#question their logic and tease them for it? yes absolutely but never insult them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hetalia-reacts · 3 years

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👉👈 hecc

Hope u wouldnt mind but headcanons for allies also including Prussia reacting a short s/o ?

I wouldn’t mind at all~

America

Alfred thinks your height is the cutest thing ever

I mean you’re so tiny and he’s so tall!

You can bet he’s going to pick you up a lot if you need something off the shelves

I mean it’s a perfect opportunity to be close to you, help you, and he gets to show off his hero strength

If you suggest a little step stool or climb on the counters he will literally come up with any excuse so that doesn’t happen

Please let him help you like that, or at least let him get it, it makes him feel like he’s your own personal hero

He likes to joke around with you and rest his arm on your head, but only if you actually think that’s funny

If it annoys you or makes you insecure he’ll apologize and won’t do it ever again

The last thing he would want to do is make you mad or insecure

Speaking of insecure, if you dislike your height and think negatively of yourself rest assured your hero is on the way

Will cuddle you and tell you how much he loves you and your height

Constantly reminds you how cute you are and if cute isn’t your style he’ll tell you have cool your height makes you

If you need him to, or really let him have enough time to, he will make a list on why being short is cooler than being tall

Alfred will also not hesitate to stop anyone from bullying you over something like your height

Someone said something mean or unnecessary? Point him at the guy and it’s over for ‘em

Would want to call you something funny as a pet name

like you could be shortstack and he can be beanstalk or something

Alfred is a dork, but he loves you and everything about you

England

Arthur adores your height

It became something he came to really appreciate and love while being with you

He likes that you ask him for help with things that are too high for you to reach

And that you fit perfectly with him when you guys cuddle

Plus not to mention he loves the size difference between you, even if it isn’t a lot it’s something he secretly loves

Never mentions anything about your height for the most part

No teasing or jokes about it

He’s scared that would hurt your feelings or make you feel bad

Plus he knows how it feels to be on the receiving end of bullying for something you can’t change

If you ever bring up being insecure about your height or simply just getting annoyed by it one day he’ll get really defensive of you

Like how could you say that about yourself? About something he adores about you?

Mandatory cuddle session after that

he’s not letting you get away without some encouragement and sweet words

If anyone else mentions it and you get sad, oh boy

They are getting a harsh lecture from him about being a gentlemen/lady

France

Francis doesn’t think much of your height if he’s being honest

Like is it adorable watching you stand on your tippy toes to reach things? Yes of course it is

But does he make it a point to mention it and make your lack of height apparent? No absolutely not

He would get stuff off the shelves for you but only if you were to ask

He’s kind of big on not making you feel less than or like you can’t do things on your own

Admittedly he enjoys being able to rest his chin on the top of your head while you two hug

Very endearing in his mind

If you get insecure about your height he’s there for you every step of the way

Francis can’t stand watching you get sad or angry with yourself, especially over something you have no control over

So he will comfort you through the whole episode

He’ll make you food, cuddle you, compliment you, heck he’d sing to you if that’s what was going to make you feel better

If someone else was making you feel bad about your height Francis would handle the situation

While he isn’t much on fighting He’d gladly square up to someone that made you feel bad about yourself

Or if you’d prefer he’d go over there and just angrily talk it out with the person

In the end, Francis can’t say being short is what drew him to you, but he can appreciate how cute it makes you and how it’s just another part of what makes you beautiful in his eyes

Canada

Matthew enjoys how short you are

And the height difference that it brings

Like how cute is it that you aren’t eye level with him unless you stand on something

And when you have to stand on your tippy-toes to reach something? Or when you climb on stuff to reach stuff?

He lives for it honestly

Would never pick you up to reach stuff, but he did think about it once or twice but figured it would be rude if he did that

Does want to call you a nickname in reference to your height and he will gladly accept any nickname you might want to give him in return

Doesn’t tease you about your height though, he’s not trying to make it a sore subject or anything

If it is a sore subject he’ll be delicate when bringing it up or cracking any seemingly harmless jokes

If you’re getting down on yourself about the height he’s going to cuddle and compliment you for weeks to come

Like makes it a point to bring it up and bring up how great it is

Someone else says something about your height? Well he’s not going to do much to them and would rather comfort you before it starts to hurt your feelings

Expect him to kiss the top of your head a lot or just rest his chin on your head while hugging or cuddling

Matthew will be expecting you to steal his hoodies from him because please it’s so cute they’re giant on you and he loves to see it

Russia

Ivan loves it obviously

I mean he’s a literal giant and seeing you so short compared to him makes his heart do the melting thing

It makes him want to protect you from the world

Even if you are crazy strong and assertive

Picking you up is a habit for him at this point

Like you don’t even have to ask to get something, he just does it

It might be a little insulting, but he’s not meaning for it to be that way

100% rests his hand on your head

Not to demean you or crush you, just to pat your head and have the comfort of knowing you’re there and he’s there for you

If you begin to feel down in the dumps over your height I feel like Ivan would be the one to suggest some logical solutions to it while also being supportive

Like he’ll suggest heels or platform shoes, but he’ll also tell you that you’re perfect just the way you are and you don’t need those things

If someone else says something mean about it

Well the metal pipe may come into play, or some very ominous staring and creepy smiling to mess with the person if you won’t let him handle it physically

Often gives you his scarf or coat to wear

They are gigantic compared to you and he likes to wrap you up in them

China

Yao thinks your height is adorable and has always thought that since first meeting you

He thinks it’s very cute and considering he isn’t the tallest among many it’s kind of nice to be taller than his s/o

Would never try to pick you up to reach things

Or say anything that might be considered mean about your height

He just isn’t about making you feel bad about something like that

Likes to kiss the top of your head or your forehead

If you mention not liking your height Yao goes into mama mode

Questions about who made you feel this way, why they said that, and why they’re wrong are flying out of his mouth at a mile a minute

He’s going to be the one to tell you not to think that way about yourself because you were made perfect, but if you wanted to wear heels or something that made you appear taller he wouldn’t stop you

If somebody said something mean about your height in front of him it’s on

Yao will actively attack whoever said something about you, it will be hands on-site, no further questions

Will ask you to wear his clothes a lot

He thinks they suit you and he can’t get over how long the sleeves are for you

Prussia

Gilbert is always very aware of your height

For starters, he probably doesn’t tower over you but still

you’re much shorter than him and that makes him think he needs to be delicate with you

Even if in reality you could best him in a fight any day of the week with your hands tied behind your back

He likes to pick you up and spin you around

Also likes to pick you up rather than just get something down from the higher shelves for you

Piggybacks you a lot so you can see over crowds or just because

Gilbert really likes that he can easily kiss the top of your head

and that he can tuck you under his chin like it was nothing

Really just makes him feel like he can protect you from anything

If someone says something nasty to you about your height Gilbert will throw hands

He's certainly thrown them for less so why not now

If you won't let him get physical, fine, he won't cause a scene

but you're gonna have to deal with his overprotectiveness and affection for the rest of the day

and god forbid you're getting down on yourself about your height

He's going to make a list of all your strengths and the advantages of being short

those include getting head kisses from him, being able to fit perfectly in his arms, and being able to hide basically anywhere you want for hide and seek

The list is kind of childish but his goal was to make you feel better by laughing while also getting to compliment you

If you were to wear his clothes he might die by the sight of you drowning in them, so proceed with caution

#aph america #hws america #aph england #hws england #aph france #hws france #aph canada #hws canada #aph russia #hws russia #aph china #hws china #aph prussia #hws prussia #hetalia #hetalia reactions #hetalia headcanons

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Do you have any character in any fandom that you hate so much or a character who bothers you so much that you can't look at any media without getting annoyed/ upset? Not like villain character, a normal or even fandom fave character, someone most others won't find anything wrong with but your guts hate them, that kind?

I mean, the most obvious example of this for me is definitely Stiles in Teen Wolf lol. I know that a lot of people didn’t start disliking him until later seasons but I just flat out never liked him from the get go, and like....it built and grew due to a lot of fandom attitudes towards the character?

Because like......I just do not enjoy characters who constantly seem to be making digs at or undercutting their supposed friends or family, the way Stiles was with Scott from the very pilot. Its like yeah great, I can absolutely see and recognize all the times he was there for him and did in fact do good friendship type stuff, but the problem for me lies in the way fandom tends to make that TRANSACTIONAL with the stuff I had a problem with where its almost like, well, see, since Stiles tried so hard to save Scott in this one episode Motel California, he GETS to casually insult and demoralize him all the rest of the time, and holy shit no that’s not how that works, y’know? (Especially because Scott’s shitty self-esteem was the bad guy’s way in for almost killing him in Motel California, and gee what connection could there be between shitty self-esteem and constantly being belittled and talked down to by your literal best friend in the whole world BUT I DIGRESS).

And a lot of people over the years have been like, okay but friends tease each other and give each other shit all the time, are you saying they’re all bad for doing so? And no, I’m not, but the thing people tend to gloss over here is the key phrase “each other.”

Because its one thing when you have friendships like this. Its another thing when those friendships flow entirely one way in this specific regard.

When one character is not only ‘allowed to’ but almost EXPECTED to take pot shots at their friend at every available opportunity, but any single time the other friend does the same, no matter how playfully, its fixated upon as being mean and unfriendly, like...THAT is the problem.

And while I don’t have a specific single character that answers your question here in terms of Batfandom, the exact same phenomenon rears its head there and I holy hell object to that too, lol.

Like, we see it SO often with how Dick’s brothers are habitually characterized as mocking his relationship with Bruce, work ethic, standards, jobs, apartment, fashion choices, cooking, NAME......with it just taken for granted that there’s nothing wrong with them all calling him Dickhead or saying he’s ‘really lived up to his namesake’ practically once a fic, if not once a chapter......

And again, the common refrain is “well siblings are just like that?”

And they’re not actually, is the thing. I mean, I grew up with siblings too, and YES we gave each other shit all the time, but again its that exact same key phrase: EACH OTHER.

Like in comparison to the above, how often do people read fic where Dick casually insults his brothers every time he meets up with them, or makes snide, backhanded offensive references to their own parents or memories/reminders of them, or insults their standards not even as a point of specific conflict, but just as a casual, generic expression of contempt?

Its not a two-way street there either at ALL, and THAT’S the issue.

(Also similar to the example I outlined with Motel California, a lot of people write stuff about Dick having shitty self-esteem, but again like.....when you pair this as hand in hand with Dick regularly being insulted and talked down to by his own family, who never ever seem to have anything good to say to him or about him until AFTER he has some kind of breakdown, its like......where do you think shitty self-esteem so often comes from?)

Like, I’ve had people tag fic/drabble posts where I have Dick engaging in what to my estimation is the equivalent of gently teasing Jason or Tim.....and people tag these with “I feel funny about this because Dick seems kinda mean to his brothers here”.....and then nine out of ten times, if I go onto their blog, within a PAGE or two, I see some post where Jason and Tim are calling Dick a Dickhead or mocking his intelligence with NO sign of funny feelings from that person and its like......its not the criticism I mind, lol, its that uh, one of these things (standards of behavior applied to each character) are not like the others.

Because a lot of times when pressed on this subject, people will respond with “well it wouldn’t be in character/Dick or Scott are too nice for that to be their sense of humor” and again its just kinda glossed over that uh, this is basically a tacit admission that the characterization you’re going with for everyone else is ‘not that nice, actually.’ BUT any time people call this specific kind of behavior out when these characters do it, THEN the response is not “well yeah, you’re right, its not that nice actually,” its a defensive “well okay but that’s just how these characters are, are you saying they’re assholes?”

And its like well no, actually you basically were the ones who said they were assholes when you made this a core part of their characterization, and now you’re using this weird kinda circular logic to loophole your way out of them being actually held up and acknowledged as such WHEN they’re characterized this way.

If these specific other characters never get to retaliate or return fire BECAUSE they’re too nice, then there should be no problem acknowledging that when the characters who DO engage in this behavior are actively engaging in it.....they’re being assholes, and no, its just how friends/siblings are is not actually a defensive/deviation from this if their targeted friend/sibling is never actually able to do the same without being held up specifically as stepping outside the territory of “being nice.”

Few things bug me more in terms of basic character interactions/dynamics then the tendency fandom has of building up certain characters as having free reign with how they treat other characters, while simultaneously limiting these other characters from any kind of equivalent spectrum of behavior by using their own positive traits AGAINST THEM.....but with fandom at the same time being willing to full on go to war in defense of the first kind of characters if anyone draws any kind of connecting dots between their examples of frankly asshole-ish behavior and the implication that they might, in fact, be not that awesome as a result.

Its this annoying sleight of hand wherein certain characters can do or say anything without it being a reflection on who they are character-wise, while other characters step the SLIGHTEST toe out of the line that fandom has drawn for their character and how they’re EXPECTED to behave at all times in order to avoid active criticism.....and this then absolutely is an indication of how they’re actually flawed and gross and even abusive, because of how not nice what they’re doing is, and if people want them to NOT be perceived that way, they need to go back to characterizing them or focusing their characterization of them on all the times/ways in which they just placidly accept whatever’s dished out without any kind of reciprocation.

So yeah, Stiles was always a big example of this for me, but it was far from limited to just him. Any time a fandom is like “these characters can make fun of this character or be super critical of them but this character is never ever allowed to do the same in return, that’s against the law,” I’m like yeah no, that’s a swing and a miss for me. Hard pass on those particular fandom faves....at least so long as their fandom fave status seems to go hand in hand with their ability to inflict maximum psychic damage upon their alleged loved one any time they’re feeling down or are just in a mood, all while facing zero consequences for it....even in the simple form of their targeted ‘loved one’ ever simply being like yeah I just choose to not want to be around you when you’re being assholes to me/if you’re going to just be an asshole to me.

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green-blooded · 4 years

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So, I want to talk about Bread and Circuses. Or, I want to talk about Spock and McCoy in Bread and Circuses... plus the rest of the first half of the second season, because this episode isn’t actually good aside from the Spock and McCoy moments.

We start with this:

SPOCK: Fascinating. This atmosphere is remarkably similar to your twentieth century. Moderately industrialized pollution containing substantial amounts of carbon monoxide and partially consumed hydrocarbons. MCCOY: The word was smog. SPOCK: Yes, I believe that was the term. I had no idea you were that much of a historian, Doctor. MCCOY: I am not, Mister Spock. I was simply trying to stop you from giving us a whole lecture on the subject. Jim, is there anything at all we know about this planet?

(This post got long--nearly 4000 words???--so here’s a cut to save your dashboard!)

Which is kind of an odd argument for them? McCoy gets on Spock for a lot of things, but not usually for talking too much. In fact, it’s usually the reverse. In Trouble with Tribbles (the previous episode by production order), they have this exchange:

MCCOY: Spock, I don't know too much about these little tribbles yet, but there's one thing that I have discovered. SPOCK: What is that, Doctor? MCCOY: I like them better than I like you. SPOCK: Doctor? MCCOY: Yes? SPOCK: They do have one redeeming characteristic. MCCOY: What's that? SPOCK: They do not talk too much. If you'll excuse me, sir.

Far be it from me to accuse Star Trek of having continuity, but don’t these arguments seem related? In fact, both of these episodes have had particularly heated arguments between Spock and McCoy for no apparent reason in the plot. There are also a few heated exchanges in The Deadly Years (about Spock’s health, and then Kirk’s dementia).

Put a pin in this. Let’s return to Bread and Circuses.

MCCOY: Odd that these people should worship the sun. SPOCK: Why, Doctor? MCCOY: Because, my dear Mister Spock, it is illogical. Rome had no sun worshipers. Why should they parallel Rome in every way except one?

Let’s just ignore the fact that yes Rome did have sun worshipers and that there have been a hell of a lot more than one discrepancy, because if we talk about inaccuracies we’ll be here all day. The point is, they’re both postulating about this odd ‘parallel’ Earth, but McCoy’s interjection seems to annoy Spock for some reason... To the point that he brings it up again later, but in the meantime, they also have this exchange:

SPOCK: Even more fascinating. Slavery evolving into an institution with guaranteed medical payments, old-age pensions. MCCOY: Quite logical, I'd say, Mister Spock. Just as it's logical that twentieth-century Rome would use television to show its gladiator contests or name a new car the Jupiter Eight. SPOCK: Doctor, if I were able to show emotion, your new infatuation with that term would begin to annoy me. MCCOY: What term? Logic? Medical men are trained in logic, Mister Spock. SPOCK: Really, Doctor, I had no idea they were trained. Watching you, I assumed it was trial and error.

Hey guys, remember an episode called Amok Time (only 9 episodes earlier in production order instead of a whole season apart), where McCoy said this:

MCCOY: My orders were to give you a thorough physical. In case you hadn't noticed, I have to answer to the same commanding officer that you do. Come on, Spock. Yield to the logic of the situation.

And it, y'know, worked to convince Spock to listen to him that time. BUT let's also look at I, Mudd where they have one of those curiously heated arguments again:

MCCOY: All right. There's something wrong about a man who never smiles, whose conversation never varies from the routine of the job, and who won't talk about his background. SPOCK: I see. MCCOY: Spock, I mean that it's odd for a non-Vulcan. The ears make all the difference. SPOCK: I find your argument strewn with gaping defects in logic. MCCOY: Maybe, but you can't evaluate a man by logic alone. Besides, he has avoided two appointments that I've made for his physical exam without reason. SPOCK: That's not at all surprising, Doctor. He's probably terrified of your beads and rattles.

(Notice, McCoy realizes he’s offended Spock and immediately tries to fix it, but Spock remains annoyed with him.)

A couple of things here. First, like in Trouble with Tribbles (the next episode), Spock seems actually offended by McCoy. This was almost entirely absent from the first season, and not particularly prevalent in the first few episodes of the second season. There was plenty of banter and teasing before, but Spock seems more sensitive to it in this middle section of the second season. Then, again, McCoy brings up logic. McCoy argues that logic can't be the only means to evaluate a person. Then, Spock insults McCoy's medical skills. AGAIN, this is a newer development that makes it into almost every episode in the middle of the second season, including I, Mudd, Trouble with Tribbles, and Bread and Circuses. All back-to-back episodes in production order!

So we have some things repeating in their arguments over multiple episodes. McCoy's interpretation of logic, Spock being offended by McCoy's teasing/insults, and Spock insulting McCoy's skill as a doctor. PUT A PIN IN IT. Returning to Bread and Circuses again.

MERIK: There's been no war here for over four hundred years, Jim. Could, let's say, your land of that same era make that same boast? I think you can see why they don't want to have their stability contaminated by dangerous ideas of other ways and other places. SPOCK: Interesting, and given a conservative empire, quite understandable. MCCOY: Are you out of your head? SPOCK: I said I understood it, Doctor. I find the checks and balances of this civilization quite illuminating. MCCOY: Next he'll be telling us he prefers it over Earth history. SPOCK: They do seem to have escaped the carnage of your first three world wars, Doctor. MCCOY: They have slavery, gladiatorial games, despotism. SPOCK: Situations quite familiar to the six million who died in your first world war, the eleven million who died in your second, the thirty seven million who died in your third. Shall I go on?

I think this is one of the better exchanges that speak to the themes of this episode, which they should’ve elaborated on but instead went the Jesus Saves route... Whatever. The important thing is that this is another example of their philosophical differences AND very similar to an argument they had in The Apple a few episodes ago.

SPOCK: In my view, a splendid example of reciprocity. MCCOY: It would take a computerized Vulcan mind such as yours to make that kind of a statement. SPOCK: Doctor, you insist on applying human standards to non-human cultures. I remind you that humans are only a tiny minority in this galaxy. MCCOY: There are certain absolutes, Mister Spock, and one of them is the right of humanoids to a free and unchained environment, the right to have conditions which permit growth. SPOCK: Another is their right to choose a system which seems to work for them. MCCOY: Jim, you're not just going to stand by and be blinded to what's going on here. These are humanoids, intelligent. They need to advance and grow. Don't you understand what my readings indicate? There's been no progress here in at least ten thousand years. This isn't life. It's stagnation. SPOCK: Doctor, these people are healthy and they are happy. What ever you choose to call it, this system works, despite your emotional reaction to it. MCCOY: It might work for you, Mister Spock, but it doesn't work for me. Humanoids living so they can service a hunk of tin.

It’s super interesting to me that Spock is using relativistic contract theory to judge these cultures while McCoy is just a straight up anarchist, let’s be real. He hates hierarchical structures and authority figures, and believes that they go against human nature. Which you might say is weird for a Starfleet officer, but he also yells at people above his rank constantly and gets really upset in episodes like The Doomsday Machine when Spock refuses to ignore rank. He’s in Starfleet because he wants to help people, but I can’t imagine him staying if his captain weren’t someone he totally trusts. I mean, you could forget that McCoy has any rank at all with the way he carries himself. Meanwhile, Spock is Very, Very strict in his understanding of hierarchy and rank.

This is one of those deep divisions between the two of them. Put a pin in it. Let’s move on to the gladiator fight.

SPOCK: Need any help, Doctor? MCCOY: Whatever gave you that idea? ACHILLES: Fight, you pointed-ear freak! MCCOY: You tell him, buster. Of all the completely ridiculous, illogical questions I ever heard in my life!

The fact that McCoy is not a fighter is really brought out in this episode, and I have a lot to say about it in another post. The main thing here is McCoy bringing up logic again and agreeing with an argument that is, in my opinon, a step beyond something that McCoy would actually say. He makes fun of the ears, but freak is a little far, I think.

And all of this leads to the Big Scene in the prison, which I will break into parts. Part #1:

MCCOY: Angry, Mister Spock, or frustrated, perhaps? SPOCK: Such emotions are foreign to me, Doctor. I'm merely testing the strength of the door. MCCOY: For the fifteenth time...

McCoy is lightly teasing Spock for being more emotional than he lets on, while Spock denies having any emotion at all... this is a pretty typical part of the exchange. What really makes it work is Deforest Kelly's delivery. He says these lines with a degree of affection. He's not yelling, and he's not even using the tone he usually has when teasing Spock. In this moment, you can see that McCoy points out Spock's incongruous moments of emotion because he likes that about him. While it sometimes comes across as a 'gotcha' moment (like at the end of The Galileo Seven), the sheer number of times McCoy mentions Spock's emotions shows more than just a passing amount of interest in them.

Then, McCoy continues:

MCCOY: Spock, I know we've had our disagreements. Maybe they're jokes. I don't know. As Jim says, we're not often sure ourselves sometimes, but what I'm trying to say is-- SPOCK: Doctor, I am seeking a means of escape. Will you please be brief? MCCOY: Well, what I'm trying to say is you saved my life in the arena. SPOCK: Yes, that's quite true. MCCOY: I'm trying to thank you, you pointed-eared hobgoblin!

Before I talk about this, I need to take a moment. I think that McCoy often gets painted at someone with his heart on his sleeve, who feels a lot and expresses all of his feelings. And it's just not true! He's very expressive when it comes to some things, sure. He can yell all day about how much he cares about people in general, but when it comes to expressing how much he cares about an individual? It's pretty damn rare. Look at his words AND his body language in Balance of Terror when he has a vulnerable moment with Kirk.

KIRK: I look around that Bridge, and I see the men waiting for me to make the next move. And Bones, what if I'm wrong? MCCOY: Captain, I-- KIRK: No, I don't really expect an answer. MCCOY: But I've got one. Something I seldom say to a customer, Jim. In this galaxy, there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all of the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all of that, and perhaps more, only one of each of us. Don't destroy the one named Kirk.

McCoy himself says here that he doesn't usually say this kind of thing, and if you look at the series, that bears out. He does NOT find it easy to tell people he cares about them, and when he does, he does it in this abstract way, barely able to make any eye contact. This is AGAIN why the conflict between Spock and McCoy is NOT logic vs. emotion. McCoy is not fully emotional, and he doesn't find emotion easy to express. I would argue that he has almost as much difficulty expressing his feelings for another person as Spock does. I would also argue that McCoy does not LIKE this about himself, and that is part of why it frustrates him so much when he sees it in Spock.

So, when he tries to be vulnerable and thank Spock, first of all, he doesn't just say "Hey, thanks for saving me in the arena." He starts with a lot of waffle, and when Spock interrupts him and insists that he keep it short (again, callback to the arguments in this episode and Trouble with Tribbles about which one of them talks too much), McCoy tries to simply thank him, but gets upset when Spock is still impassive and reverts to his usual way of talking to Spock. One remark from Spock, and McCoy loses his ability to be vulnerable and resorts to a sharp tone and insults. Leading into part three of this conversation:

SPOCK: Oh, yes. You humans have that emotional need to express gratitude. You're welcome, I believe, is the correct response. However, Doctor, you must remember I am entirely motivated by logic. The loss of our ship's surgeon, whatever I think of his skill, would mean a reduction in the efficiency of the Enterprise and therefore-- MCCOY: Do you know why you're not afraid to die, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling. SPOCK: Really, Doctor? MCCOY: I know. I'm worried about Jim, too.

The last bit is powerful, and I think generally something people remember more than the rest of the conversation, but I really need to focus on that first exchange first, because there is a LOT going on, and I've been pinning things through this whole overly long post for this moment.

PIN 1: Their arguments have become more heated in the middle portion of season 2.

This is a very clear example of that. McCoy doesn't drop the issue after the insult and Spock insists he wouldn't have saved McCoy if he weren't logically useful to the ship. Ouch.

PIN 2: The repetition in these heated arguments. McCoy's view of logic, Spock getting offended, Spock insulting McCoy's skill as a doctor.

What Spock says here brings up all three of those issues. Spock has been frustrated by McCoy bringing up logic throughout this episode, and now he's shooting back at him with a logical view of why he saved McCoy's life--while still maintaining that he doesn't think McCoy is a good doctor. McCoy's been using logic against him, and now Spock is returning the favor. Spock understands Human interaction better than this! Something as simple as a "thank you" and "your welcome" is everyday for him, not only on the Enterprise but with one of the people who RAISED him. He is exaggerating his own non-Human qualities throughout this conversation to a truly absurd extent, because McCoy has repeatedly offended him for several episodes. However, McCoy seems unaware that his usual teasing has actually gotten under Spock's skin, because he has been surprised, again and again (especially in I, Mudd where he chases after Spock to apologize to him) when Spock actually acts hurt by him.

And then there's McCoy's response.

It's not "damn your Vulcan logic" or ending the conversation. He grabs Spock and forces him to look at him--which Spock has been avoiding throughout the conversation--and tells Spock that he's so afraid to be human that he doesn't fear death, because that would put an end to the fear that his Human side would show.

IF WE ARE ONLY LOOKING AT THIS ONE EPISODE, this doesn't make sense. This didn't build from the conversations in Bread and Circuses, which is why I keep bringing up several different episodes and why I'm insisting on production order.

PIN 3: These two have deep, deep philosophical differences that they are constantly discussing.

As I said in another post, Spock and McCoy have a different standard for morality which causes the two of them to butt heads a whole lot. In the first season, it was pretty much the same argument over and over again (should we risk a larger number of people to save a smaller number of people), but it's been evolving in this season to the discussion of freedom and cultural differences and more.

If these two men did not have any respect for one another, I don't think these arguments would continue. Yes, they work together, but they don't actually need to interact as much as they do, and they are VERY often seeing walking into a scene on the bridge together or walking down a corridor together, etc. It's not just missions. They choose to spend time together.

So, when Spock says he only saved McCoy because he's useful as the ship's surgeon, McCoy doesn't respond to THAT, because 1) he knows he's a good doctor and never seems fazed by Spock insulting him about that and 2) he knows Spock is not being honest with him here.

This is one of the reasons why I think McCoy gets frustrated with Spock because they have a similar difficulty showing how much they care about other people, and they have an especially difficult time showing affection toward one another.

While the ending of Operation: Annihilate! where McCoy tells Kirk not to tell Spock he called him the best first officer in the fleet is memorable, it's hardly the most vulnerable moment for McCoy in that episode. No, it's when he thinks he's blinded Spock because he didn't consider using the non-visible parts of the light spectrum to kill the parasitic aliens. McCoy can't even say for himself the deep guilt he's feeling about harming Spock--he never says that he's blaming himself. It's Kirk who tells him he's not at fault, and McCoy can't even bring himself to respond. If you look at those last lines about Spock being the best first officer in the fleet in context of how devastated McCoy was when he thought he'd blinded Spock permanently, it definitely hits different, right?

And then there are the times in the first season when Spock believes McCoy is badly hurt or dead. In Miri, Shore Leave, and City on the Edge of Forever, Spock has a strong reaction to seeing McCoy injured, but he does not verbalize this obvious emotional reaction at any time.

They don't know how to say that they care about each other, because that's something they both struggle with in general. They also both struggle with being emotionally vulnerable and allowing other people to know them on a deeper level. Spock uses his Vulcan otherness to keep people at a distance, while McCoy uses a the charm offensive of his "bedside manner" as his defense system.

So, McCoy says this thing about Spock not being afraid to die because he's so terrified of his Human side coming out IN DIRECT RESPONSE to Spock being unable to even look at him when McCoy is not only trying to thank him for saving his life but ALSO putting it into the context of how difficult their friendship is and how rarely they show any straight-forward affection for each other. And the most telling thing is, McCoy didn't seem to know for sure that he was right until he sees Spock’s reaction. Look at his expression when Spock turns away from him.

And look at his intensity when he says that Spock wouldn't know what to do with a "genuine warm, decent feeling."

When Spock turns to him and says "Really, Doctor?"

THAT is when McCoy is the one who breaks eye contact and changes the subject to someone that they both feel affection for, but who isn't in the room to hear it. I understand that there are other readings of this moment, and that's fine, but... I don't think this has to do with Kirk specifically. For one thing, it never comes up in the episode when they are reunited with Kirk, and for another Kirk is in the least danger out of the three of them. Instead, this moment is about how both of them struggle so deeply with showing affection when someone's right there in front of them.

By the end of the episode, we can see the two of them spending time together again, apparently by choice, and seeming very comfortable with each other... and the next episode is Journey to Babel, in which they are very friendly again with The Immunity Syndrome only four episodes after that, and the episodes in between showing them with much less contentious banter again.

Dare I say it, but I think this is a legitimate arc! And it's a shame that most people see the episodes in broadcast order, because it makes their relationship much more incoherent and makes this little escalation of frustration with each other more random and may make it seem like they genuinely dislike each other.

Anyway... this was. Not supposed to be such a long post, but I have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings about these two, and I can't help myself sometimes.

#spones #long post is long #meta #spock #leonard mccoy #star trek #please read this i spent so long writing it that it got dark outside

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 4 years

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stay

Rocket Raccoon x Gender-Neutral Reader

Requested by: @b-oys-do-c-ry

Summary: after the events of endgame, you’ve tried to settle back into life with the guardians, but feel the need to return home to your family and help them adjust to the new reality. rocket catches you packing.

Characters: rocket raccoon, reader, mentions of other guardians

Warnings: the relationship is understandably platonic. only warning is for mild adult language and angst

Word Count: 2,380

MARVEL MASTERLIST or CHECK OUT MY FANFIC DEDICATED BLOG

One of the side effects of living with five other ‘people’ on a ship with only three bunks – one of which was actually a converted storage space – was that you didn’t have a lot of space to call your own. Sharing a room with Drax, Mantis and Nebula meant that you really only kept the essentials, along with a few sentimental knick-knacks you’d picked up both back on Terra and in ports across the galaxy. On the bright side, that meant that the phrase ‘packing a bag’ could be taken quite literally. Almost everything you owned fit in a single duffel bag.

“What’re you doin’?”

You jumped slightly as a voice sounded behind you, a mix of confusion and amusement coloring his tone. Turning from the bag on your bunk, you offered an awkward shrug of one shoulder to Rocket. He was standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest and an eyebrow cocked.

It was amazing that after everything that happened with Thanos, you’d been brought back into existence and Rocket still seemed for the most part, the same gruff, smart-mouthed guy you’d bonded with when you’d first joined the crew. There were a few greyer hairs around his muzzle now, and sometimes he seemed more tired than anything else, but otherwise, he just seemed happy to have you all back.

“Nothing. What’s up?”

“You’re missin’ dinner.”

“And you came all the way to the other end of the ship to tell me that?” you joked, mirroring his posture. You smirked jovially down at him. “I’m touched, man.”

“Shut ya mouth,” he groused back at you despite the beginnings of a smirk of his own on his face. You laughed despite your unease at being caught out, shaking your head. “Groot’s fussin’ about you not bein’ there.”

“Sure, he is,” you replied snidely, smile widening. It was unlikely that Groot had even raised his head from his game long enough to realize you weren’t there. “That’s why he’s here bugging me instead of you.”

“Watch it, humie. You can’t be butt ugly and friendless.”

“Ah, there’s the Rocket I know and love.” you teased. “And please, you know I’m gorgeous.”

He snickered, nodding almost absentmindedly. “Yeah, yeah. Ego like that and you’ll be putting Quill to shame in no time.”

“Oh, shudder the thought.�� you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. You turned back to your bed, speaking over your shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself, Rock. I promise, you’ll never see me getting into a pissing contest with a Norse God.”

“Because you’re leavin’?”

You stopped, hands hovering over your bag. You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaling a long sigh through your nose. You had tried so hard to do this quietly.

The last thing you wanted was the crew fussing over your decision or trying to get you to change your mind. You didn’t get a lot of privacy or time alone between ports, but you’d figured that the notion of a hot meal would be enticing enough to the rest of the crew to grant you at least twenty minutes in which to pack your bag. You’d barely made it more than five.

You’d told Quill. Two weeks ago, you’d found him alone, pouring over the screens that held the scans he hoped would lead you to Gamora. The new Gamora… an old Gamora. The Gamora that didn’t know you yet. It had taken him a while to comprehend what you were saying, to pull himself out of his thoughts long enough to understand. He’d tried to convince you to stay, tried to tell you what he thought you needed to hear, but he’d finally agreed all the same. You were to get off in a couple of days when you were Terra-side again. He’d agreed not to tell the others – it was your business to share.

Honestly, part of you was sure it would have been anyone but the anti-social Rocket to come looking for you… but maybe another part of you wasn’t so surprised by it at all. He’d been more attentive since the second snap, more concerned. Of course, he’d shake you off with an insult and a scoff if you pointed that out.

“Damn it,” you breathed quietly, turning around and fixing him with your best attempt at incredulity. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re packin’ a bag, Y/N.” he said pointedly, nodding his head toward the bed behind you.

“Maybe I’m just… reorganizing.”

“Into a bag.”

“It’s a… system. Keeps everything in one, easy to access place.”

“So does your locker,” he pointed out, gesturing under your bed.

“Well, only if you want to get all… logical about it,” you admitted in a childish grumble. When his only response was to lean against the edge of the doorway and give you an exasperated look, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. You sat on the edge of your bunk, shoving your bag to the end of it. “How many of you did Quill tell?”

Rocket’s expression turned offense. “So, you are leavin’.”

“Ah, shit.”

“And you told Quill, but not—not the rest of us?”

“I, uh… well, yeah?” you tried for a humored smile. It curled the side of your lips awkwardly. This whole conversation was making you way too uncomfortable. You didn’t do emotional confrontation. A gunfight on some random planet all in the name of the adventures of the Guardians of the Galaxy, sure. But talking about your feelings? There was a reason you got along so well with every other emotionally constipated crew member on this damn ship. “I needed him to steer the ship in the right direction. Did you think we were going back to Terra because we’re already out of mac and cheese?”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growled, clearly unamused by your attempt at humor. “You’re leavin’ and you weren’t even gonna tell us?”

“Of course, I was!” you protested. “Just… figured I’d wait.”

“’til when exactly?”

“…until it was time to get back on the ship?” you said, almost hopefully. Rocket rolled his eyes disparagingly, fixing you with a long look. The cold disappointment… the betrayal… in his eyes made your blood freeze, and he shook his head as he turned away. You called after him as he left. “Rocket. Rocket, c’mon, man—I just…”

You fell back onto your bed with a huff, staring at your ceiling. “Goddamn it.”

***

Two days. It had been a bit over forty-eight hours and Rocket still wasn’t talking to you. Sure, he wasn’t the most sociable guy on the ship to begin with, but this was different. This was cold.

The two of you usually exchanged good-natured, sarcastic barbs as easy as breathing, only to round on whoever told you to shut up first together. It was fun, easy, and something you never really thought about – your friendship with Rocket was always something you didn’t really have to think about – it was reactionary. So, to be thinking about it now… you’d been completely lost at what to do for the last two days.

He didn’t talk to you, and when he absolutely had to, it was curt. The sarcasm he still flung your way under his breath didn’t hold the same humor. More than once, Quill and Mantis had cast you questioning glance at the change in his attitude towards you, but all you could do was shrug. You weren’t even completely sure as to why he was acting this way; you were friends, sure, but it was Rocket. He wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type.

“Hey, Rock.”

He didn’t react to your entrance other than a small flick of his ear in your direction. He was on the late shift piloting the ship back to Terra, and you’d spent the last four hours staring at the ceiling of your bunk, sleep unwilling to take you. So, you dragged yourself out of bed, pulled on a jacket and your boots against the cold of the ship, and headed for the cockpit. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to him without interruption he left the room whenever someone else entered.

“Are you really giving me the silent treatment here, man?” you asked after a few moments, exasperated. You moved to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, pulling your jacket more tightly around yourself. “C’mon, Rocket. Seriously.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the sky. “I’m busy, Y/N.”

You followed his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, I’d hate to distract you from this completely empty expanse of space we’re travelling through right now.”

He sighed at your sarcasm, giving you a sidelong, exasperated look of his own. “What’re you doin’ here, Y/N?”

“Right now?” you replied. “Right now, I’m just amazed you’ve managed to string more than two words together in my presence.”

“Just…” he paused, shaking his head as he searched for the words. You felt your stomach twist at the seeming uncertainty you could see in him; this was different. Rocket didn’t consider what he said; no, he’d just shoot back with whatever first came to mind, consequences be damned. For all his faults, he always seemed so certain of what he meant when he spoke, even if it was just a quick insult or a jibe. This wasn’t that. “Just… what do you want?”

“I want you to talk to me, Rocket.” you said. “Like before.”

“Why bother?” he shrugged, his voice gruff. He was back to refusing to look at you. “You ain’t gonna be around much longer, anyway.”

You sighed, fixing your eyes on the wide, black emptiness in front of you. That view used to excite you, a promise of adventure. Ever since the snap, it just felt… cold. “Look, I… I gotta go home, Rocket. They need me there. Everyone being back… it’s more complicated than we thought it would be. But… but me leaving, it’s not a big deal.”

“Sure, it’s not.”

“Dude,” you bristled at his tone despite yourself. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re pissed at me!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in annoyance. You stuttered over your words for a moment, lost, before standing and shrugging dramatically. “Look, just forget about it, Rocket. I don’t know why I bothered coming up here in the first place; why the hell would I ever expect you to actually fucking talk to me instead of just being a complete dick about this.”

It wasn’t until you were stepping back onto the ladder to leave that he spoke again, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. He was still sitting in the pilot’s chair, his eyes still on the stars. “Don’t.”

You stopped short, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t…” he exhaled slowly, a steadying breath. “Don’t go.”

Your brow creased, and you moved slowly back towards his seat until you could see his face again. He looked embarrassed at speaking up, his ears drooping back. In fact, you were almost certain that under all that fur there could be a blush burning in his cheeks.

“Why not?”

“Be… because… ah, fuck…” he muttered to himself, a paw rubbing almost nervously at the fur on the side of his neck. “Because we… we need you here.”

“You… no, you don’t.”

Rocket finally turned to look at you, incredulity in his eyes. “We don’t? What about Groot?”

You paused, pressing your lips together as your stomach dropped. You loved the plant, you’d helped to raise him, and leaving him behind was one of the hardest things you were facing right now. Leaving any one member of the crew behind was going to be hard, but Groot… he was still a kid. “He’ll… he’ll be fine. He’s got all of you here, and he probably… he probably won’t even realize that I’m gone.”

Rocket raised an eyebrow at you. “Really? You think he’s an idiot?”

“No! I think he’d have to get his head out of that goddamn gaming device for more than thirty seconds to realize I wasn’t around?” you shot back in frustration. “Is that what this is about? You think you’ll have to look after him by yourself if I’m not around? Are you seriously pissed at me because you’re losing a babysitter?!”

“I’m pissed because you’re leaving me!” he shouted, the intensity in his voice surprising the both of you. He seemed to realize he’d admitted something he hadn’t intended a few moments too late, and he rolled his eyes at himself, tugging irritably at the fur at either side of his neck.

“…Rocket?”

He growled in frustration, rubbing his paws over his eyes. When he finally spoke again, he sounded tired… weary. “Just… you have no idea. You have no idea what is was like… all of you were gone. Gone, and I was…”

He broke off with a long exhalation and a slow shake of his head, his eyes closed. When you spoke for him, you could barely bring your voice above a whisper. “Alone.”

Rocket’s breathing shook slightly, the only sound in the ship’s quiet cockpit. You moved to kneel beside his chair, your gaze beseeching. You almost reached out to touch him but thought better of it. Honestly, you weren’t sure anymore if that was still a trigger for him.

“Rocket, you’re not alone anymore. We’re all back. Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean the others will be too. You’ll still have Groot and Quill and Nebula… everyone else will still be here. You’re not going to be alone; is that what this is all about?”

He sighed, opening his eyes. “It don’t matter. You go, that’s one more time, one more person I’ve got to mourn. And I don’t think I’ve got it in me to do it again.”

“Rock…” you murmured. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, and you could see them in his. You steadied yourself, wetting your lips. “I need to go home.”

He turned to face you, his jaw set. “Then don’t stay.”

“What?”

“Come back. Don’t stay on Terra.”

“I don’t…”

“Please.”

You stopped short; you didn’t think that in all the time you’d ever heard Rocket say ‘please’.

And that was, suddenly, all that it took.

“Okay.”

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @spacesuitsforemergency @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @dragon-chica

#rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon x you #rocket raccoon & reader #rocket raccoon & you #rocket raccoon imagine #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocket raccoon reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu reader insert

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miracleboiz · 4 years

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Secret Night~ Arankita

Kita Shinsuke had lived on his own strength for years, only tripping occasionally. Now, everything seemed to hit at once and the only place he feels safe to fall is in Aran’s arms.

This is part of my Making a Home series, between chapters 19 and 20. I would suggest reading that I’m not sure if it’ll make sense otherwise.

Read on AO3 or below!

The knock at the door barely reached through to Shinsuke. Another knock punctured the silence before he was able to stand up and move towards the entrance. Even still, Shinsuke paused, letting himself try and think over the decision to let Aran in.

After a few seconds he realized that might be the problem. He was trying to logic his way through a very illogical situation. What was logical about human emotions? What was logical about parenthood? What was logical about being in love with your best friend for almost thirteen years and never having the courage or will to confess? What was logical about deciding to ignore any romantic pursuits only to realize it was because you’d foolishly thought your best friend would be beside you always and never move on?

Shinsuke was almost displeased with how illogical his life was at the moment. Actually, he was extremely upset with it. He liked order, he liked routine and rules instead he’d somehow managed to take on Akagi’s wild life.

“Hello, Lady.” Shinsuke greeted as the door opened and the poodle pushed her way through to sniffle at his leg. He reached down to stroke over her ears, taking the moment to stare at Aran’s feet instead of having to look him in the eye.

“Shinsuke…” Aran said softly, like a whisper in the wind.

Shinsuke sucked in a breath, then looked up.

Aran looked soft, head tilted with amber eyes endlessly affectionate. The smallest, sad smile curved up on his lips and Shinsuke couldn’t stand it. The emotions welling in his chest, the understanding nod in his direction, even the damn boba tea plush that he knew Aran had brought just to tease him. It was all too much and not enough.

He stepped forward without a thought, burying his face in Aran’s chest and holding onto him as tightly as he could. A sob ripped out of him as Aran held him in return.

Shinsuke barely noticed being pushed back into the house, or the sound of the front door closing. All he cared about was Aran, holding him, touching him, being here . He’d forgotten how comforting it was to have Aran around, to be able to lean on him physically and mentally.

The ice skating was just a taste of their old dynamic and Shinsuke hurt with how much he missed that.

“It’s okay to let go.” Aran murmured, voice vibrating even deeper through his chest and Shinsuke just tightened his hold. He shook his head, only releasing one arm to scratch at Lady’s shoulders as she whined and tried to sniff at his hip.

“Shinsuke… Just for tonight. Let go . You don’t have to be the strong one, not when I’m here.”

“I’ll do something stupid, I just… I just don’t want to be alone.”

“Shin, your definition of stupid is very different then mine.” Aran said and Shinsuke wanted to laugh.

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the entire night. At the chances that the first person to meet the boys would be the one who gave them up years ago. The fact that he was, after three long years, back in Aran’s arms and crying. That right after the final piece to his plan fell into place, everything struck him at once.

Part of him knew it wasn’t actually all at once, he just wasn’t prepared for it. The logical side creeping in to remind him that life wasn’t about luck but opportunities to grow like his granny always said.

Right now, Shinsuke didn’t feel like it was an opportunity. He felt like he was drowning in responsibility he wasn’t quite as prepared for as he thought. Like he’d simultaneously trapped himself in his routine and destroyed any safety outside of it.

“When’s the last time you did anything stupid, Shinsuke?” Aran asked, one hand gently rubbing small circles over Shinsuke’s back. “C’mon, let’s go sit in your room, the living room echoes into the back rooms. I don’t want to wake the boys… Did you eat already?”

Shinsuke was half tempted to refuse to move, wondering if Aran would just carry him off or let Shinsuke collapse on the floor. The floor sounded much nicer than trying to have a conversation when all he really wanted to do was curl up and sleep on top of a dog and his best friend.

“Yes.” He finally managed to push out, pulling away until Aran’s hand just barely lingered over his hip.

There was a question on his face, eyes trained on Shinsuke. They took in everything, reading him like he was a book and Shinsuke’s chest ached.

There was no need or want in Aran’s touch, the way it hesitated, brushed over Shinsuke’s skin before starting to pull away. Nothing on his face told Shinsuke that Aran was here for anything other than Shinsuke’s wellbeing. Aran would never ask for anything more than Shisnuke offered, never push.

Shinsuke loved that. Loved him.

Sometimes, like now, he wished Aran was just a touch more selfish like Shinsuke was. Chasing after what he wanted without regard to everything else around him.

Perhaps in a way he was, Shinsuke could concede. Aran chose volleyball, Shinsuke chose his business. Perhaps Shinsuke just wanted someone else to make this choice for him so the overwhelming guilt and panic would disappear.

The tug on his sleeve made him look down to see the fabric caught gently in Lady’s mouth. She tugged on it again, intelligent eyes looking him over with worry.

“Okay… C’mon Lady.” Shinsuke murmured, letting her turn and lead the way down the hall sniffing curiously at the wall. Shinsuke paused before he’d gone more than a step, reaching back to wrap his fingers over Aran’s wrist.

There was no hesitance as Aran stepped up with him, back to his side like he’d never been anywhere else. Like he would never be anywhere else.

Shinsuke leaned into him, keeping the hand on Aran’s. Trying to memorize the feeling of Aran’s body beside his, warm and strong but so soft and tender. The way Aran’s fingers brushed over his cheek as he wiped away tears and the entire world seemed to fall away as his eyes shut and he stopped moving.

Nothing mattered, not the ache in Shinsuke’s chest or the pain of tomorrow. Even the uncomfortable feeling of his wrist twisting to hold Aran’s desperately. The only thing that mattered was here. Now.

Aran.

How badly he wanted to kiss Aran, how badly he’d always wanted to kiss Aran.

It wasn’t a usual feeling. Shinsuke just lived with an undercurrent of ‘Ah, I love him and I’d like to be with him right now’. Then it would hit him full force, choking and giving him life at the same time. Want and need fighting in his mind for comfort, love, touch. For Aran .

He didn’t even realize how close they’d gotten until he could feel the softest breathe over his cheek. A nose brushed against his and Shinsuke almost gave in as he opened his eyes. Understanding, warm, adoring eyes stared back at him and Shinsuke didn’t need to look to know Aran was smiling.

Aran was always smiling when he looked at Shinsuke. Even when he was being teased or laughed at. Even when Shinsuke insulted his ritz crackers or stole his only jacket at a festival four years ago. He didn’t stop smiling when Shinsuke called him a fool on a walk home one day for falling for an obvious prank. He didn’t stop smiling when Shinsuke would harass the first years, pretending to be far more serious and popping up behind them far more than he had any right too.

Aran always looked at him, like he loved him. Loved loving him. Loved being in love with him, even with all this drama and pain and never getting anything but friendship in return.

Everyone in highschool always called Shinsuke a saint, godlike, ethereal. Standing here though, in the pale yellow light from the kitchen, at the start of the dark hallway and holding Shinsuke like he was absolutely precious, Shinsuke knew Aran was the one they should have been complimenting. Aran was the amazing one, the soft and caring one, the loving and loyal one.

Yes, Aran ate way too many crackers with cheese and told terrible jokes. Not to mention the way he never figured out how to properly clean a shower, or the fact that Shinsuke had to nag him to throw away underwear (“It’s not wasteful if it belongs in the garbage Aran.” “... They have atleast two more goes.” “They do not, I’m burning them.”). Or how Aran always sung songs off key to purposefully deafen them in cars, or would get beyond huffy about anyone saying peanut butter chocolate was overrated. Even though Aran chattered over people without realizing and forgot how to order coffee twice a week, Shinsuke thought he was brilliant.

Aran was beautiful, kind, and thoughtful. He was Shinsuke’s best friend. Aran was the single most beautiful person Shinsuke could say he’d ever met.

“I love you…” Shinsuke breathed, the words spilled out without thought or intention. He froze, pressing his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see any reaction and tried to pull away. This wasn’t the time or the place, it most certainly was not the right headspace.

A featherlight touch graced his cheek and for a moment he thought he imagined it. As if a fox had run past, that half touch the only sign of his existence.

“I know, Shinsuke.” Aran said and Shinsuke wanted to insist he didn’t know . Because if he did then why was he being so kind and considerate? Why hadn’t he just told Shinsuke before all of this and told him not to be an absolute idiot and give up on not only the only person Shinsuke ever wanted to spend his life waking up beside but his best friend ?

“Shin,” Aran’s voice shifted to gently admonish as if he could hear the thoughts in Shinsuke’s mind, “whatever thing you’re thinking, stop. This isn’t a matter to regret. I’m here now . That’s all that matters. You’re not one to get caught up in the past, don’t let me change that after twenty eight years.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were a croak that Shinsuke hated, revealing how weak he was, how tired, how lonely. “I’m sorry I can’t… Not right now, I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“C’mon.” Aran didn’t bother to ask this time, moving to tug Shinsuke further down the hall, past the boys’ room. The boys.

Just thinking on how much he’d failed them hurt. His boys. All of his boys. He’d hurt all of them in one day and Shinsuke couldn’t find a grip. Nothing felt solid except Aran and the pressure of Lady against his leg.

Shinsuke didn’t put up a fight at all, allowing himself to be guided back to the bedroom. He made the last two steps by himself, falling face first into the comforter with his legs hanging off.

“Should I just leave you there then?” Aran teased gently before he was sliding his arms under Shinsuke and moving him properly into the center of the bed and sitting beside him. Shinsuke moved to sit up, only to hear a patter of paws and then the weight of a fifty pound poodle on his legs.

“Gods- Lady, off the bed. You’re not allowed on other people’s beds.” Aran moved to push her off before Shinsuke reached for his hand this time.

“It’s okay, she can stay on my bed I really don’t mind.” Shinsuke told him, blinking up into the familiar gaze. “Really… She helps.”

“Okay… Atleast she doesn’t shed.” Aran sighed, reaching down to scratch at her cheek before she laid her head down over the back of Shinsuke’s knee.

Aran shifted until he was lying on his back beside him. He turned his head to meet Shinsuke’s gaze and almost laughed at Shinsuke’s quirked eyebrow.

“Is… Is this one of those things that happens in Oomimi’s rom coms?” He asked slowly and Aran actually snorted, nodding.

“Yes, this is exactly like those stupid rom coms… Stop distracting me, bad Shinsuke. Talk about your feelings for once.” Aran murmured, voice softening again and Shinsuke ached.

“Haven’t I said enough? Haven’t I ruined enough lives tonight?”

“ You haven’t ruined anything. ‘Cept maybe your sheets with Lady’s nails, they’re due for a trim.” Aran said, keeping it just light enough that Shinsuke hurt more but could feel himself relaxing regardless. “Hey.”

Shinsuke watched him shift closer, reaching up to stroke Shinsuke’s cheek and hesitating just over his cheek bone. Waiting. Endlessly waiting for Shinsuke to let him have anything, Aran would wait eons for just a touch.

“Just for tonight, Shinsuke. Nothing that happens tonight has to continue in the morning. Tonight you can cry and scream, anything you need.”

“Nothing has to continue in the morning.” Shinsuke repeated, eyes flicking down. “What if I asked you to kiss me?”

“Shin.” There was a touch of admonishment and Shinsuke wanted to curl in on himself before the fingertips finally made it to his cheek. “Do you really think I would lie to you? About that of all things?”

“That of all things?” Shinsuke murmured, not really able to stop himself from repeating.

“Shinsuke, I’ve never gone back on my word and I don’t intend to start now. Besides, it’s not as if you don’t know I’ve loved you for almost thirteen years now. Waiting for you is perfectly fine with me, if you want me to kiss you and forget it tomorrow morning I can do that.”

“... You never said anything.” Shinsuke didn’t look away, couldn’t. He didn’t want to lose sight of Aran for a second. The fingertips on his cheek were soft, too soft, and Shinsuke felt like Aran was one blink from disappearing.

One blink, one moment of letting Aran drift a touch too far and Shinsuke feared he would wake to a world where Aran never returned to him. One where he would awaken with tears on his face and an empty heart, dregs of dreams turned into nightmarish thoughts. A world where it wasn’t just Aran missing, but the entirety of this last upheaval in his life. No boys, no laughter, no shopping trips and family dinners, no Akagi making him laugh and Oomimi holding him up on skates.

A world where Shinsuke was just as he thought he wanted to be.

In control of everything and so terribly, terribly alone.

“Shinsuke.” There was that smile again, sad but affectionate. Voice deep and so familiar like Shinsuke was coming home. Just Shinsuke’s name was enough to make him feel like his chest was cracking and his heart was healing. It was so much and far too little.

“I have been telling you how much I love you, from the day we met, with far fewer words.” Aran’s fingers traced down his cheeks, and Shinsuke felt the tension bleed out. “And I will be telling you until the day we can no longer meet. Then I will find you and start again.”

A sob ripped out of Shinsuke’s chest before he even realized it was building. Two more followed before his eyes were too blurry to see and he reached for Aran desperately as his eyes pinched shut. Strong arms wrapped around him and the bed rocked as Aran moved closer, pulling Shinsuke onto his chest as much as he could without disturbing Lady.

Shinsuke clung to him, another harsh cry ripping from him as tears poured down his face. Everything seemed desperate to escape.

The hidden fear of the business failing. The terror of the boys hating him. The pain of knowing he still couldn’t have Aran even knowing they loved each other. The idea that the twins could be hurt over and over again because Shinsuke failed them. The guilt that rolled in his stomach knowing that Oomimi would blame himself for all of this, for not checking better on Rika. The pain of knowing Akagi would bear the burden of Shinsuke’s break, thinking it was his own fault for not returning home more and seeing it coming. The horrifying, terrifying, disgusting idea that if all of this ended and things went back to before, he would be so alone.

Not once did Aran’s hands leave him, not once did the steady heartbeat stutter.

“I’m sorry.” The words hissed out, over and over again like a prayer that Shinsuke never wanted to memorize.

“What did I tell you about apologizing?” Aran murmured into his hair, lips brushing over the strands and making Shinsuke shudder.

“Dunno… Wasn’t listenin’... just listenin’ to your voice.” Shinsuke admitted, keeping his eyes closed as he pressed against the firm chest. His fingers curled in Aran’s shirt, clinging to him desperately. Lips pressed against his head and Shinsuke sighed, trying to keep absolutely everything from spilling out.

He couldn’t.

Word after word, if poured from him like a waterfall. Powerful and dangerous, secrets Shinsuke hadn’t even realized he had. Fears so entwined in Shinsuke’s being he had forgotten that others didn’t know they even existed. Everything fell, hissed and whispered again a warm heart beat and endless comfort.

Exhaustion seemed to creep over him like a blanket, but the idea of sleeping and waking alone was too much to bear.

“Shin.. Gods, how long have you had this bottled up? Didn’t I tell you before? You forget you need coping mechanisms too… Try talking with someone if one of us isn’t available. You have a lot of friends who would do anything for you.” Aran murmured, fingers tracing endless designs over Shinsuke’s back as he moved his head to be able to look into Shinsuke’s face. “Open your eyes, Shin, you need to talk, not fall asleep.”

Shinsuke wanted to insist that he’d just done far too much talking and that he wasn’t planning on ever doing something so emotionally draining again. But he was tired and Aran’s voice was sweet with love and care, so much kinder than his own inner voice reminding him that it was his job to take care of the others not Aran’s. Aran’s voice was a light in the dark, a beacon guiding him home and Shinsuke never wanted to lose sight of it, already craving the smile that always seemed to whisper ‘I love you.’

There it was. The moment Shinsuke opened his eyes, that gorgeous smile that had been telling Shinsuke everything he needed to know about where Aran’s heart was for years.

There was so much in thirteen years that Aran had done so naturally that Shinsuke never really thought about it. So much that he had done in return that he hadn’t thought about because it was Aran. What wouldn’t he do for him?

Why wouldn’t he hold his hand at their first shrine visit together when Aran had forgotten his gloves? Why wouldn’t Aran always tuck Shinsuke into his jacket when the wind took them by surprise? Why wouldn’t Shinsuke sit by his side for hours when his first dog died? Why wouldn’t Aran travel almost three hundred miles to hold him when his Grandmother fell ill? Why wouldn’t Shinsuke drop everything into the hands of a coworker he’d known for a week, to fly across the country and see with his own eyes that Aran was okay after an accident?

Why wouldn’t Shinsuke finally give in? When everything was right there, so close and so tempting. When the pieces fit, already crafted and molded together. Two giant puzzles, beautiful and challenging on their own, but combined were so much greater.

Why couldn’t Shinsuke say anything?

“You can say it.” Aran whispered, endless understanding in deep brown eyes.

“I can’t.” The words struggled to come out after the flood he’d just given. “I can’t do anything with the words.”

“You have to start listening to me for once, you might find that I know what I’m talking about on occasion.” Aran chided, familiar in all it’s nagging glory. Shinsuke wasn’t sure when the last time he was on the receiving end of it was but it was nice all the same.

“I told you. One night. Tonight. You are not Kita Shinsuke, shop owner and foster parent. You are Kita Shinsuke, held down by a dog and a giant idiot with a huge crush on a… pretty great guy who understands that you’re not ready for a romantic relationship.”

“... I can’t believe this entire time I’ve had a huge crush on Azumane and nobody told me.”

“How can you be crying and still manage to be a little shit? How does that even work? You’re cryin’ Shin, and you’re trying to harass me of all people?” Aran’s face was filled with wild bewilderment and Shinsuke only managed a few seconds before he was bursting into laughter.

Aran laughed with him, chest shaking under him but Shinsuke just laid against it. Like the spring warmth after winter, laughter felt so much better now. A reminder that they weren’t just sad moments built up with pain, no matter how much it felt like that now. Pain was a part of growing but that wasn’t all there was, never had been.

“I missed your laugh. I missed you Shin.” Aran said, and for a heartbeat panic welled in Shinsuke’s chest. Then he let it go with a sigh, moving to rest his chin on Aran’s chest instead, blinking slowly at him like a content cat.

“... You’re not wrong… I’m not ready for a romantic relationship. I don’t… I don’t understand them, not really. Kids I understand, it hurts… knowing what I’ve done and how I’ve hurt them, but I understand the boys. I know how to help them, how to keep them healthy and listen to them, I know how to make sure they’re safe and how to comfort them if they get injured… But…” There was no judgement in Aran’s eyes and that was the only thing pushing Shinsuke forward. “But romantic relationships I don’t know, and I don’t have the time or… honestly the will to learn how to do one. Not right now… If… If the boys forgive me, then they’re all I want to focus on.

But you’re…. Aran you’re like home. It’s so easy with you, beyond kissing I can’t even say anything would change really… But I would know it changed, I would know I owe you more time and attention and… emotional support. I would be making a commitment to you that I don’t intend to keep. Not when the twins are the other choice and I only have the ability to handle one right now. Maybe when… I.. when the boys are older, and they don’t need constant emotional support to survive, then we can give something a try. But I can’t promise you anything.”

“I know. But I can.” Aran hummed deep in his chest and Shinsuke wanted to fall asleep to the vibrations. “I can promise you that I won’t push you, I’ll help with the boys just like Akagi and Oomimi, I’ll be here if you’re ever ready. I’m not looking for romance. Don’t tell Akagi because I refuse to deal with his questions, but it’s not like I haven’t dated in the past ten years. Even with volleyball… I dated within volleyball and out… and no matter what I never found anyone I could say I would be willing to commit to for the next eighty years. With everyone else I wasn’t willing to work out all our problems, or give my all for their happiness. It wasn’t fair to them and it wouldn’t be fair to anyone further down. Love is a commitment and a promise and the only one I’m willing to offer that to is you. And if you can never accept then I’m fine with that, Shin. ‘Cuz I’m still your best friend and I fully intend on harassing you for the rest of both of our lives and then quite a bit after that.”

“Aran…”

“I love you, Shinsuke. As a friend and as a lover, but whatever we are is up to you.” Aran said and Shinsuke let his head fall to the side, focusing on the smooth heartbeat, steady and strong. Of course he had to go and fall for the one guy who would actually promise to wait eighty years and then some more just to see if Shinsuke would finally be ready for him.

“I don’t… Just… for tonight… Can you stay with me? Like this.” Shinsuke said, tugging on the shirt before pausing. “Or y’know, without that part.”

“I cannot believe you. I’m pouring my heart out to ya and you’re teasing me.” There was nothing but adoration and humor in Aran’s eyes and Shinsuke knew the tease was alright. Their old boundaries still applied, which was to say hardly any at all.

“So you’re sleeping in the shirt then?”

Aran grumbled something in french, probably rude, before he was sliding out from under Shinsuke and heading towards the closet.

“I’m takin’ your sweat pants and if I stretch ‘em out I’m keepin’ them.” Aran yawned, accent thickening with exhaustion. A weight started to settle on Shinsuke’s body as he realized how late it was, nearing one a.m. and they’d both been up since five.

Guilt rolled in Shinsuke’s stomach but before it could build, Aran was already back in the bed, pulling up the covers and climbing in. He snapped his fingers for Lady’s attention and pat his own legs.

She eyed him for a moment before Shinsuke started to move and she finally jumped off and settled on her owner’s knees. Shinsuke barely managed to stumble over to the dresser and strip off his clothing and pull on clean pajamas before he was making his way back and burrowing under the blankets.

He didn’t hesitate to move directly over to Aran, tucking himself between Aran’s chest and arm. He moved his head to rest over his heart, the steady thump nearly putting him to sleep immediately.

Gentle fingers stroked through his hair and he sighed, cracking open his eyes again. He shifted, giving up his comfortable spot to lean just over Aran. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes, as the hand drifted down from his hair to the back of his neck.

Shinsuke hummed, leaning down only to hesitate.

“Promise you won’t hate me in the morning?” He asked, because Aran never broke promises. A promise from Aran was like a fact of life. Something that Shinsuke could rely on no matter what happened, constant and consistent.

“I promise.” Aran breathed, leaning up just enough to bump their noses together. Shinsuke couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face, even as tiredness tugged at him and his eyes burned from crying, he just wanted to stay like this forever. In Aran’s arms, smiling like everything would be okay.

Shinsuke kissed him, sighing against the warm lips that slid together like they’d been doing this for years. He wasn’t expecting fireworks, that’d always sounded ridiculous and honestly a bit weird to hear loud explosions from a kiss. But there was still... something. Not a spark, but a pleasant warmth that washed over him as their lips moved slowly, gently. Just like the rest of him, Aran’s lips felt like home, like Shinsuke was right where he belonged. Drawing him in and sapping any remaining tension from him with a familiarity that defied the newness of the arrangement.

Shinsuke could feel his ears burning and the twist in his stomach as he pulled back an inch. He was almost pleasantly surprised to realize he was nervous. That was new but not unwelcome, not when it came to Aran atleast.

Aran leaned up just enough to kiss him again, the hand on his neck just drawing Shinsuke back down into it again. Shinsuke didn’t bother to count them, though he suspected Aran was probably cataloging them all. By the time they kissed again, Shinsuke probably would barely remember how the first one felt beyond the rush of adrenaline and the warm settling of contentment in his stomach.

A yawn broke it up, catching Shinsuke’s tooth on Aran’s nose as he pulled up too sharply. He whined tiredly, scrubbing at blurry, dry eyes. He let them droop for a moment and Aran took advantage to tug him back down into his arms. This time Shinsuke was tucked under his head, arm wrapped around his waist.

Lady was instantly back on Shinsuke’s legs, like she was aware she was now allowed to interrupt without being shooed off.

“S’ch a good girl.” Shinsuke yawned as he reached down to pet her. “Tra’ned her really good.”

“I know, Shin… Get some sleep, we’ll deal with things as they come okay? Starting with tomorrow.”

“Mm… ‘Slong as you’re still my best friend… I’ll be just fine… Aran? One more promise?” Shinsuke mumbled into Aran’s pec, splaying his hand over his stomach. His tired brain was more than a little amused at the difference of their skin, tracing his finger over the small scars from the years. A few he knew, a few he didn’t but all rather thick or long compared to Shinsuke’s own tiny nicks on his fingers from fabric scissors and needles. It honestly wasn’t fair, Aran had absolutely no right to look as gorgeous as he did.

“Shin, are you going to keep talking to my abs or are you going to finish your sentence?” Aran tried not to laugh, he really did but tired Shinsuke was almost as much of a blabber mouth as drunk Shinsuke. Aran found it far too amusing watching him mumble about how hot Aran was to Aran’s own chest.

Shinsuke used to wax poetry about his skin tone when they were drunk their first few years out of highschool, often followed by admiration of his arms or face. Once, Aran even managed to get him to admit he was jealous Aran could grow decent facial hair. Aran had no idea how Shinsuke had come to the conclusion that Aran didn’t know he was in love with him. He wasn’t very subtle at the best of times.

“Shh… I need ya to promise me… Ya won’t take Lady away… I love Lady. She’s m’ dog.” Shinsuke grumbled as he snuggled in closer.

“She’s not… but okay, I promise I won’t take Lady away.” Aran hummed, pressing a kiss to Shinsuke’s head. “Sleep well, Shin.”

#fluff #HQ #haikyuu #Arankita #Ojiro Aran #Kita Shinsuke #Fanfiction #Making a home au

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jj-lives · 4 years

Text

Injury - Inktober fanfic

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Yang leaned up against the lockers behind her, shoulders slumped, dragged by the weight of her exhaustion. She let gravity do the rest as she was pulled down. The floor was hard and the cold metal sent a shiver up her spine where it connected with her bare skin, her shirt riding up as she collapsed. That was the worst exam of her entire life. If this was what she had to look forward to in her third year, she wasn’t sure graduate was going to be a moniker she would ever earn.

Yang stretched her arms high above her head, trying to pull the strain out of her trapezius muscle. It had been bothering her all day. She blamed falling asleep on the couch whilst studying. Waking in the most uncomfortable position of her life she’d barely enough control over her body to roll off her temporary bed. Everytime she moved her head in any direction or arms higher than her shoulders there was an accompanying pull all down her neck and into her shoulder blade. It was absolutely killing her.

“That was not a fun test.” Pyrrha spoke up, closing the classroom door behind her. Yang could still see a handful of her classmates struggling to answer the questions before time ran out. She knew they had little of that left and she pitied them. Pyrrha sank to sit beside her. “How do you think you did?”

“Failed,” she said through a groan as she rolled her shoulders.

“I’m sure you didn’t do that badly.” Pyrrha smiled, pushing her with her elbow. Yang sucked in a breath as the movement aggravated her muscles once more. Pyrrha was quick to apologize. “Is it getting any better?”

“Yeah,” Yang lied. “I’m sure it’ll go away after a night's rest in an actual bed. I am never sleeping on the couch ever again.”

Pyrrha stood, holding both hands out to her, “Let’s get out of here. Sitting on the hard floor like this isn’t going to help your condition.”

She let Pyrrha drag her to her feet. A concerned look was aimed at her even as she tried to bury a grimace behind a smile of her own. It was nice of her not to make a big deal of the small injury, even if Pyrrha could tell how much it was bothering her. Yang hated being babied, which Pyrrha learned long ago.

“How did you do?” Shouldering her bag she changed the subject. Pyrrha’s clipped footfalls were quick to trail after her.

“I did alright, but a couple questions definitely tripped me up.” She continued only after Yang tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

“Where the hell do you think I was leading us?” She chuckled and Pyrrha joined her.

It was a kind of ritual with them. After every test, exam or major project and presentation they would go to the cafe on the far side of campus. It was the least busy of all the shops on the grounds. The walk was completed in comfortable silence, both replaying the exam back in their heads. Yang wished she’d studied more, though she knew she hadn’t failed -as she told Pyrrha- but she didn’t want this affecting her average in the class. It was difficult enough to keep her GPA where she wanted it. They were both competitive, which wasn’t odd to find of the students in the Athletics college, but both felt the need to excel not only physically, but also academically.

“We’ll focus more on Kinesiology the next couple of weeks.” Yang looked up from her trainers, surprised to see Pyrrha holding the door to the cafe open for her. She needed to stop autopiloting like that. The test was over and there was nothing to be done now besides look to the future. “My treat today.”

“You owe me for kicking your ass in that race last week anyway.”

Pyrrha waved away her cockiness. “If that’s how you want to remember it. You want the usual?”

Throwing her a thumbs up, Yang wove her way around the chairs to the back corner to claim their usual spot. There were only a handful of students taking up the other tables. Most were single occupants, studying with laptops, texts and notes strewn across tables for four. One was reading a newspaper and there was a dark haired girl reading near the fireplace along the opposite wall. Her heart stopped for a beat; it was long enough for Yang to realize she’d never seen the other girl before in her life.

“What’s up?” A mug was placed on the table, vapors snaking up from the froth. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.” Careful lips pressed to the cup as caramel sweet caffeine slid over her tongue. “Thanks.”

Pyrrha’s gaze followed where Yang’s was a moment before. Understanding crossed her features but when she turned back she didn’t mention what they both knew. Yang was relieved. She could barely put words to her reaction to Blake in her mind, there was no way she could yet speak any of it aloud.

Pyrrha spoke up, talking about her weekend with Nora and Ren, how they all went to a party just off campus. It was easy to fall into the innocent tales of Nora challenging everyone to arm wrestling competitions, or how Ren was secretly very good at beer pong. It was simple. And it succeeded in what Yang assumed was Pyrrha’s goal. It distracted her.

“You have to come with us one weekend.” Pyrrha voiced, calming from a fit of laughter.

Yang took a steadying breath. It did sound like fun. “I don’t know. It isn’t exactly my scene, ya know?”

“You only say that because you haven’t experienced it.” Pyrrha pointed out. “And it doesn’t have to be a party. You could come the next time we all hang out. Sober,” she added, thinking that was Yang’s problem.

“I’m not against drinking.” She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t like the idea of a bunch of drunk assholes eyeing me up like I’m the answers to all their wet dreams.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m not in a hurry to experience it.”

There was a moment of silence. “You know I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, right?”

“I don’t doubt you for a second. I’ve been on the receiving end of your right hook, remember?”

“That was an accident. You moved the mat in the middle of my swing.” Pyrrha took a sip of her cappuccino, glaring at her over the cup’s rim.

“Maybe, but I wore that bruise for two weeks,” she teased.

“Don’t exaggerate.” Drumming her fingers on the table, Pyrrha stole another look at the girl reading in the corner. “You need to socialize more. I worry about you.”

“I know.” Hands wrapped around the comforting heat of her own cappuccino. “You’re a good friend for that and I appreciate you more than you know.”

“But?”

“But, I…” Yang grimaced. The truth was she didn’t have a single reason to refuse Pyrrha’s offer. There were plenty of times she invited her for study sessions, or to join her and her other friends doing exactly what she and Pyrrha were doing now, getting coffee. There were no excuses that could logically explain why Yang held back from getting to know Pyrrha’s friends. “I-”

“I think that you’ve become accustomed to being alone.”

“Ruby lives with me.” she rolled her eyes, brushing the idea aside.

“That’s recent, and she’s hardly home anyway. You told me as much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking solitude.”

“No, but you don’t like it.” Pyrrha deadpanned. The green of her eyes peering into Yang’s accusingly. “You say as much when you complain how quiet the apartment is, or when you tell me of your boredom. I’ve heard you speak of your high school days.”

“What does that have to do with what’s so obviously wrong with me?” She knew she was getting defensive. She could feel it in the way her muscles tensed and her jaw locked, in the sound of the forced words pushing passed her clenched teeth. She also knew Pyrrha didn’t deserve any of it.

“Yang.” Voice lowered, Pyrrha placed a gentle hand on hers resting on the table. “Nothing is wrong with you. But you were always surrounded by a lot of people up until you moved here and I know you miss that.”

“Yes, because why wouldn’t I miss being surrounded by superficial barbies, and eager to please puppet boys?” Yang tapped a finger against Pyrrha’s wrist. “I’d much rather a friend that cares about me, not my body or looks or what I can do for them on the basketball court.”

“I do!” Her voice rose in indignation.

Yang laughed. “I know. I would rather have just one of you than a hundred of the type I hung out with in highschool.”

Placated with Yang’s compliments Pyrrha relented. “Fine, you don’t have to come out with us. But I don’t think making more friends like me would do you any harm.”

“There’s no one like you, and we both know it!”

A soft smile was Yang’s reward. “Save your flattery for your lady love.”

“What if I’m trying to seduce you?”

“You’re doing a piss poor job.”

“That hurts, like a knife to the guts kinda hurts.”

“That would imply you have any, we both know you haven’t the guts to ask that girl out.” Yang’s jaw hung low, impressed with Pyrrha’s comeback. “Should we test your spine too, or has that abandoned you as well?”

“Let’s not get nasty.” Yang pouted. “If you don’t like me that way you could have just said so. No need for slinging insults.”

“You deserve it.”

Yang could still see the worry behind her friend's smiling eyes. “I’ll come out with you- not this weekend!” She quickly added when Pyrrha looked at her excitedly. “I promise I’ll agree to an outing. Just one.”

Pyrrha settled, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll have to make it worth it then.”

Yang had a feeling she would live to regret her words. She could see the wheels spinning in Pyrrha’s mind.

“Thank you.”

Yang could only nod, knowing that all jokes aside, Pyrrha was only thinking of her well being and she’d been such a great friend to her. If this one thing could help her friend worry a little less than Yang would agree to it.

A sudden crash of a cup breaking behind the counter ripped through their silence. Both spared a hasty glance to the young girl behind the till who was beat red with embarrassment. Yang hissed at the strain the sudden movement caused, pain flaring up once again.

“Are you sure you will be alright?”

“You’ve worried over me enough today, don’t you think?”

“Not really. If I don’t do it who will?”

“You make a good point, but the strain will go away with sleep.” Turning her gaze out the window Yang could see the sun was already setting and dusk was sweeping its way across the campus. “Speaking of sleep, it’s getting late. We should probably head out.”

“Yeah,” Both stood and collected their things before exiting the building. “Meet in the library during our break tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we can go over what we remember of the test and try to get a head start on the next section.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They split up, Pyrrha to her dormitory and Yang to the parking lot, hoping she remembered where she’d parked.

Taking a shortcut through the Arts building would save her a good five minutes rather than taking the long way around. She didn’t visit the building often, only having had one class in it during her first year. It was nice enough and Yang enjoyed looking at the sketches, paintings and sculptures previous students had completed over the years. The building housed a few art exhibitions a couple times a year and Yang realized, as she came up to a group blocking the hall to her escape, that was exactly what was happening now. She thought the paintings on the walls looked more professional than usual.

Sticking to the wall, Yang skirted the majority of bodies, excusing herself when she had to brush up on anyone too closely. She was sure that the last guy had heard her ask him to move but remained planted, ignoring her as one of the sculptures would, so she had to press very close to pass him. The smirk he sent her as she passed confirmed the creep she pegged him for. She wished he was a sculpture she could topple over. She’d take pleasure watching him break into a million pieces.

As she shot him a look of her own she noticed a familiar figure in the middle of the crowd. As if sensing eyes on her, Blake looked up from the notes she was taking. Yang lifted her arm to wave and gave her a wide grin. It was a surprise when her greeting was readily returned, with almost as much enthusiasm. She was glad that Blake didn’t seem as reserved around her as before, even if they hadn’t had another chance to hang out since the movies. Yang could tell they were in some night class of sorts or an on campus field trip, so she gave Blake another wave and continued on her way. She was bound to come around at some point, seeing as every one of Ruby’s stories involved both Weiss and the girl behind her.

Pyrrha’s earlier comments filled her head. Had Blake not been in class would Yang have had the guts to talk to her? Would she have the backbone to stand there and ask the girl out?

The skittish way she seemed to react to Blake told Yang that her friend was probably right. Nothing short of a neon sign from Blake letting her know she was interested would be enough to give Yang that push she needed.

Maybe Pyrrha was right about everything. Maybe she was getting too comfortable in the past two years of her solitude.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late to rectify that.

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #pyrrha nikos #fanfic #inktober #my writing #injury

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btswrckd · 4 years

Text

Kei Tsukishima X Reader

A/N: So I went back and did some editing because sleep is for the weak. Aka, I have insomnia and rewatched Haikyuu and decided to add on to this. Also if you’re not familiar with the way I set up a story, the sections that are bold and italic are meant to be flashbacks

It was hard, watching Kurasuno go against your school

It was even harder watching them attempt to block Ushiwaka’s spikes

You swore you saw most if not all of Kurasuno’s players wince when they came into contact with it

But then he did it

Kei Tsukishima actually managed to shut down one of Ushiwaka’s spikes and he did it without batting an eye

His team celebrated and two of them bombarded him with praise

You had half a mind to yell at Tanaka to be careful punching Tsukishima’s stomach

But the real concern was when Noya bit him on the shoulder

Well it was an amazing block and they did have a right to be excited

There was a small sense of pride as you watched your boyfriend give your ex a run for his money

Yes, much to everyone’s surprise, you and Tsukishima were dating

The two of you had met just after your first year of high school and Tsukki’s last year of junior high when his brother had dragged him to one of the boy’s volleyball games

There was time to catch a few of the girl’s games and there you were, the only first year in the line up for Shiratorizawa girls volleyball team

Tsukishima tried his hardest to be casual when it came to asking his brother about you but Akiteru knew better and teased him about it

At the time you’d been dating Ushiwaka in his second year, which was even more of a surprise since he didn’t really socialize with anyone

But even Tsukki could tell that it was not all sunshine and roses when it came to your relationship since Ushiwaka couldn’t even be bothered to watch your game

You remember scanning the crowd for him but not once spotting Ushiwaka and while you didn’t want it to bother you it definitely impacted your mood

After taking both sets quite easily you sauntered off the court with the rest of your team and bumped into Akiteru and Tsukki and lit up at the sight of your old friend

“Hey Akiteru!” You waved at him with a smile and blinked at the taller boy next to him “And...?”

“Oh” Tsukishima wasn’t entirely sure why he couldn’t form a proper sentence but finally but out “I’m Kei, Akiteru’s younger brother”

“Nice to meet you” You smiled and shook his hand before Akiteru chimed in to congratulate your team on the win

Tsukishima was quiet and studied you so intensely that it actually made you a little nervous

You thanked whatever higher power that decided to send your team captain to fetch you for the next match

After that day it was a bit hard to actually get him off your mind and you weren’t sure why

He was cute sure

In a little brother sort of way

But also, he seemed to be a little on the shy side and that was pretty adorable

So like was it a crush? Or did you just like the attention?

“Oh look at that”

You’re brought back to the present by the voice of the coach for Shiratorizawa who also happened to be your grandfather

You snap your head up to the court to find Tsukki gripping his right hand tightly and you had the urge to rush to him but knew you’d catch hell for it

Tsukki’s team gathered around him and Coach Ukai patted his shoulder to push him in the direction of the exit

You saw a flash of blood dripping down Tsukki’s hand and gasped, standing from the bench to follow when your grandfather slammed his hand on the bench

“Your team is here” He grumbled “You may only be acting manager for today’s match but you’re still Shiratorizawa’s manager”

You tsked and curled your hands into fists to hold back from snapping at him

It wasn’t that Kurasuno might actually take the set that made him angry, it was that you didn’t keep a relationship with his star player and ace

Tsukki cast a glance back to see if you’d be joining him in the medic’s office but instead found you handing water bottles out to your team, Ushiwaka lingering a little too long around you

To your credit you managed to sneer at Ushiwaka and snidely remark on his harsher than necessary or usual spike against Tsukishima and Tsukki smirked

He knew he loved you for a reason

“Are you ever gonna catch one of our games?” You asked Ushijima but knew it was really a lost cause

“I don’t want to distract you”

“It’s not a distraction when you have someone cheering you on!”

“Your grandfather wouldn’t like it” Ushijima’s attention returned to the notes he was studying

“I didn’t realize you were in a relationship with my grandfather” You crossed your arms and turned away from his desk “Just forget it. If you don’t want to go then all you have to do is say so”

He blinked at you as you stormed out of the classroom

You were upset and he probably should have tried to resolve the argument but the boyfriend thing was new to him

So he let it go figuring you’d cool off and then want to talk

That was not the case

Ushiwaka didn’t want to admit he was jealous

He had cared for you, he really did and probably always will but during the summer break after your first year when you pointed out that his top priority was volleyball, he hadn’t bothered to argue because it was true

He had thought that the granddaughter of Washijo Tanji would understand better than anybody how important volleyball was especially since you yourself were a strong player too

But that summer you’d broken up with him and started a relationship with a first year that he later found out was on the irritating Kurasuno team

“Hey” You tapped the arm of the person in front of you “Kei? Right?”

“Oh hello” Tsukishima bowed politely and blushed a little when you grinned at him

“Hi” You waved and noted the stack of books in his hand “Doing a little light reading this summer?”

“Just a little” He joked because he picked up about 6 books

“Oh I love this one!” You tapped on the first book in his little pile “That’s my favorite author”

“O-Oh” Tsukishima clutched the book tighter “He’s mine too”

You don’t remember how you ended up in an hour long conversation with the younger boy but it happened

And then at some point you exchanged numbers with him

Only a few weeks had passed during the summer break but you’d already developed a good friendship with Tsukishima

You also found that your relationship with Ushijima was slowly dwindling

You weren’t sure if it was the lack of time you spent together as a couple

Or if it was his absolute love of volleyball more than anything else

But you were sure that maintaining a relationship under the circumstances wasn’t a good idea

To add insult to injury, the same first year you left him for was a middle blocker determined to stop his spikes so Ushiwaka gave it his all

But he honestly hadn’t intended on splitting the guy’s hand open

“An unfortunate accident” He replied to the snark in your tone as you accused him of intentionally being a jerk

“Accident my ass!” You caught the attention of the rest of the team and Coach Ukai on the next bench over “You did that on purpose and you know it!”

“Perhaps” Ushiwaka was calm and it made your blood boil as he set the water bottle on the bench and took his spot on the court

“Someone’s gonna get it” Tendou sang from the sidelines while snickering into his hand

“Shut it Satori” You warned playfully

You may not get along with Ushiwaka as much but you lived for Tendou’s sense of humor and playful attitude

Washijo crossed his arms and demanded you sit down as the last set started but you refused

“I’m going to check on Tsukki” You unzipped your team jacket and set it on the bench “You know, the one your star player is trying to kill out there”

“I don’t know” You hesitated

“If you’re not happy then you’re not happy” Akiteru said as if it were that simple to just break up with somebody

Spending a weekend afternoon at the Tsukishima household was a routine you developed not long after your meeting with Tsukishima in the bookstore

“He’s right” Tsukishima agreed with his brother

A miracle in itself

“I knooooow” You groaned and flopped back on his bed “but we just—“

“You’re not a solid fit” He glanced over his shoulder to lock eyes with you “Just because you both play volleyball doesn’t mean you’re meant to be. By that logic then you and Akiteru should be together”

“Shut up” You sat up and tapped on his head lightly with your knuckles “If you wanna talk logic then technically you and I should be together since you play too”

“I’m not arguing that point” Tsukishima smirked at the blush creeping up your cheeks

You could never rattle him the same way he did to you

“Whatever brat” You picked up your phone and hovered over Ushijima’s name

“Stop being a wimp” Akiteru teased and pressed on Ushijima’s name to call him

“Akiteru!” You squeaked but held the phone up to your ear anyways “H-Hey we need to talk”

Ushijima didn’t seem like he cared all that much when you said you wanted to break up

In fact it was more like an inconvenience to even hear as much since, of course, he was in the middle of practice and couldn’t be bothered with something so trivial

“Why’d you even date him in the first place?” Akiteru questioned after the call “Actually how the heck did you even end up together?”

“My grandfather introduced us” You sighed and dropped your phone on the bed “Figured his star player and granddaughter would be a power team. Guess he was wrong”

Rushing to the medic’s office made you more anxious than you anticipated but when you finally got there Tsukki was done being bandaged up and ready to go

“Tsukki” You frowned up at him and held onto his injured hand gently “I knew his spikes were intense but I didn’t think...this is all my fault”

“Why is it your fault?” Tsukishima grit his teeth “Ushiwaka is strong and even if you and I weren’t together he’d still be using his full strength”

“Hey that’s not fair” You stepped back to give him some space “Even if my relationship with him wasn’t the best, I’d still like to think he cares enough about me to be upset about us”

“You and Ushijima broke up?!” Washijo gaped at you during the first day of practice

That old man actually stormed into the girl’s gym to scold you for having a mind of your own

The rest of the team gathered by the net and watched awkwardly as you faced off with the scary coach for the boy’s team

“Umm” You pursed your lips “yes? Is that a problem?”

Washijo crosses his arms and sneered “He’s been off during practices because of this so yes, it’s a problem”

“Welp, it’s not mine so” You shrugged and plucked a stray ball from the floor “You know grandpa, if he really cared so much then maybe he would have put in a little more effort. Like he does for volleyball”

“Is this about that kid with the glasses?”

You tensed at the mention of Tsukishima

How the hell...?

“Have you been keeping tabs on me?!”

“You were distracted” Your grandfather really thought he was in the right “so I asked your mother and she told me you’d been spending a lot of time with someone else”

“I seemed distracted or you were concerned that Ushiwaka was distracted because of me?”

“He seemed upset and I wanted to know why so I asked and he told me what happened”

“Are you kidding me?!” You were on the verge of pulling your own hair out “You’re really standing here telling me that he’s sad about our break up but didn’t even try to fix it?!”

You were fairly sure that if he gave a shred of a damn then he wouldn’t have agreed to break up so easily in the first place

“I...” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before you completely lost your mind “Yes, this is about Tsukishima. That’s his name by the way. And he happens to care a lot about me, my interests, and my happiness. If Ushiwaka wanted to be with me then he would have fought harder but he didn’t. Now if you don’t mind, I have to get back to practice”

“Do you want him to care about you in that way?”

“You’re twisting my words Kei and I hate it when you do that” You turned away from him and started down the hall back to the court “I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you are. I have to get back”

Tsukishima bit back a groan at having not only the rest of the game to worry about but now there was the matter of apologizing for starting a fight

“But” You stopped to get the last word in, as always “You guys can do this. Shiratorizawa isn’t invincible and I think Kurasuno has proven they’re a force to be reckoned with. So good luck on this last set Tsukki”

By the time you got back Kurasuno had tied the last set and you could see both teams starting to lose their stamina but not letting it get them down, everyone on the court giving 110%

Tsukishima had made his way back to his team a few moments after you and gave a quick update to Coach Ukai, almost begging to be back in the game and getting his wish

Angry with him or not, you were still nervous to see him on the court after hearing that his pinky had been dislocated

Like honestly what the hell was Ushiwaka’s problem?!

Tsukishima kept doing his job, calculating and making plays at the last second. He was one of the smartest people you knew and you could only guess it ticked off Tendou to no end

You noticed that Hinata was so amped and tired at the same time

So much so that his legs seemed to have stopped working for him

“Shoyo” You frowned when he failed to jump for a block

“The biggest are always the strongest” Your grandfather stated from the bench “it’s an undeniable law of nature”

“Your hate for them is palpable” You growled through grit teeth and curled your hands into fists “it isn’t fair to lump Hinata in with yourself especially since he’s fought twice as hard as you ever did”

“What are you trying to say?” Washijo hated when someone argued with him but you were his granddaughter and quite honestly, sometimes he found it a breath of fresh air when he was called out on his crap

“Hinata isn’t easily broken” You smiled at the little redhead running the length of the court “Try as hard as one may but he doesn’t let anything get him down. He knows his height puts him at a disadvantage but he always proves everyone wrong. You took ‘no’ for an answer right off the bat, grandpa”

You weren’t sure if he said anything back because your sole focus was on Tsukishima and whether or not he’d survive this last set

“Tsukki” You gasped under your breath when he soft blocked another spike from Ushiwaka and winced “please...be careful...”

And then finally

Finally Kurasuno had match point and it was Hinata’s serve

“Come on Sho” You mumbled and hoped your grandfather wouldn’t hear but the sound of Hinata’s hand slapping the ball down put everyone at standstill

He did it! Hinata made the last point and Kurasuno took the set! Holy shit!

You couldn’t even feel bad that Shiratorizawa lost, only pride and joy for Tsukishima and the Kurasuno boys you’d come to know and admire

“Tsukki!” You joined Tadashi and Noya in tackling the tall blonde to the floor, landing in his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck “You did great Kei! That was amazing!”

“Y/N” Tsukishima’s voice was stern and a little frightening, a tone usually reserved for Kageyama when the setter gets on his nerves “you dummy”

Tadashi and Noya both froze and quickly scrambled away from their teammate because only a crazy person would get caught in the middle of that fight

“Kei” You mimicked his tone and pulled back enough to meet his eyes “you jerk”

He smiled, a full on grin that startled his team and coach, and gripped the back of your neck in his large hand to pull you in for a long kiss

This was different

Up until now Tsukki had only ever given you small pecks and most of the time it was usually on the cheek

But here he was with his damaged hand buried in your hair to hold you steady

In front of a crowd

And cameras

And his team

You cupped his jaw in both hands and smiled against his lips

“Kei Tsukishima”

You jumped away from Tsukki to find Ushiwaka standing above you with his hand stretched out

Tsukishima let you climb off his lap before standing up and wrapping an arm around your waist “Ushiwaka”

“You’re a formidable opponent” Ushiwaka dropped his hand and bowed slightly at the victor “in more ways than just volleyball. I’ll admit I was being petty when the game started today though I can assure you I had no intention of purposefully injuring your hand”

“Um thanks?” Tsukishima wasn’t sure what to make of his non-apology but bowed in return and watched him walk away, tightening his grip on your waist a little

“You’re rather affectionate now after being upset with me earlier” You teased him but let out a small gasp when he turned and wrapped both arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck “Tsukki?”

“I’m sorry” He mumbled against your skin “I was...jealous. I thought you might still have feelings for him and I—.”

“Of course not” You assured him and wound your arms around his shoulders “I love you Tsukki and there’s no changing that. Not even your little mood swings”

The rest of the team caught the tail end of your conversation and all joined in on teasing Tsukishima and he could only grip onto you tighter to hide his irritated expression

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu imagine #kei tsukishima imagine #just something i was playing with #no title because i really just couldnt think of one

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nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Match up ^o^

May I request a Match up, please?

I’m at the part when I have to choose a route and I honestly don’t know/care. So I decided why not let some lovely internet stranger choose for me? Who do you think I would pair the best with?

I also noticed how much effort and detail you put into these so I decided that it was only fair to try to put in just as much effort in requesting. Or maybe I am just extremely vain so blabbering on this much about myself comes naturally (I also wouldn’t be too suprised if this were the case lol). Either way, I apologise for this getting so long. And without further ado, let’s learn about yours truly. Uh, yay?

I will start with my physical appearance because that’s easiest.

First of all, I am rather tall for a woman. Pair that with the fact that I constantly wear boots with 8 centimetre or greater heels and I almost always cap out somewhere above 182 centimetres (that’s 6 feet in American). So yes. I’m not exactly the approachable type, on the account of my height and near constant resting bitch face. I always look pissed off at something (and to be fair, I usually am).

I am a brunette with boring brown eyes. Nothing of note there.

I prefer to walk on my toes, for whatever reason. I also have great posture when I walk and these two factors always make it seem like I am floating. I’ve been told that I always seem very confident and self-assured. Which is complete bullshit because 90% of the time, I am winging it.

I am a dancer (of sorts. More on that later), so I am rather slim and toned. This is literally the only aspect of my physicality that I am actually confident in. The rest of me can burn in hell for all I care.

I am also very touch adverse. I hate the feeling of skin touching my skin it grosses me touch. However. There are a select few people in this world that I accept and enjoy hugs and cuddles from (and who I could snuggle with for hours). If I let anyone cuddle me that means I trust said person unconditionally and feel extremely comfortable around them. It’s essentially the ultimate statement of trust.

Onto personality.

If you can’t already tell, I have about as much dignity as a wet cat. I while I certainly do have an ego, it can be kind of difficult to bruise. Publically, I am absolutely shameless and don’t give two shits about what others think.

I have a tongue of steel and can rapid fire the most atrocious insults and comebacks when provoked. I’m known for my venomous sarcasm and biting wit among my own circles. I have a line for nearly every single situation so one-liners have become my thing. Which works out for me because I am a huge flirt.

I’ll flirt with pretty much anyone regardless of gender, I don’t give a crap. To clarify, it’s not because I am an attention whore (okay, yes. I am a complete attention whore), it’s because I am a theatre kid so excessive eye contact and sexual jokes are kinda where I thrive. I am also not afraid to get questionably lascivious with my flirting if someone tries to out-pace me. I never blush, I never falter, and I never let anyone know that they got the better of me. It shows weakness.

Despite my salacious façade, I am not inherently a sexual person. As a matter of fact, I am quite the opposite. I don’t experience sexual attraction (kudos to my asexual humans. I see you). This has rendered me practically immune to all charm, crushes, and sex appeal. It makes my life a lot easier, in my opinion. I don’t get too attached. I also enjoy messing around with the egos of fuck boys.

As mentioned earlier, I am an attention whore. I love showing off because I crave validation (this could point to some deep seated insecurities about myself that I refuse to acknowledge…. Ahem). Being on stage as where I thrive. And yes, I am a dancer, as I stated earlier. But I am not your conventional prissy ballerina. I am a circus performer. More specifically, I’m an aerialist. I have covered trapeze, contortion (I am unnaturally flexible), lyra, and silks. It’s a lot of fun almost dying every day and finding bruises in the most questionable places (if you cant already tell, I am an adrenaline junkie. I took karate for the first dozen or so years of my life and have recently been searching for more weapons combat classes because apparently I don’t have enough bruises already).

I am not easily impressed. And I don’t give out compliments very often. And that includes myself. I can be unnecessarily hard on myself at times… most of the time. But then again, who isn’t?

As for the side of me that isn’t stark-raving mad, I am usually a pretty objective person. While I have no qualms with discussing emotions (both mine and friend’s. I am a great listener and actually give pretty good advice when it comes to dealing with intense emotions). I tend to avoid letting them interfere with my logic. I look down on those who allow their emotions to dictate their actions. It makes them needlessly reckless.

I am typically a pretty chill person. When I am among people I am unfamiliar with, I tend to stay quiet and try not to rock the boat too much (again, I won’t hesitate to unleash a severe tongue lashing upon any poor soul who happens to rub me the wrong way… Or just happens to exist. I don’t take shit from other people and I hate it when others try to control me. (I don’t play rough, I play smart).

I really enjoy reading, writing, or drawing quietly. I can’t stand loud and excessive noises or people (parties, screaming, concerts). I am a true extroverted introvert. I love being the center of attention and chatting, but I need my alone time. People are exhausting to deal with.

Because of my aversion to loud sounds, I tend to avoid typical dance parties like the plague. While I am very good with mingling and partying in general, I can only keep it up in short bursts before I have to retreat somewhere quiet. This is also the reason I greatly prefer the nighttime (if I had a choice I would sleep all day and only frolick around at night. I just love the dark. It’s comforting in a weird way). I also love the night because that’s when I get to sleep and just peace out on life. It’s kinda like non-committal dying.

I am near constantly on hyper-alert so I am not easily startled. When I do get startled, I have a tendency to squeak, yelp or growl. These noses are purely reactionary sounds but for whatever reason, my friends think that they are absolutely adorable and will go to great lengths to startle me just to hear me make them.

To counteract my friend’s malevolence, I have learnt to be super observant, especially when I feel threatened. Usually, I am caught up on my own world and thoughts. I have an imagination so powerful that I can trick my brain into feeling false sensations such as an extra limb or falling. I much prefer to spend my time in my head rather than our boring reality. But if I feel threatened, or think that another attack is imminent, I instantly become hyper aware. These moments of lucidity enable me to make certain observations others would otherwise be overlooked (for example. I was able to tell when my professor lost her wedding ring due to the discoloration around her ring finger and the habitual and near-constant worrying she did at it. I offered to help her look after class ^.^. I admittedly felt kinda smug when I saw her surprise.) Ironically enough, I like to refer to this mode of thinking as “Sherlocking”. I can be quite the detective when I really try. 9 out of 10 times my friends will come to me when they suspect infidelity, I am pretty good at digging up dirt.

However, I have to make the conscious decision to do this, usually when I am trying to figure someone out or manipulate them into liking me. So this isn’t constant and usually I go about my day like everyone else, blissfully unaware of my surroundings.

Uhh, there is probably more I could cover but this is getting very long as-is and you are probably forcing yourself to get through my seemingly eternal ramblings. So I am going to stop here and go grab myself some food.

Best of luck to you,

-November

Hi there love!<3 you sound like such a cool interesting person! ^_^ Hehehe I probs took so long with this match up that you already chose a new route lol! Anyways thanx for waiting soooooo long for this and I hope ya enjoy it love ^0^ ^_^

I match you with……………………… Masamune

Honestly, it was between Masamune and Mitsuhide for me lol but i eventually decided to go with Masamune

The first time Masamune sees you, his eyes go wide in awe, like wow you are one tall fine lady! He has legit never met anyone so tall. After you were named as chatelaine, you stayed behind with some of the warlords to chat and get to know them better, you are after all going to be seeing their faces every day for the next 3 months.

Right of the bat, Masamune is howling in laughter at the fact that you are way taller than Ieyasu. You, Masamune and Mitsuhide basically tease the poor porcupine for a solid 20 minutes. “My my I never expected such a scary-looking little mouse to be so bubbly and friendly.”

Oooh, this boy just stared a war of wits. Today day was a good day cause your tongue of steel was rapidly firing witty words and sarcastic remarks at the resident kitsune. He almost couldn’t keep up, almost. Masamune was just standing there watching the whole scene unfold, you truly were going to be a lot of fun! Masamune decided to test out that tongue of steel of your and started firing some flirty pick-up line, while unbeknown to him you are the queen of one-liners, and have no shame when it comes lascivious flirting. Masamune, of course, never backs down from a challenge, and he was determined to make you blush. The conversation got so heated that it made even Hideyoshi blush on your behalf. You simply laughed and fired another one of your pick-up lines.

After the little chat in the hallway and a massive speech from mama bear for talking about things that were not PG13, cause of the kids *cough* Mitsunari *cough*, you and Masamune become quick friends. He had never met a woman before that was immune to his boyish wild charm, and handsome sexual appeal. Masamune was definitely popular with the woman, not as popular as Hideyoshi, but he was definitely a fuckboi. As surprised as he was, that his normal antics didn't work on you, his ego wasn’t dented one bit, it just made him more determined to get to know you.

Masamune definitely finds your flirtatious nature attractive, especially when you managed to score the two of you free sweet bun just by flirting with the shop owner, he was, even more, shook when the shop owner was a woman, your flirtation truly knows no bounds. The two of you would spend loads of time together, just going out for tea and sweets while getting to know each other. TBH although Masamune would never admit it, he found it refreshing that you weren't just his friend simply cause he was hot or cause you wanted to climb in stations but because you actually liked him as a person. You and Masamune definitely made an unstoppable team when it came to banquets. The two of you would team up and start teasing everyone there. When you two cuties are together its always a good time with loads of laughter and banter

Masamune discovered that you like him, was an adrenaline junkie. He loved that he finally had someone around that would do stupid shit with him just for the thrill of it. The two of you would go out on adventures 24/7 jumping down waterfalls and hiking up cliffs. The two of you goofball would also dare each other to do the craziest shit. Like one-time Masamune dared you to jump off the castle’s roof onto your balcony, and you freaken did it, no questions asked. Or like the one time you dared him to put his head in Shogetsu mouth, mind you the little cub was now grown into a full-blown tiger

One day you and Masa went to go watch one of Mitsuhide’s undercover performances. The three of you were investigating a shady daimyo in one of the nearby provinces. The three of you disguised yourselves as performers and joined a circus troop as their new dancers. You were so excited, the stage is where you truly come alive. You had promised Masa to show him something that would shock/surprise him after he gave you the grand tour of Azuchi. Today was the day, you had kept your dance and performances a secret from the two men, and now it was finally time to show them what you can do. You had 3 different performances planned. The first one was contortion. To say Masamune was shook would be an understatement he never knew anyone could be so freaken flexible, like wow. Your next performance was aerial dancing, his blue eye gleamed in delight, watching you move through the air so gracefully. If he wasn’t sure before he was sure now, this boy loved ya. But what really took his breath away was when you trapezed through the air, he was absolutely mesmerized at the way you flew through the air doing back-flips and other cool ass tricks. Masamune loved the look of pure joy on your face as you performed and after the show, you explained to him that you were a theatre kid back in the past. Mitsuhide definitely took note of your skills, and since that day you now accompanied him on most missions that required him to disguise himself as a performer.

Masamune loved everything about you at this point. Your overdramatic introvert/extrovert personality. The way you walked. Gosh, he loved the way you walked, it looked like you were an angel floating around wherever you went. He loved your banter and one-liner for every situation. And most of all he loved your hyper-alert side. Boy did he love to come up behind you to scare the crap outta you just so he could hear you squeak, yelp or growl. Like he lived for those adorably cute noises. And you somewhere along the line had fallen in love with the big idiot. He was always coming up with new fun adventures to go on or new fun things to do. He was one of those few people that could actually keep up with your banter

What was he most impressed with you may ask, well you Sherlocking skills of course. One day there were rumours of some super shady daimyos visiting Azuchi. Word on the street was that they were planning on stealing Mitsunari report to make the poor angel look bad. Mitsuhide was away sorting out some other plots and schemes, so it was now up to you to use your skills, to save the angel. You used your detective skill to gather evidence, and since your inner circle knew you were from the future, you were planning on catching them in the act and filming them for evidence. Masamune was always up for an adventure, so he acted as you own personal Watson. The two of you hid while watching the whole scene unfold, once they left the room the two of you came out. “What do you think they are going to do with the report lass,” he asked while his blue eye gleamed in delight. “Hmmmmm, I believe they are going to burn the evidence in the forest” you replied in your best British accent. Masamune couldn’t help but laugh. The two of you made your way to a secluded part of the forest and spotted them making a fire. Masamune looked at you curiously “How did you know they were going to be in this exact spot.” “Elementary, my dear Masamune.” He couldn’t help but burst out in laughter you really were a super fun kitten. Unfortunately for the two of you, they heard you guys laughing behind the trees and before you knew it, the two of you were surrounded. One of the men had a sword right at your throat ready to cut you open, that is when you shocked them by not backing down from the fight, you hit the sword away with one of your own gifted to you by your dearest one-eyed dragon. “ Point that sword at me one more time and i’ll slash your Achilles’ tendons, and TBH given the medicine situation of this time, no one would know how to fix your injury, so I hope you like hobbling around on one leg for the rest of your life cause that is what will happen.” These men were shook; meanwhile, Masa was next to you howling in laughter, “She’s not joking boys, this lass delivers on her threats.” You had never seen grown men run away from a fight so fast. You and Masamune picked up Mitsunari’s report that had fallen on the ground during the commotion and walked back hand in hand

You didn’t really like skin touching skin, but TBH you definitely like the warm feeling of Masamune’s hand warmed around yours. The two of you had come to fall in love with each other, and it wasn’t long before you two cuties entered into a relationship. Despite both of you being adrenaline junkies, both of you also loved your quiet times. Often you would sit together in his manor each doing your own thing. You would read and write, and Masamune would sit at his desk pretending to work (Cause admin is so freaken boring).

The two of you would have the best time together during banquets you loved being the centre of attention and would chat with everyone, but as the night would progress you would start feeling a bit drained and that’s when the one-eyed dragon would swoop in, pick you up and takes you to a quiet corner where the two of you cuddle and snuggle together.

He would spoil you rotten with the most amazing food, he would basically, cook anything your heart desires just to see that beautiful smile on your face. His heart would always burst with affection whenever he cuddles and kiss you, he knew that the fact that you allowed him to cuddle you was the ultimate statement of trust between the two of you.

Often the two of you cuties can be found causing mischief and giving Mamayoshi more grey hairs or cuddled together sharing stories of your day

Other potential matches............... Mitsuhide

Hope u enjoyed it dear @november-solarstorms

#ikesen masamune #masamune date #ikemen sengoku masamune #matchups #match ups #masamune matchup #ikesen matchup #submission

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alma-berry · 5 years

Text

Kit’s Secret Fire Message # 15

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Ty glared at his scrambled eggs. It was what he was used to eat in the morning, even at the Scholomance, but today the mere prospect of eating made his stomach squirm. Eat, he ordered himself, and shoved the fork into his mouth. He didn’t manage to to finish his plate, not with Kit sitting at the table, as far as possible from him, annoyingly not looking at him.

There were shadows under his blue eyes, and Ty wondered if he managed to get some sleep at all. He stayed up late, straying to hear the sound of the front door open, to know when Kit came back, but at some point he just collapsed into an uneasy sleep. As soon as he woke up, he called for Livvy and asked if she saw or heard anything, but she simply shook her head.

Kit wore fresh clothes though, not those he wore to the shadow market, and his fair hair was damp and smelled faintly of lavender, Ty noticed when he passed by him. That must mean he came back, or stayed somewhere else during the night. He had a hard time not thinking of the second option, of the werewolf boy in the market, of Kit’s shattered expression as he left the institute last night.

“Ok, so basically, we just need to go and pay that warlock a visit. Ask him if he knows something about the demons, right? That’s the only thing you managed to figure out last night?” Carl barked reproachfully at Kit.

In response, Kit narrowed his eyes and said “Yes,” with such venom Ty’s head popped up from his plate. “Did you manage to bring better results, with your undercover contacts?” He sneered at him.

Carl blushed but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

“It’s a good lead, Kit. We should definitely start there and see where it turns out.” Adam gave Kit a warm, encouraging smile. “If our initial theory is right, we don’t have much time to waste.. so let’s get ready. Kit, will you join us?”

“No,” Ty sprang to his feet and felt his cheeks burn with fierce intensity. Carl and Adam stared at him in confusion, but Kit wasn’t. He was glaring at his clinched fists with anger. Ty hasten to correct himself.

“I mean, we can’t all go. Something Hypatia said made it sound like he won’t appreciate a large party. I’ll go, with Kit.”

That made Kit look up at him with suspicion, but he didn’t turn down Ty’s proposition, not yet, which made him feel a little bit better.

Carl, on the other hand, lashed out immediately.

“You can’t go alone to see a warlock, Blackthorn. Not one you don’t know of it’s-“

“His. Not it’s. And I am more than capable of going alone to wherever I want, Carl, you know that very well. I don’t need your authorization, or your guidance.” Ty was no child. He knew he was younger than most of them, but he was capable just as they were, if not more. Especially in the case of Carl Lindquist.

“And in any case, I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Kit”. Ty felt Kit’s eyes on him like a thousand tiny prickles, but he didn’t dare to look his way.

“But, Ty…” Adam started with a soft, measured voice, “What do you mean by something Hypatia said? You weren’t there, were you?”

Ty felt the blood drain out of his face, and tried to think of a logical explanation for why he would know this information if he supposedly only heard about Kit’s conversation in the market this morning, for the first time. But before he could come up with something reliable, Kit spoke.

“I told him about it last night, he stayed up and waited for me.”

He said it so casually, with a steady voice and an honest expression. Ty snapped his mouth shut and tried hard not to look guilty.

Kit had lied for him. He covered up his stupid mistake, even though he was obviously still angry at him. Ty didn’t understand if it meant that there was a chance that he could be forgiven, but it gave him hope. That’s why he wanted to be alone with Kit, so he could apologise, so he could make it right.

Ty thought this was probably the right time for them to leave, but apparently Carl wasn’t done with his questioning.

“Well why didn’t you tell us that too? What else are you hiding from us, Herondale?” He said the last word like he was talking about about the filth under his fingernails.

Ty heard the drumbeat of his own heart loud in his ears and moved faster than he ever thought himself capable of. His face was inches away from Carl’s. The proximity wasn’t something he would ever have chosen, but in that moment, his rage was stronger than his need of space. What he needed was for Carl to understand what would happen if he would speak another word about Kit, ever again.

“Don’t talk to him like this”, his voice sounded stone cold, even to his ears, but he kept on regardless. “You have no reason to-“

“It’s not even his investigation! He’s not even supposed to know what we’re doing!”

Carl’s face was shining an ugly red that crept down to his neck, sprouting fiery angry blotches all over it.

“You’re right,” Ty said slowly, barely able to restrain himself from reaching for his weapon’s belt. He wasn’t a violent person, and his preferred way of fighting was tactical, with his knowledge and not with his fists, but he was a Shadowhunter, and the angel’s blood in his veins screamed of fierce protectiveness.

“It’s not Kit’s investigation. It’s not his responsibility at all, and yet, he’s the one that solved every piece of this case that we couldn’t. He helped us for days, even though he doesn’t even have to stay here. It’s not his duty and -“

“It’s his duty as a Shadow-“

“It’s not his duty to sit here and listen to your insults,” Ty’s voice rang loud and sharp, “He has done nothing to earn this treatment.”

Carl’s voice as he answered made him sound like a petulant child, “Well he’s an ass!”

Ty opened his mouth to protest but Kit was on him like a panther, lurking in the shadows, just waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“Oh is that right, Carl? Let’s talk about your increased interest in my ass, shall we? Personally I know a grate deal of the subject of bottoms.”

“I’m sure you do” Carl’s grunt was barely audible. Ty knew that Kit would never had teased him on the matter if he didn’t insult Ty like he did when they first met, though Carl’s discomfort was written plainly on his narrow face.

“Oh yes..” Kit went on, mercilessly, “Of many kinds”.

Thankfully, Adam rose to his feet and called in an authoritative voice, “As much as I’m truly fascinated by this conversation, if you plan on visiting the warlock, you must leave soon.”

Ty took a step back and felt Carl’s instant relief. Kit was already by the door, but Ty hesitated for a second before facing Carl once again.

He didn’t look at his face, he had no doubt that Carl would hear every word he had to say. He looked intently at his hands, trembling only slightly, but his voice was low and steady. “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to him like this, ever again.”

They walked in silence for what seemed like half an hour, but was probably only fifteen minutes. Usually, Kit would have felt uncomfortable, forced to fill the empty gaps with an idle chatter, but this was not the case. Not that it was a serine, pleasant walk. He was still angry, more angry than he felt for years.

He was lied to for all of his childhood, brought up to believe in secrets, trickery and in a life of self service. Everything had a price, and nothing should have been freely given.

But he went through quite a lot since those dark days in the basement of their Los Angeles home. Now he was loved by people that asked for nothing in return, and found that he was capable of loving them more fiercely than he ever thought was in him. They gave him the absolute truth, always. And being lied to again, being looked down at, being dismissed and used.. and from all people, by Ty.. made Kit feel like he was spiralling down into a dark place that he thought he had left behind.

But this morning, Ty didn’t act like he was looking down at him. As his stood, tall and swift like a sharpened arrow, he looked like he was ready to burn Carl Lindquist alive.

In those precious few moments, Kit managed to forget how hurt he was. Seeing Ty not only defending him, but actually threatening Carl, made him feel like he wasn’t so inconsequential to him as he thought. It also made him feel like he was punched in the chest with no warning.

He still wasn’t used to this older, sharper version of Ty.. and in that moment, no one had the right to look as beautiful as he did, like he was cut out of pure silver, soft and unyielding at the same time.

Kit eyed him sideways and regretted it immediately. He wanted to stay angry, to keep his mouth shut until they reach the goddamn warlock. But Ty looked so.. sad. Why was he sad? What gave him the right to look so frustrated? And Kit had no doubt this was the case, for Ty’s hands were dancing restlessly since they left the institute, and Kit had to clench his fist hard until his fingernails dug into his flesh. He wasn’t supposed to comfort Ty, though there was nothing in this world he wanted more.

The silence was merciless. It was tangible, pulsating between them until Kit had to break it before it broke him.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said with what he hoped wasn’t too soft of a voice.

Ty lifted his gaze towards him and fixed it at some unknown point behind him.

“I didn’t have to do what?”

“You didn’t have to say say all these things to Carl. I can manage him by myself..” his lips twitched upwards.

“I’m aware of that..” An echo of a smile hovered on Ty’s mouth, and Kit had to look away. “I didn’t do it because I had to.”

“So why did you do it?” Kit heard the desperation in his voice and cursed himself again, why couldn’t he keep it cool for at least five minutes?

Ty kept silent for a long moment before he answered, very slowly, like it pained him to say the words allowed.

“Because I couldn’t help it.”

Kit felt the trembling of his heart like it was laid in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t mind it when he picks on me. I know why he’s doing it, and it’s his business. But, the way he talks to you.. like you’re- as if he’s even-“

Kit was baffled. He never heard Ty struggle with words like this, though he knew they didn’t came as easily to him as to others. They were an instrument to him, a necessity.

“I just.. don’t like it.”

Kit didn’t know how to answer, and Ty didn’t look like he was waiting for a response.

They turned left on Northampton Rd, their destination was only a few minutes away. The stone pavement was littered with glass shards, shining between the dirty tiles like scattered glitter. The remains of a life, Kit thought.

A blue street sign told them that they weren’t so far from a children’s hospital, and the image of the all the potential captives of the demons flashed before Kit’s eyes. He was so immersed in his feelings, in his own pity, insignificant pain, that he managed to forget the real reason they were here.

Kit signalled Ty to follow his lead, as they turned into a narrow street. Right next to a brightly coloured flower shop, stood an old green wooden door with the address Hypatia gave him. He took out his stele, and quickly traced an open rune. The door creaked open, and they slid inside quietly, hidden behind their glamour.

Kit and Ty climbed two floors before they found the right apartment, a plain looking door with a metal plaque with the letter M hanged in the centre of it. Kit gave Ty a quick glance, debating whether he should say something before he knocked, but thought better of it. He lifted his hand towards the door when Ty asked in a low voice, “Aren’t you going to tell me that I should let you do the talking?”

He gave Kit a hesitant, shy smile, and all the anger and anxiety he felt flew out of him in an instant.

“Do I have to?” He replied with a grin, and knocked on the door.

Apparently, Hypatia wasn’t exaggerating when she called the warlock Marvin “unpleasant”.

The second he opened the door and saw Kit and Ty, he tried to slam it right in their faces. Kit was quick, though, and shoved his foot in the small space between the door and it’s frame.

“Ouch! That’s how you great everybody, Marvin?”

“It’s reserved to you Shadowhunters. What do you want?” Marvin was a rather short, tired looking man. He wore a blood red fluffy robe and had a slight greenish tint to skin that matched his moss coloured eyes, and a deep hoarse voice. Overall, he didn’t look like any warlock Kit had ever seen, he looked like an ordinary man that had a couple of drinks too much last night.

“My name is Christopher Herondale and this is Tiberius Blackthorn. We came to ask you a few questions about a.. very delicate matter.” Kit lifted his eyebrows to emphasise the need of a private conversation.

The warlock gave him a long, measuring look. “Herondale, you say? Are you familiar with Magnus Bane?”

“Yeah!” Kit’s mood lifted. If this warlock was a friend of Magnus, maybe he’ll be more inclined to help them. “He’s family friend. Good friend. Of both of us.” He gestured at Ty.

After another moment of hesitation, the warlock opened the door and moved aside to let them in.

Kit looked around him in amazement. The apartment was enormous, much bigger than what he would have thought just by looking at the building. The light inside was warm and dimmed, as if the sun was long gone from the sky and only the excessive amount of candles lit the room. But that wasn’t what was extraordinary about the place. Every single wall across the entire apartment was covered with books. Kit had never seen such a thing in his entire life, and he lived with Tessa Grey. He suppressed the urge to take a picture, and turned to Ty.

“Are you seeing this, Ty?”

Ty’s face mirrored his own amazement, but he didn’t seem to see the space around him. Kit followed his gaze, to know what he was looking at, and felt his mouth open in surprise.

In front of them stood Marvin, with his fluffy robe and solemn expression, but where his hands should have been, were long, slimy green tentacles. They were covered with pink suckers down to their tips, that curled inward and nearly reached his knees.

Kit closed his mouth and gave Ty a worried look, the last thing they needed was to make the warlock feel uncomfortable or angry. Sure, Kit was surprised by the addition, but he was used to warlocks. He remembered once meeting a warlock who’s entire body was covered with sparkly purple gills, but Ty wasn’t as used to downworlders as he was.

He better start talking, before things got too awkward. “So, umm-“

“Your tentacles..” Ty whispered before he could finish his words. Oh no, Kit thought, and gave Ty a meaningful look that he didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes?” Marvin’s voice was icy cold and his tentacles opened menacingly, like a strand of hair, escaping its roller.

“They’re incredible!” Ty called. “How long do they reach? Their texture indicates that they’re regularly moistened, but is it so or are they naturally slick? I wrote a paper once about the variety of oceanic marks in warlocks, but this is by far the most interesting I’ve ever encountered.”

Kit and Marvin both stared at Ty with unabashed amazement for a few seconds before Marvin stuttered a response.

“Thank you, I.. think. I just use moisturiser. I have a fella in the market that makes me a jasmine scented cream. I can give you his number, if.. you want.”

Kit couldn’t believe what was happening. He was terrified that Ty would be repulsed by the warlock’s.. unusual appearance, and now they were exchanging body care notes and discussing the advantages of tentacles in a fight. He supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised, and reminded himself of the days he spent in the shadow market with Ty. Everybody loved him, even before the cold peace was eradicated.

An overwhelming urge to put his arms around Ty punched his way into Kit’s heart, to hold him close, to feel the steady beat of his heart against his. To lose himself in his smell of ink, rain and clean cotton. But he couldn’t do that, even if he wasn’t in danger of bursting like a lightning storm. Ty didn’t want him that way. No matter how hopeful Kit felt by his warm behaviour in the last few days, Ty had proved him yesterday that there was little left between them. It wasn’t friendship, and definitely nothing more than that.

Eventually, Kit cleared his throat and reminded the two that they came here for an important reason, not a courtesy call.

As they spoke of the demon appearances and their suspicions about the missing children, Marvin’s eyes darkened and his lips compressed themselves into a thin line.

“I admit that this is worst than what I imagined. I’ve heard things.. not many downworld residents will speak of it, but I have my way of learning things. I heard that the moloch demons are searching to strengthen their master, so he will be able to take hold of this world. If what you’re saying is correct, the ritual of sacrifice might be exactly the way they’re planning to do it.”

“So when we found them in that warehouse..” Ty started in a shaken voice.

“They were looking for a place to preform the ritual, and hide the kids.” Kit completed, his fingers pressing hard over the knuckles, threatening to pop the bones out of their place.

“In the map we made, where we traced the demons appearances with the locations of kidnap, the warehouse was near one of the places where three kids were taken. That means they’re staying close to where they were seen last.”

Ty spoke slowly, as if he was seeing and interpreting the map right before his eyes. “Now all we have to do is look in that area for a potential place of hiding for them.”

“Yes,” Kit whispered. “A place that has an underground entrance.”

Ty sat on the floor to the foot of his bed, his hands planted deep in the soft maze of Irene’s fur. She was sprawled on his lap, her eyes following Livvy as she floated around the room.

“So you found the place? You know where they are?”

Her voice quivered with excitement and worry. Ty knew that she, like him, couldn’t help but remember the day their brother Tavvy was taken by Malcolm Fade. He tried to cast away the memories, Tavvy’s small body slack on the stone table, Malcolm’s army of the dead.

He shook his head and turned to his sister.

“We have a couple of potential locations that fits the profile we’re looking for. We can’t go during the night, because the demons can follow us outside. It’s safer to do this during the day.”

She nodded, her expression clouded, as if her mere existence was hiding away a secret.

“Is.. Kit coming with you?” She asked with that voice of hers she used whenever she was about to touch a subject Ty was less than inclined to discuss.

“I don’t know.. I hope he will. I think he’s still angry with me. I planned to apologise but I was so angry when we left the institute, because of Carl and because I couldn’t stop him before he said more hurtful things to Kit.. I just couldn’t find the right words. And when we left Marvin’s apartment we got so caught up in the investigation.”

“But when you came back? He’s still here, right?”

Ty pressed his cheek to Irene’s back and listened to her peculiar heartbeat. It grounded his mind to a single thought, to a single purpose.

“He’s here. As soon as Carl entered the room he left, but I heard him in the training room earlier.”

Livvy floated closer to him, something she didn’t usually do when Irene was so close, because it made her jumpy.

“Ty, you should go talk to him. You should apologise. Tomorrow you’re going to face the angel knows how many demons. You should do this.. before.”

Ty considered her words. In the next day they were headed towards danger, something that never frightened Ty. He was a Shadowhunter - danger was their closest companion, even in the Scholomance. But if Kit will come with them still thinking Ty didn’t trust him, it could seriously compromise them as a team, and therefore put Kit in danger.

He picked up his phone and checked for the time. It was late, and Kit was probably already asleep.. but it wouldn’t be the first time Ty had woke him up.

He gently lifted Irene off him, and placed her on the makeshift bed he had made for her when she arrived a few days ago.

With a witchlight in his hand, Ty walked the narrow corridor that led to Kit’s room.

Ty hesitated a second before he opened the door, but the thought of seeing Kit again filled his body with an excitement that wiped away the fear of his reaction. He pulled the handle down, and thanked for the soundless rune he put on the soles of his boots.

In the far corner of the dark room, lay Kit. Half covered with a heavy white blanket, his bare back facing Ty.

Ty felt the breath abandon his body completely. He never saw Kit like this, not now and not when they were younger.

He remembered the day he got injured, the day they met again, and Jem’s steady hands searching his body for hidden injuries. He remembered how completely shell shocked from desire he was by the mere sight of Kit’s feverish, exposed skin.

He fell to his knees in front of Kit’s bed without having any control over his body. The need to touch him was overwhelming, to trace the hard muscles of his back with the tips of his fingers, to study the curves and hollows of his bones all over the desert of his skin, to name each birthmark with his lips.

Ty shuddered violently and told himself, commanded himself not to do anything to scare Kit away.

“Kit,” his voice was an inaudible whisper. “Kit, wake up”.

Kit didn’t stir, not even a slight movement.

Ty lifted a trembling hand and shook Kit’s shoulder, “Kit, wake u-“

And with a flash of silvery light he barely had time to see, Ty was lifted off his knees and slammed hard onto the bed.

Kit’s fist held the front of Ty’s shirt, pinning him to the bed, and his other hand held a dagger to his neck. The Herondale dagger.

He was on top of Ty, his entire body pressing down on him, and Ty felt him, each part of him, with a frantic voice screaming in his head that he must remember this, every second of this moment, every part of the way Kit’s skin felt against his.

His eyes, midnight blue and darker than Ty had ever seen them, focused with a visible effort on his. He didn’t say a word, and Ty barely managed to notice how hard he was breathing, like he woke up from a nightmare but wasn’t sure if he was still asleep.

Ty couldn’t speak. Kit’s face was a blaze of golden white in the pale moonlight, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The sweet scent of his breath on his made him feel dizzy, and for a second, he wasn’t sure he was actually there, or still on the foot of his own bed.

“Christoper,” He whispered, his voice hoarse and thick. “I-“

And his lips were on his, hard and hot like a burst of flames erupting from stone.

He kissed him with a violent desperation, like he was on the verge of death and could find air only in-between their lips, like every drop of water that ever existed was to be found when their tongues met, melting his body into the stormy sea of a lost world.

Every place Kit’s lips touched made Ty burn, and they touched him everywhere. His jaw, his neck, the deep hollow above his sternum. He was burning like he never touched before. Every kiss he ever had, every place his body was touched until now was nothing but shadows, outlines of a desire he never knew existed.

His fingers grazed Kit’s naked back, touching all the places he yearned to touch before, tasting the velvety skin in the nape of his neck and the soft curls of his hair felt like feathers in his hands.

Kit’s lips found his again, and Ty could feel the need in him, the hunger. He bit his lower lip and Ty let out a low, breathless moan.

And with another flash of light, Kit was gone.

Ty felt like something was ripped away from him, an essential part of his body. He nearly screamed in pain when he saw Kit hunched in the corner of the bed. His back was trembling like he was stranded naked in the coldest of nights.

His thoughts sharpened slightly by the absence of Kit’s touch, Ty sat slowly, not touching him.

“What- what’s wrong?”

He heard his own voice like it was a stranger’s. There was nothing familiar about it, nothing reassuring, nothing to hold on to.

Kit didn’t answer, and Ty feared that he was crying. But why? Why would he be crying?

Ty’s blood sang in his veins, the strength of his emotions nearly knocking him back on his back.

He wanted to wrap his arms around Kit, to kiss the softness under his eyes, to press his hands against his heart and tell him, he wanted to tell him that-

“Leave.”

Kit’s pleading voice was barely a whisper, and Ty wished he only had imagined it.

“Please, Ty.. please. Leave.”

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glassworkspiderlilies · 4 years

Text

in for a penny, in for a pound

Kyokou Suiri (In/Spectre) | Sakuragawa Kuro, Iwanaga Kotoko | AO3 Summary: A girl approaches Kuro at the hospital with a proposition. Everything about this situation is absurd. Notes: Watched the first episode of the anime today and then just really wanted to write something for it!! More or less just the events of the first episode/chapter, with a bit more focus on Kuro and his thoughts. Most of the dialogue is transcripted from the manga. Spills a little over into chapter 2 of the manga and kind of references some things that are revealed later on, but shouldn’t be overly spoilery. [EDIT] this fic has been posted up to ao3! that version has been edited a bit more thoroughly. :)

It’s the first time he’s laughed since he’d broken up with Saki-san.

Kuro can’t help it—this girl is, perhaps, a bit cute, despite her oddly archaic way of speaking and her incredible forwardness. He had been teasing when he’d called her a middle-schooler, but he hadn’t expected her to blow up the way she did. It was also amusing how quickly she’d toned it back down, apologizing for her behavior.

It was funny. So he’d laughed. And it’s refreshing, to be laughing for the first time since he’d been dumped. And it’s also a little flattering, to be asked out by a young thing like this enigmatic Iwanaga Kotoko, who has made her proposal so succinctly. All parts of this situation is absurd, and that almost makes Kuro want to say yes, for the continued absurdity.

But considering what happened with Saki-san…he knows what his answer is, and what it needs to be in general, moving forward. Even so, he doesn’t expect to be asked about the reason of his breakup. Kuro tells her, if only to test out his story on his own tongue.

He tries to leave and play it off as something of a joke—perhaps he’s just a pathetic boy who blames his breakup on a kappa, or one who lost his mind from the shock of breakup—but just as he didn’t expect to be asked about this at all, nor does he expect to be contested.

“You weren’t very clear about the subject of your sentences,” Iwanaga says, stopping him from leaving with the tone of her voice, her gaze preternaturally serious like she sees right through him. “Which one of you was the coward that ran and left Saki-san behind?”

Kuro pauses, wary, suddenly, of this girl five years younger than him.

She continues to talk, and the explanation she gives him floors him, though he keeps his face as neutral as he can. It floors him because she is absolutely correct, down to every fine detail, even the words Saki-san had uttered while looking at him with fear.

This girl looks at him without fear, even as she recounts his tale back to him.

He’s not sure if that should scare him.

“I’ve only had one interview with a kappa,” she says, as if his own story hadn’t been just that, a story that he’d expected to be brushed off, “But I am well acquainted with many of their kind.”

She seems—otherworldly, then, as she speaks of yokai, monsters, spectres, and even demons that occupy shadows and crevices and corners, watching them even now.

“Most of them are harmless, but they are everywhere,” Iwanaga continues as she walks towards him, her cane making a softer sound than expected on the flooring. “And when they see you, they whisper to me…‘that thing is different. That—that thing…is terrifying.’”

Kuro crushes the paper cup in his hand, unable to stop the gooseflesh prickling his skin.

“Who are you? How can you be so sure these things exist?” he demands, the words coming out sharper than he intends.

He’s clinging onto the presentation of a normal human being, even as she steps right over those boundaries he’s setting with the total confidence of one who will get what she wants. He’s not used to this, not at all. There are some things he’s careful with—the slip-ups with Saki-san during the course of their relationship had been inevitable, considering how long they’d dated, but hiding what he is is logical, natural. Saki-san had turned pale after every instance that showed his particular constitution and backed away, eyes questioning, accusing. She’d let those little things slide because she wanted so badly to believe, that he was perfectly normal in every other way, but she was certainly unable to forget the things she had seen.

The kappa had been too much.

It’s understandable, ultimately. Really. But Iwanaga…there is not a trace of fear in her.

She smiles at him before answering, perfectly serene.

“They kidnapped me for about two weeks when I was eleven,” she explains, with such ease as if she’s talking about something inconsequential, “They took me into the mountains and asked me, please become our god of wisdom. And my eleven year old self answered them yes, I will.”

He stares at her, unsure of how much to reveal about himself.

“Kinda hard to believe…” he sighs, continuing to play dumb, but Iwanaga merely laughs lightly.

“Indeed!” she says, “So you may look it up in the newspapers. July, six years ago. A fifth grader named Iwanaga Kotoko went missing from the city. One week later, the police went public with their investigation. Another week later, at dawn, the girl was discovered on a bench in the city park, dozing as if nothing had happened. Details were withheld for privacy, but surely in some of the local papers, you’ll find where they wrote, ‘when the girl was discovered, her left leg was severed, and her right eye had been removed.’”

She pushes her hair out of the way with the top of her cane, using her pinky finger to tap her nail against her eye, producing a light clacking sound. A glass eye. She shifts her position, and her skirt also flounces enough for him to see the strap around her thigh, keeping a prosthetic leg in place. Kuro looks at her with disbelief, and she smiles again, putting her arms behind her back in a girlish, innocent pose.

“Of course, the perpetrator was never caught. Since then, I’ve been their God of Wisdom.”

Iwanaga checks her watch and walks past him with a bounce in her step, as if she’s terribly pleased with the results of this conversation.

“It’s time,” she says, in regards to the bus that they’ve been waiting for. “We’ll continue this another day.”

It’s his ride, too, but she seems sure that he won’t follow. She’s right, because he stares after her as she inclines her head and walks away without waiting for a response, still at a loss.

Kuro sees her as the bus passes a few moments later, and she waves. He frowns, checking his phone for when the next one is supposed to come, sighing. He supposes he might as well go to the library to check her story, even though he…believes her. No, even as he knows she has told the truth. Something like this goes beyond mere belief.

He has an inkling, that if he goes to the library, the (more or less) peaceful life he’s had so far will take a turn. He can go home like he had been intending to and forget this ever happened. He can continue as he has been.

Sakuragawa Kuro goes to the library.

She finds him just as he’s leaving the library.

Everything she said he’d find he’d found, of course. And the picture in the newspapers is evidently her, even six years later. Even so, he tells her, it doesn’t prove that she’s become a god to monsters and yokai.

“No, it doesn’t. I may have imagined the whole thing. But if it is a delusion, then I’m just a girl who was kidnapped by some deviant, and lost her mind from the shock of his abuse.”

She uses his own words against him, her expression ever so slightly wry. He has to give it to her—she’s clever.

“You’re free to believe what you want,” she continues, “But I may be the only person in this whole world who can understand you.”

He sighs. She may be right, to an extent. There is, at least, one other person, but…well. That is its own complication.

“Have you had lunch?” he asks, caving just a little. “I’ll treat you.”

Surprisingly, she refuses, having just had an expensive kaiseki meal. Who is she, he wonders, that such a young girl can have a kaiseki lunch.

“With the way you talk, I can’t tell if you were raised in polite society or not,” he says.

“Let’s just say that if I go missing, the first thing that people think is a kidnapping—that’s the kind of mansion I grew up in,” she replies, and that’s already a lot to unpack. “If you marry me, then the land and the house come with me. I can get you a job, too.”

She connects her thumb and index finger and her gaze is intense, and he’s flustered by this offer. Why is she talking like she’s her own saleswoman?

“I don’t want to date you for profit,” he says, holding his hands up, but her gaze intensifies if possible.

“What kind of naïve romantic are you?!” she demands, as if he’s personally insulted her, and he kind of wants to laugh again, at this discrepancy between her doll-like appearance and her seemingly skewed view of the world. “Shouldn’t you get something out of this?”

“Are you sure you should be saying this?” he responds, shaking his head, and starts to walk away. Even if she doesn’t need lunch, he does, and there doesn’t seem to be anything more of proper substance to this conversation.

“Then you admit I’m your type?!” she gasps, following after him.

“No,” he says, easily. It’s true. She’s the exact opposite.

Before he can take his leave, however, a librarian rushes towards them and transforms mid-jog, and then Iwanaga is discussing something that is stalking the halls of the library with the tanuki trembling in her arms. Kuro refuses to come, trying yet again to make an escape—because even though he had come to the library knowing something would change, he’s already satisfied his curiosity quite enough, thank you—but Iwanaga guilts him into coming.

It’s kind of amazing how she succeeds, really. He’s starting to realize he should not, perhaps, underestimate her.

Kuro has been told before that he doesn’t seem to have a sense of danger, but considering that he’s immortal, he can’t help it.

As he watches Iwanaga fly through the air after striking the monster with a fire extinguisher, fear floods him, because even with one eye and leg and God of Wisdom and all, she is still human. If she hits the ground, she will die, and she will not get up. Even earlier, she had unnerved him with her stand against the creature, attempting and failing to speak with it. But him grabbing her to escape from that was easy. Now, as she soars through the air, if he doesn’t catch her—

He does, of course. Dwelling any longer would be counterproductive. Kuro has to sigh at her cheekiness to comment upon her pleasure at being held, and she squeaks when he pulls her closer—not out of romance, but so she cannot be any more reckless than she has been.

“I’m trying to stop you from getting us both killed,” he tells her when she protests, the sound muffled against his chest.

The monster roars, and she squirms against him, her voice high and panicked.

“Kuro-san, run!” she yells, but he’s calm in the face of danger, as he’s always been.

He holds out his arm as the monster opens its maw and Iwanaga turns her head—and strangely, he’s not even worried about what she’s seeing as the creature’s jaws close around his flesh, taking his arm clean off. Blood splatters across his face and hers as well. Iwanaga’s eyes are wide, and she grips his shirt tighter. Her mouth opens and closes once before her words come out properly.

“Then…and now…you have that unconcerned look on your face…how can you be so indifferent?! Don’t you care that you’re in danger?!”

It’s almost sweet, how she’s worried. Her reaction is both expected and unexpected; expected because she’s not pulling away from him, even after what she’s seen, and unexpected because it seems she doesn’t actually know the truth of what he is like he thought she might.

“It’s upsetting to hear that from you, miss leap-before-you-look. I was sure you of all people would have been able to guess.”

She tilts her head in confusion, but at that moment, his body begins to regenerate. Bones, blood, flesh—his arm reconstructs itself, good as new. Iwanaga looks surprised, but not disgusted, and—frankly, he’s more relieved than he’d like to be. He has no reason to want her approval—he’s not sure he even likes this girl, but he doesn’t necessarily dislike her either.

Kuro looks at the monster, which has gone still.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, as its body begins to bubble. “It looks like my meat doesn’t agree with him.”

A few moments later, it explodes and its flesh disintegrates, surprise washing across Iwanaga’s face again.

“Kuro-san,” she says, her voice serious again. He lowers her down and gets up, brushing off his clothes as he begins to walk towards the skeleton that remains. “What are you?”

“Those things ask you for wisdom. Can’t they tell you that?” he says, his back towards her.

“No one likes to talk about the things that truly frighten them,” Iwanaga says slowly.

Kuro thinks about that for a moment. And her? Does he scare her? If she’s scared now, what about in a moment, when he answers her question?

“…True,” he agrees. “Well, to borrow your words…” he turns to her, and her eyes widen at the emptiness on his face. “When I was eleven, I gorged myself on two different kinds of yokai meat.”

She stares. He waits. Truth be told, he’s already said too much by sharing he’s eaten two kinds of meat instead of only one. She didn’t need to know the second part. But he’s told her anyway.

The shock passes, and she looks merely thoughtful instead.

“I see,” she murmurs. “I suppose that would explain the fear from other yokai. They sense the amalgamation in you, which is…unnatural.”

She tries to get up but does so a bit awkwardly because of her prosthetic. He offers her his hand without thinking about it, and she takes it without hesitation.

Kuro blinks at her. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Kuro-san,” she says, and—he’s had enough for today, he thinks.

“I think I’ve completed my part, here,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. He steps back. Coward, he thinks to himself. “Goodbye, Iwanaga-san.”

She sighs, even as he’s turning away and down half the stairs already.

“I will see you soon enough, Kuro-san,” she calls after him.

He glances back but doesn’t stop moving. She’s smiling at him, and offers a little curtsy.

Kuro wonders if he should feel threatened.

Briefly, he remembers that night, with Saki-san. How she had clung to him and called his name, only to start shaking, and then let him go with horror in her eyes.

He supposes there’s something wrong with him, that there’s some satisfaction in having this uncanny girl come after him.

Iwanaga does, of course, appear the next day at the hospital, peering around his side to look at the flowers he’s brought for his cousin. He’s not even surprised.

She’s worried for him, even after what she saw, repentant about the fact that she was the one who brought him into the mess.

He explains about the mermaid meat, grabs one of the rose stems from the bushes nearby, dragging his hand down its length. The thorns cut, his hand bleeds, and he opens it to show Iwanaga the wounds healing. She watches with less surprise than yesterday.

“I’ve lost fingers, been burned pretty badly, but I don’t have a single scar,” he tells her.

Iwanaga thinks. “Since ancient times, it’s believed that eating mermaid flesh bestows ageless immortality…but you don’t look eleven.”

“I think the other yokai meat I ate nullified some of the effects,” he says, his eyes distant as he looks down at his hand, “But it’s possible I will stop aging at some point.”

Iwanaga looks at him, tilting her head to the side.

“You said you ate two types of yokai meat. What was the other one?”

He smiles faintly at her.

“…I need to get going, otherwise I’ll be late for my visit.”

She sighs, but allows him to drop the topic.

“Very well. I suspect we’ll be seeing each other frequently for a long time to come. I’m sure I’ll have ample opportunity to ask you about yourself.”

“You can still say that after everything I’ve told you?” he asks, with some mild disbelief.

“Well, I do find it somewhat upsetting,” she says honestly, and this simple admittance doesn’t hurt him at all. “And I’m sure it’s why your relationship with Saki-san ended in ruin. Outwardly, you are the very picture of naiveté. But for my part, having you by my side is a welcome development both romantically and for solving yokai problems. Two birds, one stone!”

She twirls prettily and holds up to fingers to illustrate her words. She looks perfectly cheerful, for someone who had just found out something so disturbing so recently. But he supposes, as the God of Wisdom as she says she is, and a girl who had lost her left leg and right eye to supernatural creatures, his story, though unusual even to her, is not as big of an upset as it would be to someone else.

“…Are you sure you’re not being too logical about this?” he asks, is eyebrows furrowing. Because the fact remains that he is unnatural. Yokai and other such creatures are natural, especially to her, even if most humans cannot see them. They are part of a natural order that she is meant to keep.

He falls outside of that order. Shouldn’t she be thinking of getting rid of him somehow, then, instead of positing a relationship?

“What’s wrong with that?” she pouts, breaking him out of his thoughts. “And if we could just ignore the fact that my appearance doesn’t match what appeals to you, this would all be solved handily.”

He sighs.

“That’s not the problem and you know it,” he says, shaking his head. He isn’t ready to broach the topic he was just thinking about with her. He doesn’t know her well enough yet. “And you never said yokai extermination would be a requirement for this relationship.”

It’s funny. It wasn’t as though he ever said yes, but somehow—he’s already in it, this relationship.

“Most of their problems can be solved their consultation,” Iwanaga says easily, “And with you by my side, there won’t be any major upsets.”

He chuckles a little.

“What happened yesterday wasn’t a major upset?”

She looks a bit sheepish at that, turning her head in slight embarrassment.

“Sometimes things don’t work out,” she admits, “It was unfortunate for that cow that it couldn’t see you. But it’s very rare for a spectre to see you—part human, part yokai—and not be filled with dread. It would be quite the monster that doesn’t find you frightening.”

He stops short, just after they walk through the hospital doors. Kuro thinks about that, and wonders what that makes her, if yokai, monsters, spectres, and demons fear him. Humans are more fragile than yokai, and if humans are more intelligent, then they know above all what should be feared.

Iwanaga Kotoko fears neither humans nor the supernatural. So what does that make her? Her being a God of Wisdom is merely a title; she will say she is human when asked. So the fact that she doesn’t fear him and wants to date him (as a preamble to getting married, no less!)…what does that make her?

It would be quite the monster indeed.

He can’t think of her as a monster. So what is left? A true god?

Kuro puts a hand to his forehead. This is all too much. Even so, he’s her boyfriend now, whatever that entails or means in this situation. She’s too logical and unromantic and oddly risqué for him to think that being her boyfriend will be anything like being Saki’s. It’ll come with its own troubles, he can feel it, but…it doesn’t feel bad.

“Why did you stop?” Iwanaga calls to him, “You still have time—as my new boyfriend, the least you could do is walk me to my appointment before your own, you know.”

He sighs, but his lips quirk into a resigned smile once she turns her back to him, pouting slightly.

“Yes, yes,” he says, and offers his arm for her to hang onto.

She blinks at him, mollified.

“Well, now,” she says, “You do have some manners after all.”

“Moreso than you, sometimes,” he says, “How did you learn to talk like you do when you were raised in polite society?”

“Hey!” she says, pouting again, “There’s nothing wrong with being forthright. And seriously, what kind of idea of polite society do you have anyway?!”

He laughs, and continues to do so as she gets even more irritated, her cheeks reddening with frustration.

Yes, in some ways, he doesn’t think this will be bad at all.

#kyokou suiri #inspectre #in/spectre #iwanaga kotoko #sakuragawa kuro #fanfiction #celebratory fic for the first episode release??!#puts one (1) fic in the mostly empty tag :')#referenced my copy of volume 1 way too much for the dialogue #probably should've written something different LOL but this is what came out #anyway i...love this series a lot actually #yay for episode 1!

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juunjuniper-blog · 5 years

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Kitsune Captured

Ringabel's hunt to defeat Yoko goes in an unexpected direction when the yokai accidentally trips straight into the casanova's mouth. Contains implied digestion.

An old story from a few months ago that I found lying around and never bothered to finish completely, I guess. I figured I might as well finish/remake it.

I've never played Bravely Second, but I'm pretty sure you don't defeat Yoko by shoving her in Ringabel's maw. Though, it would be a better ending.

To say that Yoko was miffed at her current predicament would be an understatement. She was exceedingly infuriated, how could she be defeated so easily? By the same dark knight who’d been hunting her relentlessly, no less. Said knight, Ringabel, gave her a snarky smirk.

Oh boy, how she wanted to wipe it right off his face.

“Are you giving up now?” Ringabel questioned, hands running across the sword Darkbringer. He’d been waiting for this moment ever since he started hunting down the yokai. Nobody caused pain to his friends, namely Edea, and got away with it.

Yoko snarled at him, transforming back into her human form. At this point, remaining in her true form drained an excessive amount of energy, and that was the last thing she needed. “We will not surrender to the likes of you,” she bit back. Before Ringabel could react, she practically leapt at him, katana in her hand.

Ringabel gasped in surprise, not expecting her to rush at him. Neither of them anticipated for Yoko’s head to crash straight into Ringabel’s open maw, the former releasing her hold on the weapon in shock, and the latter tumbling onto the hard floor of the Vampire Castle.

For a few moments, there was an awkward silence. Neither knew what to do, or how this even happened. Ringabel began to involuntarily gag, the feeling of the yokai’s headdress pressing against the entrance to his gullet not helping in the slightest. He was preparing to spit her head out, until an unusual plan came in his mind.

He wasn’t moronic, he knew very well that Yoko would attack him the second she was freed. A grumble from Ringabel’s empty stomach reminded him that he skipped lunch in favor of pursuing the yokai. And all that was on the rational side of his mind was-

Defeat Yoko, reunite with my angel Edea, protect my allies. That’s all that matters right now.

Making his decision, Ringabel snapped back into reality. Astonishingly, Yoko was still - she probably incorrectly believed that the casanova would free her. That is, until she felt her arms being pinned down by Ringabel’s own hands.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Yoko panicked, now beginning to struggle. The logical part of her foxy brain reassured her that he wouldn’t be able to swallow her down. The doubtful portion said that he was going to gulp her down, whole and alive, so it was time to panic. Yoko didn’t know which segment to be convinced by, so she chose both.

GLURK.

Ringabel took his first of many gulps, his tongue slathering all over poor Yoko. He hummed in amazement at her taste, salty and pure. Seems like even wicked kitsunes wash their fur, he joked mentally. Her helmet was still tickling his throat, but strangely enough, he felt like he’d gotten used to the feeling now. He couldn’t say the same for Yoko’s physical protests.

They didn’t discomfort him - dare he say, he enjoyed them - but they did make him feel a bit nauseous. Ringabel looked past that, continuing to eagerly lick the yokai, saliva coating her beautiful orange hair.

Yoko was thrashing about the best she could, which was kind of hard with pinned down arms and feet merely kicking the air. How could this all go wrong so fast? “We will not tolerate this! Release us at once!” Yoko shouted angrily. Ringabel’s sounds of pleasure only strengthened her resolve, the kitsune’s struggles growing more desperate.

GLLK.

It was the second time Yoko heard that accursed sound. She’d learned to dread it, even though it was only twice that she heard it so far. The yokai wriggled around in distress, not wanting to be defeated, especially not like this. “We do not approve of this turn of events!”

By now, Ringabel was up to Yoko’s own slim stomach. He wasn’t pleased about her increased flailing, but forced himself to continue with this nonetheless. It didn’t matter if Ringabel wanted to regurgitate Yoko at this point, he was too far now to surrender.

Ringabel was only thinking about his comrades, especially Edea. He had to defend them, no matter what ridiculous means he had to go through. If keeping his companions safe from harm meant devouring their enemies, then so be it.

GRRK.

To Ringabel’s pleasant surprise, Yoko’s thighs and rear tasted especially delicious. He wasn’t a pervert (scratch that, he was), but he couldn’t help but nibble on them a little. The casanova chuckled as Yoko’s feet kicked faster.

A shiver came from Ringabel when he felt Yoko’s head and shoulders arrive in his stomach, stretching it out. He knew she would put up a fight to no end once she was fully inside, but he could deal with it.

Yoko was not having a good day. First, she was confronted by the stupid dark knight, bad. Then, she was defeated against all odds, more bad. Now, she was being swallowed alive, terribad. Worst of all, the casanova was enjoying this, absolutely unacceptable.

“How could this possibly get any worse?” Yoko muttered cynically. Of course, that was the line that meant things would become even more unpleasant. She could feel Ringabel’s head tilting up, preparing to swallow the fourth time.

GUULK.

All that was left of Yoko (outside of Ringabel’s stomach) was her feet and tail. The yokai conceded to her fate, for now at least. Once her entire body was fully inside the stupid casanova’s belly, Yoko figured that she could force him to puke her up. She didn’t have her full strength, since transforming into her true form drained too much energy to be worth it, but it was her backup plan now.

Yoko felt herself finally able to move her arms, but she didn’t bother to struggle with all she had, not yet. Moments later, her stomach landed in the spacious chamber.

“We are displeased with this situation,” Yoko complained. She felt Ringabel licking over her feet and small shoes, before moving on. He slurped up Yoko’s bushy tail, causing the kitsune to wait for the inevitable…

GLUK.

GULK.

GLLRK.

Three final swallows brought Yoko’s entire body into Ringabel’s stomach. He panted in satisfaction, relief, and triumph. The troublesome kitsune was defeated, his allies would be safe from her tricks, and he wasn’t hungry anymore. It was a win-win situation for everyone (except Yoko).

“Kitsune, captured,” Ringabel said to himself, letting out a belch. He moaned out as Yoko’s struggles resumed, the fox clearly disgruntled with all of this. The casanova rubbed his bloated stomach, still panting from swallowing an entire kitsune.

Yoko fought vigorously for her freedom, thrashing about. Unfortunately, it seemed like Ringabel just took pleasure out of her every movement, and his squeezing of her form certainly didn’t help matters. “We will not be defeated in such an insufferable way!”

She wasn’t expecting a clear-cut response, though she got one anyway. “Give it up, yokai,” Ringabel taunted, pressing against Yoko’s head (or what he thought was her head). “You’ve lost, and I’ve triumphed.”

His taunting wasn’t helping matters, at all. Kitsunes were notorious for being rather proud creatures, and if you ever insulted their pride, they were sure to beat you senseless. Yoko’s chances of that happening were looking increasingly slim by the minute, though. She thrashed and verbally protested about, neither of which worked effectively.

After a few minutes of struggling, swearing, and hearing Ringabel’s pleasured belches and moans, Yoko’s fatigue was beginning to take its toll on her. Would it really be that bad to accept her defeat with dignity? Yes, it was humiliating and gross, but when kitsunes go down, they go down with grace.

Ringabel raised an eyebrow when Yoko’s squirms came to a halt. “Conceded defeat?” he teased, squeezing his stomach again. The kitsune just sighed in annoyance.

“...Yes. We accept our defeat with regality, like our species does.”

Those words were the last ones Ringabel expected to hear. “Pardon?” he questioned, not sure if this was genuine or a fake-out. Another irritated groan. “You heard us.” With those words, the kitsune fell silent, ready to face her fate.

“...Hm.” Ringabel couldn’t help but admire that. She was still his adversary, but he found something commendable about accepting the inevitable. The casanova, too bloated to even stand, put his hands behind his head and yawned. Feeling pleased, if bewildered, he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

Before he fell asleep, he couldn’t help but wonder, could he do this to the other antagonists facing his cohorts, too? He began to wonder how catmancer or fencer would taste, maybe even lion…

All the better to defend his friends and Edea.

#digestion #yoko #ringavore #m/f vore #my writings

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the-desolated-quill · 6 years

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Hell Bent - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

As I was going through Series 9, I’ve been getting messages from @kaidans-getting-bi, @prettycanarynoir and @thealmightytwittytwat telling me how much they were looking forward to my review of the series finale. Reading between the lines, I could detect an almost masochistic glee to their messages. Like I was being sent to tame a rabid rottweiler and they were assuring me it doesn’t bite whilst stifling sadistic giggles.

Oh yeah. Did I mention Hell Bent was shit? Because it is. It’s very shit. Not that that should come as much of a surprise. Has Moffat ever written a series finale that wasn’t shit? It’s the sheer amount of shit I’m staggered by. How can one man fuck up so much? This is beyond incompetence. I honestly can’t believe anyone could write something this bad by accident. Even Tommy Wiseau’s The Room had some entertainment value. This is just nauseating to say the very fucking least.

So we’re back on Gallifrey... Oh. No we’re not. We’re in America now. One minute in and already we’ve hit Moffat Cliche No. 1. Random change of location or time period for no reason other than to wrong-foot the audience. This is quickly followed by Moffat Cliche No. 2. The ‘clever’ reversal that ends up stripping the emotion and/or tension from previous stories completely. The Doctor arrives at an American diner, and guess who’s behind the counter.

FUCKING CALLED IT!

I knew Clara wasn’t dead, and frankly I’m astounded nobody else saw this coming considering how often Moffat pulls this fucking trick. Like I said before, i’d have been more surprised if Clara had stayed dead by the end.

So back to Gallifrey. I imagine this must have been quite exciting for New Who fans who had never seen the classic series. A proper in-depth look at the Doctor’s homeworld. And yeah, it’s nice to see the Cloisters and the Matrix again, as well as the power the Time Lords have over time, but it doesn’t really bring anything new to the table. In fact, to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t understand what the point of any of this is. Gallifrey, the Hybrid, Ashildr, it all basically comes to nothing in the end. But now I’m getting ahead of myself.

So the Doctor is back and the Time Lords roll out the red carpet... in the form of Rassilon and a firing squad. Now let’s quickly remind ourselves of who the Time Lords are, shall we? Archaic, superstitious stick in the muds they may be, but they’re also insanely powerful, and Rassilon is the most powerful of them all. He’s the founder of Time Lord society. He’s so powerful that he has several artefacts and even an entire tournament named after him. So how in God’s name did the Doctor manage to walk all over them? Through no effort whatsoever, the Doctor manages to banish Rassilon and the entire High Council? Rassilon! Reduced to an impotent, powerless old man! How did the Doctor manage this? Because the script said so. That’s basically what it boils down to. I’m not saying Rassilon and the Time Lords don’t deserve it, but there’s simply no threat or tension here. The Doctor, the renegade, the outsider, just banishes them with little to no effort. Good old Moffat Cliche No 3. The main protagonist is the most important, specialist and bestest guy ever who is just awesome at everything, regardless of logic and sense.

Then it’s time to talk about this stupid Hybrid that’s been teased throughout this poxy series. The Doctor asks the General why they didn’t just ask him about the Hybrid in the first place. A very good question, and Moffat chooses not to answer it because that would reveal just how fucking pointless Heaven Sent really was. Also, brief side note, why did Rassilon try to kill the Doctor when they still need him to confess what the Hybrid is?

This whole Hybrid thing has got to be, hands down, the worst series arc in the whole of New Who. I’ve never seen a more poorly mishandled arc. So the Matrix told the Doctor about the Hybrid when he was a little boy. Not only are we back in Listen territory with Moffat stomping carelessly through dangerous waters and potentially revealing too much information about the Doctor’s origins, it also doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense. If the Doctor has known about the Hybrid all this time, why is it only now that the Time Lords are worried about it? And how did they even find about it if the Matrix only told the Doctor? In fact why did the Matrix tell the Doctor at all?

So what is the Hybrid? It’s not half Time Lord/half Dalek (why did the Time Lords even assume that in the first place? Two warrior races? That could be fucking anything). Ashildr isn’t the Hybrid. Her only purpose it seems is to be a red herring. (So much for that narrative thread. She didn’t even get a proper conclusion or anything). The Doctor being half Time Lord/half human is very rapidly rejected (to which I breathed a sigh of relief so massive I may have caused a spike in the Earth’s carbon dioxide emissions). Turns out the Hybrid is... the Doctor and Clara?

Well it looks like we can add the word ‘hybrid’ to the ever-growing list of words that Moffat clearly doesn’t understand the definition of. Along with ‘psychopath’, ‘egomaniac’ and ‘diminishing returns.’ How are the Doctor and Clara like a hybrid? That’s just such an unnatural way to describe a relationship between two people. Moffat clearly thinks this is all clever-clever, but really it’s just painfully forced. Not to mention inconsequential. The Hybrid is destined to destroy the universe. The Doctor extracting Clara from her timeline could do that, but we never actually get to see the repercussions for this. Then the Doctor bizarrely suggests that erasing one of their memories would make everything okay, but how? If Clara’s mere existence puts time and space in danger, how does erasing her or his memory change that?

Oh but it gets so much worse.

Heaven Sent was trying to push the idea that the Doctor is utterly lost and ineffectual without Clara (an idea I utterly detest and protest to most strongly). Hell Bent takes it one step further, implying that the Doctor relies on Clara entirely in order to make moral choices. The most notable example is when, after the Doctor rescues Clara, he shoots the General in order to escape. Yes the General doesn’t die, because he/she/they are a Time Lord, but I was pretty appalled by how blasé the Doctor was about it. He tries to downplay it, saying dying is the equivalent of man flu for a Time Lord, but the fact is the Doctor has just taken a chunk of the General’s lifespan for literally no reason as far as I can see. This is scarcely trivial. Moffat is clearly trying to demonstrate how dangerous the Doctor is without Clara’s influence, but to do so he’s twisting the character into unnatural shapes and insulting the audience in the process. Can you imagine the Doctor going to such extreme lengths for any other companion? Fuck no!

Clara has already been established to be the most important companion ever thanks to the god awful Name Of The Doctor, saving the Doctor’s life throughout his long history (Moffat Cliche No 4. The sassy dominatrix who acts strong and independent, but really is only there to prop up the male hero). Now Moffat has taken another insulting step by implying that the Doctor needs Clara to be a decent, functioning person. How much more fucking arrogant can Moffat possibly get? It’s bad enough that throughout Peter Capaldi’s tenure, Twelve has been portrayed as completely ineffectual without his precious Mary Sue around to fucking babysit him, but this just takes the biscuit. How DARE you suggest to me that the Doctor needs Clara for his most important qualities. How DARE you suggest to me that the Doctor is a violent, unprincipled killer without Clara. How fucking disrespectful is that to this character’s legacy, to put your own special creation above and beyond him and say he gets all his defining characteristics from her in order for the showrunner to massage his own humungous fucking ego. Clara even gets her own fucking TARDIS at the end! So much for questioning whether her becoming like the Doctor is a bad thing or not (not that the series was ever really concerned about that. Like I said before, Clara’s arc was never really about Clara). As that American diner flew off into the sky, two words escaped my lips:

Good riddance.

Series 9 was... fucking atrocious. With the exception of Face The Raven, none of these episodes are remotely good. The Doctor is once again placed under a microscope to be scrutinised while plotting and characterisation fell to the wayside. The stories were often boring, nonsensical and convoluted, and the series ‘arcs’ (if you can even call them that) were poorly developed and had no satisfying payoff whatsoever. Hell Bent was just the final turd on top of the dumpster fire. A pointless, vacuous load of absolute arse written by a man too stupid and too self absorbed to write anything worthwhile or compelling, and clearly has absolutely no fucking respect for the franchise he’s writing for. I’ve been getting into a bad habit of describing each subsequent series finale as the worst series finale so far. The Name Of The Doctor was the worst until Death In Heaven took over. Death In Heaven was the worst until Hell Bent reared its ugly head. Now I’m too scared to declare that Hell Bent is the worst series finale so far in case I jinx the Series 10 finale. Can it get any worse than this?!

#hell bent #steven moffat #doctor who #twelfth doctor #peter capaldi #clara oswald #jenna coleman #time lords #bbc #review #spoilers

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leisurelypanda · 6 years

Text

Here We Go Again ch. 20

“They didn’t.”

Michael sipped his chamomile tea. Damien had come over to keep him company while Craig left to get the girls. He wasn’t dressed in his usual Victorian getup. He was wearing an ordinary polo shirt and khaki pants with his hair tied back in a ponytail. He provided a soothing, stabilizing influence. Or maybe that was the tea. Or both. Michael was still reeling from the sudden… visit from his parents. They still haven’t changed, he thought dejectedly.

“They did,” he said, resting the cup on his stomach. “It was like a car crash. Everything happened in slow motion from the moment I saw them at the door.”

“So uncouth,” Damien muttered. “Showing up unannounced and uninvited, then insulting the host. At least your beau was able to convince them to leave.”

Michael cursed silently as he felt the tears return. Damien gracefully produced a handkerchief and handed it to him. My parents, he thought ruefully. He dabbed at his eyes as he began to sob again. They couldn’t even be bothered to let me know, then they insult my family.

Damien slid over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to console him or tell him it would be okay. Michael knew that, in some part of his logical, analytical brain. He knew that it would be all right. In time. But right now, this entire day felt like it had been complete shit. And it had started out so well, too.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” he said when he was able to form words again.

“Not at all, Michael,” his friend replied.

“Are your parents…” he trailed off. The rest didn’t need to be said. Damien paused for a moment before he answered.

“I didn’t come out until after I had gotten pregnant with Lucien,” he said thoughtfully. “My boyfriend at the time, well, he didn’t think much of transgender people and he left. My parents, well, I never was able to tell them why he’d left. They always assumed he was a deadbeat who couldn’t commit to raising a child.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said.

“Thank you,” Damien replied. “But to answer your question, no I never told them, but I think they knew. After the pregnancy was over and I began to fashion myself as I wanted to present myself to the world, they took it in stride. They never asked. Though I did go to their gravestones after each died and tell them that I had changed my name and who I was.”

“I’m sorry they never got the chance to know you as you are now,” Michael replied, wiping another stray tear from his eyes. He huffed. “I swear, I’m ready to have my boys if only so I’ll stop crying at everything.”

Damien laughed good naturedly. They went back to sipping their tea in companionable silence.

“Say,” Damien said. “Have you ever watched a show called Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood?”

Michael looked at him and shook his head. His friend smiled and dashed out of the house and returned a few minutes later with a laptop and a long cable, which he plugged into the tv.

“I’m certain you’ll love this show,” Damien assured him as he set up his equipment. “It’s about two orphans who try to bring their mother back with a magical formula system and then get sucked into the conflict of a dystopian military state.”

“This sounds like a pleasant show,” Michael said.

By the time Craig returned home with the girls, Michael was crying his eyes out watching the end of the fifth episode of the show. Craig looked at him, at his neighbor, then at the screen displaying some kind of anime and walked away to the kitchen.

“Thanks for agreeing to stick around, Damien,” he said. “I owe you one, dude.”

“It was no trouble at all, Craig,” Damien replied, gathering his things. “Let me know if I can be of any more assistance.”

“Thank you for keeping me company, Damien,” Michael added. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Certainly, my friend,” he replied, smiling. “Just let me know when you’re free.”

Craig walked him to the door and the twins sat on either side of Michael. Hazel put her hand to Michael’s stomach and waited to see if the boys inside him would start moving around. Michael took her hand gently and guided it to where they were usually most active. This was a good day. They had been quiet for the most part. Michael was grateful for that at least.

“Did the doctor say anything about when the babies will be here?” Briar asked.

“No,” he replied. “But we figure that they’ll be due around early June sometime.”

“Have you figured out names for them?”

“Almost. You father insists that they have to be nature names, like the rest of his kids,” he said. “Do you have any thoughts, since we’re on the subject?”

“You should name one of them Spartacus,” Hazel said, excitedly, her eyes aglow with mischief. “You know, like that guy in Rome who fought lions and tigers and stuff with his bare hands! That’d be a great name!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Sure kid,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Right after we name the other one Hannibal after the guy who tried to take over Rome with an army of elephants”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome!” she exclaimed, jumping up on the couch.

“Hazel, get down off the couch,” Craig said, coming back into the room on his way to the kitchen. “Go and get your homework done.”

Hazel climbed down slowly.

“Is dad angry?” Briar asked.

I swear these kids are psychic or something, he thought. Just not with each other for some reason. “Yes,” he replied. “But not at you.”

“What’s he angry about?” she pressed. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something happened,” he said. “But don’t worry about it. It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

Briar didn’t seem convinced but before she could ask more questions the phone rang. Michael groaned, sat up, and managed to get up and waddle over to the phone receiver. He picked up the phone and his blood went cold as he heard the person on the other end of the phone.

“Is this the Cahn residence?” his father asked.

“How did you get this number?” he demanded. “I know for a fact that you didn’t get it from anyone here.”

“We looked up a phone book, Michelle,” he replied. “You know, those things that people used to own once upon a time before the Internet. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’ll be leaving in a couple days. When are your babies due? We expect to be there for you. We have a right to be there.”

“I’m not telling you,” he said, his voice shaking. He felt ashamed. Here he was defending himself from his transphobic parents and he couldn’t even keep his voice even. He felt his lip starting to tremble. Shit not again, he thought.

Craig, like an angel, appeared. “Is it them, bro?” he asked. Michael nodded and Craig scowled. Michael was a bit taken aback by it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Craig look so… frightening. Like he was pumping himself up for a fight. It was a bit wonderful, actually. The thought of Craig being protective over him, even against his parents was oddly satisfying, though a bit embarrassing, as well.

Craig held his hand out, silently asking for the phone. Michael hesitated, but decided to give it to him since he was on the verge of tears. Again. Why can’t my parents just leave me alone? he thought bitterly.

“Listen,” he said. “You showed up here without warning and demanded that my partner let you into our home. You took advantage of the fact that he couldn’t keep you from coming in and insulted him. If you ever show your face around my family again, I’ll file for a restraining order. Have a nice life.” He hung up, slamming the phone down on the receiver. Hazel and Briar jumped from where they were doing homework nearby.

Michael looked down at the phone in amazement and then looked up at his boyfriend. Craig still looked angry, but also somewhat satisfied and tired. Like he was coming down from an adrenaline high.

“Can we talk about this?” he asked. Craig nodded and walked toward the study. Michael followed him, wondering briefly if they should tell the twins not to follow them. They might just follow anyway if they out of curiosity, he mused. He shrugged and left them alone. If they wanted to know about his family drama, he’d tell them. After he told Amanda. I wonder how she’d feel about this, he thought.

Once they were safely ensconced in the study he looked at Craig, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. He was still angry, Michael realized.

“Did you mean that?” he asked. “What you said to them?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I don’t care that they’re your parents, they crossed a line.”

“They did,” he admitted slowly. “It was definitely terrifying to realize that they were here today, that they know where we live.”

“But you sound reluctant,” Craig said.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m not really sure how to feel about it.”

“Glad right, bro?” Craig asked. “I mean, your parents have never tried to understand you. I remember, dude. They didn’t think you should be roommates with me because they said you were a woman.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “But it’s still… surreal. Threatening them with a restraining order is sort of a big deal, dude.”

Craig unfolded arms and took Michael’s hands in his. “Hey, if you don’t want to file the restraining order, I’ll support you,” he said. “I won’t agree with it, but I want you to be happy here.”

“It’s just… it’s complicated,” he replied. “I want them out of my life, I want them to go away…”

“But?”

“But they’re my parents,” he continued. “I still, kinda, love them. They’re infuriating but still.”

“So do you want to file the restraining order if they come back or would you want to hold off on it?” Craig asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “That’s the problem.”

Craig looked into his eyes and Michael felt his eyes well with tears again. “Goddammit,” he muttered.

His bro laughed. Michael retaliated by shoving him.

“You ass, stop laughing at me!” he said, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his palms.

“You know bro, you should be drinking water,” his boyfriend said, his smile teasing and his eyes light. “You’re gonna dry up into a shriveled old raisin if you don’t watch yourself.”

Michael replied by shoving him again, but he laughed. “Bro… thanks.”

Craig smiled. “I got you, bro.”

When they left the room they were startled by two pre-pubescent girls falling through the doorway and onto the floor. Immediately the scrambled to their feet and ran out the door before they could be scolded for eavesdropping. Craig stared after them in shock.

“I guess we should have told them not to listen in on us,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“Bro, they’re kids,” Michael said, taking his hand. “Even if we told them not to they would have done it.”

“So do we punish them?”

“Yeah, but nothing too drastic. It’s been a long day. Like no dessert.”

Craig frowned. “But we don’t give them dessert.”

“We don’t?”

Craig narrowed his eyes at him. “I hope we don’t.”

“And you should always have hope, bro,” he said, grinning. “But sometimes you’ll be disappointed.”

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to be punished, then,” he said, his voice low.

Michael blushed fiercely. His face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. Suddenly Craig let go of his hand and shot up to his sides. He dissolved into fits of laughter as Craig began to tickle him.

“NOOOOOO!!!” he shrieked. “N-no s-stop! You’re g-gonna make m-me pee!”

Michael backed up against the wall and slid down, trying desperately to get away from his torturous lover. Craig, however, was merciless. He knew every spot on his body where he was ticklish (and there were many).

“Say uncle,” Craig demanded.

“Never!” he cried through the laughter. “Death b-before d-dishonor!”

Then, as quickly as the tickle match had started, it ended, with Michael feeling something leak between his legs. He sat up quickly and shoved Craig away as he looked down at his pants. Around the swollen mound of his pregnant abdomen, he could see the fabric darken. He managed to stop himself.

“Bro, I’m- shit, sorry dude,” Craig said.

“Dude, it’s fine,” he said, a bit exasperated. “But could you get me up off the floor so I can go change?”

Craig hurriedly helped him up to his feet. They avoided the dining room where the twins were supposed to be as they walked towards the stairs. River was playing with some toys in the living room and blessedly ignored them as she was engrossed in whatever game she was playing.

“Sorry dude,” Craig said again when they got to the stairs.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens,” he replied. “When I was pregnant with Amanda, there were a few times when I did this because I couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time. I learned to bring spare clothes everywhere I went. I was actually hoping that I’d have a little more time before this started up.”

“Can I help at all?”

“You mind cleaning up the spot?” he asked. “I’m gonna shower before I do anything else.”

Craig smiled apologetically. “Sure, no problem.”

“Stop beating yourself up, bro,” he said, as he started up the stairs. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

Craig still looked apologetic but he nodded. Michael turned and dragged himself up the stairs. As soon as the water hit his back he sighed. Just what the doctor ordered, he thought. With any luck, this would last a while.

#craig cahn x dadsona #craig cahn #hazel cahn #briar cahn #damien bloodmarch #dream daddy #ddadds #fanfic #Here We Go Again #my work

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 7 years

Note

#30? Can't remember the title, sorry

Short opinion: This book has a lot of diamonds, and overall it’s a little bit rough.

Long opinion:

There are a lot of moments from this book that I really really love. Marco’s complex, evolving relationships with his team mates go through a pressure test over the course of this book, given that he is (unofficially) in charge throughout the entire story and makes several distinctly Marco-ish decisions with that power.

First of all, Marco and Jake continue to have great emotional moments. My favorite is Jake shutting down Cassie’s and Rachel’s criticisms of Marco’s plan to kill Visser One during the whole discussion where Marco spells out what he wants to do. Jake is a deeply flawed human being, but he also recognizes when there is no further value to be had by continuing to argue a moot point. In this case he understands that banging away at the elephant in the living room—that Marco is planning matricide—won’t accomplish anything other than veering them hopelessly off-topic. Maybe more than anyone else on the team (since no one else on the team has a controller in the immediate family), he understands the horror that Marco is going through. He therefore understands that the only possible response to Cassie’s repeated question about whether Marco really knows what he’s doing is a resounding “YES.”

Actually, Marco and Jake’s friendship is relatively subtle throughout this book, but still powerful. Jake takes Marco aside and explains to him that going after Visser One alone was wrong, and Marco has to stop himself from saying “yes, sir” in a way that is definitely not sarcastic, because these two respect the hell out of each other as fellow warriors. When Jake calmly accepts Marco’s plan to kill Visser One without argumentation, Marco almost feels like he had the rug pulled out from under him because he spent so much time coming up with ways to explain himself to Jake. (Side note: it’s pretty obvious from the context that Marco’s mental rotations of his plan are all about rationalization, not consideration, but that’s all the proof anyone should need that he’s too focused on justifying himself to various audiences and not focused enough on the actual merits of this idea.)

Secondly, Marco and Tobias. Those two have this awesome friendship by the end of the series, probably most evident in #49 and #51, but as early on as this book you can see how well they work together. Right in the middle of Marco panicking/psyching himself into the plan to kill Visser One, he and Tobias have that ridiculous conversation about how Cassie is probably dreaming of Jake and not “out in the yard playing hackysack” (#30). They spend pretty much the whole first half spinning each other into hilarious tangents. Tobias also walks a balancing act throughout this book between first Marco and Ax and then later Marco and Rachel. He gets that what Marco needs sometimes is petty sniping and childish insults, not sympathy or argumentation.

The reason I absolutely love the friendship these two develop over time is that it shows how much both characters have grown. Early on in the series Marco’s humor tends to be downright cruel to Tobias, jabbing at him for eating roadkill and implying that he doesn’t really belong to the group, whereas Tobias tends to let it happen until eventually he snaps. Tobias actually says “Marco and I will probably never be very close” in #3, and then 30 books later Marco proves willing to bleed to death to rescue Tobias from Taylor, while Tobias is the only one willing to join in on Marco’s dumb Hansen jokes (#33, #35). What happens in between is that Tobias gains enough self-confidence to stop shying away and start sniping back, whereas Marco gains enough self-insight that he starts to recognize when his teasing is all in good fun and when it crosses a line. Marco is Tobias’s pillar of support in #49 when it’s Loren on the line, and Tobias is Marco’s pillar of support throughout the entire debate of how to solve a problem like Eva.

Last but certainly not least, Marco and Rachel. That scene at the end where Rachel comes to Marco to tell him that there’s no body (and no sign Eva’s body ever hit the ground) is just heart-wrenching because it’s one of those rare times when Marco and Rachel allow themselves to be vulnerable in front of each other. Their relationship might be built primarily on bickering and flirtation, but this moment—when Rachel bluntly points out that she’s making Marco’s life harder, not easier, by reintroducing the uncertainty around Eva’s death—shows that their affection for each other runs much deeper than hair-pulling and friendly competition. Rachel more than anyone else understands Marco’s desire not to be pitied, and she also openly acknowledges it. Because she doesn’t pity Marco. She just wants him to have all the information he can.

Even Rachel’s efforts simply to kill Visser One during the hike up to the fake hork-bajir valley are more about protecting Marco than killing anything that moves because she just lost her cousin and best friend. (I mean, sure, it’s a little bit about killing anything that moves, but it’s also about Marco.) Rachel tells Tobias to get Marco out of there, and wants to make Visser One’s—and Eva’s—death quick and painless. She is trying to protect Marco through taking the life-or-death decision out of his hands, just like she later says she would want Jake to do for her. Jake has the tendency to dodge emotional conversations with Marco entirely, and Cassie has the tendency to draw them out. Only Rachel can look Marco in the eye to assure him that they all support him, and then tell him which channel to put on the TV ten seconds later.

All of that being said, I’m not actually that big a fan of this book. It has good moments, but IMHO the whole thing doesn’t hang together that well. Marco spends a large proportion of this book just sitting around thinking, and between his lack of self-insight (“bright, clear line” my ass—most of his actions here are driven by emotion) and his circular logic, it really comes off as navel-gazing rather than genuine insight. I love Visser One, but she’s also at her most awesome as a Boss Ass Bitch™ (Visser, #15, #5) and it feels like a disservice to the character to have the Animorphs spend so much of this book jerking her around in her relatively helpless position.

Many of the emotional notes between Marco and Eva also fall a little flat for me. In lieu of Marco retreating into memory when thinking about his mom (as he does in #15, #35, or #45) or else observing the impact of her loss on his dad (#5, #10, #35) we instead get like 18 different comments on how pretty Eva is, which is just a really weird way to convey that Marco loves and misses his mother. Part of the issue, of course, is that many of the best emotional notes of this book—Marco and Eva coming face-to-face, Marco’s growing ruthlessness, coping with old grief and new uncertainty—are already hit by #15. There’s also not that much humor in this book, which means that it fails to tap Marco’s greatest strength as a narrator: laughing in the faces of death and bitter truth alike.

There are also, frankly, a few plot holes in this story that it feels like would be easy fixes with a little more consideration. Why does Marco skip school, when he understands the danger of drawing Chapman’s attention? When he does skip school, why does he bother to go to the financial district when he freely admits there’s nothing to do there? How does Visser One know all about the hork-bajir valley, to the point of having arial photographs, when even Visser Three thinks it’s just a rumor? Why doesn’t Ax tell Marco that he’s going to go get the free hork-bajir for help, when that’s really crucial information which could change Marco’s whole plan? Why doesn’t Cassie shout a quick reassurance to Marco in between the car blowing up and her rescuing Jake? Is Marco seriously dumb enough to reference a Disney movie while pretending to be an andalite?

Anyway, I know that this is one of the best-loved books in the series (especially by Cates), but I have never liked it that much. Even the ways that this book advances the series-long plot, through escalating the conflict between Visser One and Visser Three, feel relatively redundant with #15 and to a lesser extent Visser.

#asks #answers #animorphs #anonymous #animorphs reviews #the one and only #visser one #the reunion #30

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yeeyee-alumni · 3 years

Note

Hi there, anon last week who offered some criticism about bias/etc in response to the Joel essay. Was looking forward to your Abby essay and really wanted to be open minded but truthfully you managed to cherry pick the absolute shit out of moments in the game and ignored so many allusions/small nuances/moments that you claim aren’t in the game (Abby showing regret, etc). That take is one of the most biased takes yet that I have read about this game. Also your use of the word retarded to describe Ellie’s questionable decision making with Mel and Owen isn’t cool. If you’re capable of writing an essay like this, you’re capable of finding another word to use instead of that.

But onto the issues with some of the arguments. This is going to be long so buckle up. (I hope it sends in it’s entirety so apologies if it doesn’t). I don’t expect this to be posted, again this is just a criticism to try and point out some bias that I’m seeing coming through. I tried to stay in a linear order of examples you brought up but if I bounce around I apologize. There’s a lot of moments that you give as examples where you would seem to embellish what happened and twist it to fit the narrative that you wanted regarding Abby and her arc.

After Joel’s death, there’s references made to Abby not sleeping and we see that she’s still having nightmares about running into the operating room and finding her dad/finding Lev and Yara. If she truly felt justified in her actions and that she had gotten her revenge, why would she still be having nightmares about this subject? Perhaps she is feeling guilt and didn’t receive any closure from Joel’s death and it’s not until after she knows Yara is okay that we finally see some sort of closure where the nightmare of death turns into a dream. It could be argued that perhaps she’s found a new purpose in life after the end of a 4 year quest and that through taking care of those that saved her life, she’s been able to move on because of this. There’s also moments during the opening of her half (specifically when we see the mansion scene again but from her view) that after the final blow, there’s no relief. For one or two moments, some of her expression look like she could be contemplating the extent of her own actions. It doesn’t seem like there’s any joy or happiness there.

Next. Expecting Abby to change her view on the Seraphites in two days because of some kids she saved is highly unrealistic. She has conversations with Lev though when they’re making their way up to the sky bridge where they discuss the religion, how the prophets teachings have been skewed over time. Even learning about them, the Seraphites would try to kill her regardless. There’s no reason for her to have a change of heart because she’s met two outliers to their religion. The majority of them still are religious fanatics.

As far as expressing remorse to Ellie for what she did to Joel, Abby didn’t know of Joel’s importance to Ellie in the same way that Ellie didn’t know it was Jerry’s death that Abby sought out vengeance for, not taking away the cure (as stated by Ellie int he theatre confrontation where she states ‘I’m the one you want, there’s no cure because of me’.” This was a really interesting decision on the writers part. Personally I would loved to have seen some sort of revelations with these but I also enjoy the fact that they never know how significantly their lives impacted each other. Abby had to reason to show Ellie remorse because she simply didn’t know the connection. For all she knew, Joel and Ellie could have been a randomly paired patrol group from Jackson. Not a father-daughter like bond.

I do agree with your assessment that perhaps Isaac had something to do with her dark ways. Clearly he has no qualms with brutal tactics and seeing as Abby is consistently referred to as one of the top WLF, it’s not unrealistic to assume that he had a direct hand into grooming her violent ways. That’s not to say she didn’t have a choice, but it’s an interesting concept to explore how he could have shaped the growth of a 16 year old Abby hell bent on revenge.

Owen’s drunk provocation of Abby is an interesting scene because Abby has always relied on Owen to be by her side. To hear his unfiltered thoughts on Joel’s torture could have come as a shock to the system because he has always been straight with her and to have someone as important to her as him paint her brutal actions in such a blunt, disapproving way could have maybe felt like a slight betrayal. There’s no excuse for Owen cheating on Mel, but we see a moment of weakness and vlunerability with the two of them. Not sure why the sex scene gets bashed so much. Whereas Ellie and Dina are allowed to be intimate (granted yes not anywhere near as explicit as Abby and Owen), there seems to be no issue with the former as opposed to the latter. Sex is natural. What’s so traumatizing about the scene? Genuinely curious.

Onto arguments about Seraphite island. You call the line from Yara a throw away line (about how there’s fighting and gun fire from the other way) yet if the conflict has spilled out to where they were, why would they go back that way? Abby trusted Lev and Yara to know a way out because she wasn’t familiar with the island. Why shut down their suggestions when she knows nothing about the layout or inner workings? Regarding Isaac, I don’t think Abby all of a sudden offering to torture a Seraphite would have been an automatic get out of jail free card. Isaac wanted the fight to be over, why would he allow one soldier to take a boat to take a child away for torture? In the grand scheme of things, this doesn’t make sense. Abby could have chosen to go back to the WLF but instead, she chose her new family (Lev). To act like she was best friends with all of the WLF and this means she shouldn’t have killed them once again doesn’t feel realistic. Even Isaac makes a comment about the Salt Lake Crew and how close they are, there’s no reason to believe that she went out of her way to befriend others when she already had her group. Abby more than likely would have gone to SB with Owen and the others (pre Mel conversation) since she was already an enemy of the WLF by that point. There’s no need to call writers less talented/less creative because you didn’t like the story. Resorting to personal attacks on their abilities doesn’t help your arguments. It comes off as petty.

Onto Abby ‘dragging’ Lev to the theater. You’re more than willing to point out Lev’s traumatic experiences but not Abby’s. Lev chose to give Abby the map. He had no reason to, but instead offered it up to her. Lev isn’t stupid. In his interactions with Abby, he shows an understanding of Owen’s importance to her so it’s not out of the box for him to understand the implications of giving her a literal map to the location of the person that had killed the two of them. As for why wouldn’t they give up Abby’s location: Mel was ready to do so and was going to. We know she doesn’t like Abby, figured she was likely dead, and saw a chance to perhaps save the two of them if she gave Ellie what she wanted. Owen cares for Abby and didn’t want to risk the possibility of Ellie finding her, interrupting the conversation before Mel could give any info. Owen approaching Ellie wasn’t wise, but how is his effort to try and deescalate anything other than an attempt to protect both himself and Mel?

Next. Abby did not respond with glee to learning Dina was pregnant. I’m not sure what you think glee is, but there’s nothing happy or joyful about the way she reacted. She’s fueled by blind rage at that point and it’s already been established she’s an eye for an eye type person. Ellie had killed Mel who was pregnant (she’s wearing a coat because there’s a giant ass rainstorm. I’m not sure why her wearing a coat would be so confusing and out of character?) and Dina happening to be pregnant would be an eye for an eye in Abby’s view. Does this make it right? No. But she was not jumping for joy and oh so happy to find that out.

Not sure what the qualms are with something as small as collections cards vs coins. It’s a video game. There was a chance to add more collectibles for a trophy so why not? This seems like a detail to just pick at just because you can. Giraffe/zebra, we knew in the first game wild animals were running around. Why is it out of the box for a group LIVING in SLC to make a hobby of watching them? Again, seems nitpicky. A father/father figure teasing a child about a relationship. Isn’t this just a dad thing? Again, feels nitpicky and serves no purpose as a legitimate critique. The museum/aquarium, are people not allowed to explore and have things they’re intersted in?’ These little details you throw in serve no real purpose other than to nitpick and are basing this off an emotional response instead of trying to use logic regrding game mechanics/achievements/explanations/etc.

Im sure there’s things I’m missing or that I forgot to mention but this has become quite long. As a wrap up, it feels like you truly haven’t tried to look at the game from a neutral perspective. Perhaps you really have tried, but that doesn’t really show in your essays. It shows as still having a strong bias towards anything that isn’t complimentary of Ellie or Joel and their stories. I do enjoy reading different perspectives on the game and having discussions, but I would still find it hard to approach and have a thoughtful discussion because there seems to be no openness and the vibe that you know the story better than the writers do. That paired with insults flung at the writers makes it feel like nothing more than a spiteful rant for not living up to your expectation rather than a constructive critique. I look forward to further essays and hope that perhaps the tone can become a bit more neutral in them. Have a great evening.

First of all, I wanna say thank you for reaching out and offering some critique, of course that is what I am hoping for (I'm not writing a 4500 word essay only to have it not be read and discussed), so again thank you for that. The next thing, you are absolutely right about the use of the word "retarded", I'll change that as soon as I posted this response. Regarding the cherry picking, I yet again have to agree with you. Of course I picked scenes that serve as (for me the most fitting) examples to support my claim/stance. I think you would agree that talking about every single scene of this game, especially in a single essay, is near impossible. So I instead reduced the list of my arguments to what I believed to be most crucial ones in informing my opinion (thus hoping they would also be most convincing to the reader). Before I go on to react to the specific arguments you make, and I had hoped I worded my essay in a way that that becomes clear, that essay is an outline of my thoughts in a way, it is me saying: this is my opinion/position/stance and these are reasons x, y, z of why I have that opinion. Subsequently, it is neither a definitive statement of any kind nor is it a critique to people who feel differently than me. I repeatedly say "in my point of view", "for me", "I expected", as well as giving room for other interpretations (I literally state that other interpretations are possible, and then went on to explain why I interpreted it the way I did). Which leads me neatly to your first argument. For you, Abby's nightmares read as an expression of guilt as well as other instances, allusions and nuances as you say, that could be interpreted this way. But that is exactly my critique. Interpretation is something so subjective and all these supposed allusions (again that is up to the individual's interpretation) are so incredibly vague that there is no way we could ever make a definitive statement about what they actually allude to. You reading it as guilt concerning Joel is absolutely and 100% justified, but me not doing so is just as legitimate. And Abby didn't strike me as feeling guilty the first time I played, and she still didn't the tenth time I did. Additionally, a glance that lasts a few seconds (and could be interpreteted in a marriott of ways) is unfortunately not substantial and concrete enough to balance out all the concrete evidence (Abby's actual actions) I have of her being a questionable person. This is one of the reasons why I needed Abby to have an actual conversation, to verbalize what's going on in her head. And it could have been with any one person, honestly, it didn't need to be Ellie. And I 100% agree with you there that we'd have to tweak a lot of the rest of the game if we were to arrive at my proposed alternative ending, since Abby wouldn't have the information needed (none of my proposed fixes work in isolation btw, so this goes for the Isaac confrontation as well). But it instead could have been a conversation with Lev, or Owen during that scene on the boat for instance (which I absolutely adore, by the way, it's one of my favourite scenes in the entire game). Owen's heartfelt monolgue could have been the perfect stepping stone for Abby to reveal her inner conflicts, thoughts, and motivations. But instead we get a sex scene. My issues here lies with the fact that they decided to show as much as they did for pure shock value (as opposed to implying it like they did with Ellie and Dina). But this is only issue #273 I have, so let's move on to the more important stuff. And this is where it gets interesting to me personally: You argue that Abby living with the WLF for the past four years would not lead her to having a strong enough connection to her comrades to not be willing to kill them. How is her connection to Lev so strong then after just 48 hours? Looks a lot like cherry picking to me. And this next argument has to be my favourite: You don't have to critize the writers just because you didn't like the story. Have you considered that I didn't like the story because it was

poorly written? I have no idea why people put writers on such a pedestal. It is their literal job. And when they don't do their job well I have the right to critize them for it. Abby dragging Lev to the theatre is and will remain inexcusable to me. First of all, Abby's "traumatic" experiences pale next to Lev's, but on top of that she's an adult and Lev a literal child. If you don't care that she's dismissive of his feelings and struggles here, because she prioritizes her own, that's your right. But I find it horrendous. "Glee" might have been the wrong word to choose here, but you still understand what I was trying to express. Her reaction to receiving that information is still messed up and concerning. And if Abby is indeed an eye for an eye type of character, and that is the supposed motivation for her to want to kill Dina, why then did Joel saving her life not lead to her letting him live in return? That would have been the eye for an eye solution, you saved my life so I will spare yours. And yet. Now, as the second to last thing, I want to address the critique that I do not come off as neutral enough. And I am absolutely aware of that. I had a second person proofread my essay before I posted it and they also let me know (even though I was aware of it beforehand) that as a reader one can tell that I am getting increasingly more frustrated as the essay goes on. And for a while I thought of going over the essay again to fix it to try to sound more neutral, objective and unemotional (like I did with my other two essays, that still aren't entirely neutral or free of personal bias by any means, as no text expressing opinions and feelings ever truly can be), but I ultimately decided against it. Not only is this a game specifically designed to elicit strong emotions, and pointing out all the issues I have did frustrate me, so why should I try to play that down? But also, why am I the only person expected to be completely rid of personal bias or emotions? Why are my arguments only seen as valid or legitimate if I present them in precisely the one way that suits you best? How am I expected to anticipate any one reader's interpretation and thus emotional reaction to my words and consciously construct my essay in a way which aims to prevent said reaction? No utterance, especially regarding opinions and feelings, is entirely neutral or free of personal bias. Your critique of my essay is filled with personal bias as well as it is emotionally charged. Does not take away from the legitimacy of your stance and/or arguments though, does it?

My priorities when I write these essays are: accumulating enough strong arguments to support my position, structuring them in a logical way as to assist the reader in recreating my thought process (to increase comprehension), wording it in a way that is as thorough while also as efficient as possible, attempting to word it in a way that is as neutral and objective as I can be (the exception being my Abby essay as I have just explained). And since I am not dismissive, condescending, or accusatory towards people who might disagree with me, I don't see a problem with being emotionally charged every now and then.

Now, finally I do wanna thank you again for voicing critique. I do appreciate it a lot. Not only for reading my essays, but again trying to look at them critically and informing me about issues you have found within my writing. It continues to force me to look at my own opinion with a critical eye and more often than not I have found myself persuaded by compelling arguments presented by people like you. And while you said you wouldn't be interested in having an open discussion/conversation, I would have to disagree, but I think an oral conversation would be more fruitful since I do get the feeling a lot might get lost by having it be a written conversation.

#ask #tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #the last of us part 2 #opinion #abby #ellie #joel

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