine.”

Not long after, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bathrooms. “Where are we going?” you questioned. He didn’t say a word, continuing on through the back door and into the area behind the bar.

It wasn’t anything special. Just an area where they had some tables for large parties. However, since nobody in their right mind would use a bar like this for a gathering, it was just used by the employees for smoke breaks.

The Doctor dragged you over to a table on the end of the line, but still close enough to the back door that there was a chance of being caught. “Mine,” he growled against your lips as he kissed you greedily, lifting you by the backs of your thighs onto the edge of the table.

“Fuck, Doctor, what if we-” You didn’t get a chance to finish before he was grabbing at your waistband, forcefully ripping your jeans down your legs. The realisation hit that he was going to take you right here, right now.

You had no intention of stopping him.

As soon as you were naked from the waist down, you reached for the buttons of his trousers. He slapped your hands away, glaring at you from above. This was not the Doctor, this was the Oncoming Storm. Rough and reckless; a man who will fuck you until you can’t stand.

“No touch.” He reached for his tie, keeping his eyes connected to yours with a searing gaze. Pupils blown with lust, the Doctor pulled his tie off his neck and reached for your arms. “Now you get to be punished.” Your hands were quickly bound behind your back.

His trousers dropped to his ankles as he pulled you against the edge of the table and wasted no time slamming into you. “Oh, fuck!” you moaned as he began to set a punishing rhythm. One of his arms wrapped around your torso, the other around the back of your head, to keep you as close to him as he physically could.

“All mine,” he grunted as he kept his fast pace. “Nobody else’s. This is all for me. Mine to use. Mine to ruin.” His babbling continued as he fucked into you. “If anyone ever tries to flirt with you again, I’ll rip their heart out with my bare hands. I will make sure you never want anyone else’s cock in you for as long as you live.” He nipped at your neck, claiming you further.

Your arms fought against his tie as you tightened your legs around his waist, rotating your hips to spur him on further. “All yours. Please, use me,” you choked out. When like this, the Doctor was absolutely ruthless. It was almost as if you could see delirium swirling in those deep brown eyes of his. “Oh, god.”

“That’s it,” the Doctor snarled. “I’m your god.” He kept on for several minutes before you felt him look up and his jaw tense against your temple.

“Moan my name, love. Let the world hear whose you are. Make sure that bastard knows that it’s only me in your mind. Do it. Moan for me. Come for me.”

He released your torso, allowing you to fall backwards onto the table. His hands moved to grip your hips tightly. “Oh god, Doctor. I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doctor. Please, I’m so close!”

Your eyes met his as a sickening grin crossed his face. “Come for me, now,” he growled before he glanced up.

It crashed over you like a star exploding. “Fuck, I’m coming! Doctor! Doctor!” You chanted his name like a prayer. As you were pulled into absolute pleasure, your back arched and you finally realised what he had been staring at.

Standing frozen outside the employee door was your ex-boyfriend, eyes wide and cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he watched the Doctor absolutely rail you.

The Time Lord staked his claim, all right. Especially as he locked eyes with Jason, sneering at him. “All mine,” he shouted as his thrusts became choppy. “This is all mine!” He tensed up, thrusting hard into you once more before you felt him pulse inside you.

The door slammed shut as you laid there, unable to move as the Doctor pulled out of you. “Now,” he murmured as he pulled his trousers up and rebuttoned them. “You’re going to put your pants back on and we’re going to walk back through that bar, in front of him, and go home. Got it?”

You nodded as he pulled the tie from its knot and freed your arms. This wasn’t what you’d planned when he suggested the possibility of seeing your ex at his place of work, but it was singlehandedly the most satisfying thing you’d done as revenge. And the best part?

As you left and turned down the alley around the corner to enter the TARDIS, the Doctor told you to stay there and said he would be right back. He reassured you that he would make sure he left Jason a nice tip.

It didn’t take long before your phone rang. Your mom informed you that your ex-boyfriend was found dead behind the bar. Beaten bloody until his brain haemorrhaged. No evidence as the cameras inside had been mysteriously deactivated.

A nice tip indeed.

#my fic #tenth doctor #doctor who #david tennant #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction

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jasntodds · 11 months

Text

Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens. Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door.

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound.

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.”

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now.

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dcu fanfiction #dcu fanfic #jason todd one shot #badthingshappenbingo

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davilasinfiltro · 1 month

Text

Badboyhalo gets advice from Reddit

Bad panics after Skeppy releases Best Friend and decides to ask for relationship advice on Reddit because he doesn’t know who else to turn to

979 words

r/relationship_advice u/throwaway132166922

My (M29) best friend (M23) made a song about me and I don’t know how to feel about it.

I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I’m so paranoid about anyone finding out who I am but I frequent this subreddit a lot and can't find anyone who is in the same situation as me. I also don’t know who I can even talk to about this since we have a lot of mutual friends. If this gets too much traction I’m deleting it quickly, here goes nothing >_<

Here’s the context, me and my friend have known each other online for a while and have been friends for around 4 years (my friends poke fun that we have our ‘anniversary’ memorized but I digress.) We’ve half heartedly been making plans to meetup for the past few years. What can I say? I don’t like leaving the house and never really had the urge to meet any of my online friends. I’d argue that you could have a meaningful relationship with someone and never meet them irl. Anyways, I never took these conversations too seriously. I would always say I’m not ready yet, it’s too close to the holidays, who’s going to take care of my dog? The one time we did have concrete plans I was sick with covid and I had a long recovery. And we just never followed up with a reschedule.

I never knew how much this affected my friend until he wrote this sort of… rap and produced it with one of our mutual friends. He insults me, saying I have a massive ego, I’m a psycho, it’s my fault I made him ‘feel blue,’ and immediately backtracks and compliments me. There’s another lyric that says I’m pushing him away and if I’m hiding something? This part I have to quote verbatim because it’s the part I understand the least,

“I can’t really say my true intentions

It’s all just miscommunication

Please don’t take it the wrong way

I love you dude and I hope we’re okay”

And that’s how it ends. Meanwhile, I had no clue my friend was having this type of conflicting feelings about me. Or how much us meeting up meant to him. Yeah maybe we’d go from talking every day to messaging each other only semi frequently but that’s just the evolution of a friendship right? We were both getting busier as our respective careers became more time-consuming but that’s nobody’s fault, is it? I know I should apologize to him for never taking his requests for us to meetup too seriously but I think there’s something else under the surface.

Does he want to confess to me? I keep going back to that lyric, “I can’t really say my true intentions.” He’s pretty much ripped his heart out on this song but there’s /one/ thing he can’t say to me? Does it have to do with him wanting to preserve our friendship, that it’ll be strained in some way if he confesses? I don’t know what gives him that impression, a lot of our friends are lgbt+. Heck, a lot of them make jokes that we like each other already. Anyways, there shouldn’t be anything deterring him from confessing if that’s what he is trying to do. Or not trying to do.

Any advice is appreciated. I still haven’t said anything to him directly since he made that song.

u/amycat1203

Whatever you two have going on is gayer than any gay person I know irl

-> Reply u/throwaway132166922

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that -_-

u/justadudelmao

This is too outrageous to be fake, so I’m trying to take this seriously. It sounds like y’all have some shit to talk out in person. If the next message you send him isn’t a confirmation for a plane ticket you’re the problem

-> Reply u/throwaway132166922

If I travel to him it won’t be by plane, I have a phobia. But you’re right :/ I need to make it up to him soon if this is how he feels about us not meeting up

u/matchmakingismypassion

Maybe he has reason to believe you wouldn’t want him to confess to you. How do you react to the jokes your friends make about you together? Do you even reciprocate any possible romantic feelings to him?

->Reply u/throwaway132166922

It’s complicated, early on in our friendship he’d flirt with me as a troll and I’d always politely turn him down. I’ve known about him for so long, even before he was 18. I wasn’t comfortable indulging in this kind of joke. So even if he was 19 when he made these comments, he felt too young for me. He grew out of it and eventually we were inseparable as best friends, to the point that our mutual friends would tease us. Both of us would casually deny anything to our friends but honestly, I wouldn’t mind dating him if he made the first move. But you understand why I can’t make the first move, right?

->Reply u/matchmakingismypassion

To me it sounds like he shouldn’t make the first move either if all he’s ever heard from you is rejection. Especially if you can’t even make the effort to meetup, something he obviously wants from you. He made the song as a plea to start an open dialogue, and that starts with you bud.

u/skephalofan141414

EVERYONE. THIS STORY IS FAKE. This is some guy pretending to be Badboyhalo about the song Skeppy made called “Best Friend” on youtube. You’re a weirdo trying to karma farm off of a story that isn’t yours to tell

->Reply u/thisteaishotaf

Who??? Link please???

->Reply u/skephalofan141414

https://youtu.be/skDch34PtEM?si=Usxbm6LXisq9xWCD

->Reply u/thisteaishotaf

Why the fuck would his friend post this on a minecraft channel LMAO

#skephalo #skephalo fic #I wrote this a while ago I’m surprised it took me this long to post lol #badboyhalo #skeppy

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gritsgigabits · 1 year

Text

How the slashers comfort you when you're upset

Time for some self-indulgent fluff ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Jason Voorhees

Most of the time when you’re upset, Jason’s first instinct is to offer you physical comfort. He remembers how his mother used to hold him close and whisper sweet words into his ear when he was a little boy and someone hurt him. He thinks it was a great way to make someone feel better.

Jason has been through many, many situations that have caused him mental (and physical) pain, and he hates to see you go through those same emotions, even if the reasons behind them aren’t the same as in his case.

God forbid, if anyone ever actually bullied you, Jason would cut them in half on the spot. He doesn’t really care anymore what other people think or say about him, but he does care what people dare say about the person most important to him.

Jason will wrap you in one of his mighty bear hugs and refuses to let go until you either have trouble breathing or need to go to the bathroom.

If you want to talk, Jason will listen to. He is a very good listener! And it’s only partly because of his reluctance to speak himself. He wants to know what you’re upset about, but he won’t pressure you into telling him if you don’t want to.

If there’s anything concrete Jason can do to make you feel better, he will do it. It doesn’t matter what it takes. You want ice cream at three in the morning because you had a bad dream? Jason will get you some.

It might take a while, but he will not return without some ice cream.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba’s go-to way of cheering people up is trying to make them laugh. He will act all silly in front of you to provoke a smile out of you. It becomes his current mission to goof around until you feel better.

Although Bubba himself thinks his plan to improve your mood is better than anything else, he will stop dashing about and listen if you needs to get something off your chest. He will pet your hair and let you cry into his chest the whole night if you want to.

Bubba is also a top-notch cuddler, and will gladly provide a man-sized body pillow to hold onto if you want to be close to him. You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. It’s perfectly fine to just lie down together in bed and listen to the calming sound of his breathing.

Chop Top Sawyer

When Chop Top that notices that you aren’t as expressive or chatty as usual and can’t quite keep up with him, he gets worried. He’ll be all over you in a matter of seconds, fussing in a half-serious manner about whether you’re sick or sad or about to leave him.

Chop thinks that the best way to get one’s mind off something depressing is to ignore all negative feelings and go about as usual. Or in Chop’s case, go about in a way more chaotic manner than usual. He tells you that that way, by the end of the day, you’ll either have forgotten about your low mood or will have worn yourself out so much that you don’t care anymore.

If this doesn’t sound like a good deal to you, you can also tell Chop Top to leave you alone for a while. Let’s face it: with his personality and energy levels, it’s difficult for him to be mindful about the fact that some people prefer to have quiet time when they’re upset.

It’ll be quite the task to get Chop off your back, though. If you want alone time, it may require you to evade him until you feel better.

Chop doesn’t always understand why you would want to get rid of him, either.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas grew up in an environment where talking about your troubles was the best solution for them. When he sees you upset about something, he wants to sit you down next to him so you can tell him what it is that’s bothering you.

If you’re not into talking about it, he will leave you alone until you are. He doesn’t feel like there’s anything more that he could do for you in those situations. It’s not that he wants to leave you alone when you’re feeling bad. He just thinks that perhaps an opportunity to think things through will help you clear your head and make you feel better.

Of course, you can suggest something else if you know what it is you need. Although he thinks talking is the best medicine, Thomas is not going to deny you anything something else.

You want him to hug you close? Done. You want to cry into his shirt? Go ahead. You want him to go saw off someone’s limbs and/or head? He can do that.

Whatever will help, he’ll do it for you.

Brahms Heelshire

Contrary to what you might expect, Brahms can be very empathetic at times. He often worries if you’re actually happy about staying with him (not that it would matter one way or the other if you weren’t – he would keep you regardless).

He knows that because of the life has imposes on you, he is essentially your entire world. He has to be the one to offer you comfort; to offer you anything you could ever need in a relationship. Brahms knows that, and he respects that.

He tries to make himself approachable when he sees you’re upset about something. He immediately stitches out of his ‘little boy’ mode and embraces his ‘big, strong and protective man’ mode. The times when you’re upset are the kind of moments where he wants to be the more responsible one in the relationship.

He likes it when you take care of him, but when you’re sad, he wants to be the one to care for you. Just as he is your everything, you are his everything.

Brahms likes to comfort you with physical gestures. He will lie you on the sofa with your back against the back of the sofa and your face buried into his chest. He’ll pet your hair and nuzzle the top of your head while occasionally humming out a slow tune.

Michael Myers

Michael does not care if you’re feeling bad. He has no sense of comfort in his entire being. If you tell him you’re feeling bad, he will give you his signature blank stare before going back to his own business.

He might stop whatever he is doing if you insist that he comfort you. He won’t be happy about it, but he’ll do it. He doesn’t understand why you should feel bad, especially if there’s no specific reason. He would get it if you were upset about someone sucker-punching you in the street, but other than that Michael doesn’t see why you’d let your emotions run wild as they are.

If you’re strong enough to ignore the fact that he’s basically dead inside, you can get something resembling comfort out of him. He will cuddle you if you want him to but no promises that he won’t demand a sexy reward afterwards

If you cry, Michael gets uncomfortable, so that’s your best weapon against him. He will do almost anything to make it stop, partly because he hates to see you that upset and partly because it’s messy and annoying.

You want to play with his knife? Would that make you feel better? Get a few tears onto your cheeks and you have a fair shot of making that happen.

Pyramid Head

Pyramid Head is confused: What do you mean you’re upset? You do realise you’re in Silent Hill, which means you are supposed to be upset? It’s not a happy place, and no happy or innocent people end up there.

Human emotions are a difficult concept for Pyramid Head to grasp. You’re spewing water out of your eyes, but it isn’t because of the ash in the town? How bizarre.

He acts like he doesn’t understand and doesn’t give a shit, but he cares about you in his own strange way and wants to make you feel better. He knows physical suffering better than most, but doesn’t pay much mind to his or others’ emotions, so it surprises him when he sees you so openly vulnerable and sad.

Pyramid Head has no idea what to do or what you want from him, so you’ll have to walk him through the process of comforting. Tell him explicitly what it is you want. He will do his best to provide you with what you need.

If you let him take charge of the situation, he will take you out for a walk to get whatever’s troubling you off your mind. Pyramid Head is certain that what exists in the bowels of the town will be so much more disturbing than what you’re going through, and it will help get your mind off things.

He is right.

#jason voorhees x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #chop top x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #pyramid head x reader #slashers #slashers x reader

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jjtheresidentbaby · 1 year

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ demon daycare ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| dean winchester x reader | part 2

prompt: imagine dean got caught by a demon and it distressed him to the point he involuntarily regresses and the demon just looks at him and goes "Well what else can I do?" and cgs him, and its a good time

a/n: for @teddybear-kiddo <3

warnings: demon!reader, little!dean, involuntary regression, knives, minor injuries, canon typical demon stuff, swearing

You twiddle the tip of your knife on your thigh as you take a minute to breathe, you’ve captured the infamous Dean Winchester, you deserve a breather. Any other demon that’s taken either of the Winchester brothers has either not lived to tell the story or has warned against going anywhere near either of them.

As you look over to Dean you really don’t see the big fuss, if anything he looks particularly small compared to what you imagined. He had been a bit mouthy at first but that died quickly, still hasn’t given up the information you need though. It’ll come soon enough and hopefully before his brother comes busting in with that angel you know they drag around.

“You ready to talk yet?” You crouch down by Dean’s face, knife still held in hand, there hasn’t been much damage done aside from a nice looking cut on the side of his jaw. It’s artificial, won’t even need stitches.

“Hello? Im talking to you-.” You shut up seeing the tears falling down the Winchesters face when he turns to you. It takes you off guard for more than one reason, the biggest being that this is Dean Winchester, professional demon hunter and killer, not who you were expecting to be crying over a little cut.

“It’s just a cut, it’ll heal.” Your brow furrows watching how Dean only grows more upset and starts to thrash in the ropes holding him against the concrete pole in the warehouse you’ve dragged him to.

“I- I know.” He sniffs. It twinges something in you, something you have felt in a long time being a demon. You sigh to yourself, looking Dean over again, and god damnit you’re really considering untying him.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong?” Dean’s cheeks blush fiercely under the question, trying to duck his head away only your hand catches his cheek to hold him steady.

“I- I want Sammy.” He whimpers quietly. He sounds like a child. Then it hits you, he looks like a child, sounds like one, fuck.

“If I untie you can you be good and not run?” Dean nods jerkily to you and you pray to lucifer he keeps that promise as you undo the knot at the back of his wrists.

The ropes drop, Dean doesn’t bolt. Step two you suppose, you know there’s a first-aid kit somewhere around here, it’s hung on the wall from when the warehouse was still in use. It should have everything you need to patch up Dean’s face.

“Stay here while I go grab a first aid kit.” Before you can fully stand Dean’s hand grabs yours, eyes big and pleading, as if he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s younger than you assumed, you know what age regression is, whoever your vessel is has a few facts about it stored away, it seems to be coming in handy.

“Okay, but no running.” You wait for Dean to stand, watching with a small smile how he stumbles and reaches to hold onto you tighter for balance.

It takes no time at all to grab the first aid kit and sit Dean back down to start cleaning the cut. After disinfecting and placing a butterfly strip to hold the wound together, you pet a hand through Dean’s hair. He leans into the touch and before you know it, he’s laying on your chest, arms around your waist and his head nuzzling closer towards you.

“Aren’t you scared? I’m a demon.” You ask a little breathless, a weird warmth is buzzing in your chest, you don’t know what it is but you like it. It grows when you wrap your own arms around Dean’s back.

“You’re not scary, you helped me.” Your instincts take over as you lean to press a kiss into Dean’s hair, you like this much more than the previous violence.

You two stay like that until Sam bursts in with Castiel in tow, both largely confused by the scene in front of them, but also relived that you haven’t done any serious damage to Dean. And as they all walk out to their car, you’re a little sad to see Dean go, maybe you’ll have to pay him a visit soon.

#jj writes #supernatural agere #little!dean winchester #caregiver!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester

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empressnarria · 2 years

Text

"Rock n' Roll!" Random Monty Gator HC'S

Been sitting on these Monty HC’s for a while and decided “what the heck? Here’s a big dumb dumb gator man for you in these trying times.”

[⛳️Monty⛳️]

Monty is a jokester at heart, but the second he picks up that you’re not smiling as bright at his cheesy pick-up lines as you usually do, all joking stops. He shuts his trap and just stares at you. Waiting. You’ll have to ask him why he’s suddenly so quiet, or his joints will stay locked in place as he just... stares at you. He’ll grumble, his shoulders slouching as he gestures a claw at you. Confused even more than before, you frown. It doesn’t click with you until he plops beside you, muttering out, "Ya’ can talk about it if you want. Ya’know, if it’ll make you feel better or sumthin’." Oh! He was giving you the floor to talk.

Monty listens. He listens because he wishes the others had listened. He wished they had heard him thrashing and flailing his arms. Save him from himself. Save him from drowning in his own self-destruction. So when you’re having a down day, he’s silent the entire time, while also letting you take the lead on what will cheer you up. Need a bucket of ice cream? Be back in ten. Need someone to hold you? Scooch over—he’s coming in! Do you need to vent to him? He hangs off the back of his couch as he listens. No snarky comments, no interruptions. Just listening.

It goes without saying: Monty is extremely jealous of Freddy. A golden statue of em' sits displayed under spotlights in the front entrance for Peet's sake! How could a guy not be jealous?

He is so caught up in hating Freddy that he fails to notice that he actually has fans. Sure, he’ll play the role of the badass Gator, take a picture or two, sign a little kid’s autograph book, and smile for the always annoyingly bright cameras (seriously, don’t people know how to work a flash!?), but at the end of the day, they’re just fans of the front he puts up. Not the real him. Not the person who leaves behind a mangled trail of Staff Bots in the quake of his rampage. Not the person who wrecks his green room beyond repair. Not the person who punches concrete walls – over and over – until the shell on his knuckles cracks off. Not him. And he knows that if they knew him, the real him, they wouldn’t like what they’d see…

Gives out guitar picks to the kids. The green pick has his signature line “Rock n’ Roll!” spray painted on in gruesome purple font.

Says “totally tubular” and “sick!” a lot. Dumb dumb gator man.

An irrational and inconsolable fear of cats.

Everything about his design is sharp and spikey (Fazcorp wanting an "edgy" look for their more angsty demographic), so he has to keep his distance from balloons or plushies. Although his claw upgrade improved his bass playing skills, they came as a hindrance and sort of an afterthought on the engineer's part, as he couldn't pick up anything remotely soft without tearing a seven-inch gash down the side. It doesn't matter how gentle his hold is; it's bound to be shattered or ripped to shreds. His frustrations fester into anxiety, to the point of loathing when he's booked down for special events because the fear of breaking something--or, his worst thought, hurting a kid--terrifies him. It's this crippling tight-rope-walk of having your body betray you and your gentle intentions, and you can't do anything to right it.

He has a trolling account in the gaming system. His username is "slipperygator69."

The techs can’t begin to wrap their brains around why they can’t delete or ban the damned account. Every attempt is met with strips of distorted color or a system error blaring in their faces. Monty demolishes the kids at all mobile event games. He loses his shit whenever he snipes a kid and can hear them screech over the proximity chat. His secret identity has yet to be unveiled.

He's sensitive to extreme lighting. It's not the main reason it's blacked out in his room, but it’s part of it. He can relax better in dimly lit rooms, which is why Monty Golf and his green room are a lot darker compared to the other attractions. Wearing his glasses during performances does help block out the more severe spotlights, but he can get a headache if he wears them for too long. He swears he can feel the wires behind his eyes sizzle, and he's about ready to claw them out and ram his face underneath an ice cream machine after every show. At that point, squinting is the only thing he can manage. He’s animatronic, for crying out loud! You’d think they’d give him fucking X-ray vision like Roxanne!

Monty will seek out your affection no matter where, no matter when. People got a stick up their ass about him displaying his affection for you? That’s their problem! Now, if you managed to stick around long enough, then that probably means you're cool like him, which also means that he has every right to show you off! You're his. And guess what? Everyone within a five-foot radius will know it! They'll either back off or he'll make them back off.

Beatboxes absentmindedly or makes a song out of whatever he’s doing. 🎵And put the bass in the case. I say bass, in the case. *beatbox noises* b-b-bass in the ca-case, case, case.🎵 Monty: *Beatboxing* Roxy: *Walks in* Hey, uh- Monty: … Roxy: ... Roxy: What- Monty: *catapults himself into a vent*

#fnaf secruity breach #fnaf sb #fnaf imagines #monty gator #montgomery gator x reader

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cat3ch1sm · 2 years

Note

could I request; miya whose s/o doesn't skate and refuses to learn cuz they're scaredy cat, until they ask him to teach them the basics so they can tag along with him. they never get better than him btw, I don't want another reki and langa situation :')

☕️ ofc! sorry this took so long my dear :(

miya chinen x reader

“So how long are we gonna stand here?”

You and your boyfriend, Miya, were standing in a skate park with the sun setting in the sky, casting a calming golden light over the concrete. It was a school day, so most kids were at home, leaving the place empty for the two of you. You weren’t a skater like Miya, that was for sure- you didn’t know a thing about skating. But, you didn’t feel like staying behind anymore while he went off with his friends to skate somewhere. So now, here the two of you were- Miya with his usual board while you had a spare from Dope Sketch.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” you apologized, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground with your arms folded across your chest. “I just need- I just need a minute.”

“It’s been, like, ten minutes,” Miya replied, arching a brow at you. “You were the one who asked to come, you know, and it’ll be dark soon.”

You sighed apprehensively, pursing your lips and staring into the space ahead of you, your board resting underneath your foot. Gathering your courage, you nodded resolutely. “Right. Let’s do this.”

Miya gave you a skeptical look.

“Okay, fine.” You threw your arms in the air in surrender. “I’m just not convinced I’m not going to faceplant and die. Or I won’t be able to stop and get hit by something and die. Or I’ll accidentally run into something and die-“

Miya , exasperated, raised his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, I get the picture- although all of those scenarios are really unlikely to happen. But seriously, you’ll be fine- I’m here to catch you if anything goes wrong.” He paused to look into your eyes, making sure you understood him. “We’re just going over the most basic of basics, ‘kay?”

You remained quiet for a while. “What if I embarrass myself and end up looking stupid?”

“Then I’ll laugh.”

“Miya!”

He smirked. “Kidding. Anyways, we’re starting now- I hope you’ve got your nerves together. Make sure your gear is on tight before we start- especially since you’re a beginner.”

You nodded, pushing your helmet down onto your head and adjusting your knee and elbow pads. “I’ve got it.”

Miya nodded as well before moving his skateboard out beside him. “Good. Okay, when you’re about to skate, there are two main positions people take…”

Since then, you’d been out to the skate park with Miya almost every day- sometimes practicing, sometimes just goofing off- and over the course of two weeks, you had the basics mastered. Then, after three months, you had an intermediate knowledge of skating. And finally, after six months of practice and studying six out of seven days a week, you were almost at the same level as Miya. Your fear of it had gradually disappeared- although you still tended to avoid overly extravagant tricks and high ramps. You still didn’t want to race in the “S.” But now you could tag along with your boyfriend and his friends whenever they went out to skate for fun, and on private dates with just you and Miya. And that was enough for you.

#miya sk8 the infinity #miya chinen #miya sk8 #miya x reader #miya headcanons #sk8 the infinity hcs #sk8 the infinity x reader #reader x miya #sk8 the infinity #anime

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 2 years

Text

Wisdom Teeth- Marvel One Shot

Y/N has to get her wisdom teeth taken out, and her friends, Spider-Man and Deadpool, are there to take care of her

“Just gave Y/N a valium pill!” Wade said, holding his phone out in front of him, “now let the fun begin!”

“Wade, put that away,” Peter scolded, “help me get Y/N into the car.”

“But how am I supposed to record all the funny stuff she’s gonna end up saying?”

“I’m not gonna say anything funny,” Y/N slurred.

“Ha! That’s what you think, doll. Just wait until that pill really kicks in.”

“Remind me where we’re going?” Y/N asked, trying her best to walk without help.

“The SHIELD med bay, Y/N,” Peter answered.

“Oh… why?”

“Because you’re getting your wisdom teeth out, remember? Gosh, you are out of it.”

Peter helped Y/N slide into the SHIELD hover-car. He sat down in the backseat next to her while Wade took the wheel in the front. Y/N slumped forward in her seat; she would have fallen over completely were it not for Peter, who gripped her by the shoulders to keep her upright.

…

When the group arrived at the SHIELD med-bay, Y/N could barely walk. Peter was tempted to just lift her up and carry her the rest of the way, but he knew he’d never hear the end of it if Y/N found out about it. So, he let Y/N lean on him all the way to the operating room.

“Where’re we?” Y/N slurred, “are we on Morag?”

“Nope, still on Earth, Y/N,” Peter answered gently.

A SHIELD nurse walked in shortly followed by an anesthesiologist and a surgeon.

“Have her lay down here,” the nurse instructed, gesturing to a dentist’s chair.

“Y/N, I’m gonna let you down slowly, okay?”

“Mmhm,” Y/N replied dazedly.

Peter tried his best to lower Y/N into the chair as gracefully as he could, but Y/N almost fell out twice.

“I’m afraid only one of you can stay for this next part,” the surgeon said, “we don’t want the room to be too crowded.”

“Got it,” Peter said, “Wade, you’re up.”

…

Y/N watched Peter leave with a sad look in her eyes. She watched Wade enter her field of vision. He took her hand and started rubbing circles into it.

“Hey, Y/N, remember me?” He asked.

“Wade, where’d Peter go?”

“He just had to step out for a minute, don’t worry, he’ll be back as soon as you wake up.”

Y/N felt the nurse place a foam ball in her other hand.

“Squeeze that for me, sweetheart,” the nurse said.

Y/N squeezed as hard as she could manage, but she felt so weak that she wasn’t sure if she was actually squeezing anything. Y/N flinched when she saw the anesthesiologist pull out a needle.

“Wade, I’m scared,” Y/N said, tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I know, I know,” Wade said, “but it’ll just be a small little pinch and then you’ll go to sleep. And hey, I promise we can get ice cream after this. How does that sound?”

Y/N nodded. She barely felt the needle enter her arm.

“Count backwards from ten for us, Y/N,” the anesthesiologist said.

“Ten, nine…eight…seven…”

Y/N was finding it difficult to keep counting. She blinked once, twice, then her eyes stayed shut. The last thing she felt before drifting off was Wade’s hand letting go of hers.

…

Y/N woke up to pain. So much pain. Her mouth felt like it had been smashed with a block of concrete, and when she ran her tongue over her gums, she tasted blood.

“Hey, she’s waking up.”

Y/N opened her eyes to her friends standing over her.

“How are you feeling, my little chipmunk?” Wade asked.

“Chi-unk?” Y/N tried to say, but her lips felt numb. She felt around with her tongue and tasted cotton on either side of her mouth. Her cheeks were also numb. Y/N brought a hand up to her cheek, but Peter gently grabbed it and put it back down.

“You can’t touch your face yet, Y/N,” he said, “it’s okay, we’re gonna get you home.”

Y/N felt herself being lifted up into a bridal carry. She looked up into Peter’s lenses.

“I ‘an walk,” Y/N protested.

“Sorry, Y/N, but you could barely walk on valium, you’d fall over if you tried to walk now.”

Peter carried Y/N to the hovercar that was parked on the helicarrier landing pad and placed Y/N across the backseats. He sat down on the floor next to her and ran a hand through her hair. Wade put the car in gear and started to fly up into the air.

The trip home happened in a haze for Y/N. One minute she was in the hovercar, and the next minute she was being laid down in her bed. Y/N closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she had no recollection of the past few hours. Y/N sat up in bed and looked around. There were discarded rolls of cotton in a nearby trashcan, and Peter was sitting in a chair by her bedside.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“You don’t remember anything?” Peter asked.

“I remember you guys gave me a pill, then we got in some fancy SHIELD car, and then Wade was with me, and there was a needle.”

“That pretty much sums up the first half,” Peter said, “you got your wisdom teeth out. The surgery only took about twenty minutes. They brought you out, and we took you home.”

Y/N looked around for Wade, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Wade?” Y/N asked.

“He’s…” Peter paused, “I don’t know. He just left as soon as we got you in bed.”

“Surprise!” Came a sing-song voice.

The door to Y/N’s room swung open to reveal Wade, carrying a bowl of ice cream. Y/N’s eyes lit up. It was her favorite flavor of ice cream, topped with whip cream and sprinkles.

“Wade.” Peter’s lenses narrowed, “you know she’s not supposed to have that yet.”

“Pssh, you worry too much,” Wade said, handing the bowl to a very excited Y/N, “what could happen?”

…

“This could happen,” Peter said as he held Y/N’s hair back.

Y/N vomited into the trashcan that had been left in her room. Not an hour had passed after eating the ice cream and she was already regurgitating all of it.

“Okay, when the doc said ‘no dairy’, I assumed he meant straight up whole milk,” Wade said, “I didn’t think ice cream counted.”

Peter rubbed Y/N’s back with his other hand as she retched. Y/N was never going to look at a bowl of ice cream again. When her retching had turned to dry heaves, Peter helped her get up and guided her back to bed. He grabbed a washcloth and dabbed at her mouth. Y/N leaned back against the pillows, absolutely exhausted by just vomiting.

“Sorry,” Y/N mumbled.

“Not your fault,” Peter replied, glaring at Wade.

…

Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness for hours. She felt a hand gently shaking her shoulder.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice echoed, “dinner time.”

Y/N groaned and pulled the covers over her head.

‘I know, I know, but you have to eat something. Come on, I made you some chicken broth. It’s got really tiny noodles in it, it should be easy on your mouth.”

Y/n groaned again and let Peter help her sit up. She tried to take the bowl of soup from Peter but he gripped it firmly.

“Ah ah, I don’t want you lifting anything,” he said, “let me do it.”

Y/N’s face turned red as Peter spoon-fed her the chicken broth with noodles.

“This is embarrassing,” Y/N mumbled.

“Yeah, but you’d do the same for me,” Peter reasoned.

Y/N only finished half of the soup before her eyes started to drift closed again.

“Wait, you can’t go to sleep yet. It’s time for your next dose of painkillers.”

Without opening her eyes, Y/N held her hand out for Peter to dump a small, white pill into. She took it and washed it down with a glass of water left by her nightstand.

“Now you can sleep,” Peter said.

Y/N was asleep before Peter finished his sentence.

…

3 days later

Y/N crept through the alley. If her intel was right, a crime gang should be meeting here any minute now. Y/N paused when she heard voices. By the sound of the discussion, it was definitely the gang she was looking for. Y/N charged up ice crystals and leapt into their path.

“Party’s over, boys,” Y/N said, though it caused pain to surge through her mouth.

The members of the gang all wore looks of shock on their faces. They went to draw their weapons, but they were all quickly immobilized by… webs? Y/N looked up as she heard the tell-tale sound of webs shooting through the air. Spider-Man crouched on a nearby fire-escape, his lenses narrowed menacingly. He leapt down and landed right in front of Y/N. He turned to the incapacitated gang members.

“Excuse us for a moment, fellas,” Spider-Man said, “Blizzard and I have something to discuss.”

Spider-Man turned back to Y/N and folded his arms across his chest.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, “Your mouth’s not healed yet, you should be in bed!”

“I took painkillers before I left,” Y/N argued, “I feel fine!”

Y/N held a hand to her cheek. Despite the painkillers, her mouth was still very, very sore. But Spider-Man didn’t need to know that.

“We’re going home.” Spider-Man put an arm around Y/N’s waist and pulled her close, “Now.”

“Hey, uh, Spidey?” the gang leader called, “what about us? You’re not just gonna leave us here, right?”

Spider-Man sighed.

“The police are on their way,” he said, “and make better choices next time. You’re lucky Deadpool wasn’t out here.”

With that, Spider-Man swung himself and Y/N away from the alley and back home.

…

Spider-Man opened the door and the sound of a blender running assaulted Y/N’s ears.

“Wade, what are you making?” Y/N called.

“Milkshakes,” Wade called back.

Y/N ran out of Spider-Man’s grip and into the kitchen.

“Can I have one?” Y/N asked, reaching for a freshly made milkshake.

Wade smacked Y/N’s wrist lightly with a spoon.

“Naughty patients who run off to fight crime in the middle of recovery don’t get any milkshakes.”

“Please?” Y/N gave her best pouty face.

Wade tilted his head back dramatically and groaned, his chef’s hat almost falling off.

“Fine,” Wade grumbled, “but don’t go running off again, or I’ll make sure you stay put and you won’t like it.”

“let me guess, bribery?” Y/N asked as she sipped on her milkshake.

“Sedatives,” Wade answered with a smile.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked down at her milkshake. Wade laughed and shook his head.

“I didn’t drug your milkshake, silly. Oh, but you should’ve seen your face. I should’ve taken a picture.”

Peter took off his mask and joined Y/N and Wade in the kitchen. Wade poured the contents of the blender into a glass and handed it to Peter. Peter drank from his milkshake as Wade grabbed one for himself. It would be a while before Y/N could go out again, but for now, she had everything she needed right here.

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 10 months

Text

I did stand-up comedy for the first time last night. It went much better than I expected, though keep in mind that I have severe anxiety and I expected it to be a colossal catastrophe that would leave me never able to face anyone involved in comedy in this city again. Here is the story of how that happened - a story that will not really be interesting to anyone who isn't me or invested in my interest in trying comedy, but I'm recording it for posterity anyway.

Okay, okay. So here’s what happened. I was at my parents’ place with my brother, and he mentioned having a show that night (he’s a comedian), and I decided on fairly short notice to go with him. The show was free, it’s a pub that runs comedy on Monday nights. My brother was performing, as were a bunch of other comedians of varying levels of experience. Some were good. Some were not so good. My brother was good. Can’t complain about free comedy in a pub.

I’d not been to that comedy night before; I’ve been to another nearby pub that does a similar thing, but not to this one. I have, however, been to that bar before. It’s a great bar. The only gay bar in the city that’s also the kind of bar I like, which is a pub where you can just sit down and drink a beer. All other gay bars around here are taken over by dance floors. And more than that, it’s the kind of pub I like. By which I mean it’s in a basement and dimly lit and not too big and not too fancy and the sort of people who go there are cool. Honestly, it’s weird that I haven’t been to their comedy night before. (For the record, it’s not a queer-themed comedy night or anything, just a regular comedy night hosted by a gay bar.)

These pub nights have about six or seven comedians who do about eight minutes each, plus the host and a headliner who does a bit longer. You get an actual spot on the bill by contacting the owners and requesting one, and they give out spots based on various criteria, obviously trying to book the best comedians they can. However, each week they also reserve one spot as the “lotto”. Where anyone not on the bill (literally anyone, it turns out, no credentials necessary) who wants to perform can put their name in a pitcher, and when they get to that spot, they draw a name and that person can perform. Apparently it’s common for comedians to show up to these nights just to put their name in the lotto, getting it once in a while to build up their stage time.

My brother and I got there a bit before the show started, and we sat at the bar. He told me I should put my name in the lotto. I hadn’t planned on that at all. A while ago I wrote about seven minutes worth of stuff, and have thought I want to try it somewhere sometime, but hadn’t made concrete plans. I’ve said it out loud in my bedroom a few times. I’ve recorded myself saying it to see how long it takes and how it sounds, and then tried listening back and cringed so hard from hearing my own voice that I had to turn it off after a couple of seconds. I’ve told all this to my brother, and he’s encouraged me to try to book an open spot and get started. I’ve been saying I’ll do it at some point, but had made no specific plans until I sat there at the bar with my brother before the show.

“You just have to try,” he said. “Let me put your name in the lotto.” I told him to go talk to the comedians and find out how many names were in the pitcher already. He came back and said only one, and there are usually more names than that, but in this case it would mean a 50/50 shot. I asked him if it’ll remain 50/50 by the time the lotto spot actually comes up (they go at the end, right before the headliner), and he said probably not, probably lots more comedians will walk in and add their names, and my chances of getting picked will be low. But just putting it in there is a step worth taking. I said yeah, okay, put my name in so I can call it a step.

He was right – throughout the night, lots more people walked in and put their names in the pitcher. Enough so I became pretty sure I wouldn’t get picked, and I tried to just enjoy the night. My brother did his spot, he was good. So were a few of the others.

When the lotto spot came up, my brother started filming on his phone while the host introduced the draw. He was filming it with the idea that he’d then have a video of my first comedy performance, including the introduction. I whispered to him not to bother, I won’t get picked so he’s just filming a lotto draw for no reason. He told me I need to be ready for them to call my name. I said they’re not going to, look how many names are in there. We were still arguing when the host called my name.

Now that I think of it, I’m not 100% sure they really did draw my name. The host is a friend of my brother’s, and it was my brother who put my name in, so he’d have told the comedians that that name is his sister’s. It is possible that the host just wanted to see what his friend’s sister was going to do, so he called my name regardless of what actually got drawn. Or maybe he really did pick mine. I don’t know. My brother did tell me that the comedians, who spent most of the show sitting together in the little area behind the stage and not paying too much attention to the comedy, stopped talking among themselves while I was performing, and stood by the stage to watch me (I didn't notice this since it was behind me). Apparently, he said, they were all curious to see what his sister was like.

So… then I did comedy. I went up there. Put my phone down on the stool beside me. Hit play on the stopwatch app right before I started talking, so I could keep track of how much time I’d done. That’s how I know I did 5 minutes and 45 seconds. I think switching to the clock app is also how I accidentally turned off my voice recorder app, which is annoying because I’d tried to use that to record my own set, but when I finished I realized the app had been closed and it hadn’t recorded. Which means I now am, in fact, glad that my brother filmed it for me (actually filmed it, while I was trying to just record the audio with my own phone). He’s supposed to send me the video later today.

I will say, it wasn’t as scary as I’d expected. Mainly because I’d expected it to be unimaginably terrifying. Once I was actually up there, and realized it could not live up to the fear, I calmed right down. I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I’d thought I’d be.

It helps that it was the best possible circumstances. It wasn’t a gay comedy night, but it was a gay bar, the crowd was pretty friendly and cool. The crowd was also small, even for a pub night. And the first thing I did was tell them I’ve not done this before, and I definitely got some extra generosity and goodwill out of the audience for that. So I can’t really say stand-up comedy isn’t terrifying. It isn’t terrifying if you do it under those best possible circumstances. Few things are terrifying under the best possible circumstances.

In all the time I’d spent thinking about doing this, I’d told myself I need to expect that on the first time, I will be absolute shit and they won’t laugh at all. If I get a single laugh in six minutes, I need to see that as a victory. I need to be prepared for no laughs at all, because if I’m not prepared for it, then I’ll be disappointed when I get up there and do get no laughs at all. Because I’ve never done it before, even proper comedians don’t do great on their first time with untested material, and I am far from a proper comedian. Have no expectations, I told myself.

But that didn’t happen! I’m not saying, you know, “I killed it”. They didn’t laugh constantly or anything. And I know they were being a bit overly generous because I was new. But still, they laughed multiple times. And that is so much better than I had prepared myself to expect. It was fucking cool!

I’d typed my whole set up word for word, and when I’ve recorded it in my bedroom, I’ve read it off my laptop screen. Obviously I knew it wouldn’t work that way on stage. I’d memorized the essence of the jokes, but hadn’t memorized it word for word, and knew that when I was up there, I’d just have to hope I could remember most of the wording but also know it’s going to be looser and not sound exactly like what I’d prepared. However, I ended up deviating from the script even more than I’d expected. I pretty much followed the audience. When they laughed at something, I doubled down and expanded on that, even if I hadn’t planned to do so beforehand.

Also, the set I actually did was only a bit of my original script. The set I wrote on my laptop, which takes about seven minutes when I say it to myself, is one I knew I wouldn’t do all of on stage. I knew my first spot would be five or six minutes, and something that takes seven minutes in my bedroom will take much longer on stage (building in pauses and stuff), so the idea wasn’t to say the whole thing. The idea was to have more written than I was going to say, so that I had room to make some cuts, and take the best parts of it for the actual set.

As it happened, I made a lot of cuts. Almost all of it was cut, actually. I ended up spending the entire five minutes and forty-fives seconds on pretty much one bit. One bit that had multiple parts to it so I could drag it out for that long, but it was all on the same topic. And I now have to thank my Tumblr comedy friend @my-excellent-bicycle for that. Because I sent them a recording of my set a while ago, and they told me they laughed specifically at one bit. That feedback was very helpful, as it made me decide to spend my entire set on that one bit when I actually got on stage. I expanded it a fair bit, and like I said, pretty much just stayed on stuff when it made the audience laugh.

I’m not saying I was amazing (I definitely dragged it out too much, could have cut some stuff and moved the punchlines closer together and made that shorter and have time for another bit, to be honest I was intentionally going into too much detail on that one topic so I wouldn’t have to do a second topic, since I was only really confident in that one), but it was pretty well the best a first try at that could go. Afterward, a bunch of comedians and non-comedians came up and told me I did well. Which I realize is just the decent thing to do, but at least one of them must have meant it, because he gave me details for an open mic night he runs elsewhere, and asked me to show up and do that set again there. That guy happened to be a comedian I’ve seen before and find really funny, but I’d never spoken to him before, so that was fucking cool.

And then I stayed, for about 90 minutes after the whole show ended, hanging out at the bar with my brother and some other comedians. It was so much fun. I realized it’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Just spent a night at a pub hanging out with people. Met people. Talked to people. Talked to comedians who told me the set I’d just done was good for a first time, so obviously, that was incredibly fucking cool. But even if you took that away, even if they weren’t cool comedians and I wasn’t super excited because I’d just performed, that would still have been fun. Just hanging out at a bar talking to people I liked. Did not at any point in the night get taken out of the moment by the feeling of “these friendships have all changed irrevocably and I barely know these people anymore” – which is what tends to happen on the few times I’ve tried to have a night out with my friends in the last year or so. There was none of that last night. It was just fun.

I met one drunk guy who's into some British comedy and we talked about the Simon Amstell/Noel Fielding "motorbike made of jealousy" Buzzcocks incident for about ten minutes. I told him to watch Grandma's House. If he actually manages to remember that advice today and follows it, that'll be by far the best thing I did for anyone last night.

So that's my story of the first time I tried stand-up comedy. I'm hoping the modifying word "first" will be necessary in that sentence, I definitely want to take that guy up on his offer to do his open mic thing. My life is falling apart a bit, but that one thing is fucking cool. My advice to anyone interested in trying stand-up comedy is, I guess, have a sibling who's been doing it for thirteen years and therefore knows the local scene very well and can guide you into it, get lucky with having your name drawn in a lottery (or possibly just with your brother having friends who want to see you perform so they'll call your name anyway), and then try performing under the best possible circumstances to a small and very friendly and generous crowd. Try that, that's what worked for me.

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sukacheri · 1 year

Text

2wink Week 2023 Day 5 - Past & Future

the luck of backstreets [AO3 or keep reading below]

2wink | Pre-canon one-shot | 2.7k words

Halfway though their usual way back home, Hinata and Yuuta were struck with an obstacle. Orange cones lined up along the sidewalk blocking it off from pedestrians while a group of construction workers drilled into the concrete. Next to him, Yuuta glared at the noise, pulling his coat tighter around himself. “Now what?”

Or: A stroke of bad luck delivers fortune in the form of the twins rescuing two kittens.

a/n: so this is set in the past only and not the future but ive always wanted to write the twins getting their 2 cats! so here! enjoy!

@2winkweek

Halfway though their usual way back home, Hinata and Yuuta were struck with an obstacle. Nothing like the looming brutes leading up to a final boss like you’d find in one of the video games at the arcade, no, their obstacle didn’t carry axes and bloodlust in their eyes.

Their obstacle was simple, harmless, but still an impossible to clear goal. It was a lot like a tree having fallen on a path, and when playing the game you think to yourself ‘Ugh! Just step over it!’ Hinata now sees it’s not as simple to do that.

Orange cones lined up along the sidewalk blocking it off from pedestrians while a group of construction workers drilled into the concrete. Hinata had heard the noise of it a block away, but since there wasn’t anything set up that morning when he and Yuuta had walked through, he didn’t expect it to block off the path they needed to go home.

Next to him, Yuuta glared at the noise, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

“Now what?” he said.

Hinata surveyed the situation. It’d be getting dark soon, but soon wasn’t until at least another hour and it was already dropping degrees outside, so waiting wasn’t an option. Obviously they couldn’t go barreling through the construction, regardless if it was safe or not, since there was a chance they’d get caught and fined. The last thing they needed was to owe money they didn’t have.

They could walk further down the road to get past the construction which wasn’t the end of the world, but Hinata could feel his entire body sagging with exhaustion, so before embarking on the extra steps, he took a final glance around.

There was a convenience store off to the side of the street, its ‘We’re Open!’ sign buzzed with a dim light, not yet brighter than the growing dusk. It didn’t seem to be pressed directly to the back of the building behind it, none of the buildings on that side of the street did. If they were lucky, once they got behind them they’d be able to walk through and make it to the other side just fine.

Hinata started walking and Yuuta followed right behind despite his protests, “Where exactly are we going, Aniki? We can’t loiter inside a store for an hour. Haven’t we, um, borrowed from this one before anyways?”

“Aw, lighten up~ We’re not going inside.” Hinata walked past the door and turned around the corner of the building. “We’ll just walk through the alley. I think it’ll take us all the way though.”

“Wait!” Yuuta grabbed onto Hinata’s arm, tugging him backwards a step. How Yuuta had this much energy still after performing all day for just a few dollars was beyond Hinata; his own legs ached and he wanted nothing more than to just get home already.

“What?”

Yuuta shot a nervous glance down the alley, his eyes scrunched with suspicion. “Aren’t there like, murderers in alleys? Stabbers?”

Hinata hadn’t considered the thought that there could be sketchy people lurking in an alley and he blamed it on the way his bones felt like lead. Maybe he shouldn’t have given Yuuta his share of dinner last night, he feels overly exhausted. But still, it was daylight out, and not that muggings couldn’t happen during the day, Hinata was really hoping today was one where they all happened at night.

“We’ll be fine.” He settled on, but since Yuuta looked no more convinced, he added, “if anyone jumps out then I’ll handle ‘em! You just run, okay~? I am your super strong older brother after all.”

Hinata walked towards the alley without giving Yuuta a chance to argue. He had a good intuition for danger and he didn’t feel like anyone with a knife was going to jump out at them. Yuuta followed closely behind, grabbing onto the back of Hinata’s jacket, and if he had a protest then he didn’t voice it. He was probably too scared to say anything now that they had entered into the alley.

Looking down it, it did seem as though they would be able to walk straight through and make it to the other end of the street. It also looked like there were no creeps to be found, only regular sized trash bins and not even a large dumpster to hide behind. As far as alleys went, Hinata thought this one to be on the cleaner side, and it looked like all the home and business owners took care to throw their trash away properly in the bins. The only trash left out was a lone cardboard box by the trash bin for the convenience store.

He began walking, but as he passed by the first set of trash bins his brother suddenly yanked him back with a gasp.

“Aniki! Look!” Yuuta pointed at the cardboard box, or rather what was inside it.

A black blob, a furry black blob. Hinata’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“C’mon Yuuta-kun, let’s go. It’s just trash or something.”

“No, it’s not,” Yuuta argued and leaned closer to the box. “It’s… it’s something right? Like a cat? Or a dog?”

Hinata tried to pull Yuuta away from it, not wanting to put him through the experience of seeing a poor dead animal thrown out like trash. “It’s not anything, so let’s keep on going-”

A squeaky mew cut him off.

Yuuta was already crouched, reaching a hand out to it. The kitten hissed with weak spits at Yuuta’s hand, cowering itself into the corner of the box. At the hissing, Yuuta retracted his hand with a jolt.

“It must be so scared…” Yuuta said, frowning at the little black kitten.

Hinata swallowed. His own heartstrings were burning with the need to scoop up the ball of black fluff into his arms and run all the way home with it, but his mind nagged at him about the logistics. How could they take care of a cat when they’re out all day? What do cats need? What about the cost of food and litter?

Would their home even be safe for a cat?

He opted for no response, and tried to drag Yuuta away from the box. There were few instances like this one, where Hinata felt so lost in the face of the cruelness of the world that it took the words right out of him. And in this one, he couldn’t bear to have Yuuta deal with the heart wrenching feeling of a poor kitten left out in the cold. If they moved now they could just forget about it, and Hinata could hope it wouldn’t haunt Yuuta’s dreams too badly.

Yuuta pulled his arm out from Hinata’s hands, his eyes flicking up to the gradually darkening sky and back down to the kitten letting out another mew.

“Aniki, it’s supposed to snow tonight.”

Hinata bit the inside of his cheek.

Yuuta stared at him, his eyebrows pinched with anxiety he usually only reserved for their time at home.

“Okay, let’s take it. Maybe we can find a shelter to drop it off at tomorrow,” Hinata said.

In an instant, Yuuta was crouched back down and trying to place his hand near the cat. He clicked his tongue at it, trying to offer it kind words but it continued spitting in the way that kittens do. Hinata kneeled next to his brother, the new view letting him spy that there was a flush of brown fur behind the black kitten.

“Ah, Yuuta-kun, hold on.” He pulled his sleeves down on his arms, making sure they covered his wrists. He’d have to live with some knicks on his fingers, but he doubted such a small thing could get him that bad. “Okay, I’ll get it and then you need to get the other one real quick okay~?”

“Other one? What other one- ah, wait!” Yuuta quickly mimicked his brother and pulled his sleeves down, having more luck covering himself up to his knuckles.

Hinata scooped up the black kitten easily enough. He had gone in with less caution than Yuuta was exercising, and resigned himself to being scratched. As he thought though, kittens this young had claws about as useless as an umbrella in a hurricane.

Beneath the black one was a brown kitten with a variety of markings and stripes that was much less spitty and hissing than the black one had been, so Yuuta picked it up with a single try.

“Oh! It’s a.. These are called tabbies right? She’s so cute.” Yuuta smiled at the kitten he held in his hand. With a smile like that, Hinata didn’t see a visit to the shelter to drop these two off any time soon.

It’d hurt too much to break Yuuta’s heart. It felt like all their life lately has become the worst sort of routine of waking up, going to school, running to the busiest streets afterwards to do some cantrip performances, and then trying to make it home before it got dark. Their weekends were spent exclusively performing all day and hitting the grocery store to hopefully be able to buy food for the week.

If Hinata could do it all on his own, he would. He’s counting down the days until he looks old enough to get a proper job and get good money, but for now he has to rely on their twin schtick to actually rake in any money from their performances. So, he really can’t bring himself to take away this one happiness from Yuuta, not when Hinata hasn’t been able to give him anything of substance in so long.

The kitten in his arms began to struggle, meowing and hissing, and shaking Hinata out of his thoughts. It looked way too thin to be healthy and rested far too lightly in his arms, but with determined mewls it continued trying to crawl from Hinata’s arms. Each time he readjusted it and brought it back to his chest again, it tried to get out and move along his arm to where Yuuta stood, his own kitten mewing but showing no attempt to move from where Yuuta bundled it up in his coat.

If there was one thing Hinata understood, it was the protective nature one had for their siblings, especially in dire circumstances like these.

“Lucky you~ You get to carry both of them! See how mine is trying to get to your’s meowing?”

Yuuta looked between the two and opened his mouth with a small gasp. “Oh, you’re right. They’re family alright. Okay, okay, I’ll take yours.”

Hinata shuffled closer to Yuuta and held his arms out, easing the kitten next to the other one in Yuuta’s arm. He thought that would be the end of the meowing, because wow, kittens really knew how to meow a lot, but no. Both of them continued meowing together, though it was less frantic than before so Hinata figured it must be from hunger or the cold. He helped Yuuta pull his coat tighter around himself so he could cover the two fluff balls easier, hopefully solving the most pressing issue of the cold right now.

“Let’s get going.” Hinata started walking down towards the end of the alley. “We have some cans of tuna at home, they should be able to eat that for now.”

“Better they have it than you try to force it on me again,” Yuuta said, grimacing as he followed pace with Hinata.

When they got home, thankfully to an empty house so they didn’t have to smuggle the kittens in, Hinata ushered Yuuta up to their bedroom telling him to start making a little bed for them out of whatever spare towels and rags they had. He would have loved to devote a spare blanket to a temporary bed, but being in the middle of winter meant that all of their blankets were in use to keep warm through such dreadful nights.

Hinata grabbed the can of tuna from the cupboard where they kept their cans, making note that they’d need to buy more soon. No matter how much Yuuta hated it, it was a cheap sort of protein good to stock up on for a rainy day. He opened another cabinet for a plate, and finally a drawer for a spoon. Feeling properly equipped to feed 2 hungry kittens, he went upstairs, the previous exhaustion plaguing his body having been swept away with the responsibility of more mouths to feed.

Yuuta had managed to create a shape that looked like the cat beds he’s seen in stores before, a nice pillowy bottom with the rags and a small washcloth, and then a towel wrapping around it in a circle to give it a sort of wall. Both kittens certainly seemed pleased with it, seeing as how they both were curled up in the center of it. He almost didn’t want to open the can and disturb them from a well earned rest, but he knew it’d be best for them to eat and get some food in them.

“Okay~ Here kitty-kitties~” Hinata cooed and opened the tab on the can.

Neither kitten stirred, not until Hinata had the lid fully off and begun scooping the tuna onto the plate with the spoon. As soon as the smell hit the both of them, they were up and stumbling to where Hinata had pushed the plate closer to the bed.

“Y’know, Yuuta-kun. You could take a hint or two from them. See, they love it!”

Yuuta glared at him, though it melted off his face as he watched the kittens start eating. “They’ll continue eating my share, thanks but no thanks.”

“Who’s saying they’re staying?” Hinata asked, his face blank.

“You know I’m not falling for that. Your faux-seriousness has lost all effect on me,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I know there’s no way you’d be able to send these two off to a shelter.”

Hinata’s lips turned up into a grin, and he reached a hand out to pet the black kitten as it ate. “Yeah, yeah. We’re keeping them. So get naming~ Have you checked yet to see if they’re boys or girls?”

“I checked while you were downstairs. Both girls.” Yuuta reached to pet the tabby. “So, you’ll name that one and I’ll do this one.”

“Sardine.”

Yuuta sighed.

“No, you are not naming it sardine. I’m vetoing that.”

Hinata’s smile deepened, and he couldn’t help but laugh while still trying to protest in the most serious manner he could muster. “Yuuta-kun, our great aunt on our mother’s side was named Sardine. It’s a family name. Are you really going to veto such a deep and meaningful nomenclature?”

“Aniki, shut up. We’re thirteen now so don’t act like a five year old when naming her. See, I’m going to take a day to get to know mine and her personality so I choose a good name. Maybe you should do the same~” Yuuta’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Actually, why not write down a list and I’ll grade each name. That way I know for sure you aren’t picking a stupid one~”

The rest of the night went by with further bickering about the importance of a good name versus the significance of completely super real family ones, and the kittens had gone right back into their beds to sleep once they were done eating. They curled up with each other in a way that struck Hinata’s heart with memories of Yuuta climbing into his bed after nightmares when they were younger.

The irony of finding two lost kittens with nowhere to go wasn’t lost on Hinata, but he hoped that he could give them a good home from the start. That he could bring home enough cans of cat food and treats and toys to keep them happy from the beginning of their lives and all throughout better than he could have done for Yuuta in the past. Just to protect these two before they’re called something like unwanted monsters, it would make Hinata feel like he could pay some sort of karma forward for the stuff he failed to do in the past.

Yeah, maybe naming the little black kitten Sardine wasn’t going to help with all that. Hinata will have to workshop it and find something better for the karma to work off of.

Something non-fish related or Yuuta really will smack him.

#2winkWeek2023 #2wink #enstars fic #ensemble stars fic #hinata aoi #yuuta aoi #my writing

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actress4him · 2 years

Text

Whumptober 2022

ALT. PROMPT 8 - MADE TO WATCH

I’m hoping that this scenario will eventually actually be a part of the Querencia story. I honestly could have gone on and on in much more detail, and if I ever get to it chronologically in the series I definitely will! For now, though, I just focused on the prompt itself.

Contains: lady whump, dude whump, captivity, superpower based torture, referenced shocks, referenced water torture, mild blood, referenced beatings, death mention, self-deprecating thoughts

Liliana has lost count of the number of times they’ve come in and hurt her teammates. There’s a pattern to it, though. They started with Quinn, the leader, then moved to the second in command, Nari, then on to Alex, and Jamil. Then it started over again. And again. They always know whose turn it is next, and she’s not sure if that makes the anticipation better, or worse.

The only one they haven’t hurt is her. She’s new, and just a healer. They don’t have beef with her, apparently. Or at least, they didn’t until she healed Quinn the first time they brought him back into the large cell. That’s when she got chained to the wall opposite the door with thick, metal cuffs that cover her entire hand, cramping her fingers inside. Her right hand joints, in particular - the ones with arthritis - are in so much pain she wants to cry, but she also knows it’s nothing compared to what the others are feeling. And now she can’t do anything about it. Even if they were able to make it across the cell to where she’s stuck, she can’t touch them in order to heal their many wounds.

So they mostly just stay on the other side, close to the door. It isn’t personal, she’s sure. They’re all in so much pain, it’s too much trouble for them to come over to sit next to her, and besides, they’re busy taking care of each other, trying to make each other as comfortable as possible.

All she can do is watch.

Quinn is dragged back in dripping wet from being repeatedly plunged into a tub of water, trembling all over with aftershocks because they also pumped him full of drugs to make his electricity work against him.

Nari is dumped onto the concrete floor with dozens of slivers of metal embedded into her skin. Once the power-suppressing drugs they gave her wear off, it takes her hours of work, trying so hard not to scream and cry, to remove them all, while Quinn solemnly collects each one into a bloody pile.

Alex stumbles back with a grin on his face still, but he barely makes it to his corner before collapsing and curling into as small of a ball as his giant body can form. The smile is the only part of him that’s recognizable. The rest is covered in blood and bruises, his own round of drugs making him weak for once in his life.

Jamil is less obviously injured, but he walks in with stiff movements, wincing, everything on his body sore. Rather than hurt him directly, they used the same drugs as for Quinn and forced him to replicate dozens of times, beating up and killing the replicas over and over again so that Jamil had to feel every single thing.

All Liliana can do is watch, helpless and alone. Useless, unable to do her job, hating herself for the jealousy she feels when one of them lays a head on the other’s shoulder, and hating the people who are doing this to her team.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t help, I…I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks and she falls silent, staring down at her useless hands in the stupid, stupid cuffs with tears burning her eyes.

“It’s okay.” Nari smiles, but her voice is laced with exhaustion and pain. “It’s not your fault, Lili. We’ll…we’ll get out of this somehow, okay? It’ll be alright.”

Liliana nods quickly. She didn’t mean for anyone to feel like they had to reassure her, they have way too much to worry about. She doesn’t know how to reassure them, though, so she just stays quiet, out of the way…

And watches.

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haleigh-sloth · 2 years

Note

Hi! Lovely blog you’ve got here! I tend to lurk, but wanted to let you know that I enjoy seeing your takes.

Do you think being responsible for AFO’s comeback could be the plot beat Endeavor needs to (finally) realize his wrongdoings? Like, it’ll catalyze his Realization Moment™ that picking being a hero over a father was the wrong choice?

Hi! Thank you for the compliment 😭

So, um. I'll be honest with you. I really, really wish I could give a concrete answer on what I THINK is going to happen. But the dead serious truth of the matter is that I have absolutely no idea what to realistically expect at this point for Endeavor. There is a very, very sensible way for his arc to go. And Horikoshi has put Endeavor in positions for him to fail repeatedly, which is good. Like, him not getting it yet, throughout the story is good. That's the point of his character. To actually change. And literally up until last chapter it seemed very promising like we were going exactly in the right direction.

Unfortunately though, we are so far into his arc and on the downward slope heading toward the end, and as of last week we still....haven't seen anything. And last week did absolutely nothing but confuse the fuck out of me.

I'm not gonna even touch on the huge retconning issue with the dead daddy because I've said my piece on that (and I agree here with @hamliet). Instead I'll focus on his little speech and explain what the framing of it indicated to me, as someone reading this chapter, and explain why I'm super fucking confused on where his arc is supposed to be going.

Chapter 356 was portrayed as like...a big, meaningful moment for Endeavor. Right? I mean, that's how it was shown to us. We got the reason for his hero name, we saw his younger self. Which--as I have said a million times--PORTRAYS HONESTY IN THE CHARACTER. And just as a whole the chapter was dramatic in tone.

Endeavor isn't child-coded at all though, so his younger self symbolism looked a little different, which is good! But his younger self was still supposed to be telling the truth about his character. Horikoshi stuck to that pattern of Kid = Honest:

His teenage self starts off saying things that we can all agree with. And it all continues going this way and feels sensible. But when I start to feel very confused, is here:

He's grabbing his younger self, who is supposed to be telling the truth here, by the neck. As if choking and trying to silence him? That's what the art looks like to me. So like, why is present Endeavor rejecting the honest words of his past self? Literally THE chapter immediately before this he puts himself down in the same way his younger self is putting his current self down:

So I'm led to believe that chapter 356 is building off of chapter 355, but....

Then we see Endeavor burning his younger self. Which, to me looks like he's rejecting it, but let's say he's not and that he's fusing with it, I guess.

That doesn't change the fact that he basically ignores everything from the speech before hand, the chapter before that, and continues saying that "fighting until I can't anymore and refusing to give up in fights is what keeps me going, and I'm going to end this fight right now because it's my duty."

He, again, embraces his duty as a professional hero, while not once last chapter did he mention his family. Not. Fucking. Once.

So like.....what was the ending conclusion there?

I honestly DON'T KNOW. HERO? FATHER? Like, you have to choose. You can't have both. This manga has reiterated that time and time again for Endeavor specifically. He can't have both. He’s done too much damage to have both.

Endeavor defeating AFO here, only for it to have given AFO the opportunity to come back stronger and better is hilarious. AND it also leaves room for Endeavor to fail AGAIN, and reflect on what his position needs to be. But.....if that's the case, what was the point of last chapter? How close to the end is going to keep failing before he finally realizes wtf he needs to do? Because like....we're getting pretty close. And the Todofam sub plot is NOT the only plot in this manga that needs resolution. So as to why we're dragging his failures out more and more and more this close to the end, with less and less promise of success on HIS end....I don't know.

Do you see what I mean? Like....I feel like I'm going crazy trying to make sense of it, and tie it to current and past events in his arc.

So TL;DR: Endeavor is the messiest written character in this manga, imo. I'd say worse than Hawks at this point. So therefore, I have no fucking clue what to actually expect. I know what SHOULD happen, but I don't know what WILL happen.

#this is the last grievance about his arc i'm gonna type because #idk what else i can say #anonymous #bnha asks #boku no hero academia #bnha 357 #bnha 356 #bnha 355 #todoroki enji #bnha endeavor #btw i say all of this as someone who has had very little complaints about endeavor as a whole #like i get the issues that exist with his arc and that's fine #but i mostly just take it for what it is #but last week genuinely threw me for a loop and just #made me completely shut off to anything going on with him until i see actual progress #but yeah i don't bitch a lot but this i couldn't ignore

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