#and they start not being able to understand each other

[yourlogicisweak]

CORRECTION!! and I don’t care if you listen or not. It’s your choice whether to.

Endogenic systems aren’t particularly claiming to have DID. Yes, some say they do but maybe, they just don’t associate most of their alters’ origins with trauma (maybe, it started that way but became something more) or they have healed from the trauma that caused their DID to form. However, if you’re like all the rest, then you probably want them to stay suffering, do you? (Fingers crossed that you don’t /srs) Never recovering and never being able to function together. Though, it’s their decision whether or not they want to fuse or stay as separate consciences.

You are probably assuming that because you think plurality = only DID. The term “plurality” was coined by non-disordered plurals but the community welcomes disordered plurals to use the term too. However, multiplicity refers to DID systems specifically and often carries a medical connotation.

The DSM does recognize non-disordered plurality as plurality that doesn’t qualify for the DID criteria but aren’t mental disorders. And there are many reasons someone can be plural, not just from trauma, such as spirituality, neurodivergence (other than DID and OSDD), culture. If you choose to invalidate these other reasons, then ah, okay, stay ignorant, I guess. The world just will never be peaceful if we are always at each other’s throats.

Though, I do understand assuming almost everyone (especially people you don’t fully understand) online has malicious intents. But I don’t think you are particularly being malicious. Additionally, I do agree that people tend to use terms like “ableist” and “racist” all willy nilly. Throwing the word around doesn’t help anyone. Though, some anti-endos can be ableist due to their misunderstanding about how DID works in some aspects. However, maybe you are not but I don’t know you well enough to determine that.

I would like to add that being anti-endo is not pluralpunk though since plurality encompasses all forms of plurality, especially non-disordered plurality (who was the community that coined the term “plurality) but also includes disordered plurals like DID. You can’t use plurality as a term when you are excluding certain people in the community because it’s an inclusive term.

Also, I am not endo and doxxing is illegal. If you dox me (like if you’re actually serious about doing so), that just makes you a very bad person.

If I see another endo crying about being anti endo is abelist. I will personally doxx you.

It’s not abelist to say you guys pretending to have an extreme trauma disorder is fucking disgusting and absurd.

It’s not punk to hate minorities. Also not punk to alienate and make fun of other groups. Meaning. You don’t get to pretend to have a trauma based disorder caused by (usually) sexual abuse.

Edit/ removed an immature comment I wrote.

[under-the-mud]

ch. 3

Description: Over the course of Paige and Azzi’s relationship, the idea of marriage, or forever, has been brought up over and over, typically as a joke. One day, it’s not a joke. fluff, slowburn(?), probably around 7-8 parts, inspired by a tiktok

(a/n) this is your friendly reminder that this is fanfiction and therefore the events that i am writing about do not line up with the actual events in real life because this is FAN FICTION and therefore INSPIRED by real life. this chapter ended up being longer than expected (1082 words) so hope you enjoy! love ya!

masterlist ch.2 ch.4

～♥～*～♡～*～♥～*～♡～*～♥～*～

Even though they were sharing a hotel room for the weekend, Azzi’s stylist dragged her off to get ready way too early for Paige’s liking. The older girl didn’t understand why it was so necessary for Azzi to start getting ready at 8 in the morning when she herself wasn’t scheduled to shower and get dressed until 1. Fortunately, McKenzie took pity on her and let her into her girlfriend’s room. 

Paige had picked out three outfit options for Azzi but Azzi hadn't seen even a hint of what Paige planned to wear. Usually, when it comes to big events like these, they ask for the other’s input when making a decision. But tonight felt special, even though neither of them entered the draft, they were a few weeks away from celebrating their 5 year anniversary. 

Dating, to them, seemed kind of inevitable. Like it was always planned to happen. Like God planned for them to always be together. And once they said ‘I love you’ two weeks into their relationship, they knew that those three words took on a whole new meaning. Silently, somehow, they understood that from there on out, there would never be anyone else. That it would always be the two of them together. 

And so anniversaries were never a really big thing for them. Sure, they observed it, celebrated and reflected on the past year together and the years together going forward, but it wasn’t some big deal to them like it was to other couples. 

However, Paige felt differently about this one. They were coming up on 5 years. 5 whole years of their love, their promises to one another that they’d always be there for each other, the confirmation that their relationship would stand the test of time. Not only that, they were also coming up on their last year together. Paige was entering the draft next year and Azzi was still undecided if to enter the draft or take an extra year at UCONN. The weight of the unknown and what was to come felt heavy on their chests and so she wanted to do something extra for Azzi. 

Her only request to her stylist was that her whole outfit must be all white and she wanted to wear her hair pulled back in a half up half down, slightly wavy, just the way Azzi liked it. When it was finally time for her to get ready, Brittany pulled her out of Azzi’s room and revealed her outfit. It was an all white, all Louis Vuitton suit with crisp white vest and pants and a silky textured white shirt, paired with all white sneakers and a gold and silver link chain. Paige was so grateful for Brittany for being able to find a suit that exactly mirrored her imagination on such little requirements. 

While getting ready, she pulled out a special jewelry box from her suitcase and set it on the dresser where it could be inconspicuous, but she wouldn’t forget it was there. Inside the jewelry box was a simple, dainty silver chain with a heart charm on it and then an additional #5 charm that Azzi could put on whenever the time was right. Their relationship was kept mostly a secret because of the pressures from playing in college together and getting introduced into national media on such a large scale. The decision to remain secret was primarily their own choice, though Geno and CD provided very valuable insight. Though they were happy remaining private, they both couldn’t wait for the moment when they could love each other publicly, loudly, totally. 

And so for now, they would have to be satisfied with a little heart charm speaking all the words they weren’t ready to say. 

Finally, they both were done getting ready with a few minutes to spare so their stylists gave them some space in their hotel room. 

“You guys get 10 minutes and no more. And don’t even think about trying stuff that would smudge our work,” Brittany said as she closed the door.

“Ma’am yes ma’am” came Paige’s cheeky reply, though she wasn’t focused on Brittany at all. Instead, every fiber of her being was focused on the beautiful woman standing in front of her. She swore her brain turned to soup the moment Azzi came through that door because the only coherent thought she could muster was “pretty girl.” 

Azzi stepped forward, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in Paige’s shirt, reveling in Paige’s current state of awe. 

“You look so handsome baby,” the younger said, breaking Paige’s dazed focus.

“Nah, you look so gorgeous ma, I don’t even compare”

“Is this what you’re going to wear on our wedding day?” Azzi smiled, an undertone of seriousness in her lighthearted question.

“Nah baby,” Paige said, gathering her girl in her arms, melding their bodies into one. “That will be something special, reserved just for you.”

“Oh? Like what”

“Ion even know, but it’s going to be perfect. Reserved just for you.” She presses a light, chaste kiss to her forehead. “Everything I do is for you.” The older girl bends, just slightly, to press a light kiss to the younger’s perfect lips. 

“Which reminds me,” Paige separates them as she turns to grab the jewelry box off the dresser, “this is for you.” Paige returns, holding the velvet box between them, foreheads close, but not touching.

Azzi carefully takes the box from Paige’s hands and opens it.

“Oh my God, P–”

“Do you like it? It’s not even close to what I want to say, but it’s a start?

“It’s perfect, P,” pulling the taller girl in for a kiss by her waist. With all the self-restraint left in their bodies, they barely remember to not mess up any makeup. 

“I talked with your stylist to make sure it was ok to add another necklace. Do you want me to put it on you?”

Azzi wordlessly removed the necklace from its fixture in the box and turned around so Paige could fasten it at the top of her spine, leaving the #5 charm off for now. When she was done, Paige turned the shorter girl around so that their faces were as close to each other as possible without touching. 

“I love you Paige Madison Bueckers. I can’t wait to marry you one day. And I don’t care if you wear a musty suit from Goodwill three sizes too big, I will continue to love you forever and ever amen.”

～♥～*～♡～*～♥～*～♡～*～♥～*～

(a/n): i literally had five lines outlined for this chapter so the fact that this became over a thousand is wild to me! as always, any and all constructive critiques are welcome and i am so so so grateful for all y'all's overwhelming love and support! thank you so much!

[chimckenns]

Fading into the background means shutting off your thoughts and blending in, letting the world flow around you.

That came naturally to Sweetheart. When they were young and lost confidence in themselves, they’d just shut down and blend in, cloaking and letting the world move on while they stayed in their own pocket of invisibility. It was a safe haven. Cloaking meant letting go, and sometimes it was easier to do that than to try and resist the flow.

Milo didn’t know that. The nature of each form of magic was complex, especially so for stealths. He knew about their magic - he’d bridged with them many times, after all. But there were still aspects of it that he’d never know without being a stealth himself.

He thought they’d have more time together.

But alas, the world spins at its own pace, deaf to the protests of those who wish for it to stop, even just for a little while.

Sweetheart’s magic had been wavering, fading in and out with their health. It killed Milo to see them start to lose control of the ability they were once able to manipulate masterfully. He could see it in their eyes - it crushed them from the inside out as well.

He took more time off work now. Even though he probably should have retired years ago, he couldn’t bring himself to step out of the job that he built with his friends from the ground up. He didn’t want to walk out of the office filled with memories, never to go back again. But Sweetheart was his world. As their life started fading, he’d dropped everything just to be by their side a little longer. He cooked them their favourite foods every day, gently carried them around the house when they couldn’t walk, kissed them slow in the late of night when they’d talk about what they’d do if they had forever.

It killed him to see them so weak.

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Every moment of unconsciousness meant missed time with his mate. He was sleep deprived, living on pure determination and hope, but that was enough. Sweetheart was enough.

He held them as they slept, breathing slow and deep. He committed every detail of them to memory - their scent, the softness of their hair, the warmth of their body, the way they fit perfectly against him, even now. He sent words of love down their bond, praying that they could hear it in their subconscious.

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, I’ll find you no matter where you are. Our bond is stronger than life or death itself.” Milo had whispered to them, mostly to convince himself.

Sweetheart smiled appreciatively, the wrinkles of their smile lines becoming more prominent. Milo felt pride knowing that he was the one that carved them into their face, each line telling a story of their happiness together.

“I know you will. You always do.”

They shared a kiss, gentle, yet desperate, as if they hoped by some miracle that it’ll wake them up from this nightmare of the impending end.

Milo didn’t know.

When stealths let go of their hold on their magic, it consumes them.

Without a body to contain the magic, they disappear.

He was startled awake, having fallen asleep for a brief moment, when he felt the mating bond flicker. It felt wrong. Like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over him. He looked down in his arms.

Sweetheart was fading.

Their legs had disappeared, and their torso was but a mirage.

Milo screamed, tightening his hold on them, scrambling to contain the rest of his mate somehow.

They were slipping through his fingers.

Sweetheart looked up at him, eyes hazy but filled with love and understanding, and reached a hand up to cup his cheek. It was all they had the strength to do. They could feel themselves being swept away. Milo held their hand, tears dripping down onto their cheeks. He already started to miss the warmth of their body. He couldn’t even feel their hand now.

“No! Please… don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Milo…”

“Please… baby I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

“I’ll find you. On the other side.”Milo sniffled, desperately rubbing at his eyes to stop his tears preventing from seeing them clearly. “I won’t leave you alone over there. I promise I’ll find you and we’ll be together again.”

“I know you will. You always do.”

And with that, Sweetheart disappeared, their body consumed by their magic and cloaking one last time, for eternity.

Milo was left with nothing in his arms. With their presence gone, the room was cold. His hands were empty. His bond was severed, leaving behind an echo reverberating in the walls of his heart, fading away with their life.

He was but an empty shell. He didn’t know if he had a purpose to live anymore, with the rest of his generation of the pack long passed. He wandered around aimlessly, tears never ending as the memories of his friends filled his mind with every place he goes to. It was the worst in his own home, with each corner of the room reminding him of a life he used to have with his mate.

Not long after, he passed as well.

Milo was never really religious, so he didn’t know what life after death would be like. He preferred to live in the moment. He didn’t have any particular hopes.

Milo opened his eyes to darkness. He could feel his own body, but he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know if he cared either. Was there a point to anything anymore if his pack and mate weren’t there to share the moment with him?

He curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes.

Maybe he’d sleep.

He didn’t get to, after all, when he was looking after Sweetheart.

A knock startled him awake. He looked around to determine the source of the sound, but was still disorientated.

The door in front of him opened, revealing a blinding light. Milo had to squint, eyes yet to adjust to the sudden change.

But then, a voice.

“There you are.”

His favourite voice, ringing in his ears like his favourite song he knew off by heart.

He forced his eyes to open.

Standing in front of him was Sweetheart, holding out their hand towards him.

“I found you.”

Behind them stood the rest of the pack - his friends, his family. His reason for living.

Milo burst into sobs, reaching out for Sweetheart. He didn’t care if it was a dream. He just wanted to see them again.

Sweetheart crouched down and hugged him, holding their head against their shoulder as he cried. They rubbed soothing circles onto his back, comforting him the way he always did to them, all those years ago.

They were real.

He was found.

He was home.

[ccarisi]

fascination

summary: You stumble across a certain video on your stepdad’s old laptop.

warnings: smut, age gap, stepcest/fauxcest, loss of virginity, sex tape (watching and recording), oral (reader receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, office sex, daddy kink, kid/kiddo, hell yeah you’re calling him dad <3 4.4k words

a/n: something came over me when i tried to write a “short” blurb for this ask. im tired as fuck so excuse any mistakes. my gift to you all before i go on a mini vacation </3

“Fuck–”

The blue screen on your laptop stares back at you, any hope of getting your essay done before its due date now long gone. You have to get it in tonight, there’s just no way around it. It’s too late to head to the library and every second you spend working through your options is another second gone.

You don’t want to call Sonny. He’s always on your case about getting your work done early, and you’re pretty sure you lied about this and told him you don’t have any work due soon. Maybe he can help without knowing about this, though. You remember there being an old spare laptop of his tucked away in his office, you’ve borrowed it once or twice.

That was with permission of course, your stepdad doesn’t like you messing with his neatly organized office. Everything has its designated place, clean and tidy, and you tend to leave rooms messier than when you got there. You make a mental note not to touch anything that doesn’t involve the laptop and to put everything back exactly how you found it. You have to get this assignment in, he’ll understand.

Creaking the door to his home office open you slip inside, Sonny had texted you awhile ago that he’s working late tonight. Big case or something, you don’t know. Pretty boring. You rifle through his drawers and cabinets until you manage to find the old laptop, this thing has been around the house since he was still in law school.

You set up at his desk, desperately trying to get the archaic laptop to boot up. You thank your stepdad’s compulsive organizational skills that the charger is still with it. Meanwhile, all your spare cords live in a junk drawer and you can’t decipher which cord is for what even if you tried.

You two have always been opposite. Organized vs messy, punctual vs running late, he even runs hot while you run cold. You think you compliment one another, as if you complete each other in a way. He keeps you in line while you teach him to lighten up. You���d like to believe if he wasn’t your stepdad you would have found each other someday down the line anyways.

Finally managing to get the laptop started, you quickly get to work on finishing your essay not only before your deadline but before Sonny comes home. You’re not in a mood for another lecture about how important it is to stay on top of your work, that being organized is an important skill for the workforce. If he finds you in here you’re going to get an earful and you’d rather avoid having to talk to Counselor Carisi if you can.

Much to your relief you’re able to finish pretty quickly, despite how god awful the laptop runs. Why does he even keep this thing if it barely works? It saved your ass tonight though, you owe this dingy old laptop your life.

You’re about to shut the poor thing down and take it out of its misery before something stops you. Sonny always says you’re too curious for your own good, always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Maybe that’s why you start to poke around in the old laptop, maybe you can find something incriminating to use against him next time you ask for something. Like a new laptop.

It’s pretty boring, to be expected. Old essays he wrote for night school, even older pictures of the two of you that bring a smile to your face. Everything has its own folder, subfolders, and then even more subfolders inside those. God, he was even organized on the damn computer.

You grumble to yourself while you dig through his stuff, snooping around in the hopes of finding something, anything. But it’s all mundane, what else would you expect when it comes to Sonny.

You almost close out before you spot it, a lone out of place video file you don’t know how many folders deep in. You can’t tell what it is from the thumbnail and he never changed the title from what it was uploaded as. You shoot a glance at the clock on his desk, he’s usually on his way home by now when he works late. Deciding to risk it anyways, you open up the video. If he was on his way home he would have texted you, you’re sure it’s fine.

The video plays and you narrow your eyes in confusion, it looks like his bedroom from your old apartment. Just an unmoving video of his empty neatly made bed, was this security footage or something? You wouldn’t put it past him. Impatiently you click ahead, putting your cursor somewhere in the middle of the timeline of the video.

You jump when sound suddenly fills the office and what your eyes fall on is even worse. Now you know why this was buried away. Freezing up, you watch the screen before you. There was your stepdad and…isn’t that one of his old girlfriends? You can’t remember her name, you never liked any of them anyways.

You harshly swallow as the sounds of his groans coupled with the woman’s sighs fill your ear, the slap of his hips against hers. You should close this, fuck you should delete it even. Why does he even still have this? You feel stuck in place as you watch, eyes glued to the way the muscles in his back move with every thrust, his large body covering hers. You don’t know much but you’re pretty sure she’s enjoying it, guessing from her reactions. He must know what he’s doing.

Your thighs press together on their own as you keep watching, unable to turn it off even if you tried. You can list at least fifty different reasons why this is wrong, but you don’t care. Maybe you’re appealing to the side of you that you’ve worked so hard to bury, the part of you that’s jealous to see him like this with someone else.

You eye the clock before quickly checking your phone for any sign that he’s on his way home. Nothing. You don’t know when your hand ended up between your thighs, slowly rubbing yourself to try and alleviate that special ache. You watch as his hand slides between her thighs too, listening to how the sounds she makes rise in pitch. Your eyes are locked on Sonny while you imagine how it would feel to be in her place instead. What it would feel like to have him crushing you down into the mattress like that.

Without thinking you slide your hand down your underwear and mimic his movements, moving faster and faster like he does. You’ve never been great at getting yourself off– but having the real life example of what you’ve been imagining lately in front of you seems to be doing the trick. Listening to how he talks her through it, pretending it’s you he’s calling ‘so fuckin’ good.’ It doesn’t take long before that feeling in your tummy grows and grows—

“What’re you doin’ in here?” Sonny’s voice snaps you out of your fantasy. Quickly scrambling, you mute the video and slam the laptop shut. It’s no use, could you look any more guilty? Your heart beats out of your chest as your mouth falls open, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“I uh… my laptop broke and I h–had an assignment…” you finally manage to try and explain yourself. You were positive that he was still at work, that you would hear the door shut when he came home. You didn’t exactly plan on…doing what you were doing. Fuck, did he see that? You’re screwed, absolutely and totally screwed.

“N’ ya expect me to believe what I just walked in on was you workin’ on an assignment?” He’s being unnecessarily harsh, the embarrassment you feel right now is a good enough punishment for coming in here without asking. Besides, it’s not like he’s actually mad about what he found you doing. He even watched with the door cracked open before making himself known.

He would have never guessed this is what he would find you doing when he couldn’t find you that evening. No response when he called out that he was home, you weren’t in your room either. It was the faint sounds of a video playing that led him to his office door, the light shining through the bottom crack sealed the deal on your whereabouts.

He slowly opened the door just enough to see what was going on. You and his old laptop, hand moving quickly underneath your shorts. It even took him a second before he realized what exactly you were watching. He watched the way your lips fell open in silent pleasure, how your hips wiggled and chased your own hand. Oh you poor thing, if you wanted Daddy so bad you could have just said so.

“I was– I–…please don’t be mad.” You resign in a quiet voice, wishing for that damn piece of junk laptop to electrocute you or maybe even catch fire, anything to get you out of this situation. You watch him with baited breath as he walks over to you, slowly opening the laptop back up.

“How’d ya even manage to find this, hm? Damn troublemaker.” Sonny teases you before dragging his cursor along the timeline of the video, skipping towards the end. “Y’didn’t even get to the best part.”

You’re confident that you died and went to hell, that’s the only way to explain what’s happening right now. Sonny unpauses the video and you watch together, your eyes darting away in shame. It's the last few minutes of the video, you can hear the creak of the mattress mixing with his loud groans and you think you know what’s going to happen next.

“Hey c’mon, watch. You’re missin’ it.” He nudges your shoulder no differently than when you go on your phone during your movie nights, always missing his favorite scenes.

Your cheeks burn as you hear your stepdad’s voice through the speakers. ‘Fuck, baby, ‘m almost there. Gonna make me fuckin’ cum–”

You feel hot all over, maybe a bit faint even, but most importantly wound up. The words leaving his mouth are filthy, and the sounds he’s making are even worse. You were so close to finally getting yourself off before he came in and interrupted you, and you’re sure you won’t be getting to see this video again any time soon for a second attempt.

“Dad–” the word feels foreign rolling off your tongue given the circumstances, “I don’t think I can watch this anymore…” You trail off as you watch the Sonny in the video still, a deep loud groan leaving his lips before he collapses on the woman. He pets your hair lovingly as he watches along, dick throbbing from the unexpected but pleasant trip down memory lane.

“Y’didn’t seem to have a problem watchin’ it earlier, honey.” He runs his hand through your hair, a simple gesture that always comforts you. Now it burns. “Y’wanna talk about it?”

No, not really. You hate how nonchalant he’s being about this, as if he’s asking if you wanna talk about an embarrassing problem you’re having. Like back when you were going through puberty and everything felt like the world was ending, how he’d have to pry you open to get you to talk about anything remotely embarrassing. All those problems feel insignificant now.

“It’s okay, y’know, if ya feel that way about me. ‘S only natural to be curious...” he murmurs as he peers down at you, a large hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek. “You’ve always been a curious one, haven’t ya?”

Your mouth goes dry as you look up at him, your grasp on the English language suddenly leaving you. You’ll never be able to look at him the same after what you saw in the video, and he knows that too.

“Y’didn’t get to finish earlier, huh?” He murmurs as his thumb lovingly strokes the soft skin of your cheek. He sounds so concerned, like he’s checking in on you after being sick or scraping your knee. You timidly shake your head no, unsure of where he’s going with this, but the ache between your thighs only grows the more he touches you.

“That was… uh, the closest I’ve ever gotten.” You admit sheepishly, “I don’t really know how… to.”

He’s helped you with fractions, learning how to drive, hell he would have helped you with the essay you were working on if you had asked. It’s his job as your stepdad to help you, isn’t it?

“Hey, that’s okay. Don’t give me that face,” Sonny coos as he tilts your head up to look at him fully, those pretty eyes of yours timidly looking back into his. “Y’jus’ need someone to show ya how it works. Did ya like watchin’ the video?”

You could say no. Say no and shove him off and lock yourself in your room until he gets the hint. Let this be a distant memory of something you swear was a dream and you never bring up again. But the things you saw and heard are burned into your brain. How loud the woman got when he seemed to angle his hips just right, how she cried out in ecstasy as she held on to him. You wish it was you, you want it to be you.

“Do ya wanna do what I was doin’ in the video? You n’ me?”

His eyes bore into yours as the weight of the question hangs heavy in the air. He leans in closer, a silent invitation saying it’s okay if you want it. You let out a shaky breath as your skin prickles, heat spreading under your skin as you dare to jump.

You barely finish your shy nod before he closes the distance between you, catching your lips in a chaste kiss. Your eyes flutter close immediately as your arms snake their way around his neck, nothing’s ever felt as right as this does.

Sonny’s tongue slides into your mouth, the sensation taking you by surprise. You’ve never done more than pecks in relationships that went nowhere. Those were nothing compared to the feeling of your stepdad sliding his warm wet tongue into your mouth.

It feels weird, almost. But the more he kisses you the fuzzier your brain becomes. Drunk on the mere essence of him, softly moaning into his mouth whenever he squeezes your thighs.

He maneuvers you on top of the desk with ease, moving framed pictures of you and papers out of the way. And the laptop, of course. The laptop angled just right off to the side that you never realize is recording.

A large hand gently spreads your legs open as you sit on the edge of the desk, squeezing and rubbing at your inner thighs. When he pulls away his lips are shiny and pink and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘M gonna do more than jus’ kiss ya, that okay?” His breath is hot against your skin.

His fingers rest at the top of the waistband of your shorts, giving it the smallest of tugs. His cock strains against his slacks at the thought of sinking down and finally tasting your sweet juices.

You shiver when the cold air hits you, shorts and underwear tossed off to the side. Sonny keeps your legs spread, despite how you try to close them in embarrassment. He licks his lips and whistles lowly, drinking in the sight of your glistening dripping pussy.

“Y’so pretty, angel. And you’re all mine, ain’t ya? Always been Daddy’s angel.” He whispers as he sinks to his knees. His back’s gonna be killing him after, but it’s a worthy trade off.

He spreads you with his thumbs before leaning in for a deep inhale, groaning from the sweet smell. All for Dad, huh? Looking up at you he slowly leans in, dragging his tongue through your soft wet folds bottom to top.

One hand grips the edge of the desk as the other finds its way to his greying hair, gripping tightly. Much like the video, you can’t take your eyes off him. You watch him bury his face in your pussy and you tug sharply on his hair, his tongue lapping at your juices as delves in.

“O—oh, fuck. Dad…” you sigh as his tongue expertly swirls around your clit, listening to the way he moans from the sweet taste and the way you react to him. Your clit throbs as he works you over with his mouth, arousal coating his face. It’s never ever felt like this when you’ve tried to get off. Maybe you do just need Dad after all.

When Sonny thinks you’re warmed up enough he pulls away, grinning when he hears your pathetic whine. “Shh, I’m gonna make it better, sweetie. Watch,” he purrs as he slowly sinks a finger into your slick hole, cock twitching from the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Oh,” you whimper at the intrusion as his finger settles knuckle deep inside you. He gives you a few experimental pumps before curling it and you arch into his touch.

“There ya go, sweet thing. You’re doin’ so good for Daddy.” He sighs before sinking back into your dripping pussy. He savors you like you’re a delicacy, slurping and groaning with no regard for how obscene it sounds. He’s enjoying you, and he wants you to know.

“Shit— it’s t—too much—“ you whine as his warm lips wrap firmly around your clit, his finger finally finding that special spot inside you. A second finger joins the first as he worships your pussy, distracting you from the stretch as he eases you into it.

You can’t pick between wiggling away and pushing against his eager mouth, feeling like it’s too much but needing more and more. His mouth is relentless, sloppily licking and sucking at your clit as his thick fingers reach that spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself.

You figure you must sound pretty close to the video with the way your breath hitches, moans raising both in volume and pitch. “W—wait, Dad hold on—“ you stammer breathlessly, fire pooling in your abdomen. It builds and builds as you fall back against the desk, hips grinding up against his face.

Sonny firmly holds one of hips down against the desk, eating up the way your body reacts to him. You were made for this, he thinks. Made to be savored and loved by him, more than anyone else ever can. His sweet fucking baby.

It only takes a second longer for the dam to break— another go at your clit as his fingers curl just right and there it is. You pant and writhe underneath him, legs shaking as he holds you down.

With a soft kiss to your clit he pulls away, hushing you as he slowly pulls out his fingers covered in your slick. He rubs soft circles on your hip with his thumb as he licks the fingers clean, moaning from the sweet taste. You’re as sweet as you look.

“Easy there, kiddo. I know. Big one, huh?” He presses two kisses to the inside of your thighs before standing up with a grunt. Christ’s sake, he was getting old.

You weakly sit up on your elbows, skin flushed and hot. His lips are wet with your juices and you don’t miss the obvious bulge in his pants either. To know that your stepdad’s that aroused because of you has you more turned on than you thought possible.

“Do ya wanna do what we were really doin’ in the video? Ya think ya can handle Daddy?” Sonny asks teasingly but with a touch of sincerity at the same time. As much as he wants nothing more than to fuck you stupid, if you don’t want it then that’s that.

“I… I think so. I can handle it, I’m ready.” You psych yourself up as you spread your legs wider as an invitation. He chuckles as he rubs your inner thigh, you always were in a rush to grow up, even back then.

It’s bittersweet in a way. Doing this with you is the final nail in the coffin, his little baby will really be all grown up. He still has a couple of your old childhood stuffed animals in the office, you insisted they keep him company while he worked and he never had the heart to get rid of them when you got older.

Sonny sheds his pants and his boxers follow suit, cock standing tall and proud against his round belly. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, watching as he gives himself a few languid pumps, thumb smearing his precum around the tip.

“Don’t be shy, it’s not gonna bite ya.” He jokes as he steps closer and gently guides your hand to wrap around him. He helps you stroke him up and down as a soft sigh of relief leaves his lips. Oh, you sweetheart.

You feel it throb in your grip and it leaves you with an indescribable yearning, a desperation to feel him inside of you. To know you’re as close to your Daddy as two people possibly can be. He loves you more than anything in this world, that’s what he always reminded you before turning off the light before bed.

Impatiently, you try to guide him towards your entrance as you raise your hips. You’ve always been a stubborn kid. “Slow down, kiddo. You’ll get it.” He laughs in disbelief and you smile when you see his dimples.

He eases you back down on your back as he notches the fat tip of his cock at your tight little hole, guiding himself to your entrance. “Deep breath, honey.”

You brace yourself but it’s not enough, squeezing your eyes shut you let out a whimper as he slowly pushes himself inside you. You try to focus on the nice things instead of the burn that comes with his cock stretching you out. Like the groan that leaves him as he enters your tight wet heat, the way his thumb gently plays with your clit, and the fact that you get to have him like this at all. Just like the video.

“Jesus— look at that, kiddo.” Sonny sighs, watching the way his cock sinks into you as your bodies connect. God, he loves you. He really does.

“Dad, it’s too big—“ you wince as he pushes in inch by inch, hard cock sliding against your silken walls.

“You’ll get used t’me, jus’ relax sweetheart, it’ll fit. It’s gonna fit.”

You try to do as you’re told and relax the best you can. You trust him, Dad’s always right.

“Jus’ a bit more, y’almost there, sweetie. Doin’ so perfect for Daddy…” Sonny murmurs before sliding in the rest of the way, one and done. He knows you’re hurting, but his way is a whole lot easier than yours. “Fuck sweetheart, pussy’s heaven.”

It’s easy to forget about the pain when he praises you like that, and you’ll do just about anything to make him keep making those same noises of pleasure. “R—really? It's good?” You ask, doubting that you can make him feel the way he did in the video.

“Y’kiddin’? Ya makin’ ya old man feel better than he has in a long time. C’mere, give Daddy a kiss.” He leans over and you meet him halfway as he starts thrusting into you, tip kissing your cervix.

You make such pretty sounds as you clench around him, hips slowly working up to a steady pace. He looks down and watches how he slides into you with ease, cock covered in creamy ribbons of your arousal.

“Dad,” you whimper, “fuck, I—“ you reach out and wiggle your fingers at him.

He takes the hint, interlocking your fingers and pushing himself inside you as far as he can, belly pressed up against you. You feel indescribably full as your walls flutter around his length.

His hips move faster and faster, spurred on by the pretty little moans that fall out of your lips. The way your hands squeeze his with every thrust into your tight cunt has him harder than he’s ever been.

“Wanna feel ya cum around me, baby. Let Daddy see ya cum nice n’ hard now.” His fingers find your clit again as he rubs firm deliberate circles around you.

You gasp as your hips chase his fingers, desperate for that warm fuzzy feeling to wash over you again. His cock brushes against that special spot over and over again and you’re gone, eyes glazing over as you clench around him. Your back arches as you pulse and flutter around his pistoning cock.

“That’s it, so fuckin’ good. So so good, so perfect. Daddy loves ya sweetheart, Daddy loves ya so fuckin’ much—“

Sonny’s cock drives into you as he chases his own release, sweat rolling down his forehead as the desk shakes with the force of his thrusts. His belly glistens from your arousal as you soak him, and he’s loving every second. You’re so tight, so wet. So warm. Perfect. Always perfect.

“Fuck, Daddy’s gonna cum. Daddy’s gonna cum, baby.” With one last powerful thrust he empties himself inside you, milky cum spurting against your walls. His body shakes from the sheer force of it as he fucks rope after rope of his cum into your greedy pussy.

You hope you can commit that sound to memory. How deep and low it is, how it comes from somewhere deep in his chest. He pulls you up off your back and holds you tight against him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He covers you in kisses, your hair, your face, your neck. Any piece of skin he can reach. “Ya did so good sweetheart, jus’ like I knew ya would.” He moans into your neck, peppering you in feather light kisses.

You try to catch your breath as you pull away from him and a blinking red dot catches your eye. The fucking laptop.

“Dad—!” You groan and harshly whack his arm. “You have to delete that— you’re gonna delete it, right?”

Sonny lets out a laugh as you hit him, unconcerned with your anger. There’s no chance in hell he’s ever deleting that. You’ll just have to get over it. Maybe if he buys you a new laptop.

[sunshinechay]

I can’t stop thinking about how Gao Tu doesn’t actually know any of the plan that Shen Wenlang and Hua Yong are enacting, so he just genuinely thinks that Shen Wenlang is getting into a relationship with Hua Yong and using it to rub salt into Sheng Shaoyou’s wounds (and also his own). He can’t fault Shen Wenlang too much though because Shen Wenlang is an asshole and knows it and seems to revel in it.

Shen Wenlang doesn’t know Gao Tu is an omega and even if he did, Hua Yong is everything Gao Tu isn’t. He is beautiful and intelligent and demure and graceful while Gao Tu is just average. He believes the best thing about him is that he is steadfast and reliable. He doesn’t yell back at Shen Wenlang and doesn’t get angry when Sheng Wenlanf behaves badly. He just wants to be able to be there for him and silently love him for as long as he can. He knows he has an expiration date but if he holds on, maybe he can push it back.

Meanwhile Shen Wenlang is so used to Gao Tu’s presence that he notices his absence almost immediately. Gao Tu is the person who has been with him the longest, the one who knows him the best but he’s so deep in denial about his feelings that he refuses to see what’s right in front of him. The doctor all but yells in his face that Gao Tu is an omega but Shen Wenlang misses it. He is too focused on Gao Tu getting better, Gao Tu staying by his side. He’s never even meet Gao Tu’s omega partner but he hates him. He hates him with everything in him. Not just because he is an omega but because he takes Gao Tu’s attention away from him. He has witnessed first hand just how badly a relationship with an omega can end. He doesn’t want that to happen to Gao Tu. Gao Tu is a beta, he could be with anyone. Why would he be with an omega (why not stay with him)?

They’ve been circling each other for so long. Neither willing to be honest for fear of what can happen. Gao Tu knows that if he tells Shen Wenlang he’s an omega, he will be forced out. He will not be allowed to be by Shen Wenlang’s side anymore. Hua Yong is the exception but Gao Tu will never be. He is only allowed because he lies, because he hides that part of himself. He wants so desperately to be able to be himself and be able to be by Shen Wenlang’s side, but he so firmly believes he can’t.

Shen Wenlang isn’t willing to open himself to even the idea of a relationship with Gao Tu because he knows how they end, has witnessed it first hand. Gao Tu is way too important to him to even try and think about it, much less admit it. He cannot stand to lose Gao Tu but he just can’t even begin to understand why because he won’t admit his own feelings to himself, much less to anyone else. He has convinced himself that he content with the way things are and thus can’t seem to figure out why Gao Tu having an omega partner bothers him so fucking much. He doesn’t even have time to think about with Hua Yong’s plan in motion.

It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Both of them have to start by being honest with themselves before they can be honest with each other, before they can even explore what being together could even look like. They need to figure out their own baggage before they can take on each others. They need to have a fucking conversation with each other that doesn’t end with both of the frustrated because of misspoken words and angry tones.

[skyward-floored]

Flying (falling?)

A Hyrule dragon warriors au fic I’ve been working on for a while and wrote like 70% of today somehow. It takes place a bit after the whole poison plotline, but you don’t have to have read it to understand this.

And please forgive me if there’s erroneous typos I’m sick 👍 despite that I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :3

Masterlist

————————————————————

The sun is warm on Link’s skin as he watches Volga turn dizzying spins in the air above him, his fiery mane flickering brightly in the morning light.

He does a particularly impressive corkscrew, and Link chuckles as Proxi makes a little ooh noise where she’s sitting on his chest.

Link and Volga had been sparring, Link determined to regain the strength he’d lost after being poisoned. It’s taken him so long to even be able to get out of bed and walk around, it’s embarrassing how weakened he’s become. He needs to rebuild the muscle he lost if they’re to have any chance of winning this war, and sparring is a good way to do that.

He’d had another goal in mind, that of trying to overcome his instinct to flinch away whenever Volga holds a weapon by him, but that’s obviously going to take more than one spar to fully banish.

They’re finished now anyway, Link worn out after only a few rounds. Volga on the other hand, had been energized by the fights, and had claimed he’d wanted to stretch his wings. So Link is watching, lying sweaty in the grass, as Volga does endless twists and turns above him.

There’s a weird sense of longing as Link watches him, a pull in his chest as Volga twists through the air. It’s a more intense version of the feeling he gets sometimes when he watches Proxi flitter around, and a thought suddenly occurs to him, a rather intense one.

Can I do that?

Volga finally turns back towards him, and Link sits up, watching as he folds in his wings and lands on the grass.

“How do you do it? Switch forms?” Link asks as Volga slips out of his dragon form, tail and wings shrinking away, scales rippling off of his skin. Volga shakes himself as he settles back into human shape, then raises an eyebrow at Link.

“Have you never done it?” he asks in turn, and Link hesitates. That’s a loaded question. But he’s certainly never done it fully like Volga, and he settles for the first lame reply he can come up with.

“Not... really.”

“Hm. That’s worrying for a hatchling your age,” Volga murmurs, then moves to stand beside Link. “I assumed you merely preferred this form, not that you couldn’t access the other. It should be instinctive at this point.”

“Well he’s not a full dragon, that’s probably why,” Proxi says for Link as he messes with the grass by his hands.

Great, another thing that’s messed up about him.

“Hm. Or perhaps you just haven’t had a teacher. I’ll instruct you,” Volga says in a matter-of-fact way, and it’s Link’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Really? It... might not be possible,” he says hesitantly, and Volga shrugs, then smirks.

“We’ll find out. It can’t hurt to try.”

...Link isn’t so sure about that.

But he does want to at least attempt it, so they start that very afternoon, after Link’s rested a bit and accomplished some of his duties he’s supposed to get done. He and Volga stand opposite each other in the same wide field where they’d been sparring, just barely in view of camp, and Volga paces slowly around him, grass swishing where he walks. Link tries not to be nervous.

“You say you’ve truly never transformed?” Volga asks again, and Link shakes his head.

“Not fully, like you,” he says. “It’s... possible I’ve done it partially.” There have been a few incidents that he’s been suspicious of— nothing for certain, but there have been multiple times he’s wondered about.

Volga nods. “That’s good. If you’ve had some experience, it shouldn’t be too hard. It should just take some practice.”

He steps back and studies Link again, Proxi flittering above the grass nearby. Link waits in silence, tapping his fingers on his hip.

“So... how do you do it?” he asks finally, and Volga hums.

“Hrm. How to explain... it’s like flipping a switch,” Volga says, putting a hand over his heart. “You are both your forms, and they are both you. The only difference for you is that your human shape is more instinctive than your dragon, far more so then it would normally be for our kind. You’ll have to learn to overcome that.”

“Wow, you make it sound easy,” Link says dryly, and Volga smirks.

“I have faith that you can succeed. You’ve already shown yourself to be quite capable.”

“If you say so,” Link sighs, and Proxi settles herself on his shoulder. She gives him an encouraging chime, and he smiles briefly at her. “How do I begin?”

Volga nods and moves forward until he’s standing directly in front of Link, and meets his eyes.

“You must feel it in you, in the core of your magic, your power,” Volga instructs, tapping a finger to Link’s chest. “Draw on it. Let it sweep through you, but retain control. Flip the switch.”

Link frowns, but tries to do as Volga says, closing his eyes to better focus.

He can feel the usual quiet pulse of magic in his middle, what he draws on to power his fire rod, and do some other attacks in battle. He tries pulling on it like he normally would if he were going to use a weapon, and feels Volga tap his chest again.

“Deeper than that. Seek the very core of your magic, and let it spread.”

Link huffs, but gives it a try, digging deeper into the well of magic, trying to push it out. He’s used to having something to channel it through, a weapon, a rod... even his sword when he performs a focus rush. But there’s nowhere for the magic to go now, nowhere but around inside of him, and Link’s skin prickles with energy.

“That’s it,” Volga says, his voice holding a hint of excitement. “Now let it spread through you, pull you towards your scales, make the switch.”

Link has no idea what he’s talking about, but he tries anyway, pushing his magic to try and get it to spread. It doesn’t seem to want to though, and something in Link aches, a burn like a muscle he hasn’t used enough.

Link grits his teeth and tries to push past it, but then his magic sputters, and suddenly he’s on his back in the grass, panting for breath as his head spins.

Volga’s head appears above the grass, and peers down at him with a frown. “You did not let it spread.”

“I was trying to,” Link replies once he has his breath back enough to speak. Despite the fact that all he did was stand still and concentrate for a few minutes, he feels like he just ran for a few hours.

“Are you all right, Link?” Proxi asks worriedly, and he nods despite his shaky limbs and spinning head. Maybe he isn’t quite as over the poison as he thought he was. “You used up a lot of magic there.”

Volga sighs as Link pushes himself up. “It shouldn’t use up a lot of magic. You’re merely shifting it to something new, not expending it. It’s like changing the course of a river, it doesn’t stop flowing, it merely shifts direction. You’ll use some, but it largely stays in your body.”

“Yeah, well obviously not,” Link huffs, then stands, feeling more clear-headed now. “I’m going to try again.”

Volga considers. “You feel well enough to?”

Link nods determinedly.

Volga smiles.

Link tries the rest of the afternoon to get his magic to do what he wants, with... very little progress. He tries to do what Volga says, but he just can’t seem to get his magic and body to work together the way Volga thinks they should.

Volga isn’t much help either, giving increasingly confusing suggestions, and further explanations that are pretty much useless. He keeps talking about a switch, a change, a fire to tug on, but Link can’t find it no matter how hard he tries.

Eventually they quit for the day, the sun getting low, Link nearly passing out after the last failed attempt.

Impa notices how tired he looks when they trudge back to camp, and suggests he try taking it easy the next day, but Link still gets up early the next morning and tries again, pushing with his magic, trying to find the switch in his gut.

He makes no progress that day, or the next.

Zelda and Lana watch him worriedly one afternoon as he repeatedly tries, and they offer some suggestions, but nothing seems to help. Several days go by without Link getting anywhere with the endeavor, no progress to be seen, and he wonders if there’s something wrong with him. He’s only half dragon after all. And he still gets shaky if he does anything for too long.

Maybe that poison broke something in him, something that can’t be fixed.

But Volga insists it should be possible for him to transform. Poison or Sheikah or whatever, he says it’s part of Link’s birthright, and he can do it.

Link isn’t so sure.

But even though he’s made absolutely zero progress, Volga doesn’t give up on him.

(...)

The breeze is hot as Volga leads Link towards the location he’s chosen, his son’s feet plodding despondently behind him.

It’s been more than a week without any progress, and Volga is admittedly a little worried Link hasn’t figured it out yet— he’s well beyond the normal age to learn this, and having only half of the necessary genes probably isn’t helping. Most hatchlings figure it out in their first few years alive with little to no trouble, but Link hasn’t gotten anywhere.

Volga has a plan now though, one that will surely help.

They emerge from the trees onto a flatter area, the very top of a large cliff. A long canyon with a thin stream of water lurks below them, and Link’s fairy that follows him around flitters around near the edge with a concerned chime.

“What are we doing way out here?” Link asks, glancing over the edge with a suspicious look, and Volga casually steps behind him.

“This!”

Volga shoves him off the edge.

“Link!” the fairy shrieks as Link screams and plunges downward, and Volga waves a hand at her, not concerned in the slightest.

“Relax, fairy. His instincts will take over, and he’ll transform and be fine,” he explains simply.

“But— but—” she splutters, and Volga leans over the edge, watching Link flail.

“It’s the best way to learn. Trial by fire,” he says confidently, Link spinning around wildly. “Many dragons do this when the fledglings refuse to learn to fly. They struggle a while, then instinct takes over.”

“It’s not taking over for Link,” the fairy says worriedly, and Volga keeps watching Link tumble closer and closer to the bottom. He keeps waiting for that telltale flicker of magic, that burst of flame, a roar of triumph.

Yet... nothing.

And something really should’ve happened by now.

There’s no spark. No light. No sudden cry of success as Link succeeds, and spreads out wings. He just keeps falling, nearing the stream more by the second.

Volga suddenly knows it’s been too long.

He leaps off the cliff himself, changing as he goes. His wings are already pressed tight to his body as he dives towards Link, and wills himself to go faster as Link rapidly approaches the ground below.

Volga snatches him up mere moments before Link would have hit the shallow water, and Link clings to him as he swoops around and flies back up. Volga can hear his son’s heart pounding, and his fingers scrabble to hold onto his scales.

Volga holds onto him a little tighter.

When he finally flies back up and sets Link down, his son scrambles away from the cliffside, then collapses, gasping for breath.

“Link!” his fairy squeaks, and she darts frantically around his head, blue sparkles going everywhere. “Link are you okay?!”

Link gives her a shaking thumbs up, and Volga falls back into his human form, moving to stand beside Link. He appears... rather shaken.

Volga sighs. That had not been his goal. It’s a good thing nobody else is around at least to see what had happened. In fact...

“Let’s maybe not tell your mother about this,” he says with a wince, and Link gives his father a rather scathing look as he continues to gasp for breath.

“You could’ve warned me!” he complains, voice shaking.

“It works better if it’s a surprise, I was only trying to help,” Volga huffs. Then he looks back at the gorge. “Maybe if we found a taller cliff...”

“No. No more cliffs,” Link wheezes, and closes his eyes. “I didn’t feel anything when I was falling. It’s not going to help.”

“Fine. No cliffs,” Volga reluctantly agrees.

Link is still wheezing a bit frantically, and Volga plops down on the grass beside him, looking his son up and down. His mind briefly flickers back to when Link was poisoned, and gasping for breath in a similar way, but he tosses the image away quickly. Link was just startled, that’s all. He’s not dying.

He’s been out of danger for quite a while now, in fact.

Volga huffs and focuses on the present Link, not the sickly one in his mind. His son looks more like Impa in the afternoon sunshine, his hair nearly white where the sun hits it. Volga’s thoughts wander towards her, and he thinks of her innate magic, and how she channels it and uses it, how it differs from his, and how it’s similar.

Hmm...

“I have an idea,” he says, and Link gives him something of a glare. ”...It doesn’t involve cliffs.”

“What is it?” Link’s fairy asks, and Volga shrugs.

“We ask Impa, of course.”

(...)

“You’re trying to do what?”

Link winces at Impa’s incredulous tone, but Volga doesn’t seem to care. They’re in Impa’s tent, and she’s giving them both quite the look, but Volga plows on.

“Help him unlock his other form,” he says simply.

Impa rubs the bridge of her nose. “That would explain why you two keep going off alone. And why Link keeps coming back looking like he’s about to fall over, what exactly have you been doing to try and help him?”

Link keeps his mouth shut.

Volga waves a hand. “Nothing that’s worked. He hasn’t gotten anywhere, so I thought maybe your side had something to do with it,” he further explains. Link thinks Impa’s eye twitches.

“Why would my side affect a possible dragon form? He gets all of that from you,” she points out, and Volga shakes his head.

“Yes and no. Transforming is tied to a dragon’s innate magic. Link’s magic differs from my own, and differs from yours as well, but I’m guessing there’s elements of both. I thought you might have some advice for him,” Volga finishes, and Impa pauses in her paperwork, and considers for a minute.

“Well... I can hardly help with any transformations I’m afraid,” she says, then looks at Link. “But... perhaps I can help you be more aware of your magic. Have you ever meditated before, Link?”

He hasn’t.

A little while later Impa takes him to a quiet hillside, under a tree with spreading branches. Volga had been banned from the lesson, Impa citing he’d be too much of a distraction, and Link has to muffle a laugh as Volga huffs and stomps away, his pride obviously wounded. He’ll get over it.

Link and Impa sit opposite each other below the tree, legs crossed, and she begins to walk him through it.

“Don’t focus on your magic, or anything else yet,” she explains as she closes her eyes. “Simply breathe. Be still. Listen.”

Link closes his eyes, and does as she says.

He breathes in, listening to the soft rustle of leaves above him, a bird chirping in the distance. He breathes out, feeling the wind gently caress his hair, ripple the grass around him, bugs humming softly.

In... and out.

Proxi’s quiet wings. Impa’s nearly silent breath beside him.

In... and out.

Sunshine. Cool breeze.

In... and out.

Peace.

“Good,” Impa says, her voice soft. “Now reach for your magic. Don’t force it, just let it come.”

Link does what he’s been doing since this started, and draws on his magic, though he tries to do it like Impa says. Just let it come on its own terms. Don’t force it.

Maybe it’s his calm state, but it does come faster than normal, and easier.

“I can’t help you here, but whatever Volga’s been trying to get you to do... give it a try,” she says, and Link tries to go deeper, let his magic spread like Volga’s been saying.

It still doesn’t work.

Frustration bubbles up in Link’s chest, and Impa must be able to tell, because she speaks again.

“Patience, Link. Don’t force it,” she says, and Link sighs, wrestling the emotion down. “It’ll happen when it happens. Patience.”

Link hesitates a moment, then goes back to his magic, and instead of pressing it or digging into it, he just... sits with it. Feels it. Tries to understand what’s unique about it.

Lana had explained to him once that magic had elements it typically aligned itself with. It was difficult to truly categorize, but there were six that people commonly recognized, and usually one or two that they tended to be most skilled with. Zelda, for example, was most brilliantly light, but she had skill with those of lightning as well. Impa tended towards water, but fire also came easily to her, as well as the skill with shadow all Sheikah possess.

Volga is pure fire of course, but Link... isn’t sure what he is. He’d asked Lana when they’d had that conversation, and she’d hesitated, studying him for a moment.

“Predominantly light,” she’d said finally, then smiled at him. “Probably a secondary in fire, but... also pretty much everything else. You’re unique, Link.”

Link breathes out again. He’s different from his mother and father. Similar, but different. And maybe with both of their methods, he’ll finally get somewhere.

Link continues to sit and feel his magic. He feels it ebb and flow with the beat of his heart, watches it where it sits in his chest, nestled by his heart. He feels it, sits with it, just... listens.

Nothing changes.

But also... something does.

A hand taps his knee then, and Link opens his eyes, shocked to see it’s dark. It hadn’t felt long at all, but hours must have gone by, as the sky is a pale purple, and the noises around him have turned mostly to crickets. Impa is smiling at him, and she stands as he stretches his legs. He’s a bit sore.

“You’re a natural, Link,” Impa says with a smile, her red eyes warm. “That was a Sheikah technique, and you executed it like someone who’s done it for years.”

Link blushes a little, and feels something warm in his heart at the praise. “Thank you.”

“Now the real question... did it help?” Impa asks as she offers him a hand up, and Link considers, then takes it.

“Yeah. I think it did.”

(...)

They’re in the middle of the desert when Link finally gets it.

They’ve just beaten the majority of Ganondorf’s forces in the desert, Ghirahim and Zant struck down. Lana had been forced to call back their allies from across time at one point during the battle, but Link is ecstatic to see them all again, Tune and Mask especially.

There’s so much to tell them, even though it’s only been a few months, and the second the battle is over, Tune and Mask knock him over into a hug.

Link gets to explaining the situation, Volga’s presence included, and while the two of them laugh when he tells them what he’s been up to, especially the tale of Volga tossing him off a cliff, Tune eyeballs the faint purple scar on Link’s arm that wasn’t there when they left. Link avoids that subject, not wanting to sour the reunion, but he’s sure the two will drag the story of his kidnapping and near-death out of him eventually.

For now, he’ll just enjoy the thrill of having them back again.

Things aren’t a lot better, but they’re certainly looking up now. Ganondorf is as serious of a matter as always, and while it’s only one victory against his army, and there’s still some stragglers they’re taking out, Link is feeling hopeful again. They have more allies and a victory under their belts, and it raises everyone’s spirits.

And apparently that’s just the push he needed.

Link and Volga are standing up on a rocky plateau away from camp, Tune and Mask dozing in the shade nearby. It’s a scorching afternoon, but Link doesn’t mind it much, the heat comforting in a strange way. Volga doesn’t appear to mind it either, and he watches idly as Link pushes on his magic with focus as sharp as one of Sheik’s daggers.

He’s been feeling more and more in tune with his magic as the days have gone by, Impa helping his focus, Volga pushing him when he gets frustrated. Link’s magic flickers brightly in his chest, and he pulls at it with the same practiced motions, still feeling for that switch that Volga keeps mentioning.

Volga suggests something after several minutes, but Link is so focused he doesn’t hear the words, pushing deeper into the core of his magic. Something flickers in there, something he feels like he can touch, and a prickle goes up his spine. Suddenly Link understands.

He takes hold of it. He changes the flow, turning his magic in a different way. He feels that fire Volga had been talking about.

And finally he does it.

His magic suddenly rushes over him, like a ripple of water spreading out in a pond, like fire licking through a dry bough. His limbs tingle and Link yelps as he feels his body abruptly stretch, fingernails lengthening, face changing shape, two spots on his back and another on his lower spine growing right on the verge of unbearably warm.

He grunts and falls to all fours, trying not to panic as the magic continues to rush through him, bringing with it a measure of pain. It’s intense, and unnatural, and weird, but it also feels right.

“There you go!” Volga shouts, actual excitement in his voice, but Link barely hears him, focused as he is on what’s happening to himself.

The spots on his spine grow even hotter, something in his neck shifts. His head pounds, skin prickling, and warmth sweeps through him. Something twists, something else burns, his whole body aches and his magic sings and it’s suddenly over so fast Link almost doesn’t realize at first.

Everything goes still.

Link breathes in, and out, his heart thudding in his ears. He slowly cracks his eyes open, not sure when he’d closed them, and stares.

The scenery in front of him seems brighter than normal, distant objects clearer, extra color to the world. He takes a deeper breath than before, and catches countless scents in the air, the wind carrying things from so far away Link can’t even identify them. It’s almost dizzying.

A bright light suddenly enters his vision, and Link takes a moment to recognize it as Proxi, currently the very definition of excitement.

“Link! Link you did it!” Proxi squeals, dancing around his nose. His snout? “You’re a dragon!”

Link stares at her, almost unable to believe it, then twists his strangely long neck to get a good look at himself.

A thrill goes over him as he studies the ridges that trail down his back, leading to strong-looking wings, a long, elegant tail. He’s a bit more... noodley than Volga is, a longer neck, more slender body, but the resemblance is still strong, even with Link’s more blue scales. Orange and red ones are scattered here and there though, making him look like the very middle of a fire.

Link hesitantly shifts his new appendages, the feeling of moving his wings and tail completely alien. That strange right feeling is still there though, and Link grins, feeling fangs and a long tongue in his mouth.

He did it.

He did it!

He raises his head to look around more, amazed at how well he can see camp below, the detail on the rocks around them. Tune and Mask have woken up, and Link can see every inch of their shocked stares, their mouths stuck open, eyes huge.

A few paces away, Volga watches him, a proud smile on his face.

“I knew you could do it,” he says as he steps closer, looking over Link’s dragon form with an almost giddy expression. “And look at those scales! Your wings! We’ll have to work on flying of course, but it shouldn’t take—”

“How did you do that?!” Mask suddenly yells, and nearly trips as he scrambles over to Link. “That’s so cool!”

“I told you I was working on it,” Link says pointedly, and Mask tilts his head.

“I don’t know what “growl growl” means,” he says, and Link blinks.

“You can’t understand me?” His voice sounds exactly the same to him.

“Most Hylians can’t,” Volga explains with a flat look at Mask’s interruption, and Tune wanders over with a smirk.

“I can,” he grins. “But I’ve talked to a dragon before, kind of. That might be why.”

“What?! That’s so unfair,” Mask groans, but gets over his disappointment quickly. He studies Link, pointing out various cool features, and Tune joins him, looking at Link with a more subtle awe.

“Your scales are beautiful Captain,” he says with a smile, and he carefully takes Link’s wing so he can look at it better. “I can’t believe you actually did it, this is so cool.”

Link grins again, still feeling heady from the rush of success and thrill of being a dragon. “Thanks.“

Suddenly there’s a weight on his back, and Link wobbles at the sudden shift. Finding his balance is apparently too advanced for him right now, and he falls over, Mask yelping as he falls with him. Tune laughs, and Volga shakes his head, snatching Mask off of Link’s back by the back of his tunic.

“Ask permission before you climb on a dragon,” he says flatly, Mask protesting and squirming in his hold. “Link, try walking around, you’ll need to get used to your limbs.”

Link nods, smiling as Mask fights his way loose, and slowly stands up, adjusting to the way his legs bend and support his body. His tail helps with balancing himself he finds, and once Link is upright, he awkwardly flails his wings, unsure of where to put them.

“Try folding them at your sides,” Tune suggests, and after a moment of struggling, Link manages to do so.

That helps quite a bit, and once that’s settled, he attempts to walk. His legs stumble and wobble under him like that of a newborn foal, but he manages not to completely trip, and does a careful walk around the area, tail swishing behind him.

Figuring out how to walk on four legs and move three extra limbs isn’t easy, even if his wings sort of feel like an extra set of arms. His tail is the most bizarre, as he’s able to move it, but not with the dexterity of an arm or leg. It’s a bit like a toe, in that he can wiggle it and control it fairly well, but he wouldn’t be able to hold anything with it. Probably.

He finishes a lap, then does another when he feels he’s starting to get the hang of it. Volga nods in approval, still looking exceptionally pleased, and he moves to stand beside him. Link notes that he’s only about as tall as Volga like this. Maybe I’ll grow?

“Excellent. We’ll have you flying and fighting in this form in no time,” he says, that bright smile still on his face. Link has only seen him smile like that a handful of times.

It makes him look softer. Less like a ferocious enemy, less like the warrior who’s nearly killed Link multiple times.

Volga bends his knees a little and quickly transforms into a dragon himself, tossing his fiery mane once he’s fully there. He looks down at Link, Link shorter than him again, and lightly nuzzles his head against his.

“I told you you could do it,” he chuffs, that pride still in his voice and eyes, practically exuding from his very scales. “Wait until your mother sees.”

Link feels warm from his horns all the way down to his tail.

...Right up until the moment Mask opens his mouth.

“So, can you change back?”

[obsidianseven]

Themes in Murderbot Diaries Part the Second: Rambles about masking selves and secret communication tactics among oppressed groups

Damn I might have to turn this into an academic article and submit somewhere because this is getting out of hand and not a little unhinged.

Note: this is really just me jotting notes about ideas for a potential future article after re-reading Murderbot Diaries and starting to collect quotes for something bigger I don't have time to work on now. Apologies in advance and you have been warned.

I had a ramble earlier about Murderbot Diaries themes around surviving totalising control/coercive control/abuse dynamics on a personal, cultural, and societal level and now I've fallen into a rabbit hole.

Way back when I was doing my Masters I did a whole project on enslavement in Rome, which led to reading a lot about how oppressed individuals and groups (e.g., minorities and enslaved people) develop distinct forms of communication that cannot be understood by oppressor classes/groups so I picked up on that around the way Units/bots of different types communicate with each other in ways humans can't understand.

This is where we say Star Trek: TNG Measure of a Man walked so Star Trek Picard could run and Murderbot Diaries could absolutely fly.

Being able to communicate among your own and related groups is vital and people have always found a way to do it. It's also vital to find ways to do this in such a way that you can communicate without oppressing/dominant classes knowing that's what you're doing. MBD represents this really well and fits into the larger theme of "how do you tackle being a subjugated person in a massive oppressive system?" that's kind of at the heart of the books.

The complexity is fascinating. SecUnit creates code to "pass as human", which you can read as either autistic masking or as oppressed class masking and camouflage, and its movement through a world where it has to hide what it is constantly. It's very reminiscent of WEB du Bois' discussion of habitus clivé, how the identities of oppressed classes have to deflect attention from themselves with the creation of an outer versus an inner understanding of yourself because what you receive as the narrative about yourself externally is so much at variance with who you are inside—which must always be hidden.

But SecUnit also operates in a culture with an embedded enslaved group that's not simple, but features complex other groups with entangled separate interests and levels of engagement with the world. I have to acknowledge and be a bit subtle because humans have deliberately created hierarchies of sentience in Units and Bots, and I don't want to imply anything about human groups in discussing this. Fictional representations and explorations of these questions never map perfectly onto reality. But they are meant to make us think (or the good ones are).

Throughout the books I'm struck by SecUnit moving through a world very much run and peopled by non-human intelligences that it interacts with all the time. Bots and Units have separate languages, cultures, communication styles, and interests. I love that Preservation, while doing its best, has a rather flawed approach to construct rights because that's pretty typical of how difficult it is for dominant social groups and cultures to really *get* what it's like to be a minority or an oppressed/enslaved group.

Side note: I also love that, especially from Book 2 onward, SecUnit's primary currency of exchange with other bots and units is entertainment media, i.e., stories. Stories as currency with intense value, as well as appreciating them together, is ancient. Travelling and telling stories together is also ancient (hello there, Chaucer, Apuleius, etc., I see you there). It thoroughly fleshes out bot cultures as independent from but related to human culture in some subtle and fascinating ways. (Side note to the side note being that it's also refreshing that SecUnit's MO is not "become human because that's best", which is a shift from standard representations of intelligent constructs.) The whole privilege of being dominant is that you don't have to see the people doing everything for you.

What I especially love about this series and the interactions SecUnit has with other bots, units, constructs, etc., is that it shifts us away from only representing an oppressed group in terms of their relationship with the oppressors. That isn't even the dominant relationship represented in MBD. SecUnit mostly interacts with other constructs and bots as separate, functional individuals, cultures, and groups operating largely unseen by humans.

Bots, constructs, units, ART, etc., are all given the sense that they are functioning, complex individuals and cultures in the way they interact with each other. Some benefit from the structure of Corporate Rim society enough that they see no value in changing things or have been deliberately designed so that they can't make that leap. Others are getting on with their jobs in a terrible system and living out their lives. Still others are open to change (e.g., Three), or are starting to see the possibilities there.

Another side note: If labourers on twenty-year abusive labour contracts to corporations aren't a corollary to Irish workers in early America then... yeah.

I like that SecUnit uses the offer of the tools to hack a governor module a few times in the series, but only Three takes it up on that and only when it has digested the diaries themselves. Totalising societies do their utmost to make it impossible to see freedom as even a possibility for oppressed classes. I can see how, given time, the series might lead to an uprising. Three has been enslaved since birth, and has not encountered a model of construct freedom until SecUnit. Anyone who has been raised in a cult/totalising environment and had to fight to get out will know that it's a really long journey out the other side. Sorry, that's a repeat of my last mad ramble, but worth remembering.

OK I'd better stop and go back to reading this book about intelligent spider civilisations before I lose my mind.

[chosodicklover]

TWST Characters x Artist Yuu

Malleus🐉/Rook🪶x GN!Reader(more are coming)

Part 1

BTW: Im new to writing, dyslexic and eng isn't my firs lang. So please do feel free to drop any tips and helpful criticism. Thank you :)

Malleus🐉

- Imagine that you are a very artistic person.

- More or less like Rook. Finding beauty in everything. Including the odd unconventional things like mold, falling buildings and so on.

- Then you got enrolled in NRC, you had to join a club.

- So you did. The art club.

- Due to NRC being a college for the elite, they had access to a lot more than a normal human school could ever dream of.

- You took the opportunity and tried everything that normally you couldn't.

- One of the new hobbies you picked up was stone carving.

- One thing about stone carving was that it's a difficult art to master. One mistake and you're starting all over again. It's tedious and expensive, but at least the school is willing to cover the cost.

- After many tries of making people out of the soft stone you gave up and tried to go with something much easier.

- Gargoyles. They were made out of much easier to carve shapes.

- On his weekly night visit to the Ramshackle. You and Hornton had your normal short conversation.

- You randomly mentioned that you were trying something new during art club and innocently told him that now you are trying to carve a gargoyle after falling to carve out a person. 

- He was surprised and then, he had a million questions about what you're making.

- Questions like "Are you looking at making animal or monster type of gargoyles?”(he wasn’t going to ask about human ones as he just listened to you complaining about having troubles with making a human face)

- ”Are they from a specific era from this or your world? Do you even have them in your world?”

- Questions just kept coming, and you didn't know enough to answer his questions after they became more and more full of terminology that you didn't understand.   

- So in the end you decided to invite him to just come and see for himself tomorrow after school.

- He agreed and decided to leave it there. The two of you wished each other a good night and separated.

- Next day after school Malleus came past the art club room.

- Walking by all your scared school mates, Malleus made his way to you. 

- He greeted you and then asked where your work is. 

- Due to how dusty it can get you normally worked outside so the two of you walked outside the back of the art room which was a cornered off garden which was used exclusively by the art students. 

- You walked to a table that was covered with a cloth to shield your art from the elements and potential paint that may fly its way.

- As you uncover the gargoyle that you were working on (a very roughly shaped gargoyle, because you had just started)

 -You excused yourself to go and get your sketch book so that he could get a better idea of what you were going for. 

-You presented him with the book in which you did some research before starting and also showed him your own sketches of designs that you thought of. 

-He got closer to your creation in making, and started imagining the details you may be adding when you get to that stage.

-Then he sat next to you to read and look at your book in more detail with the hopes to hear why you came up with the designs you had.

-He notes that in the pages for the design you were making right now there was one major mistake. 

-The designs that you were looking at were mainly of gargoyles that channel water away from the building they are on but the angle that you have designed the gargoyle to start at a way too steep of an angle for the water to be able to come out off.

-You realised your mistake and thanked him for the feedback.

-You proceeded to resketch a new design 

-You stopped yourself and looked at Malleus, who was watching you intently to see what you were going to do.

-”Would you like me to help with the design?" that came out before you knew you were speaking. (Not that you really minded his help)

-He gave you a gentle smile and got even closer “Dont mind if i do.”

-The two of you spent hours talking about ideas until Sebek made it his own mishon to find Malleus as he was about to miss dinner.

-When he found the two of you he scolded you because ‘how dare you keep my liege occupied with your human nonsense’. 

-Of course Malleus wasn’t happy with him saying that and made Sebek apologise.

-After that Malleus invited you to join them for dinner in their dorm (much to Sebek’s protests)

Rook🪶

- Rook being the romantic guy he is always writes poetry. 

- It is not always about someone in mind, just about how he found beauty in something that gets brushed over by others.

- You with your fat crush on him wanted to share his passion about writing.

- So what better way than to make a poem about him.

- You aren't the best with words. The poem was clumsy and had references to some of his own poems that he read to you.

- One of the poems you liked the most was about him dramatically describing how roses that were in the school garden slowly started to wither. 

- The poem always makes you think of the pick up like “I’ll stop loving you when this flower dies” and the person is given a paper/plastic flower. 

- So you decide to put your own spin to that.

- You got some felt, fabric, needles and threads. 

- You started by using a rich purple felt sheet to make the envelope.

- Then you worked your ass off trying to recreate the Pomfiore emblem as the wax seal button on the letter so that the letter can be closed again. 

- After that you embroidered a black feather that resembles the one on his hat at what would be the back of the envelope.

- To hide the back of the embroidered feather, you decided to line it with a black fabric that had a golden flower design, resembling the golden details on his dorm uniform on the inside of the envelope 

- Once you decided that the envelope had enough details you moved on into sewing it together to keep its shape. 

- Since you finished with that it was time to move on to the actual letter itself.

- You rewrite the poem you made for him in a better hand writing. 

- Sewing the words of the poem into the felt made you feel like you are being a little corny with the way you decide to do things.

- But remembering Rook he would probably find it charming that you spent so much time thinking about him as you were creating something for him, so you pushed through.

- You finished all that letter work before you had to head to bed. 

- Next morning - it wasn't hard to find Rook as he would probably be in one of his normal ‘beautiful’ spots in the school.

- Luckily, you did find him fairly quickly as he just so happened to be sitting where those roses inspired him to write your favorite poem. 

- ‘The Sevens couldn't choose a better spot’ you said to yourself as you sat next to him.

- ”Mornings like this are beautiful aren't they?” 

- “It's just like any other, what makes this one any different “ 

- ”The difference is that you are sharing it with me, non? And if I'm not mistaken you also have something for me, isn't that wrong ma chérie?”

- Your mouth instantly dried up and you choked on your words as he got close to your face.

- All you could do is just reach into your inside pocket and take out the envelope that you poured your heart into the night before. 

- ”For moi?” (as he didn't see you sticking out the art rooms with a bunch of fabric) 

- He opened the latter after what it felt like ages as he took his time to appreciate every outside detail first. 

- You wanted to fall off the face of the Earth.

- He knew how nervous you were and he was enjoying keeping you on the edge of your seat. 

- Finally when he decided to start reading the poem, he kept quiet for longer than you would have liked. 

- He started with a gentle hum.

- ”Oh ma chérie, I can tell that you poured your whole heart into making this présent, but you spelled this wrong” 

- You turned into a tomato as you followed his finger.

- He laughed at your adorable response.

- He put the letter down and intertwined his fingers with yours and tilted your chin up to look at him.

- ”I would still adore your present for eternity, but we can work on your poem writing skills together before that time” 

- With that the bell rings and takes you out of that bubble the two of you were in as he moved away from you.

- ”Better hurry or you'll be later from your first lesson” 

[baileysoksbakery]

“ Ji-woo. “ your mother said. Walking over kneeling down to put her hand on your shoulder, she cleared her throat quietly. “ I must teach you the true way to live. By gambling. “ your mother said coldly—you tilted your head. Confused by ‘ the true way to live. ‘ your mother walked over to a box of cards.

Your mother walked back to you as she lead you to sit down in a chair, patting the wooden seat generously. “ I’ll teach you the basics. Poker. “ Your mother sat down in front of you. Taking the cards out of the box—Shuffling them around as she leaned back, clearing her throat. “  In standard poker. each player bets according to the rank they believe their hand is worth. “ She started handing out cards with a smile on her face, your legs kicking aimlessly as you hummed some silly tune. “ as compared to the other players. The action then proceeds clockwise as each player in turn must either match (or "call") the maximum previous bet. “

With two cards in your hand dealt by the dealer you had 10 in total. “ Hit me. “ you said—tapping your nails against the desk, your friend placed another card in front of you make it 15. “ Hit me again. “ The dealer laid out one more card which shot you up to 25. “ That was a Bust. “ you groaned, leaning back in your chair with your hands on your face. “ At this rate ill never be able to match up against the kids at st. Domincs. “ your friend furrowed her eyebrows. Trying to comprehend why you needed to go to St. Domincs so badly, she collected the cards as well as the chips. “ Why do you even need to go to St. Domincs. You’ll get eaten alive being there. “

My eyes narrowed at her as i brushed her off, “ you wouldn’t understand. “ the girl in front of you scoffed and looked at the other girl. The two girls looking at eachother as they both rolled their eyes at you. You sighed, you were going to go to St. Domincs in about a week and you needed to prepare even more than ever because that school is cutthroat. I looked down at the bracelet on my wrist and took a deep breath. ‘ you got this, you’ve been working your whole life to get to where you are today. ‘

“ Alright. Rematch. “ you said with a confident smirk, and a mischievous glint in your eyes. “ whats your bet this time. “ your bottom lip tucked under the top your fingers hovered the chips in front of you.. “ How about five thousand! “ your friend spit out some of her water, and looked at you dead in the eye like you were crazy, psychotic even—Absolutely out of your right mind. “ FIVE THOUSAND? DO YOU THINK IM MADE OF MONEY? “ you just chuckled at her remark, “ don’t be boring, Melissa. “ you teased at her. She rolled her eyes, her body tense as if she was afraid to say yes. “ Fine. Five thousand it is. “

as she was dealt two card and you were too. A 14 this time, “ Hit me. “ she replied, our friend. The dealer looked over at me, a cocky smirk laid across my face as if you knew something she didn’t. Now she replied with “ Stand. “ voice slightly anxious and shaky, “ nine-teen. “ the card dealer announced.

“ Hit me. “ I said in a calmer tone then last time. A twenty-one was now in your possession. Your friend looked over at you, a giggle left your mouth as you annouced—knowing you’re gonna win. “ Stand. “ you calmly said with a smile on your face. “ twenty-one. Ji-woo wins. “ your friend immediately slams her hands on the desk. Her face now panicked as her heart beat goes up high—to the point where she can hear it in her ears. “ no, no, NO. FUCK YOU. “ she said pushing all of the cards and half of the chips onto the floor, her face distressed as tears fell from her eyes—Her breath ragged like a busted up engine. She stormed out of the room.

“ I want that in cash too ! “ you yelled out at her, your friend who was the dealer just high fived you and nodded towards you, “ good job. Thats how they’ll react at St. Domincs when you beat them. “ you smiled at your friend as you hugged her. “ Im so excited ! “ you said kicking your feet on the ground—your friend practically choked from how tightly you were hugging her.

“ St. Domincs better watch out because Yamamoto is coming. “ your friend said—Pinching your cheek as she chuckled lightly. “ in deed they should. “ you said in a cold voice followed by a sinster chuckle.

Main. / Next.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

hii what are bts members like in arguments? with each other or in general?

Jin (8 of Pentacles) I am not sure he argues much. He is very stable and practical. It is interesting, I am being pulled to that argument he has with Tae in that documentary awhile back, not sure why they are pulling me there. I guess this is showing me if he does argue it would be about work and the details about things, maybe things not going smoothly, and he could be a bit of a perfectionist, which he never gave off that vibe, but this card is a very perfectionist energy card. So, arguments with him would be about details and things needing to be improved, sorry this was longer than I wanted it to be.

Suga (The Star rv) Ugh, can they not give me reversals. For him it could be about his fame, creativity, and not being able to shine in some way. He could be draining and dim the light of others. I needed a clarifier and got the Queen of Pentacles, this is someone polished, poised and put together. Okay, I think I get arguments would have to do with his money and career and how that is presented to the public eye. But I am not really sure how he would be like in an argument, just what could cause it.

RM (The Tower) This is a bit easier to understand than the others above. He would be chaotic, dramatic, could cause some sort of destruction. How he goes about things would not be productive to the least. He could also struggle to contain his emotions and frustrations as well.

J-Hope (Knight of Cups) He doesn't really argue much. He tries to ease things over and tries to meet them where they are at. He tries his best to calm the other party down and tries to be of comfort. More so he would express his love and be of comfort to the others who are arguing.

Jimin (10 of Pentacles) One, I heard he can be passive aggressive, and I see him laugh when people argue at him, so not sure he takes it seriously, or he laughs out of nervousness, now this card doesn't really say much to me. He seems to try to keep it together through arguments and tries not to involve himself too much in it, so he tries his best not to argue.

V (4 of Swords/2 of Swords/Ace of Cups) He is telling me a story here. He tries to remain calm and to not allow things to be too stressful or overthink things. This is interesting, because the phrase on the card is stuck in the middle, so he could be caught in between people a lot, and tries to bring peace and calmness to it and tries to give loving advice or he tries to reconnect them or bring them together again. But also, for him if he does argue, he will soon after makeup and feel pretty emotional about what has happened. I don't see him holding on to a grudge.

Jungkook (Ace of Wands) He could trigger arguments and start things up without thinking anything about it. He could be someone who gets triggered pretty easily, so I can see him starting arguments a lot. He kind of has a short fuse, but as quick as he gets mad, he also quickly gets over it.

Man, that took longer to do, than I thought.

[spcncershybrid]

savior | j.t

-pairing: joaquin torres x fem!reader

-word count: 1.7K

-warnings: one use of y/n, shit talking nyc (i can do this im from there), someone tries to attack reader (not descriptive but it can kind of be triggering so I’m putting it here), also the way im envisioning the setup Joaquin meeting reader is in like a station where all stairs leading to the tracks are visible. oh and reader is supposed to be a journalist in this.

-summary: walking home in the pouring rain had its struggles. with no umbrella and just hopes and dreams you make it to the empty subway only to be greeted by a drunken mess. The handsome stranger at the top of the stairs seems to be at the right place at the right time to save you.

-authors note: write the majority of this while suffering through my stomach issues so it isn’t exactly like the req (the req said that they keep bumping into each other but I didn’t know how to work that into this piece) BUT the ending still has a cute lil moment where they run into each other again.

–taglist: follow and turn on notifs to @spcncershybrid-library i will reblog all works there from here on!

The rain outside made it abundantly clear that there was no chance in hell that you were going to make it to the train.

Your umbrella flipped over a few blocks ago and the lights of Time Square blinded every part of your vision.

You hated working in the city. Yes the pay was good at your job and the convenience of being able to get around with a single card had its perks.

But man the city sucked. Especially when the weather has its moments where it did a 180 compared to when you started your day.

One thing that never changed however were the creeps that roamed the city. It ranges wherever you are but right now as you stand at the station alone there is only one other person on the tracks.

You didn’t realize how close he was getting until you spotted him in your peripheral. Actually it was the overwhelming smell of alcohol that caught your attention.

Your stomach turned as you made eye contact with him. Every fiber of your being told you to run and living in New York you knew to trust your intuition.

As you inched closer to the staircase, so did he. You couldn’t understand the mumbled mess that came out of his mouth.

He staggered back for a moment, his voice becoming louder. The only thing clear were the derogatory remarks he threw your way. He continued to step closer, his arms moving around. 

There’s no way you are going to die in a subway station. Especially to this asshole.

You bolted up the three tier stairway two steps at a time not caring about anything your way. You probably should call the station police, at least the man would be their problem.

You panted as you made it to the end. Your lungs felt like they were on fire. You turned to look at the stairs hoping the man didn’t follow, and if he did the station police wouldn't be that far if you ran.

You stepped back as the man made his way to the bottom of the staircase. You jumped as you connected with a body. You’ve seen the Avengers on TV and the crazy stuff they’ve fought. If the man teleported behind you at this point it’ll be the tamest thing they fight.

“Ma’am are you okay?”

Your lungs and body seized as a man spoke behind you. You clutched your chest as you turned around being greeted by a soft eyed stranger.

“Some drunk guy was being weird on the tracks.”

As if you summoned him the man made his way to the top of the staircase shouting.

“We shouldn’t give him any attention.” You said, looking back at the stranger. He looked hesitant for a second before

“We can move to another station or track.”

“And have him see us and go that way too?”

Without a second thought you continued walking hoping the stranger would follow. Which he did. 

He held out his phone talking to someone as you both walked to the nearest area that had an overhang to shield you from the rain.

The stranger scratched his neck as he looked around finishing up his conversation.

“I don’t live that far. If you want a place to pass the storm I live a couple blocks down. I’m Joaquin by the way.” He said. He flashed a smile which felt calming. 

You wanted to second guess his offer but remembering the man that stood at the station downstairs, you’d rather die to this pretty faced stranger named Joaquin then no name drunk. But something about him seemed familiar.

“Y/N. Yeah I’d like that.”

He opened his umbrella and held it for the both of you as you walked to his apartment. The walk wasn’t silent as the rain pattered on the umbrella. 

His apartment was comfortable. It was surprisingly not a shoebox like the typical New York style. He actually has a wide kitchen and view of the city.

You have a half kitchen and a view of another building.

“I’ll get you something to wear so you don’t get cold.” 

As he stepped out you took a moment to look around. You didn’t move from your spot to not have a trail of water behind you.

Looking at the pictures on the wall beside you is when it clicked. The familiarity of his face, as he stood next to Sam Wilson aka Captain America.

You’ve seen him on countless billboards and magazines around town, with the words AVENGERS NEW FALCON.

Hell you even wrote some pieces on him at work. But the amount of faces and texts you write no wonder you forgot about him.

“Here.” He said, passing you a gray shirt and black sweatpants. He looked different too, now sporting a green shirt and black sweats.

“The bathroom is around the corner. The doors open, you can leave your clothes in there for now. I’ll fix them later.” He pointed off to the right and went into the kitchen.

You nodded and went into the bathroom locking it behind you. You changed and placed your clothes in the tub.

“I ordered pizza. Just plain cheese because I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just went for the basics.” He said as he passed you a water bottle.

“It’s fine, you can't go wrong with pizza in New York." You grabbed the bottle and sat opposite him at the table.

You took a sip and looked at him. “Thank you by the way. You could’ve let that man do what he wanted.”

“What kind of guy would I be if I let that happen?” He looked over at you before shrugging.

“Definitely not the Falcon.”

He paused for a moment a rosy hue forming over his cheeks. A smile played at his features as he put down his water.

“You know I’m the Falcon.” He said leaning back in his seat.

“Saw the picture on your wall. At least you’re not a hero just for show.” You smiled as you continued to sip your water.

Moments later the pizza finally came and you both ate in the kitchen side by side. You asked him some stuff on how it was to be an Avenger, he gave you some pointers on how to defend yourself.

He let you sleep in the guest room for the night not wanting you to travel in any capacity until the streets filled up again and the trains were packed to the brim.

The sound of the door closing woke you up in the morning. Your clothes from last night were on the chair beside you. Your shoes on the ground below it.

You stood up for a moment wiping your eyes. It’s 8AM, you have enough time to make it to your place and to work.

You locked the door and changed your clothes, replacing the ones on the seat with the clothes you slept in. You could worry about everything else at your place.

You walked out the room to be met with Joaquin lounging on his sofa.

“Did I wake you up just now?” He cringed slightly as he mentally cursed himself.

“It’s fine I need to head home anyways.” You said as you adjusted your coat.

“I’ll take you home.” He offered already jumping up to put on his shoes.

A few more moments with him wouldn’t hurt. He put on a cap and sunglasses before you both made your way to your apartment.

He walked you all the way to your door, you allowed him in to relax for a moment.

“I have to be at work by 11, so I won’t be here long. You can help yourself to something in my fridge before you make the trip back.” You said as you pointed to your fridge.

You began to peel off your outerwear and grab some fresh clothes.

“It’s fine I was actually hoping maybe we can catch breakfast. Not now because of work but maybe some time when your free.” He said. You stilled for a moment before turning to him.

He didn’t know when he became so bold and so shy. If he were to tell Sam the reason he was late or had to cancel on him last night, let’s just say Joaquin would be the joke of the day.

“I’d like that. It’ll be on me, you know, for you saving my life and all.” You said as you took off your shoes replacing them with another pair.

“The Falcon wouldn’t let the girl pay.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“But what about Joaquin?” You crossed your arms as you stared at him.

“He’s a maybe.” He teased while shrugging.

You laughed as you dug through your bag. You pulled out a piece of paper and pen.

“Well whichever part of you decides who pays. I’ll be there.” You wrote down your name and number.

He hummed as he slid the page into his pocket. His phone rang out brutally shattering the nice moment you were having.

“Duty calls, I’ll be in touch.” He said as he glanced down at his phone.

“Go save other people and invite them to breakfast.” You both laughed as you led him out of your apartment.

He waved as the elevator door closed. You don't care if he won’t let you pay, you just hope he’ll actually call you.

A few days later your wish was granted. Your co-writer was antsy as she passed you the roster for the latest superhero issue.

“Here’s the superhero for the week. Be nice, we had to pull some strings to get them.”

CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE FALCON were in big bold letters making you laugh.

“I have a feeling I’ll get through this just fine.” You said as you walked towards your seat to wait for them.

Your palms were sweaty as you waited. But nonetheless the interview went well. It was comedic but also serious.

You stood by the crew snack table making a cup of coffee as they set up for another round of interviews.

Army green made its way into your peripheral and you couldn’t mistake the way your heart skipped a beat.

“So which one did you choose?” You asked as you walked up to Joaquin.

“Falcon will treat you to a nice breakfast. Joaquin will only let you pay for drinks on the second date.” He said as he grabbed cookies.

“I’ll be there.”

spcncershybrid, 2025. I do not condone my work to be copied or translated and do not claim it as your own, thank you. Feedback is welcome!

[calmcoldevening]

Hello :)

У меня сегодня неудачный день. Я рассталась с лучшей подругой после 10 лет дружбы. Хотелось бы, чтобы слэшеры (любые из них) успокоили читателя после того, как она рассталась с подругой.

(Если хотите, можете это проигнорировать. Have a nice day/night)

Have a nice day/night ;]

Slashers x reader after she broke up with her friend

Солнышко, все будет хорошо. Не будет ее, будет другая, ты ещё найдешь того человека, который будет ценить тебя сквозь время. Значит она выполнила свою миссию в твоей жизни, начинается новая глава. Главное не теряй себя, милая (там пониже версия на русском)

Jason Voorhees

• Jason finds you in the woods, upset and depressed, and he's really worried about you. He sits down and lets you talk.

• When you're done telling him everything that's on your mind, he just pulls you onto his lap and hugs you warmly, rubbing your back. He'll stay like this until you feel a little better.

• Cry if you need to, Jason won't judge you. He knows better than anyone what it's like to lose someone, after all, he lost his mom. He'll just be there to make you feel better.

• After a while, you'll return to your shared cabin, and he'll light a fire (to keep you warm, after all, a bad mood can make you feel cold) and wrap you in a blanket. He might even make you a delicious drink. Like a floral or citrus tea to calm your nerves.

• He won't leave your side for a second. Right now, the most important thing for him is to make you feel better, and he won't let you be alone with your bad thoughts.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba will be furious and hurt for you. At first, he doesn't know how to approach you, but eventually, he comes to you and hugs you tightly, lifting you up in his arms.

• He will take you to the kitchen and feed you the most delicious meat in the world. After all, a delicious meal always lifts your spirits. He might also find something sweet for you. With you in this house, sweets are no longer a rarity, so after dinner, Bubba will be able to comfort you with a few cakes or delicious cookies.

• Bubba adores you and doesn't understand how this girl could stop talking to you, as you are absolutely amazing. In his mind, he is already planning a revenge for you and licking his lips in anticipation.

• He won't leave your side. Tonight, he will put aside all his work and spend time with you. You'll lie in bed wrapped in each other's arms, and he'll coo and purr to comfort you. Bubba is very cuddly with his belly and chubby arms, so you might start feeling sleepy.

• In any case, you still have Bubba, and he'll never leave you. And he won't let any silly girls hurt you, his personal sunshine.

Pennywise

• You're his mate, so he's quite understanding about this. Pennywise is outraged and extremely hostile. At first, he'll be very affectionate towards you. He'll grow his limbs to become large enough to wrap you in a warm embrace, shielding you from the world.

• When you're feeling a little better, he'll be angry. "Baby, she just didn't appreciate you!" He'll curse, express his outrage, and deliver vivid speeches about the jackpot your "friend" has lost.

• He'll offer you a "revenge" training session and transform into her. Pennywise will taunt you with her voice, making you angry and tempting you to strike him, even with something sharp. But if it makes you feel even worse and you start crying, he'll simply return to his normal form and embrace you, saying, "Sorry... I didn't mean to scare you."

• Later, he'll simply show you nightmares where your ex-friend is in pain, no problem. And then he'll bring you ice cream. It's better not to ask where he got it.

• He may be an extraterrestrial being who doesn't understand human emotions, but he firmly believes in protecting his mate, and he'll tear people's throats out for you.

Sinclair Brothers

• They'll focus on comforting you. Together.

• Lester will hold you close, and his dog will jump into your lap, licking away the tears and bad thoughts on your face. Lester may not be good at comforting words, but he's good at doing things. He'll make you smile, even if you don't want to.

• Vincent will make you a delicious tea or pour you a large glass of juice, and he'll cover you with a blanket. He has a cool touch, so his hugs are like a good painkiller.

• Bo just stands there awkwardly with his arms crossed and frowns. He's already got a good plan for revenge in his head. But in the end, he just invites you to have a beer with them because you're a "great free woman."

• You don't know it yet, but they've already set up a spot for a new wax figure. Vincent's at home preparing the wax and paints, Lester's driving, and Bo's sitting in the passenger seat with an axe in his hands. You're sleeping peacefully in your crib. It's going to be a long night.

Jason Voorhees

• Джейсон находит тебя в лесу расстроенной и подавленной, его это действительно беспокоит. Он садится рядом и позволяет тебе выговориться.

• Когда ты рассказываешь ему все, о чем наболело, он просто усаживает тебя к себе на колени и тепло обнимает, проглаживая тебя по спине. Он будет сидеть так до тех пор, пока тебе немного не полегчает.

• Плачь, если нужно, Джейсон не станет осуждать. Он как никто знает, что такое потеря, в конце концов, он потерял свою маму. Он просто будет рядом, чтобы тебе стало легче.

• Через некоторое время вы вернётесь в вашу общую хижину, он разведет камин (чтобы тебе было не холодно, в конце концов, из-за плохого настроения такое может быть) и завернет тебя в одеяло. Возможно, он даже приготовит тебе что-нибудь вкусное выпить. Например, цветочный или цитрусовый чай, чтобы твои нервы успокоились.

• Он не отойдет от тебя ни на секунду. Сейчас для него самое главное, чтобы ты чувствовала себя лучше, он не позволит тебе остаться один на один с плохими мыслями.

Bubba Sawyer

• Бубба будет вне себя от ярости и боли за тебя. Сначала он не знает, как к тебе подступить, но в конце концов он подходит к тебе и крепко обнимает, поднимая тебя на руки.

• Он отведет тебя на кухню и накормит самым вкусным мясом на свете. В конце концов, после вкусной еды настроение всегда поднимается. Он мог бы также найти тебе что-то сладкое. С твоим появлением в этом доме сладости перестали быть редкостью, так что после ужина Бубба сможет утешить тебя несколькими пирожными или вкусным печеньем.

• Бубба обожает тебя и просто не понимает, как эта девочка могла перестать с тобой общаться, ведь ты просто восхитительна. Мысленно он уже готовит план мести за тебя и облизывается в предвкушении.

• Не отойдет от тебя ни на шаг. Этим вечером он отложит всю свою работу и проведет его с тобой. Вы будете лежать в кровати в объятиях друг друга, и он будет ворковать и мурлыкать, чтобы утешить тебя. Бубба очень обнимательный с его животом и пухлыми ручками, поэтому тебя может н��чать клонить в сон.

• В любом случае, у тебя ещё остаётся Бубба, а он тебя никогда не бросит. И он не позволит никаким глупым девочкам обидеть тебя, его личное солнышко.

Pennywise

• Ты его пара, поэтому он достаточно понимающий в этом вопросе. Пеннивайз возмущен и крайне враждебно настроен. Поначалу он будет очень ласковым к тебе. Он увеличит свои конечности, чтобы стать достаточно большим и заключить тебя в теплые объятия, закрывая от всего мира.

• Когда тебе станет немного лучше, он будет зол. "Малышка, да она просто не ценила тебя!" Он будет ругаться, возмущаться и говорить очень яркие речи о том, какой джекпот потеряла твоя "подруга".

• Он предложит тебе потренировать "месть" и превратится в нее. Пеннивайз будет дразнить тебя ее голосом, чтобы ты разозлилась и ударила его, даже чем-то острым. Но если тебе от этого станет ещё хуже и ты расплачешься, он просто вернется в свою обычную форму и обнимет тебя "Прости.. я не хотел тебя напугать."

• Позже он просто покажет тебе кошмары, где твоя бывшая подруга мучается, не проблема. А потом он принесет тебе мороженое. Лучше не спрашивать, где он его достал.

• Может он и внеземное существо, не особо понимающее человеческие эмоции, но он строго уверен, что обязан защищать свою пару, так что за тебя он порвет глотки.

Sinclair Brothers

• Они сосредоточатся на том, чтобы утешить тебя. Все вместе.

• Лестер прижмёт тебя к себе, а его собака запрыгнет к тебе на колени, слизывая слезы вместе с плохими мыслями с твоего лица. Может Лестер и плох в комфорте и словах утешения, зато он хорош в штуках. Он заставит тебя улыбнуться, даже если ты этого не хочешь.

• Винсент сделает тебе вкусный чай или нальет большую кружку сока и укроет тебя одеялом. У него ��остаточно прохладное прикосновение, поэтому его объятия успокаивают как хорошее обезболивающее.

• Бо просто неловко стоит рядом со скрещенными руками и хмурится. В его голове уже созревает хороший план мести. Но в конце концов, он просто предлагает тебе выпить вместе с ними пиво за то, что ты теперь "шикарная свободная женщина."

• Ты пока не знаешь, но они уже подготовили место для новой восковой фигуры. Винсент дома готовит воск и краски, Лестер ведёт машину, а Бо сидит на пассажирском сиденье с топором в руках. Ты же сладко спишь в кроватке. Это будет долгая ночка.

[holy-havoc]

He had always been left for dead.

Injured and bleeding in whatever place had been transformed into a battlefield. A grassy knoll. A quiet rural roadway. A busy market. Countless places had served as his cemetery. Never mourned. Never buried. Not a single word of prayer or forgiveness.

Empathy was usually trained out of a Shinobi. Presented to them as an unnecessary weakness. They were not people. Human beings with fears, emotions and weaknesses. They were tools.

Tools that were used for whatever their masters needed them for. Bound to clash against other tools until one of them broke. Objects to possess and command. No different than the delicately inscribed sacrificial rod the nameless female bounty hunter held in her hands.

If he was a better man, perhaps it would have been one of his reasons for handing over his mortality to a god who was as unempathetic as the beings so far below him.

His humanity.

Each one defined by the idea of the end. It was what drove them to fight. To surrender. To build. To plant roots. To procreate. To leave something behind for the generations that came after them, to repeat the cycle over and over again for as long as time stretched on. To be remembered. To be revered. To be loved.

His motivation had been much more selfish. An easy way out of a life he didn’t want. Smiling and serving drinks to those he had clashed with on the field of battle. Catering to men and women who had longed for his death. Who had pillaged their resources, murdered their comrades, and raped their women.

Hidan had been the perfect candidate. No family. No friends. No loyalty. No duty. Like an autumn leaf dropped from a tree and left to float listlessly in a lake on the verge of freezing over. No purpose. No direction. Lost. Forgotten. Brushed aside.

Her hands were warm as they surveyed his body. A comfort to flesh that had just laid cold for hours. As dead as a person could be. The shivers would kick in as soon as they were removed. The sun was starting to set and the air around them was growing cooler by the second. It was going to be a chilly walk to the village up ahead. At least until his blood started pumping properly and his internal temperature was back to normal.

If he wasn’t going through the motions of slowly becoming a living person again, her reaction to his voice would have been much more amusing. If he had actually expected her to stay and see that what he spoke was the truth, he might have had some witty, antagonizing response prepared.

He had assumed he would return alone. As he always did. Only to run into her again in the future. At the collection office or some shady tavern. He had realized in the last year travelling with Kakuzu, that the world of head hunting was shockingly small and there were not many places they were welcome. The identifying cloaks could be removed. But their pictures in the bingo book would only disappear when their deaths were confirmed and the tattoos that adorned his partner’s skin were as permanent as their lives seemed to be.

All he could do was laugh about the whole thing. How one impulsive act could lead to the most unexpected of occurrences. Lives woven together from many strings, pulled by higher forces. Things no human being could ever fully understand.

The sound was weak. Raspy. A dryness that made it seem as though he had been lost in the sands of Suna for half a year. Choked out by her whispered inquiry. His ears able to pick up the words closely. The one sense that never seemed to dull after an unexpected death.

WAS it real?

A question he had asked himself far too many times. One that was capable of shaking the hard confidence he had build up over the years. If only for a moment.

His head spun as he sat himself up. All he could do to stop it was to close his eyes. Both hands moving to survey his own body, gliding over a chest that was still tender, even if any visible indications there had ever been a wound there in the first place were all but gone.

Next they moved to lay flat on the ground on either side of himself. The sensation of dry moss and dust carried by the wind very evident to the touch. Course and gritty under his palms.

A sigh of relief before his eyes opened to meet her gaze. All the intensity from hours ago as missing as the gaping wound in his chest.

“Yeah. Pretty real. Definitely real. Not gonna make me prove that too, are you? This whole thing might start all over again and I need a few minutes before I can commit to that.”

His tone of voice lingered somewhere between a jest and the truth. Likely unappreciated. The look on her face was more than enough indication that it wasn’t the time for humour. Yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him. He was not the type to read the room.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you? I need to get my shit together here”…

Dying was always a little bit easier than coming back.

Like a monk who spent days sitting outside in the dead of winter in nothing but his underclothes so he could learn how to ignore the cold, Hidan had spent years conditioning himself to accept the pain of fatal wounds. To overrule the panic that was triggered inside of his brain as it was slowly deprived of blood or oxygen. To relish in the sensation of a heart struggling to beat.

Instead of terror and desperation, he had taught himself to die gracefully. To go out with cool confidence, a grounded mind and absolute acceptance. Near complete mastery of his own reactions.

It was ironic considering this was the state of enlightenment that all Buddhist monks lived to achieve. Complete detachment and control. To shut your mind off to everything and stay dignified and focused on your higher path.

He wondered if the ones who had raised him had been rebirthed in another form. A constant cycle of end and beginning. It was a shame that the past lives were unable to retain any memories in the next ones. If only they could see him now.

For all their talk of karma it seemed even after all he had done, he had gotten the better deal. Instead of being destined to live a thousand lives in a thousand forms, he could keep the current one for as long as he was able. Actually able to learn something from his mistakes as opposed to repeating them blindly over and over again until they were lucky enough to get something right.

Such a stupid concept.

Even as a child he was able to see the futility in it all. It was no wonder he had left. Leaving behind the path of enlightenment that none ever seemed to actually reach to forge his own as a village Shinobi.

At least war was tangible. Kill or be killed. Protect or surrender. Fight or die. Simple concepts that one could actually touch, see and smell. The fabric of which the tapestry of life was painted on. The fundamentals of all living things.

It was not his fault that despite the blessing of a God much more generous and powerful than Buddha and a body that never seemed to stay dead; a soul that would never rest and a spirit that would never give up; he was still cursed to inhabit a very mortal vessel.

Still subject to the instincts and side effects that came along with physical trauma, he found these much harder to fight. There was never any kind of guarantee of how long it would take a wound to heal. Each one seemed to be a little different than the last.

Not quite knowing what to expect made the dull throbbing and intense itching of a healing wound much more difficult to accept and ignore than receiving it seemed to be. Would it take hours? Days? A week?

Broken bones seemed to heal the quickest. Flesh wounds even more so. Burns were particularly tricky and he had learned those were best to avoid if he could. Being poisoned was the worst. Sometimes it was days of being stuck inside a body that was trying to kill him, while fire coursed through his veins. A stomach that would empty itself over and over again before the poison was purged from every system. The offending substance doing everything it was supposed to do besides permanently ending his life.

Lord Jashin referred to this as equivalent exchange. One could not be given something for nothing and he was bound to pay for every extension of his life with either suffering or sacrifice. Penance for not being more careful. Retribution for recklessness.

This was why he expected to feel horrible when he was finally returned to the land of the living. The dull ache in his head from blood loss. The throbbing pain in his chest where the spear had been driven. The weakness in his limbs and the intense waves of nausea as body grew accustomed to being alive again.

He had no idea how long he had been gone. Time did not exist in purgatory. Like being trapped inside a dream, hours often felt like minutes. As his eyes fluttered open, he took a moment to survey the sky, eventually concluding that it was dusk, as the absence of the sun above him was readily noted.

He lifted a shaky hand so to drag it up his face and run his fingers through his hair. The sensation of it a little guarantee that he had indeed returned. A habit. His own little ritual. As though he needed to feel himself to be certain it was true.

It took a few minutes to catch his breath. His lungs burned as they filled back up with the air they had been deprived of. Deep, steady breaths. Always three in a row.

Slowly, his hand travelled downwards, as though surveying the damage through touch. The rough sensation of dried blood, flaked against pale skin. The absence of the tool which had ended his life for the hundredth time was noticeably absent. Even if he couldn’t remember removing it before he had lost consciousness.

A kindness.

Without the steel rod still lodged in his chest, the healing process had likely already begun. He would be spared the task of having to rip it out himself and force the process to start all over again.

His vision was still a little blurry. His head swimming and pounding with a headache he knew would plague him for hours. He couldn’t help but release a pained groan of discomfort, sounding more like a drunkard who had just woken up after a three day bender as opposed to a man who had just been dead as a doornail.

His head lulled off to the side and it was then he noticed that he wasn’t alone. The strange female bounty hunter was still there. But why?

Was it guilt that had held her there? Curiosity perhaps? Had a some small part of her believed that he would come back? Had his words hit her in some place deep within her soul? How long would she have waited? Until his body started to smell? Would she have taken him in to claim his bounty?

His voice was raspy. His throat was dry. He needed water. It wasn’t the time for questions. He didn’t even know which one he would have asked first.

Instead, he spoke the obvious. A sort of question in itself.

“You stayed”…

[sixtymortars]

sidsledge x the river

is a dream a lie if it don't come true? or is it something worse?

vote sidsledge today!

once again a special thanks to tierney @kbsd for the clips <3

[rainforcsts]

and if i said all of lia's relationships were the most interesting of all the relationships in the naturals??

[acecampbellsaunders]

lost figured out waaaaaay too late that it wanted to be about siblings (like it wanted to be about motherhood) but i live for the universe where we were able to properly parallel the relationship between jacob and the man in black with boone and shannon.

imagine them actually digging into the toxic codependency that develops from being each other's only person (enforced) when one of you wants to break out of it. imagine shannon trying to understand the man in black's logic and wrestling with it. imagine, even if they did kill boone like in the show, exploring shannon's grief after the first season, having the man in black haunt her with boone's form and becoming Kind Of Obsessed with her because step siblings or not, they are the only siblings on the island who KNOW they are siblings. parallel boone's need to be Good and Needed with jacob's toxic black and white upbringing. have jacob refuse to let boone rest and it is only after death that he starts to figure out his shit (LIKE JACOB AND THE MAN IN BLACK). maybe he can grow from it, maybe he can't, but it would be interesting as hell!!

you could also dig into the ghosts on the island mythology here instead of waiting until season six to confirm it. which means more to do with hurley and miles too!!

the thing with shannon and boone is that’s they have such a weird fucked up incestuous dynamic it’s such an interesting relationship to explore but they’re killed off too early to really get into it like the way boone demeans shannon and is so condescending to her clearly comes from a place of him wanting to be needed by shannon. he constantly berates her but he yet he never stopped looking after her and he thinks he’s being the good older brother but when you take into account that he slept with her you know his attraction is in play and there’s shannon who played into it, she knew he was attracted to her and probably the only way after getting cut off but then you see her trying to be independent of him in her own way which is interesting cos if there’s ever a time to lean on someone it’s when crashed into an island. also the same with boone when he’s following locke around like a little puppy, who helps him come to a realisation he needs to break the shackles of their relationship but we don’t really see it properly play out like they’re so immeshed with one another in such a unhealthy codependent way to unravel all of that is messy af and i think it would’ve been so interesting to see but unfortunately the writers thought otherwise