#and why is it so articulate. why does it know how to wake up

[viktorapologist]

As much as each cliffhanger threatens to break me, I know the next chapter will contain just enough soft heartwarming moments to keep me alive. Imagine me, on life support, but the machines are pumping jayvik straight into my veins.

Oh, my sweet chronically ill Viktor. Starting off the chapter with scenes of him suffering is exactly what I'd expect after his near-confession last chapter. I love that he doesn't care to clean up after himself at this point. And the way his mind keeps coming back to all of the lies he has told Jayce. It's like a part of his body is finally rejecting the actions he took in earlier chapters. Hanahaki wanted him to lie and keep things a secret from Jayce, but the real Viktor wants to be known by Jayce. That part of him will win out in the end :) please. I'm begging.

...Jayce's definition of anything certainly didn't include falling in love with Viktor.

Oh honey, yes it does. If only you knew. Their confessions to each other are going to be fucking earth-shattering. My god. I can't wait. Thank god this story is tagged as a happy ending or I'd be comatose by now.

The more Viktor gets into his feelings about telling Jayce the truth, the more I'm kicking my feet with joy.

He dreamed of finally being honest with Jayce, of being able to say to him, see, this is who I am. This is the reason why. Everything I did or said, I did or said because I love you.

This is what I was trying to articulate in my comments a few chapters ago! Yes yes! You laid the trail of breadcrumbs perfectly. The universally craved experience of being truly known and still deeply loved despite everything you've done. *chef's kiss* Perfection. I hope we see it happen. I'll be there, with my popcorn, sobbing.

Is it just me that loves when Viktor and Jayce show up at each other's apartments? It can't be. I just think that's the best. We don't get to see them outside of the lab very often in the show, but I imagine they go over to each other's places. It's such a domestic thing. But it's like a level up to a friendship when you get to go to someone's living space??? Idk. It's cute.

Jayce shows up and talks to Viktor through the door, even though Viktor never acknowledges that he's listening. I can just see the scene in my mind. The view split by the door so you can see them both pressing their foreheads against either side of the door, mirroring each other without knowing. Jayce goes full sad puppy mode. VIKTOR LISTEN YOU BETTER GIVE THAT MAN SO MANY KISSES AFTER THIS. Jayce misses you! You abandoned him!

Not surprised at all that Jayce hasn't gotten any work done. He's so emotionally distraught. The poor man devoted all of his brain cells to processing his newly discovered attraction to Viktor and forgot to leave any for doing science. And with Viktor rushing out on him after Jayce said he'd do anything to save him? My brain would be full of bees after that. The whole eerily untouched lab is giving the same energy as Jayce sitting there, sleepless, waiting for Viktor to wake up after merging with the Hexcore.

Oh my god, you wrote about how Viktor showed Jayce his little hideaway. You did NOT. I always wondered how often they must have come there, for Jayce to know Viktor would be there when he's sad in Season 1. And you wrote lore about how Viktor got an updated cane with Talis ornaments? Everything I've ever cared about has been written into this story. Thank you for the food.

Oh, he could have stared at Jayce all day long–and that was all he was allowed to do, staring, for his desire for him would never be sated. Jayce was, simply put, out of his league.

It's honestly sad and hilarious how wrong he is. Jayce is actually a total dweeb. The two of them are meant for each other.

Case in point: Jayce demonstrating how the mage transported him and his mother to safety.

Okay, so the rune not being the acceleration rune was a surprise to me. I was wondering how much of an AU this would be. And it turns out we're going for the in-universe explanation of Mage Viktor's "in all timelines, in all possibilities" scene where he drops a different rune into Jayce's hand each time he saves him. It's really cute to think that in one of the timelines, Jayce and Viktor fall in love (do they still get obliterated by the arcane later?? hmmmm I don't want to think too much about that)

In the flashback, Viktor being proud to have made Jayce laugh even though they haven't known each other for that long yet AAAAAAA. They are so cute. You can see how their casual banter developed from these initial interactions.

Jayce was totally flirting with him though, what the fuck? "Particularly witty genius who took pity on me," and fucking WINKING? Jayce please, calm down.

I love how fast they opened up to each other. The combination of Viktor seeing Jayce at his worst and Viktor helping him fulfill his dream sets them on a course for immediate understanding. It's such a blessing to find someone that is interested in the same things as you, and to have them express an equal desire to learn about who you are and who you've been. Their energies feed off of each other is such a wholesome way. Even though Viktor is the only one...aware...of the danger of developing romantic feelings at this point, I like to think that Jayce felt this intense rightness during this scene as well. Like a piece clicking into place in his life, Viktor just fits.

Viktor's own backstory is so sad and a rhyme of sorts to Vi and Powder's experiences as children in Season 1. It also illustrates how alone he was. He fell and there was no one to reach out a hand to save him. He lies there, broken on the ground. Thankfully, he still had his mother to find him. I love how Jayce sees Viktor's strength and resilience immediately. He doesn't have to be convinced. He already knows.

Jayce was looking at him strangely, intensely. No one had ever looked at him like that before, but generally, when people stared at him, they either looked down on him or felt sorry for him. Viktor's bad went rigid. "I don't want your pity,' he said stiffly. Jayce's eyes shone. "I was admiring you."

God, this is just like the end of Season 2. Did you write this before that even happened? How did you know that Jayce was down bad for Viktor and admiring everything about him? Or did you add that in later just to make my heart shatter into a million pieces? I'm screaming, crying, throwing up flower petals. I don't think Viktor ever had anyone say that to him before. No one has ever openly admired him for anything. And Jayce is so unabashed. Basking in Viktor's luminance.

Their love is inevitableeeeeeee and I am deceased.

Other authors would have let Jayce and Viktor sweep things under the rug, but not you @white-btterfly you always make them confront their mistakes head-on before letting them make new ones that move the story forward.

There are so many emotions tied up in this final scene. It's insane. I felt like I was right there, watching it happen. Holding my breath as Viktor finally meets Jayce as the last rays of sun disappear. Feeling my heart break with Viktor's as he hears about how much Jayce has been struggling with watching Viktor slowly die before his eyes, helpless to intervene no matter how much he tries.

"...Everything I did, I did because–because I care about you."

The way Jayce says almost exactly what Viktor wanted to say to him earlier when he imagines confessing. Oh my god. Oh my goddddd.

The way Jayce walks through all of Viktor's fears and refutes each one, banishing those Hanahaki demons like it's his job. Jayce is the epitome of undying devotion. He wrote the definition. He is the blueprint. No one is doing it like Jayce is doing it. And isn't that just so in character, god damn it. THIS ENTIRE STORY IS SO PLAUSIBLE WHAT THE FUCK. Screw the canon, this is my truth now. Butterfly rune timeline is the one true timeline in my heart.

The way the order of the cosmos was rewritten when Viktor said, "You are the most important person in my life!"

Viktor accidentally on purpose throws him off the scent by calling him his "friend" a million times and I will never forgive him for it. But that line changes everything. Jayce has been worried about that this whole time, that the man Viktor loves is more important than Jayce is. But that's simply not true.

I wasn't expecting Jayce to fucking sob in this chapter. But it was so fucking cathartic to read. I'll never forgive the creators for taking out that split second of cut footage of Jayce clearly wiping away tears when he's at Viktor's bedside. LET JAYCE CRY! He's an emotional guy! Let the man express his sadness! And my god, the two of them needed a chance to let it all out.

And Viktor's stubbornness fighting back against the flowers. YES! Kick their botanical asses, Viktor! Begone, petals! I'm so proud of him, learning to hope for happiness again. He deserves it.

Is he going to cured now? He's starting to believe it's possible that Jayce loves him? Oh my god. I don't know. I don't know!

And rude rude rude I see what you were doing there with Jayce coughing. Evil. Maniacal. I didn't want to believe he would get sick too because that's just too unfair for my poor battered soul to take. But upon re-reading I am seeing that you left clues for that as well. I did notice Jayce was a bit delusional last chapter but hey, being a little mentally unwell is par of the course when you're Jayce Talis.

All in all, this chapter was beautiful.

Also love the little rune you drew for this.

Before Your Sun Sets - Chapter 10 is available!

Viktor is sick with Hanahaki. Jayce would do anything to save him—whether it be by developing an impossible cure or trying to find out who Viktor is in love with to smack some sense into them. Little does he know, he’s chasing his own shadow.

Read chapter 10 now

Read from the beginning

[daylighteclipsed]

Started replaying BBS and. Wow there’s a lot I don’t remember

[squipa]

“i guess i’m stuck forever by the glue, oh, and you”

aka— how jason loves you (acts of service) ⭒

———

jason todd doesn’t know how to love you. he’s been constantly cast aside, beaten down, grown up seeing how the only real parental figures in his life stare at romantic interests with lust and not purest love. he never learned where to press tender kisses or when to whisper sweet nothings, so the unfettered affection that overwhelms him presses so hard against his chest he can feel an aching heart bulging painfully against his skin.

yet, in the center of his being, nestled right under his left ventricle and between the most delicate of his ribs, there is a little boy terrified of losing the only woman he’s ever been capable of loving, the only person capable of loving him.

so he works— day and night, doing all that he can to ensure that this overwhelming fear, a horror that shakes him body and soul, can never come to fruition. before you could even realize you liked him, he never left your apartment, fixing things you hadn’t even realized were broken. your sink, your fridge, your heater— you threw out the little magnets with the numbers of plumbers and electricians, because jason took care of your crumbling home like it was his.

there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. not a line he would fail to cross if you looked up at him with those tired doe eyes that pierce his once unbreachable walls and bewitch him entirely.

he can’t quite say he loves you. it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done and he doesn’t know why. he’s said it twice under normal circumstances, six times if you count intoxication and near death experiences— which he does not. he does love you, without question or doubt, he’s so in love with you it hurts him. he just fails at every attempt to articulate it. he wishes he could tell you every day when you wake up, every night before you fall asleep, and every moment in between— but he just can’t. he’s scared that real ‘i love you’s’ will sour into fake ones and tender goodnight kisses will rot into resentment, so he avoids them entirely.

but he shows you. maybe he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to open every door or cover bare shoulders with his jacket, but he knows how to make himself indispensable. he knows you hate coming home to an empty fridge so he makes sure you won’t. he takes care of your car before you were even aware of an issue— oil changes, flat tires, and anything beyond the norm and he makes sure you never have to pay a penny of it.

and the dates you go on— they’re perfectly planned, itineraries crafted with doting hands and warm intentions. he doesn’t go all out very often, he’s more inclined to spend his evenings at home with you in his arms, but on anniversaries, or your birthday? it’s elaborate and enchanting— fantastic really is the only word proper enough in grandeur to describe it. candlelit homemade dinners and gifts that, while never expensive or over the top, are so thoughtful you tear up every time.

yes, while he is an undeniably clumsy lover, a man who was never given the tools to show just how much he is capable of, jason todd loves you too much to ever let go. it is in no way malicious the way he traps you in a rose colored box, making sure you feel loved and cared for and safer in his arms than anywhere else.

———

1. trying out new things with formatting!! i’d love feedback on it if you like this style more than my previous one!!

2. soooo sorry i haven’t posted in awhile. this week has been HELL. ap testing. graduation around the corner. hours at the vet. flat tire. fanfic writer curse is REAL. i meant to post this like a year ago & i just could not finish it. sorry it’s so short too i’m just exhausted :( hope y’all enjoyed!!!!!!

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[hoiststowline]

responses to “don’t come over, I look like a mess” [w/ sunstreaker, cliffjumper, ratchet, bluestreak, hound & ironhide]

_

“What? No. What did you say? That doesn’t make any sense, I’m coming over anyways,”:

• Sunstreaker is probably the biggest repeat offender on this one, and he uses it in other situations, too. he suddenly can’t comprehend and doesn’t allow you to explain yourself, though he and you full well know he understands. grumbles the whole ‘you’re breaking up!’ schtick. pretends to drive through a tunnel when he’s forty-five seconds away (where there is no tunnels) just to hang up without letting you say a peep. he won’t leave either, so you comply and come to see him, or you will be hearing his horn for the better part of the evening.

• a second guilty charge is aimed straight at Cliffjumper. somehow, there is never any time to explain and he’s in a huge hurry, and he’s only calling you as a courtesy so you’ll be outside and ready to go. If you even get a word in, mentioning weakly you look like shit or don’t feel up to seeing him, he’ll hang up. He can’t hear your lies if he literally can’t hear them or something like that. but once he pulls up and you aren’t outside, now you’ve done it, though he never directs the frustration at you. but if he’s in such a big hurry, wouldn’t he have left by now? Surely doesn’t have the time to wait around- and he’s yelling that you look fine from the street.

“That suspiciously sounds like you just made that up. at what point has that ever stopped me before?”:

• Ratchet will express that in so many words, but his concern will triumph over most things. He’s worried by your misplaced and unusual deflection, partial to looking for his company when it’s often unattainable. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but in the spare moments he does have, he uses them to see you. So when you decline his request, he’s still coming over, hell or high water. Whatever you’re wearing or whatever you’re doing he’s fine being in the company of, so your excuses are paper thin. You don’t sound sick, but he’s gotta be certain of that...

• “yeah, a hot mess!” Bluestreak tried, you’ll give him points there. “…that’s what you meant, right?” Unsettled and nervous chatter arises on his behalf when you can’t quite articulate why you feel so messy, and he immediately begins pressing for answers. there's a full minute where he thinks he did something wrong, and just when you console him that he didn't, you can already hear his wheels burning rubber in the background. hah, good luck stopping him, he's already halfway to your place, and cannot fathom why you looking a little messy would ever prohibit him from coming over. he'll be wary and uneasy the rest of the ride, wanting to get to the root of your woes.

“You always look beautiful, but if you’re not up to company that’s okay,”:

• Hound sorta understands, yet doesn't quite completely in regards to your explanation. though he's disheartened by a handful of things- one that you don't feel up to par outwardly and think that he cares what you are wearing or how you look in this very moment. you always look perfect to him, and your comment only fuels an unsteady flame that makes him think something else is very wrong. but he won't pry or shoulder his way in, he knows you'll come around when you're ready to talk, being supportive as always. he won't argue, he's straight to the point: no, you don't look a mess. he doesn't have to see you to know that, he knows, and to call him whenever you're ready for his company because he'll be over in a heartbeat.

• if anyone gets it, it's Ironhide. your excuse is garbage and untrue, but he'll kid around and poke fun just to get you to laugh. "What, did you just wake up or somethin'?" He really misses your company if you end up canceling, but he makes sure you know that you always look good to him, no matter what. he ultimately respects your boundaries for a couple of hours, and then he's circling your block to make sure you're still alive in there. radio silence is unforgiving, but as much as he misses you, he doesn't want to cross the imaginary line that is your patience. something else must be wrong for you to disappear into your room for the majority of the day, and he intends to get to the bottom of it by the evening.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Equals: Chapter II - Kitsune!Male!Reader x Yae Miko

A/N: Part two, by overwhelming popular demand. Does it live up to expectations? You know how it goes - it's up to you. Enjoy! CW: Nothing. Reminder - 'vixen' is a female fox, 'dog' is a male fox.

Miko's amethyst eyes trace the droplets as they roll down her window. The first rays of morning light pierce through the dark clouds in some places, but Narukami is still swamped in darkness. Her eyes sting from the lack of sleep, and, should she look in a mirror, there definitely would be red cracks. She taps her nails on the cup, enjoying how its warmth contrasts with the cold seeping through the window. 

She doesn’t get much sleep lately. It’s all because of a certain fox that decided to invade her dull, daily routine just days prior. How can she sleep when there is somebody so unusual in her home, a mysterious story just waiting to be unraveled? The questions have been difficult to ignore ever since you got here. Who are you? Where do you come from? Why did you come here in the first place? While Miko wasn’t too familiar with what role dogs have, or had in society, she felt that your current state had much to do with your past. Sadly, it was definitely too early to pry into your life, seeing the state you are in. The state you are in…

Miko placed a talisman in your room, the nosy and curious woman that she is, to survey your state and react if need be. No, it wasn’t just because she was curious, not at all. 

Most of your time was spent in a state between uncertain sleep and sharp wakefulness. Your ears worked around the clock, always erect and angled straight at any sound of footsteps coming from beyond your room. There wasn’t a point in time when you were relaxed, though you clearly attempted to show it by sleeping in the strangest positions imaginable. Miko was in disbelief when she saw you curled up on yourself, still in your human form. You were too big to be comfortable, something clear with how bent your back was. Nonetheless you rested this way, but as soon as you heard her enter the room, you rose up and, in a flash, were already kneeling by the bed, head angled down and gaze averted. When you spoke, it was only when answering her or in reaction to something she did. Your every word was carefully selected and spoken, all in a quiet, inoffensive tone of voice. A voice that was very pleasant to the ear, every vowel being perfectly articulated and accented. No matter how much she tried to get you to speak up, however, you always gave her the shortest answers.

Obviously, you didn’t leave your room at all aside from wary trips to the bathroom, always done after long periods of inactivity from either her or her human staff. You never once used the bath, choosing instead to clean yourself at the sink - even when she placed a fresh towel, a bathrobe, slippers and all other necessities in as obvious a place as possible. You just refused to touch them, but still sneaking glances at them from time to time, as if they were just out of your reach. It was the same for new clothes, books, snacks and nearly everything you weren’t given outright with an explicit directive from her in person. It seemed like there was an invisible wall between you and everything around you, her word or gesture being the only way to bring it down. She quickly realized this was the case and started to use it as a bridge of communication. Suddenly, she got to see you clean and pampered, dressing in more than just the outfit her servants put on you when you were rescued, and most importantly, she got to see you eat. You didn’t even look at the food she gave you at first, but after her clear order to eat it, you cleaned every plate she prepared for you. And you did it fast every time - as if somebody was to take it away at any moment, explicitly thanking her afterwards. When she heard it, her first instinct was to order you to stop, but she held herself back - it was unnecessary for the time being.  

Definitely, Miko would find it amusing if the circumstances were different. After all, you acted just like a pet canine, to a point it was quite comical. The way you slept, the way you looked at the door, like a pet, waiting for its master’s return. But it was never the loving, affectionate kind of longing, no. It was always filled with palpable tension and stress, as if she was about to burst through the door and do something to you. On top of that, the whole matter of you never doing something without permission reeked of training. Again, if you were doing it on purpose to amuse her, it would have been quite cute and funny. But it wasn’t. 

It wasn't, because you weren't playing. But she would only find the extent to which you were domesticated over the course of the months to come. 

The first step to anything was to establish communication - to get you to talk. And Miko, although not the happiest about it, had a plan. 

—

You stirr in your sleep at the sound of footsteps. They are silent - far quieter, more graceful than those of the earless foxes you saw sometimes. They  brought dishes and chopsticks into the room for somebody, every day, but they were never eaten. Clothes too, neatly folded up and smelling of fresh laundry. Nobody picked them up either, and that must have annoyed the pink furred vixen owning the house. She spoke politely, but you quickly noticed the frustration in her voice. It seemed that the person would never come, so she decided to give you the things meant for them. You couldn't be happier - there were clothes, toiletries, pillows and, most importantly, food. Good, warm, fresh food that you dreamed of every night. And the earless would feed you every day, three times even. The portions were small at first, but gradually increased in volume until you could eat until you had enough. 

The footsteps grow closer, now sounding out in concert with the constant hum of blood rushing through your ears. She was coming here, no doubt. This was another opportunity to prove you were worth keeping around, to thank her for all the things you get. To do just that, you had to be a good, diligent dog. The first step - always make your bed. 

You uncurl and stretch your aching back, quickly shifting to a sitting position and standing up. 

Suddenly, a sharp twist in your left calf causes you to stumble and fall forward. Instinctively, you bite down on your tongue to muffle the scream as your hands fly to grip the cramping muscle. It's nothing, you think to yourself, rubbing the aching spot. It was usually like this when you lounged for too long in that position, so you managed to stay calm. Gritting your teeth, you stand up and get to work on wobbly legs. 

The woman's footsteps grow ever closer. She's already here. You quickly reset the bedsheet and arrange the pillows, throw on the duvet and fall to your knees beside the bed, facing the door. Your calf roars with pain in protest, but you do your best to ignore it. 

She opens the door, but doesn't set foot in the room. You keep your eyes fixed on her hips, just as you were instructed countless times before. 

“I see you're awake.” She says, her voice husky with exhaustion. “Did you sleep well, little one?”

Little one. Something about that pet name brings some warmth to your chest. Maybe she liked you, even just a little bit? 

“Yes, miss.” You nod. 

“Good.” She turns around and motions down the corridor. “Come with me.”

Without another word, she turns and moves out of sight. You scramble to your feet and quickly catch up to her. Ignoring the pain, you leave your room and quickly scan the corridor in search of her. She didn't seem like the type that enjoyed a slacker mate, and you definitely didn't want to get on her bad side - the longer you managed it, the better. 

Moving deeper into the house, you soon arrive in what seems like the dining room. The centerpiece is a low table, carved minimalistically from polished ebony wood. The chairs, akin to any other you've seen in your life, are close to the ground, their bases topped off with a fitted pillow each. On the table, a rich and varied breakfast is already served. The scent of fresh fish and warm miso fills your nostrils, and you quickly drop your gaze to the floor - the smell was torment enough, and working up an appetite was always an easy way to disappointment. 

“Join me - breakfast is already served. Help yourself.” She says, picking up a pair of chopsticks and getting to eating. 

You sneak a glance at her silhouette, looking for a designated spot besides her seat at the top of the table. However, your eyes don't find the familiar nest of pillows to sit on. The vixen is surrounded only by chairs. 

Maybe it's not ready yet. No problem, I can sit on the floor. 

After waddling over to her, you lower yourself to your knees and sit back, suppressing a moan of pain. Your calf is still sore, and will likely remain this way for the foreseeable hour. You prop yourself up with your arms. Normally, you would rest your head on your mate's lap or against her leg, but you didn't know if your new owner liked being touched. Keeping yourself off her was risky, but not more than the opposite - last time you touched Matsui unprompted, she-

The fox sighs. “Take a seat, little one.”

Ripped out of your thoughts by her voice, you look at her chest, confused. By the table? But what would the guests think about a male sitting with them? She doesn't see it, but your head turns to the side as you try to make sense of her decision. “The one to your right.” Only when she speaks again do you stop and do as she says. It's weird, but every mistress has her kinks. Matsui-

“Eat. Please.”

The memory of your past mate is immediately cast aside when your favourite word reaches your ears. Finally! Thank the Raiden Shogun, the protector of Inazuma, for this meal… 

Your head snaps up and you immediately get to surveying the food on the table. There's a lot of simple, yet varied dishes. Rice, egg, fish and tofu smiles at you from every corner of the table. You notice there are two portions of each dish, and your smile falters. So there's just one person coming… But there doesn't seem to be anything dedicated to you specifically. You scan it again, and spot a dish that has just one serving - tsukemono, pickled slices of lavender melon, carrot, matsutake. It does look tasty, but… 

Sliding the small coaster closer, you stare at the food. So many delicious things, so many flavours, and you get to eat the one thing your body can't digest, something that is downright poisonous. This… Your hands tighten on your knees. Of course she would do that. Why did you expect anything different? You didn't deserve to be fed - you've eaten your share, and didn't provide anything in return. You got skinny. You didn't train. You didn't entertain her enough, with your body and your voice. She gave you everything, and you paid her back by being a waste of space. You forgot your place, so you got punished. 

This is your fault. Again, you got excited for something, only to be severely disappointed. It hurts. Even after years, even after feeling it so much that you should have learned that only good dogs get food and comfort, you fell for it. 

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the pressure of tears forming in your eyes. 

Stupid. I'm stupid. No, I'm worse than that. Other dogs would learn, they would never be in my place. I'm retarded, damaged in the brain from my birth, too stupid to even be a good pet. Just like Matsui said. 

Despairing in silence, just as you were trained to do, you pay no attention to Miko - but she pays attention to you. Great attention. From the moment she heard the slightest shudder of breath, her attention was fully focused on you. Still, she chose to watch you from the side, careful not to scare you with her sudden reaction. But now something was clearly wrong. 

“What's the matter?” She asks, turning her head to you. Her eyes widen when she sees you, eyes glued to the floor, ears flat against your head, body nearly completely still save for the subtle, teary shudders. Miko places her hand on yours. “Oh no… What happened? Are you in pain? Talk to me, please. Please!”

“I'm… s-sorry, miss… for being a useless… t-toy…” You try your best to speak clearly, but the sorrow wracking your mind makes that very difficult. “I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…”

“No, don't apologise! It's alright, tell me what's upsetting you.” Miko narrows her eyes. No, this won't work. I need to take charge. “Tell me this instant.”

At her raised tone, your head sinks lower, trying to make yourself look smaller. Maybe she'll take pity on me, you think. “I… I'm sorry, but please… Please don't make me eat it… I'll get really sick, miss…”

Miko lets go and leans away from you. What? She blinks once, then twice. Again, what? She can't help but scoff at the absurdity of the situation. You were crying over tsukemono? What a drama queen…

She gestures towards the plate. “And here I thought I hated pickled things… I know it's not good, but it won't kill you.”

She says this, and in your mind, a light flickers on. Is this… a test? Yes, this must be a test! A sudden wave of hope flows through you. If you answer her questions, prove to her that you know what you can and can't do, she'll be satisfied! 

“It'll hurt my stomach, miss. It's n-not good for dogs. We aren't…” You wipe your eyes with your sleeve. “We aren't meant to eat refined food. It's in our nature to eat raw things, because we're not people.”

Miko's expression darkens as soon as the words leave your mouth. For the first time in years, no words come to mind the instant you stop speaking. She's disarmed by a claim this absurd - Yae Miko, the queen of wit and riposte, is speechless. 

“Then, um… Eat whatever you like. Everything on this table is at your disposal.” She sighs.

“But… Isn't this for the guest?” you ask, a slight anticipation in your voice. Miko places her elbows on the table, propping up her face with her hands. 

Her reply comes in a dry, lifeless tone. “There won't be any guests. It's all for you.” Of course you would think that. Or rather, that they made you think that. 

She doesn't pay attention to your overtly-grateful thanks. She can't - not when her entire plan fell to pieces. Miko assumed that you had, at the very least, some sense of dignity. Lowered, of course, but still there. It was something to build upon, something that would let you understand that she has no intention to mistreat you. She already learned that you just weren't playing around at any point. That could only mean that your words are honest. That you, more or less, believe what you say. 

Is this why you like raw salmon sushi? Because you believe that you're some animal, not meant to eat “refined” foods? Is that why you always sleep at the foot of the bed, why you knelt before her, why you never used chopsticks and why you hesitated to sit down just moments ago? Was that it? 

Was all of this not because you thought yourself less than her, but because you didn't consider yourself a person? 

This isn't for dogs. 

Dogs aren't people. 

Gods, what have they turned you into? 

—

The rest of the meal was spent in silence. You deserved to eat in peace, and she needed time to think. 

Miko expected that it might not be easy, and that she might have to go for some shock therapy at first. Ordering you around, someone shaken and with likely a very unpleasant experience with vixens in general, didn’t feel right. But it seemed that it wouldn’t be enough. She assumed you had basic ideas of what proper treatment is and that someone might be kind to you without ‘buts’ or ulterior motives, but that assumption was clearly baseless. Giving you freedom will result in nothing. You don’t know what ‘freedom’ entails, so giving it to you would leave you scared and scurrying back into your conditioned self in no time. 

So she has to instill these ideas in you from the ground up. You didn’t know what they meant, so she has to teach you. And she will, mark her words. It won’t be an easy undertaking, but no fox as beautiful as you will be left to his fate. 

To begin, however, a dynamic has to be established. A pecking order, of sorts. 

“Dog?” She says when she sees you finishing up a bowl of miso soup. 

Your ears perk up and angle themselves towards her in a flash. “Yes, miss?”

“Come here.”

Before long, you’re sitting on the floor in front of her.

“What is your name?” 

You answer without thinking. “My name is Y/N.”

“Do you know, little one, what is the condition I provide you with food and shelter?” Miko asks, and although the words feel wrong, she forces them through her throat. 

A pause from you. She can practically hear the gears turn in your cute, long-eared head. “You feed me and keep me warm, and I obey you, miss. Whatever you say, I ought to do.”

“Good. As you said yourself, my house - my rules.” She snaps her fingers. “Now, listen to me very carefully, Y/N.”

Miko stands up. Her gaze falls light lightning on your head, demanding respect. You lower your ears in a display of submission appropriate for the situation. “What has been done to you by your previous ‘mates’ is nothing short of abhorrent. You do not see it now, for they rotted away your spirit, will and masculinity in a golden cage. They turned you into a toy, a sad shell of a should-be proud fox. And I will undo whatever they did to you - whether you like it or not.” Your heart beats faster. You’re not exactly sure what this vixen is talking about, but it’s not yours to understand - she’s the vixen, not you. You know that your job is to listen and satisfy her every whim. You nod, completely unaware of what exactly you are approving of. 

“Yes, miss.”

Her brow furrows, tone growing sharper. “Silence!”

You shudder, and an apology starts to form on your lips, but you’re quickly cut off. 

“I have a name - I am Miko of the Yae family. I am not a ‘miss’, a ‘lady Miko’ and especially not your ‘mistress’ or ‘owner’. From now on you, Y/N, are to call me that. Miko. Just Miko.” She places her hand on your head, your ears moving to create petting space. It remains still, however. “Now stand up.”

The leg still hurts, but you obey her. Slowly, as you stand up, Miko needs to raise her hand higher and higher, gradually covering your face with her forearm due to the size difference. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let go. 

“For now, we are not equal, as you do not understand the meaning of this word. But in time, you will. I promise.”

An equal… Finally, your eyes find hers. You look into her deep, beautiful amethyst eyes. Though her voice is strict, they hide… nothing. No superiority, no loathing, no condescension or patronisation. You are not looked at as a pet. 

It feels new, but… not scary. 

Whatever her intentions, they don’t seem malicious. Still, you can only hope that she won’t hurt you. 

“Yes, Miko.”

Her hand moves down to your cheek, evoking not stress, but a strange tingle in your chest. Yae Miko’s eyes soften.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you something for your leg. Nothing hides from me. But do tell me next time, yes?"

Thanks for reading!

[awearywritersworld]

Hii this is so random but do you think Sukuna has cute aggression? I can totally see him experience cute aggression towards Reader haha like pinching her cheeks or something I don't know

-☁️

CLOUD NONNIE I LOVE THIS SOSOSOSO MUCH

tags: fluff. curse words. 500 words.

as he looks down at your sleeping form, your head resting comfortably on his lap, he can't help but feel an uncomfortable pull in his chest.

his teeth grind together and his fingers twitch, a response that leaves him puzzled.

he's reading a good book. he is with you. there are still many hours left in the night. he should be content.

so why does he feel such... agitation.

his hand reaches toward your face, and while he swears he means to do nothing more than caress your cheek, he finds himself pinching your skin between his fingers.

he doesn't realize he's done it until you jolt, staring up at him with sleepy yet wide eyes that seem to beg the question "what the hell?"

"sorry," he says evenly.

"was i snoring or something? there are gentler ways to wake me up, you know," you grumble.

"you weren't snoring. i didn't intend to do that."

your eyebrows knit. "you didn't intend to nearly rip the skin off my face?"

"now you're just being dramatic."

you let out a breath of a laugh, "maybe."

you stretch your arms above your head, and one of your hands moves to cover your mouth as you let out something between a sigh and a yawn.

and he feels it again. more intensely this time.

your shirt's ridden up, so he reaches for the plump flesh it reveals and squeezes it between his thumb and pointer finger.

slapping his hand away, you finally sit up. "hello???? that hurts. have you discovered intrusive thoughts or something? you're supposed to ignore those."

"intrusive thoughts?"

"yeah. it's when you get unwanted thoughts. for example, about doing something violent—"

"oh. i get those all the time."

you stare at him for a moment before rubbing at your temples. "right. you're hopeless."

"this wasn't that. it was a feeling, not a thought."

"...go on."

perhaps he's said too much, because suddenly he really does not want to explain any further, but he does so anyway.

"it's just that you looked so... pleasing... that it made me feel... things."

once you get over his stellar articulation, you understand the situation and it makes you giggle.

"stop that," he commands, pink dusting his cheeks. "now you just look annoying."

"sorry— i'm sorry," you offer. "it's just that, i wouldn't expect you to experience that."

"experience what?" he questions, agitation lacing his tone.

"cuteness aggression."

"i can't even begin to explain how ridiculous that sounds," he deadpans.

"you think i'm so cute," you begin dreamily. placing your hands on either side of his face, you squeeze his cheeks together. "that it pisses you off. you're just adorable."

if you were anyone else, you'd be terrified by the look he gives you. "you're not cute. you're too infuriating to be cute."

"if you say so," you sing, settling back into your spot with your head on his lap. "just try to control yourself, hm? thought you were supposed to be some sophisticated higher being or whatever."

"shut up and go back to sleep."

i truly believe he would take full advantage of cuteness aggression after this. AND HE'D BE A NIBBLER. god, his teeth would always be leaving little marks on your skin.

he's nibbling on your earlobe and he's nipping at the spot below your ear. it makes you feel so flustered, so you're pushing him away.

and in the most dastardly sugary tone he can muster he's like "i can't help it. you're just so cute."

[mediumgayitalian]

4 and 7 for will, percy, nico and jason!!!

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

will:

sitcom. easy.

the very real way that i want a summer camp sitcom of will and his big siblings at camp.

dude if i had infinite money to fight cease and desists and copyright claims i would just hire actors and artists to make tv shows of every fic idea that has ever come into my head

percy:

i genuinely think percy is so so perfect as a first person narrative.

so i wouldn't change that.

BUT i would LOOOOOOVE to see a the office style mockumentary about percy and annabeth in new rome.

like that would be THEEEE funniest thing of all time

"and how do you know that x monster can be defeated in this way? what is your source, mr. jackson?"

*office stare of misery*

nico:

nico needs to be in a video game so badly it's ridiculous.

now i dont even like video games. never have cared never will. cant get into them.

BUT a video game with nicos bajillion side quests would be so goddam cool. visuals would go INSANE.

it would also be sooooo funny for him to have an inventory of weird shit and its just infinite

jason:

i need on on stage play hamlet style and it needs to be so haunting and lonely

imagine that. for a second.

the pain of jason's life

with jason as the character watching

lemme articulate this better.

we are introduced to jason, the adult character

this calm, quiet, kind, happy man

and then he dies

and he wakes up on stage alone

and he asks, aloud, what is going on

and no one answers

because he is a character

and then he watches every day of his past, hazed in smoke

and he is horrifed

the entire play is just the audience watching in complicit horror, not answering as jason demands, with increasing desperation, "why? why did she give me up? why was i alone?why did no one come for me? why did no one help me? why was i alone? why did i lose? why did my heart have to be the one to break? why was i alone? why did no one stop my sacrifice? why did i have to be sacrificed? why was i alone? why was i alone? why was i alone?"

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

will:

looooove Deaf/HoH will.

love that will has No fashion sense.

love southern accent will.

love will who has been burning the torch for nico for one hundred years.

percy:

love when he has an obvious and shyly embarrassing crush on annabeth.

love when he is incredibly emotionally mature.

actually i will be real i dislike a lot of fanon percy. i feel like people try really hard to make him dislikeable, like stupid or mean or thoughtless and i hate it

nico:

whipped nico my beloved.

nico is a little closer to percy in terms of fanon dislikes for me actually. hate hate hate how he is treated like a little meow meow that everyone has to protect.

jason:

LOVE Black jason. like he is Black to me i get jumpscared every time i see White jason or thalia.

love sweetheart jason like he is i love him

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissy kissy, a little tinsy bit angsty, flirtatious banter, they're going through it in their own ways.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11

------------------

You painted small calculated strokes of warm blues and vibrant pinks. No design or carefully articulated picture simply two beautiful contrast colors dancing around each other. You keep on at this for what feels like minutes but ends up being hours. As you mix the two colors in the corner of the canvas and watch the purple hue they create, the sun also greets the ceiling in John's room. It startles you at first then you realize at least you made it through the night. You sit back yawning quietly, your eyes finding their way to John's sleeping form.

“I can feel it when you stare.” you smile softly, something that comes naturally at the sound of his voice.

“That's why I do it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning on his back before reaching to prop a pillow up behind his head.

“Yeah.” he admires through his sleepy gaze. You look sad, it fucking kills him. His head then turns further to the left to catch a glimpse of your work.

“Looks nice, just color though?” he asks in a whisper.

“Yeah I don't know, it just felt right.” you shrug, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Come ere’” he says, reaching out to you and lifting the covers.

You stand carefully placing the brushes and pallet onto the floor furthest from the bed before crawling in beside him. He smells of sleep and john. It's a heavenly scent, something close to pheromones it draws you in so close that you want to crawl inside his skin.

“You know i’ll miss you just as much, I fear even more actually.” he rubs a comforting hand over your back as his deep voice reverberates in his chest.

“Impossible.” you muster up trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Only impossible thing is making this easy,” he admits. He feels the stutter in your breath as you try to keep yourself from crying. This is scary, scarier than eight guns being pointed at his chest and head. Death doesn't scare John Price, hurting you does.

“When I return we should go on a vacation somewhere on the coast.” 

“We should.” you look up at him and his too perfect lips and too perfect nose and eyes. 

“Don't look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” you say in an innocent tone.

“Like you’re trying to tell me you’ll be my destruction.” you laugh, laying your head on his chest hearing the quick pace of his heart beat.

“You should rest your eyes for a little.” he says worried about the fact that you slept for less than four hours last night.

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always.” he says, running his thick fingers through your hair and down your back. His ways of comforting you are more physical he thinks he knows how to use his body more than his words so he smooths the wrinkles in your bedtime shirt as in to say ‘i’m here for you’ and he swipes the hair out of your face to say ‘don’t worry your pretty head’ and squeezes your bum to say ‘i’m a man of morals, but still a man’.

—------

“Wake up love.” John says softly into your hair before leaving a kiss on your forehead. You groan in annoyance and feel the smile that now rests on his lips.

“What? it's nearly noon and your phone is buzzing in the kitchen.” your eyes slowly open as you flip to face the opposite way.

“How can you even hear that?” you say in a groggy tone.

“I’m not that old.” you laugh smacking at the hand that squeezes your hip.

“You know that's not what I meant.” you say sitting up slowly stretching as your arms rise to the ceiling. 

“You’re unbelievably gorgeous, how’d I get so lucky?” you turn your head to look at him, a rosy blush on your cheeks.

“Oh stop being such a flirt.” you say getting up from the bed and heading out of the room.

“So you just leave me here.” he slightly shouts from the bed. He hears your footsteps halt and turn around. You walk back into the room giving him a quick kiss then pulling him up with all your might.

“There you go.” he says standing on his feet.

“I forgot you need assistance to get out of bed.” he laughs from deep within his chest pulling you back against his front to kiss at your neck. You two walk down the hallway, he stops in the kitchen and you leave to go search for your phone in the living area.

“Aha here it is.” you say holding the small device up in victory. It strikes his heart here and now that in less than another twenty four hours his morning will look nothing like this and the sound of your laugh will be mere motivation.

You make your way back to him dialing back the call from this morning which to no one's surprise is your sister. You gleefully sing a goodmorning into the phone knowing full well that it's the afternoon.

He starts the coffee pot before giving you another quick kiss and heading into his office. It's only then he lets a tear slip, a foolish show of weak emotion, but it just happens to be from the strongest feeling he has ever encountered, love.

Its soul gripping and head spinning. It makes his heart mush, you make his heart mush yet his will strong. You’re a distraction but one he gladly invites into his already busy mind. You poke and prod at a military machine, you’re everything he’s prayed for and more than he ever expected. You even scare him.

“John?” you knock for the fifth time a little concerned.

“Yes darling, come in.” he says quickly, clearing his voice.

“Are you okay?” you ask, holding a warm cup of coffee.

“Yes, just thinking.” you set it softly on the coaster you had given him when you realized the water stains popping up all over the surface.

“Thankyou.” you nod, reaching your hand out to cup his chin. You give him a slow soft kiss, one on the lips then one to his cheek before leaving.

You’ve noticed when he works he tends to be more serious and quiet therefore you don't think too much but that doesn't mean it's not resting in the back of your mind. You shut the door softly and go on about your day.

—-------

just a glimpse into their relationship before John departs.

i've missed you guys terribly sorry for my long absence<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

[yuri-is-online]

The sheer untapped angst of Jamil in the fyuuture au is haunting me so it's your problem now /hj. I'm trying so hard to be normal right now ugh take my thoughts please they need to get out of my skull so that I can articulate to others how much the fate of Jamil in the first timeline just haunts me. It's like a weeping angel I can't take my eyes off of it and the moment I do it just kills me to fathom the possibilities.

But god imagine being Jamil and you have someone who for the first time is solely on your side, no other reason than that they chose you because they like you and want to stand by your side. I imagine Jamil must have had reservations about potentially dragging yuu into the job of servitude but like hell that was gonna stop them. And then he's happy because he has an actual life outside of Kalim, they've matured over the years and Jamil has more freedom from him than he ever had. He once couldn't fathom condemning a child to share his last name but he is going to be a father and he's so excited.

Then it's just gone. Yuu isn't next to him when he wakes up one morning and the front door of the house is still open. It's a surprise he didn't wake up from the smell of the food burning in the kitchen but he can't think straight because something is so clearly horribly wrong. All of their things are where they left them, their phone is still on the kitchen counter and they didn't take their keys. Neither of them were working in the months leading up to the birth of the child, a gift from Kalim he hadn't refused. He's panicking and in his panic he does something he never would have fathomed himself doing, he reaches out to Kalim for a help.

By the time he gets a response it kills him. He will never know what happened to his spouse or child, Kalim will never get his message, the next time Kalim sees Jamil after the latter's baby shower and paternity leave, will be when his corpse is being dragged along by the sorcerer of the sands. It will ironically be, the last thing he sees.

There is a lot of tragedy in this ayuu, but with Jamil specifically it verges into horror in a way I didn't fully appreciate when I drafted it.

Jamil is essentially a feudal vassal who wishes for the freedom to be a normal member of society. He also, and this is so important to his character even though it often gets overlooked, wants his family to be respected. His parents, his sister, his first memory is them kneeling to a different set of parents and that kills him inside.

For you to come from a world where his situation is somewhat of a foreign concept and still choose him, choose to throw your support behind him because he is worth reforming the world for- it is everything to him. He got his happy ending through hard work and he deserves it, so why is it being taken from him? Why is Kalim's mess of a family taking from him again?

I don't think Jamil ever realizes it has nothing to do with him; the idea that he was collateral damage isn't really something that computes with how his life has been up until that point. The behavior of his phantom certainly doesn't help anyone realize that either, the way it hunts down the Al Asims and controls the people of his home you would assume that was all the corpse that birthed it wanted. That it would have been better off for everyone if there had been no baby shower planned, no paternity leave, no child to begin with. But that's not true. It was never about Jamil, he was just there and it was convenient to blame him for it.

Something that child will realize he has been doing too when he's forced to see just how happy his father really was, once upon a dream.

[iratempestatis]

I really don't think there's anything more tragic than the fact that Xiao used to have siblings. That once, he had a family too. Two brothers and two sisters. And he lost them. I don't know how to articulate it. Unless you have one already, I'd have to contrive you a sibling somehow. 

There's you, and there's your sibling, and sometimes you get along, and sometimes you don't. If you're close enough in age there's this… hyperspecific connect. You go to school together. You come back. You share a space with your friends. You leave, outgrow it. You share a space with parents. You leave it. You're always with your sibling, though. Sometimes there's no space. Sometimes you share a room. Sometimes you grow up and sometimes you don't. Sometimes you worry about something they're yet too young for. Or too old for. When you disappear and don't speak to anyone for weeks because you just need a break, your sibling is exempt. You ask them if they finished their assignments and they send a twelve second voicemail. It's silence for ten seconds and in the final two they whisper “cheese” and go offline. They're not a different person. They're just your sibling. You don't tell them everything about you. You don't have to. They don't have to know. They beg and beg for a bit of your french toast when they didn't do jack to help you make it and you say sure, I'll give you this tiny corner. But you have to do the dishes. You end up giving them a bit more anyway because they make puppy eyes at you. You remember being too young to understand why they always needed you but being there anyway. You remember no one raising them so you do it yourself. You yell and mess up with every step but there's nothing but love. I don't know. I can't explain it. If they asked me for a heart on a whim I'd tear out mine with my nails. Only for them. Parents die and friends move away and you move around but you have siblings. 

I think I've done a poor job of explaining it- but Xiao was the one who'd have eyed the toast without asking, I think, and one of his siblings would've given him a corner. “You have to polish my weapon in return, though!”

Did he ever wake up to Indarius’ screams? When the Karma got so bad and she feared everything? Did she try to overcome it? Did he see it? What if she screamed and he flew into her room? What if he watched her cry and begged the skies for an enemy he could kill, instead of this thing, this Karma, that was inside of her? That he could do nothing about? Did he despair? What if she looked at him as though it was her he was going to kill, what then? What if she tore his heart to pieces just by flinching away. What if he remembered eyeing her toast and her sniggering and giving him a tiny corner. She didn't even put any honey on it. “You have to polish my weapon in return, though!”

What if she saw him fly into the room and saw an enemy, juxtaposed over her brother. Her brother. What if she didn't remember that piece of toast. What if it wasn't that important a memory. What if a sweeter memory was of him sitting on a rock staring out at the stars, what then? What if it was a moment that passed him by and he'd never remember but what if Alatus looked at the stars once? Turned his face upwards and sat there illuminated by the moonlight? What if she wished she could keep him that way in amber forever? What if she didn't remember this memory either, because Alatus is before her, wings splayed and spear in hand and reaching for her? How could he become the enemy? How could he hurt her? What if she screamed for him and begged him to save her from himself?

“Who raised you?” Menogias maybe huffed once. “Were you raised in a barn?”

Maybe he'd realise no one raised Xiao, and quietly swear to do so himself. “Use these utensils. Why don't you find me funny?” Maybe Xiao looked at him, face carefully schooled into neutrality. What does this guy want from him? Why is he continuously dissatisfied with whatever Xiao does?

Why does this punk avoid me? Menogias maybe wondered. I'm trying to help. I'm just trying to help.

Maybe it took years, but maybe they thought they had forever, once. Maybe Menogias caught him clutching his chest and retching and crying and asked him what was wrong. Maybe there were no words either could have said, so he just stayed close. Maybe he got him new clothes. Maybe when Xiao got back Menogias threw out all of the old ones, and any goodwill he earned vanished in an instant. Unfitting and unflattering and undignified and un. But maybe they were his and Menogias threw them out. Maybe Xiao spoke to him in a fury, just once, genuine rage. They were his. Maybe Menogias understood, finally understood. The need to have something that was his. Maybe he laughed and laughed and Xiao grew angrier and angrier and maybe Menogias told him with sincere satisfaction- “you're finally telling me how you feel. Good job.” Maybe he gave the clothes back. Maybe Xiao gave Menogias a chance and wore what was made for him. Fitting and flattering and dignified and comfortable and nothing un. Tailored for him. For Alatus, not General Alatus. Because Menogias understood. Maybe he remembered Menogias quietly teaching him court etiquette when he didn't have to at all. Maybe when stone spires pierced Bonanus’ heart and tore it out with enough force to splatter godly blood all over Menogias’ aristocratic face, he remembered his brother quietly staying awake for days on end. Stitching together new clothes and a new understanding and a new life that he never even had to ask for. 

What if sweet, gentle Bonanus took one look at him and realised she had to love him. She had to, you see, because life without love is misery, and everyone needs a little, and this boy knows only his master's orders and his master's whims and his master's punishments. She didn't have to and it didn't happen in a day or a week or a month but she chose. What if she thought he needed love and what if she never thought she needed it too. What if he never reciprocated the caresses in his hair and piling of food onto his plate and introducing him to her friends and when he felt silent, giving him space. What if she was struck in battle one day and lay wondering if he loved her. What if Xiao saw his sister get struck down by an enemy he had no sympathy for in that moment. What if all humanity left him and his opponent, just for that moment. What if he left his post to fly at that wretched bastard because that was his sister, and just the day before she insisted he eat something nasty. He didn't know what was in it and he doubted she knew either but he remembered them gagging and retching and spitting it onto the grass outside and she laughed and laughed and cried “I've never seen you make that face before!” 

What if he abandoned his post- what if he thought his new master just as firm as his old. What if he left battle to bring his sister a medic. What if he quietly took whatever punishment was doled to him. What if she fought his master and asked furiously to be punished instead. What if Bosacius drew on him in his sleep and she laughed as she wiped it off because he nearly walked into the Guili Assembly with an inked face. What if he saw her cough blood and stare at Menogias with despair. Her heart a few inches from her torn chest. What if this time, Xiao came too late. What if he thought I've seen you make that face before. Just once, millennia ago. 

What if- where do I even start with Bosacius? Bosacius who remembered every tiny thing about Xiao? Bosacius, his Marshall, his brother, his brother. What has Bosacius not done for him? For all of them? Four arms for his four siblings. His. To bear the weight of the oldest for a bunch whose lives were torn asunder by a war none have a stake in. Bosacius raised them, loved them, led them. Who raised Bosacius? Who did Bosacius pray to? Did Xiao catch him sitting quietly alone, wondering how to do- everything? How do you teach something you never learned? How do you serve out of an empty basket? But he did. 

After Perilous Trail, Xiao stands quietly behind Pervases’ temple. The Chasm yielded closure. The Chasm yielded a rock. Did Xiao wish the Chasm yielded his brother instead? When it callously imitated his dead brother's arms- when he thought for a moment that it was Bosacius- did he want to run right into them? He fell right in, after all. He shut his eyes and fell right back in.  

After Perilous Trail, Xiao stands quietly behind Pervases' temple. "Unlike me, he was both a formidable warrior and a talented commander,” he says. But they're not around to tell him anymore- that he was one, too. 

[wormswurld]

Benson being an outlet for Randy's self harm instincts,,, OoOohhh I'm clawing at the wallpaper,,, Benson being angry/scared he gets when he catches Randy in the act, grabbing him by the hair and shaking him like he's a bad dog Benson's caught by the scruff, Benson struggling to articulate why it pisses him off to see Randy hurting for no reason so he says something like "You don't get to fuck with things that belong to me" because that's what this is about, really. And Randy feels a weight lift off his shoulders, because now the burden of 'punishing' randy is on Benson's shoulders. AAAARGHHH AM I MAKING SENSE!??

you’re making COMPLETE sense!!!! it being late at night in their hotel and benson waking up cuz he has to take a piss.. though when he looks over to see randy he’s nowhere to be found, immediately whipping his head towards the light shining under the dingy bathroom door.. little does he know randy’s on the other side of the door panicking because fuck he hasn’t done this in a long time but his brain just feels too loud, everything is making him overstimulated and drained he has to let it out somehow..

so he’s now hovering his wrist over the sink with one of bensons razor blades in his shaky hand.. eyebrows furrowing as he mentally curses at himself for being so cowardly.. maybe benson was right, he is a pussy.. with his heart beating so fast and the noise getting too overwhelming randy makes the first cut,, nothing too deep or anything but something enough to make him gasp as he feels the air hit his open wound.. ruby colored liquid dripping into the porcelain sink..

cue benson coming in and like you said grabbing randy by his hair, not even caring about the blood getting onto his leg and leaving small little red droplets onto the floor.. randy’s eyes are all wide and glossy, embarrassed for being caught but also for letting benson see this side of him,, the even more pathetic fucked up side.. with his neck straining by the way benson grips his hair randy groans, the pain in his wrist is starting to set in same with the burning sensation in his scalp..

benson’s face is contorted into what randy can only make out as fear mixed with disgust and anger, something he’s not so used to seeing in benson,, most of the time he was either angry, apathetic, or on the rare occasion (when randy makes him full body laugh) happy (?).. but seeing him like this was scary, an invisible feeling of something dropping to the deepest depths of his stomach, bubbling in whatever vile liquid lied there.. “are you fucking serious bradley?” oh god. now he really knows benson’s upset because he only calls him that when he’s angry..

“you’re fucking with me aren’t you?” benson spits at randy, slamming him harder into the wall, creating a pool of blood near the baseboard of the bathroom.. “n-no..” randy weakly cries out, too afraid to meet benson’s piercing gaze.. “you think this is funny? fucking around with things that belong to me?” randy assumed he was talking about his razor blade, which he was honestly sorry about, but he quickly realized what he was actually talking about as benson stared at randy’s red wrist..

“i’m s—” before randy could even apologize he felt benson grip loosen, pushing randy away.. “fuck, clean this shit up i need a cigarette..” benson barks before walking out of the bathroom, making sure randy hears him slam their bedroom door on the way out.. now smoking his second cigarette in a row benson’s thinking how to go about dealing with randy and his “needs”

—

i went fucking crazy with this one.. the spirit of self harm angel randy bradley took over me lol,, creds to @barkingandrotting for reposting about TP fandom needing more dead dove content ♥️

[genderqueerdykes]

Not expecting a reply but wished to express (as a transfeminine person) thanks for your post regarding transandrophobia, had been seeing a large amount of my trans mutuals on this site begin to buy into a perception of transmasculine people which was an identical duplicate of those held by members of the TERF movement here in the UK, that they are entitled, immature, incapable of self determination and unneeding of liberation. Despite awareness that any individual can adopt cruel beliefs and that it might be comforting to do so (and despite awareness of this sites history of bullying campaigns targeting highly specific marginalised groups) I was confused as to why so many people found that perception in any way legitimate, especially during a time in which trans people of any assigned sex are so conspicuously in peril.

i wanted to thank you for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate you!

honestly, having so many transfeminine people step forward and say that this is making them uncomfortable has been amazing. it really is the minority of people behaving this way. most transfeminine people do not want to see someone else being hated for their gender or assigned sex- i mean, why would we want that...? that's what people do to us, why would we ever benefit from doing it to someone else?

a large amount of my trans mutuals on this site begin to buy into a perception of transmasculine people which was an identical duplicate of those held by members of the TERF movement here in the UK, that they are entitled, immature, incapable of self determination and unneeding of liberation.

dead on the money, i could not have articulated it better if tried. beautifully worded. people, whether or not they realize this, are 100% parroting terf rhetoric when they treat trans men this way. this behavior was born in terf circles, and now it's spreading to other people. people are not realizing that they're being radicalized in a way that harms other people. terfs hate trans women, of course, we know this, but they hate trans men and mascs as well, and that's not a good thing. i have no clue why people look at terfs and rad fems and go. they're evil for hating trans women/transfems. but they're BASED AS FUCK for hating trans men and mascs. like HELLO?

i have no idea why people look at rad fems and go "wow they're actually so based for hating men that is so awesome they're right all men are evil girlboss gatekeep gaslight fuck men uwu but i promise i don't hate trans women!!! i'm not a terf i don't hate trans women! terfs hate trans women and i'm not like that! i can't be a terf if i don't hate trans women hating trans men is good because all men are bad!!!!!!!!" why are you agreeing with ANY of their politics? they hate ALL trans people: that is a bad thing! hating any group of trans people is a bad thing! that is transphobia!!! people seem to think that terfs only hate trans women which is so far from the truth. why do people think it's okay to condemn part of their beliefs but not all?

like y'all wake the FUCK UP rad feminism is not progressive! you do not look cool for saying you hate trans men and transmascs! you are not pushing queer rights forward. you are not lobbying for trans women if you throw trans men under the bus.

I was confused as to why so many people found that perception in any way legitimate, especially during a time in which trans people of any assigned sex are so conspicuously in peril.

this is exactly what i don't understand. i do not understand why people think that attacking a group of trans people will somehow lessen our suffering. as if splitting up and fighting with each other will somehow bring down cisheteronormative patriarchy.

how does any of this help anyone? like seriously. how? please explain to me how this helps anyone. how does this help trans women get access to gender affirming care? how does this help trans women who are single mothers? how does this help trans women of color who are dealing with racism on top of transmisogyny? how does this help trans women who need medical care? how does this help trans women find jobs that won't turn them away for being trans? how does this help trans women who are scared about coming out as trans? how does this help trans women who live in transphobic towns and countries? how does this help trans women find community support? how does this help homeless trans women? how does this help trans women who need help with addiction? how does this help trans women escape domestic violence? how does this help trans women who are too poor to stay afloat?

thanks for stopping by, i really appreciate this message, and it does a lot of people good to hear other transfems who are not okay with this. your message will do a lot of good, so i think it's very important to publish. :) take care of yourself, thank you so much for being a compassionate person! this was a very insightful ask, thank you!

[moonspirit]

I just know that Armin would write the sweetest and most poetic love letters to Annie

Yes yes, our boy checks all the boxes for articulate, expressive, eloquent, and romantic!

It's Aruani's 1 week anniversary and Armin, of course, gives her yet another love letter. This time though, instead of putting it in her morning cream bun (last time was a mistake, she accidentally ate it whole), he puts it in her hoodie drawer.

When Annie does find it and opens it up, Armin's so excited he could sprout wings and float away. It's his best letter yet, he's so proud of it, and he can't wait for her to find out how happy she makes him. 1 week! Big milestone! It should be celebrated and- and- and- after she reads it (and god, he can already imagine the blush on her face!) they'll go get ice-cream and-and-

*dead silence*

What? Why isn't she saying anything? He stares at her. She's staring at the open letter, not a thing on her face to tell him of her feelings.

What?

Does she not like it?

Finally, she looks at him. "Is this... about Stohess?"

..??????? wat

"Huh?"

"Is this about you know, what happened in Stohess, because... I don't-"

"Wait--what?"

"I'm not proud of that, Armin, and I don't really wanna talk about it. It's just-"

"Wait wait wait wait, what?"

".... What?" She frowns at him, holding the letter out. "That's what you've written."

Snatching the paper out of her hands, Armin skims through it while his eyes widen in horror.

What!!!

He didn't write this!

The letter in question:

*insert picture of a giant rock* (it's supposed to be a heart) CUZ YOU GOT A HART SO BIG, YOU COULD CRUSH THIS TOWN

*Very important flashback* (13 hours earlier)

(two thieves have broken into Armin's study and are busily hunched over his desk)

"Shhh, quiet, Connie! You're going to wake him up!"

"Sor-ry, Pieck, but this was literally your idea."

"Yeah and it involves being quiet!"

"Okay but look at this one, he wrote this letter for 2 years from now, it says: 'I want to look at your eyes forever and ever, Annie. They're the clearest blue skies I've ever seen.' HAHAHAHAHAHA-"

"... Was he always this sappy?"

"-AHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAA-"

"Fine, quick, throw it away and gimme a new paper."

"What are you gonna write on this one?"

"Hehe, I have a good one; 'Dear Annie. I love you Annie. I hope you're doing well, Annie. Have you heard of Satan?'"

"Man, you're so clever, Piecky!"

"Heh, don't mention it. You write the next one, here, just say... 'Annie, I'm sorry, but I finally have realized I'm in love with a horse.'"

"Okay, writing."

"... HORSE, Connie, Horse with an S! Not HORES!"

*back in the present*

"Do you still see me as a bad person, Armin?! Huh? Am I bad person to you?!"

[always-just-down-the-street]

Some Misc. Thoughts I've Had With The Misremembered Lanes AU

It's about 3AM and I wanted to just put up some more crumbs for people who like the Misremembered Lanes AU! (Yes it's an AU now, see here.) These are compiled from random Discord convos I've had on Discord and so they're gonna be a tad disconnected, BUT if you stay to the end I got another small writing for y'all! So feel free to nom on all this, do whatever. Have fun. :)

~ 0 ~

While not an intended part of the AU, an interesting analysis that ended up occurring was "What would the timeline have been like if Taco actually got to win vs. how OJ feels in this AU after winning".

For the "Taco Wins" timeline, consider that nobody was really rooting for her besides Pickle, and she wouldn't have seen everyone as genuinely coming to like her after OJ would've turned heel- a point was made that they would've sided with her because they didn't like OJ betraying Paper. Compared to OJ, who puts up a facade to keep a bunch of fake friends, Taco would've happily left them behind to have a great time with her real friend. Get away from them, get away from the show, and never worry about that treadmill.

But OJ? OJ the Winner in the canon (for this AU) timeline? He feels trapped, and the worst part is he can never figure out or articulate why. Or maybe even that the feeling is there at all, at least consciously.

That's why he has to insist upon himself, his ego, because that's deep down the only thing that's real. He fears everything could be taken away if he doesn't but he doesn't know why. He doesn't know that he is trapped in a paradise never meant for him. Took the luxuries and created his own gilded cage out of someone else's dreams and hopes.

Everything else is fake, it's just a matter of if he realizes it or not.

It's a nightmare that he never knows to wake up from, and the moment he does he wants to go to back to sleep. Because the only thing worse than making a cage for yourself without realizing is realizing you're in the cage at all. Cause once he learns the truth? He can't go back. Otherwise everything he put himself through- everything he put Taco through, if indirectly- was all for nothing.

But now he sees the world outside of the cage. Now he sees her outside of the cage, looking in. They both want what the other has, and it breaks them because they're two sides of the same coin.

They're too far in what they've become.

~ 0 ~

“Why aren’t you happy? You’re a winner, aren’t you?”

“You have everything you could have ever wanted. Friends, fortune, fame, glory. Everything you could have wanted, and you still feel empty. Everything he gave you, and you still feel empty.”

“The only empty thing in the gilded cage you filled with everything never meant for you.”

“You see her out there. You finally see how alone she looks, you recognize it like it was your own face. It should have been your face. It’s the same face.”

“You can’t face yourself in the mirror anymore. You just see her.”

“Why aren’t you happy? You’re free, aren’t you?”

“You escaped everything. The show, the contestants, your host. Your creator. He made you. He made you wrong, and now you’re left to pick up the pieces.”

“But no matter how much you try, you could never fit the pieces back into the shape they used to be.”

“You see him in there. You finally see how trapped he looks, you recognize it like it was your own face. It should have been your face. It’s the same face.”

“You can’t face your reflection anymore. You just see him.”