#he's only doing what absolutely needs to be done to accomplish whatever the hell his goal is

[mymarifae]

did not even occur to me that people went through 3.1 without piecing together that the flame reaver is phainon until a friend interrupted a theory-bouncing session i was having with Another friend like "what the FUCK are you two talking about." anyway i think we ruined her day

[garez19]

yandere! best friend’s brother x reader (pt.2)

notes/warnings: sibling abuse, gender neutral reader, english is not my language, i have ABSOLUTELY no idea how to use punctuation, not proofread

i really hope this one’s turned out okay. im pretty new at this whole blogging concept so… bear with me.

wc: 1.6k

[part 1] [part 2]

six months had passed since you graduated. you had been trying your best to find the common ground between iris and emil for six months.

as you both pursued your education further, you and iris had already picked different career paths, which meant your schedules weren’t as aligned anymore. however, you were still her best friend, and you were always going to be her best friend. iris, the master of destroying everything she’d ever touched, somehow couldn't break you, no matter how hard she tried. and for that, she felt blessed. you must’ve been a gift sent by gods, a reminder that she was, in some ways, truly special.

yet you weren’t sure if she'd still think that once she found out you started hanging out with emil. it shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but it was. hell, it wasn't even your idea.

it all started 6 months ago, the day you’d met in the coffee shop—desperate, looking for salvation in his demolished mind, and about to break. ready to collapse, something his sister wasn't able to cause. the reason he took the lead. the only thing iris wasn’t able to accomplish, which was why he took the lead—slowly, trying not to startle you.

“mind explaining why you’re telling me all this?” he asked as you took another sip from your coffee. he had reason to be confused, and you couldn't really blame him when he implied you were doing all this to feel about yourself.

“because, like I said, you don’t deserve it. and because I know iris is better than that,” you answered. he let out a loud sigh while contemplating leaving, not wanting to communicate with someone who idealized iris to this point. then he imagined the look on her face when she realized you were not her very dear friend anymore. he decided to pursue you a little bit more.

“okay, thank you, appreciate it,” he replied indifferently as he leaned in closer to you, “and how are you going to help me exactly?” he mumbled. were you going to try and fail miserably again? you pulled back to regain space. “I will try and talk to her. and then–” he cut you off, “I don’t want you to.” he was so certain about not wanting help, which certainly pushed you off.

“emil, you need–” you tried once more, yet he interrupted again, “look, I’m the one who has to deal with her when you’re done lecturing, and I don’t want any part of it, okay?” he took a deep breath. “I’m not a child anymore.”

you were so much like iris in the sense that you only did whatever seemed the best for you, and never looked back. he could sense that, hell, he could see that. and you seemed confused—like a spoiled kid who wouldn’t take no as an answer, like it was your first time getting rejected. and it seemed you needed some guidance, as you kept opening and closing your mouth.

“hang out with me.”

you were baffled by the sudden request. because, from what you’d seen, emil made it very clear that he didn’t like you any better than his sister. you looked at the dessert—a slice of cheesecake, untouched.

“if you want to help in some way, just hang out with me. I don’t have any friends, and I'm feeling quite bored.” he added. and you highly doubted it, given that you had seen him with a handful of people. but you did not really have the guts to turn him down, especially when he put it like that. he put the cheesecake right in front of you, as if he was getting ready to leave.

“well, sure.” you answered before he said anything. “should I keep it a secret from her?” you asked. you still didn’t want iris to cause him –and you– a headache. even though you still felt like she deserved knowing, no matter what.

“yeah, ideally,” he affirmed. dealing with iris was not quite the biggest problem, but her realizing the toy she’d adored so dearly was about to be taken wasn’t something he wished to happen so early. not when you were still a mere puppet of iris. (no matter how hard you tried to act like a saint) not when you were going to crawl back to her the moment she called out your name.

but no matter what, if she wasn’t willing to share her toys, he was going to carve one out for himself, one that is almost identical to hers.

***

you failed to understand how your best friend was cruel to such a person. you failed to understand why the two were never able to get along when emil was nothing but compatible all the time. he was okay with everything, not because he didn’t want to upset you –or anyone, for that matter– but because he never seemed to have any strong preferences for anything. he liked going around the town for new adventures, but if you wanted to sit down and drink a cup of coffee, who was he to say no?

“have you decided what you want to study?” you asked as he was absently scribbling down some song lyrics of an old band, wearing only one earbud. “I’m thinking of medicine,” he replied, still seeming unbothered. emil had a knack for biology, and he liked exploring the world studying it. he looked up at you when you didn’t give him a reaction, “how are your studies going?” you grabbed your book on the table and put it back in your backpack. “not bad, I guess.” you muttered. you two, seemingly bored with your little studying session, had agreed to study together at least twice a week. it felt nice, and although emil and iris didn’t resemble each other personality-wise, they still brought a similar type of comfort to you.

and they brought a similar type of suffering.

“your phone’s going off.” emil said as he looked at the phone on the table.

iris🤍

you took a peek at emil. he seemed still, not looking at you but the phone. he didn’t seem upset, bothered or disappointed. and it was as if he simply was not there. he just observed the whole scene as a spectator.

you took the call. and to be fair there wasn’t anything new. she kept going on and on about how busy she was, and how much she missed you, and if you were available anytime soon. you truly missed her too, but there was some weird sting on your stomach—like it was making sure you remember you keep secrets from her.

and well, it felt so stupid, if you had to be honest, because at the end of the day you didn’t do anything wrong.

“do you still only talk to me because you feel sorry?” he said, making you snap out of it.

“pardon?” you were taken aback by the sudden question.

“are you still trying to feel better about yourself?” he accused once more. still not a visible expression on his face, as if he simply asked out of curiosity.

you didn’t answer, more like, you didn’t bother to answer.

“it’s not like I’ve done anything I should feel bad about myself.” was all you told him. and when it was time to leave and you finally saw an expression on his face–a sour one specifically– you smiled.

“sure, there were times I felt bad, but I’ve never done anything out of pity.” you said genuinely. and you then saw another expression again, one you hadn’t witnessed until that moment: he was surprised.

then you left. to meet iris. your loveliest friend.

***

emil was intrigued by how honest you sounded. you didn’t try to hide anything, nor did you feel the need to sound sympathetic. it was a short, silly sentence. it was the sentence he wished he had heard six months ago, as it gave him a different type of rush—a different kind of validation. you weren’t running out with him for redemption. you liked his company–to a degree, at least.–

he didn’t care about iris, her stupid mind games, or his parents’ unconditional love for her, her promising future, or even her petty rivalry with him. because after all, it’d be a funny scene to watch when she found out you were, in fact, not hers.

however, he was still going to remove that white heart next to her name once he got his hands on your phone.

***

the more you’d spent time with him, the more anxious you started to get. you liked emil’s company, that much was true, but you were also frightened whenever you imagined iris’ disappointment.

you were not doing anything wrong. you were not. you were not. you

“you’re definitely going to fail.” emil said while he took notes on his book. damn, it really felt like you were cheating on your spouse sometimes.

“yeah, whatever, I’m bored.” you whined. “you still haven’t got any friends?” you suddenly asked; not realizing how that sounded, nor what came over you. he turned to you quickly. oh, welp.

“and what if I have?” he blurted.

“what? I was just wondering.” you said, laughing awkwardly. your nervousness made him snap back.

“just for the record, I haven't,” he chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a little longer.”

although you hadn't noticed the tension, his firm grip on the pen very much proved he wasn’t feeling that humorous today.

another study session had ended. you were stretching your back while emil put your stuff in your backpack.

“come over for dinner tomorrow.” just when you were ready to go, he hit you with the offer.

however, having dinner with emil and iris as a friend of both of them was not the idea you’d had for tomorrow. definitely not.

[galaxy-fleur]

✦ Strange Happenings ✦

Pairing: RE4 Albert Wesker/oc Jordan Manalang (belongs to @feng-shui71!).

Summary: Once the heat of battle has faded, cold reality and old feelings unresolved take its place. Stuck between her own unraveling emotions and a crushing sense of obligation, Jordan is struggling to do the right thing once and for all. (Intended as a direct continuation to this comic right here!)

Notes: It's finally done! A gift to @feng-shui71 that was supposed to go along with my DTIS entry, but I'm sharing it as a separate thing entirely. I really hope I did this messy pair justice. Written mostly from Jordan's pov, but some small glimpses into Wesker's head are still present. Additional notes at the end of the piece!

Word count: ~ 6.5k words (insane, I know).

Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics, additional art in the header belongs to @feng-shui71 .

Jordan's breaths came out as uneven, short puffs of air as she stared down at the now defeated creature that must have been a normal human once upon a time. Her heart was racing wildly in her chest, each dull thump echoing in her temples with its intensity, her hands quivering around her reliable handgun in a manner that was utterly atypical for her usual composure on the field.

Fear wasn't the cause of her shaken state, however. No, the dead, huge monstrosity of a man had absolutely nothing to do with her unraveling state of mind. In fact, it was completely insignificant. Although it was dangerous. Used to be, at least.

She was fully aware that it was the man standing beside her that was the true cause of her non-fading agitation.

There wasn't anything she could say once the fight was over. What was she supposed to do now, exactly? Seeing Wesker alive and well - and apparently fully willing to pretend like nothing had ever even happened - was too much for her already frazzled mind to handle.

Like everything was normal and just how it was before.

This was planned to be a mission with very few surprising obstacles to deal with. Come in, track and rescue the president's daughter alongside Leon Kennedy, and get to the extraction point. No extra distractions or feelings involved.

But instead, they discovered an utterly deranged mess of insane cultists, mind-controlling parasites, and unwelcome ghosts from the past who had their own unknown objectives to accomplish in this strange place.

To be honest, she wasn't sure how she felt about fighting alongside him again, even if it was technically accidental. She could have sworn he moved just a tad bit quicker than would be natural to the human eye. However, she dismissed her observations on some supposed training he had received during these past six years. After all, she was a much better opponent now as well, despite her age.

Even if the thought of him honing his skills for what she could only assume was an immoral purpose made her feel queasy.

She wanted to feel angry. No, she did feel angry. She just wished her hands wouldn't tremble so furiously. She wished she could look as if she didn't care. Like he did. Even if it hurt to see.

"...I didn't need your help," she finally breaks the charged silence with a quiet angry mutter, lowering her handgun at last as she turns away to pick up some valuables she landed her eyes on prior. Somehow, this silence between them felt so much more oppressive than the loud bangs and grunts of battle before it.

...What the hell was she doing, anyway? She should probably be trying to apprehend him. Catch him by surprise and do her absolute damnest to get the upper hand, even if it would be a losing battle. That would be the right thing to do. She didn't think he was here for a good reason. A thought that felt extremely bitter in her mouth.

Nonetheless, her urge to get away from him triumphs over her moral compass for whatever reason.

Wesker pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, feigning offense, although he appeared more amused than anything else. It was honestly a bit humiliating. As if he didn't value her feelings at all. Either way, she didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the tense look painted across face, instead crouching down to pick up some scattered note laying on the floor. However, she was not afforded the luxury of actually reading it.

"Is that all you have to say to me after all this time, dear?" His smooth voice hit her ears with a seductive tilt, yet it also carried a distinct sharpness to it, too. As if he had any right to be upset with her for anything. Then again, he always had a habit of getting on people's nerves. Especifically on hers. "You certainly looked like you needed the help."

She straightened herself and tightened her hold on her handgun as she heard him take a few measured steps closer to her. When she whirled to face him, she found him looking back at her, a bit too close for comfort, and apparently studying her like you would an ant in a glass jar. There was no doubt that her shoulders were too stiff to seem composed. And she wasn't composed. She never truly was, was she? It was borderline cruel.

Almost as a visual mockery of it all, his completely laid-back posture challenged her to do something she probably wouldn't do, even if she should.

A part of her wished she could have a look into that brain of his right now. She would have liked to say she would use such an opportunity to fish out some vital intel... but, instead, she really just wanted to know if he cared at all.

"I wouldn't be distracted in the first place, if it wasn't for you showing up."

In addition to being irrelevant, her defense was not very strong, either. But it was a familiar one. In some ways, this tugged at her heart, too.

...They would always bicker like this back in the day.

Was she trembling because of him or the adrenaline of the fight? When Wesker was only a few feet away from her, he ceased his approach. His gaze moved up and down for a moment before he spoke.

"...You look like you've seen better days," he said bluntly, raising a hand and touching her cheek before she could tear herself away. The touch of his rough palm was firm enough to indicate that he was still angry, but gentle enough to show there was something else there.

Anyway, that's what her stupid heart whispered to her, frustratingly so.

Jordan wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch him square in the jaw right then and there, kiss him to shut him up for good, or do anything in between. His touch still did something to her in spite of everything, whether it was her genuine mourning for him for all these years, some lingering feelings of affection, or something else entirely. And she knew that he knew so, too.

It was not fair.

But she wouldn't allow him get close to her. This time, it was not going to work for him. So, without looking him in the eyes, she grabbed at his wrist and ripped it from her face. Some part of her was grateful that he was still wearing those shades of his for whatever reason. She was unsure about her capacity to look him in the eyes right now.

But all her angry action really did was simply make Wesker smile at her knowingly. The real truth was that he almost craved this. To be the center of her attention once again, even if it was her being furious with him. Still, he swiftly adjusted his expression to one of coolness and nonchalance, his gaze fixed on her despite her refusal to reciprocate the gesture. He was always better than her at keeping his emotions in check. That's what he wanted to think, anyway. Oh, he fully understood that she was angry with him, enraged even, and he enjoyed it.

"No thanks to you," she retorted dryly, her voice tight and guarded. She was now finally looking up at him, her dark eyes intense and filled with a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else that she desperately tried to repress. "You did not answer my question. What the hell are you even doing here?"

He didn't respond to her inquiry right away, instead allowing a brief quiet to settle between them.

"...That's a bit of a complicated question to answer, Jords," he chuckled at last, the words almost mocking with the use of that nickname. He was obviously not planning on giving out any useful information to her at all. It seemed as though he had only come to toy with her or something.

Her grip on his wrist tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. Of course he wouldn't tell her. Most likely, the answer wasn't even remotely positive. Old frustrations and hurt were now steadily bubbling up in her chest like a boiling cauldron, threatening to overflow and scald them both at any moment.

How long did he spend lying to her face in this way? Was it from the start? Did he show her anything sincere in the years of that life they've built together?

"Save the bullshit. I know you're up to something," she said gruffly. She had a fairly good understanding of him. Too good. At least that's what she hoped to believe. Now, however, she did not know what to believe. So, her focus was on the practicalities. That was easier. "Who do you work for?"

With her free hand raised to put the handgun's barrel right to his forehead, she suddenly yanked him closer in the hopes of catching him off-guard. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. This time, she will not hesitate or fold. She will not.

Because what will it mean for her if she does...?

Wesker's eyebrows raised just slightly in response to her hasty actions, the only sign of his potential surprise, but he still appeared infuriatingly unconcerned about the potential danger she entailed. He even appeared to be almost impressed. And maybe a little aroused, but he was certainly covering that one up well.

It was almost as if she was pointing a plastic toy-gun at him, rather than a real, fully loaded firearm that could take his life with a single movement of her finger.

She was obviously unaware that he could easily break free from her hold in less than a second if he so desired, but he knowingly didn't. It was almost like he was tempting her to do something, anything. Instead of raising his hands in surrender or even just finally taking her seriously, he simply smirked, revealing his canines, and looked down at her with a tiny tilt of his brow.

...Were his teeth always so sharp-looking-?

"Still as feisty as ever I see," he remarked, his voice low and even. Much to her startlement, he boldly took a step closer to her, his body almost crowding her in now. "Always wanting to get your way. But I'll humor you, just this once."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as her jaw tightened further. He shifted his attention up to the handgun pressed to his head.

She knew Albert was self-assured, but surely even he was conscious of his own mortality, right?

"What are you-" she started, unable to hide the bewilderment in her tone, but he cut her off before she could even utter her question.

"-You know you won't pull the trigger," he said, now fully serious. Before she could add anything else, he visibly pressed his head further into the barrel of her handgun, almost daring her to do it. "You never could."

It was a little frustrating how certain he was in his remark. Then again, his confidence has always been a huge source of annoyance to her. But things felt... different now. He was more assured, more factual. It was almost as if he was stating the most apparent and ultimate truth to her. Like saying that the sky is blue.

But, as far as she was concerned, this was not a simple black-and-white issue.

"You don't know that," she growled, but even she didn't sound so sure anymore. She swallowed heavily, straightening up. She didn't like the way their physical closeness was affecting her. Not one bit. She had no desire to be impacted by him in this way.

Not anymore.

She tightened her hold on his wrist once more and forced him back into the closest stone wall, pushing him up against it with her body. Wesker merely let out another soft, amused chuckle as his back hit the wall, the sound of it sending an unwanted shiver down her spine. Even though the handgun was still pushed right against his forehead, her eyes betrayed her distress plain for him to behold.

The longer he displayed his indifference, the more she cracked.

"-I hate you."

Her voice was low and gruff, those three words coming out as a sharp hiss. While she did wish she could be as detached as he was, there was something liberating in finally getting to express all these festering emotions she pushed down for all these years. Even if it put her in a bad situation.

Nevertheless, she could still see his enjoyment, the manner in which his eyes unabashedly traversed her figure up and down, conveying more than any verbal response could articulate. He didn't speak, simply allowing her to hold him against the wall with no attempts to push back against her. Yet. Somehow, he still seemed amused despite his situation, as though he enjoyed being pinned by her in this way.

"...Do you?" He asked. His tone was both challenging and almost... teasing. "Because there was a time when you loved me."

Her chest ached from his words in a way that no physical injury could ever match.

She did love him, once.

Profoundly.

With every atom of her goddamn being.

And he destroyed it all in a single night.

She grit her teeth so hard that she thought she could feel them chipping. This close, she could smell his subtle cologne - something woodsy and tangy in a way that would make her head spin if she was to get too close - a familiar scent she'd once found intoxicating. Comforting.

But at this point, it was only making her feel nauseous.

"Don't you fucking dare-" she started, but got cut off by her own shaky breath. One that sounded more like a gasp. Her hands began to tremble again. She was so torn between anger, grief, and old feelings alike. It was time for her to pull the trigger. He was not the man she thought he was, possibly never was. He must be here for something equally twisted as it was back in that cursed mansion. Or worse. If not for her own sake, she must do it for those innocent lives that will undoubtedly be impacted by his actions here. But instead, what came out of her was:"You lied!"

She didn't like how loud and hoarse it came out. Though she found it increasingly hard to care.

"...Sometimes we must tell a lie for the greater good. You know, I thought you were smart enough to understand such things by now... But you still cling to the first explanation there is, I see. Pity, I'd say."

Oh that set her off.

"You lied, and you betrayed me. You betrayed all of us, you backstabbing, lying- Do you have any idea what I felt-" she broke herself off again, her breathing heavy, yet her lungs feeling painfully empty no matter how much air she took in. Now there was too much to say, too many emotions filling up her mind, each one demanding to be thrown back in his face. She was unraveling at the seams.

Wesker's smile finally diminished somewhat in response. Just a smidge, just the tiniest of changes, but noticeable regardless. For a moment, he almost looked... a bit guilty. But that expression disappeared in a flash, replaced by one of indifference. He's always been good at hiding his feelings.

But he also recognized that she was technically correct. It was true that he lied. He did betray her. He did leave her behind.

However, he had no regrets about it.

"I did what I had to do," he said, his voice cool and steady. Still, there was a small hint of remorse carefully threaded through his words, albeit it was twisted. "It was necessary. You wouldn't understand."

Oh, he was well aware of her anger and hurt. But he was also well aware that she didn't understand. She simply could not understand his rationale even if he tried. It was very probable that she'd never understand, even if he'd like to believe otherwise.

Still, from Jordan's point of view, his response didn't give him any more grace, if any.

"How convenient for you," she spat out, words feeling like venom on her tongue, painful and bitter. "But you're right. I won't understand. I will never understand how you 'had' to stab us in the back and leave our partners to be torn apart and die like your 'little piggies'. I will never understand you tearing our family apart with your own bloodied hands."

"...You never could," he repeated, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in every little aspect of her rage. "You were always too naive for the truth. Too soft. That's why I kept you in the dark."

His words made her jaw clench. It didn't even sound like an insult this time around, but it still felt like one, anyways. She was not fond of being referred to as soft or naive. Her entire goddamn life was spent training to be anything but those things.

Yet here he was, using those exact words to mock her.

"Naive?" She snapped in disbelief, "I trusted you. Because I loved you. That's what you're supposed to do with people you love, with family! And you played me like a fool."

She pressed the handgun harder to his forehead, but she still didn't squeeze at the trigger. In fact, her finger wasn't even on the trigger now. Though, neither of them addressed this detail.

Wesker held her gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch, but his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing ever so slightly under her heated stare. "Yes... You did. And your trust meant a lot to me. Whether you believe that or not."

That didn't help at all.

"I loved you," she breathed out. Something she wanted to say with a snarl, but instead it sounded more like a broken plea. She wanted him to show her anything, any sign that he still cared, that he always cared. "And you lied to me. God knows for how long. Maybe from the very beginning. Hell, maybe none of it was real."

She shook her head, the words leaving the tip of her tongue before she could stop them. This had nothing to do with this. She should focus on getting information from him and apprehending him. Her fallen teammates wouldn't have wanted her to do this. And yet-

"You were the one fucking person I let in like that," she said, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "And you stabbed me right in the back. Or, well, should I say 'shot me right in the face'? And don't even give me that 'I knew you'd survive it' bullshit."

Those final words were more bitter than anything else prior, reminding them both of the blood-stained memories that had tortured her ever since.

And when that was brought up, Wesker's face visibly darkened on the spot. Something that made her feel just a tiny bit of twisted victory in her chest, knowing she finally got to him, hit him where it hurts, maybe. He appeared angry with her, yes, yet there was something else going on, too. Regret? Perhaps. Guilt? Who the hell knows.

Her words did make his heart churn in his chest, even if he appeared to be almost completely unaffected on the surface. He knew he hurt her and he knew he betrayed her in the way that he probably wouldn't have forgiven, either. Even now, despite his own feelings on the matter, he could tell that she was sincerely and deeply hurt.

That was never truly his objective, ironic as it was.

"...You know it wasn't personal," he started, his voice low and measured. "It wasn't about you. It was bigger than us. Bigger than anything we could've had together."

He was still attempting to excuse it. Despite everything, he remained stubborn as ever in his beliefs. Indeed, that has consistently been his nature. He was battling to persuade himself that he made the correct decision. And that irritated her even more.

"You have to understand that-"

"-That makes it worse, you fucking idiot!"

Jordan cried out, interrupting him right in the middle of the sentence, throwing all attempts to appear unaffected out the window. For all these years, there had been far too much that had been simmering and decaying within her. She has exhausted herself so far beyond her limit by keeping it all inside under an iron lock. And his words weren't helping. Not at all.

Her face showed a combination of frustration, pain, and confusion. She was having a hard time understanding, comprehending what he was even saying, and why he thought it would somehow make her feel better about it all.

"I loved you," she repeated, her voice cracking with emotion, "And you threw it all away for... whatever secret bullshit you were chasing! 'Bigger than us' my ass! You know, I hope your children never learn how little they apparently mean to you."

Although hidden under the thick shades of his shades, the vertical pupils in Wesker's eyes narrowed at that, making him finally show a mixture of steadily simmering rage and his own frustration flashing across his sharp features. Oh, that one struck a nerve, she could tell. Well, good. The bastard deserved to feel shitty for once in his life.

Of course, Wesker knew she loved him, hell, he probably still loved her now, although that was a sentiment that remained unspoken. But the complexity of it all was beyond her comprehension. And he doubted she'd understand. Not yet. She was far too emotional, far too fiery, far too raw to truly understand right now.

He will help her to understand in time. But it was still... frustrating right now.

"It wasn't just some 'bullshit I was chasing'," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "It was something bigger, something important."

"Oh yeah? Try me," Jordan snorted, the sound more angry than humorous. "Try and tell me what is more important than your own fucking family, Albert. I'd love to hear it."

The more she pushed, the more his own rage began to surface and the more defensive he became.

"You don't get it. You never could-" He was disappointed and angry. At her, for not understanding. At himself, for caring. As he pressed himself off the wall, she stumbled a few steps backwards, still pointing the handgun at him but predictably not doing a thing to properly threaten him. Somehow, it only frustrated him further. The answer was staring her right in the face, and she refused to acknowledge it due to her own stubbornness. "You see life too simply."

Jordan's eyes widened, her prior anger replaced by a sense of danger that radiated from him in waves. "Stand down-"

He completely disregarded her warning and simply kept moving forward, now being the one to crowd her in.

...Damn it, she forgot how big he was.

"You see everything in black and white. Good and bad. But the world doesn't work like that. It's about power. It's about winning. I did what I had to do to win. I had to make sacrifices. And you just happened to be one of them."

Her grip on the handgun began to slip, and her hand shook slightly.

"A sacrifice...?" She sputtered in pure disbelief, her voice a mix of shock and anger. Somehow, despite everything, that still came as a complete surprise to her. And not a good one. "Is that what I was to you? What, just another... pawn on your game or something? A sacrifice?"

She was still unable to comprehend what she was hearing in spite of everything that had transpired.

All those feelings they'd shared, all the countless precious moments they so carefully created together, big and small...

The pain in her voice was more clear than ever before. It was proving difficult for her to understand his words and reconcile the person she once loved with the man standing in front of her now.

He scoffed, seemingly only frustrated with her hurt response: "That's not what I said, Jordan. Stop putting words in my mouth and listen for once in your damn life."

With the handgun still aimed at his head, she lifted it a little.

"You left me," she repeated, "You left me there to die. And now you want me to listen to you? To understand why you 'had' to betray me? What, did you have to shoot me in the face, too?"

"That's not-"

Her rage and hurt were spilling over as she shook, refusing to let him finish. "Was it all just a lie then? Everything we had together. Was any of it real? Anything at all?"

Wesker's face went dark again. He was still standing there, close, and she could see the visible tension coiling in his muscles under his dress-shirt as he tried to hold himself back from whatever it was he wanted to do.

Perhaps from killing her.

She didn't know anymore.

But the truth was that, if words couldn't penetrate her thick skull, Wesker yearned to reach out and touch her, to grasp at her and make her understand via touch alone. He realized that it was not the appropriate moment for that, though. Not when she looked up at him with such rage and betrayal in her eyes.

She'd probably just punch him, anyways.

"It wasn't a lie," he said instead, the words forced out through gritted teeth. He was struggling, she thinks. "None of it was a lie. I did care. I still care. Why do you think I'm here exactly?"

He took another step forward, reaching out to touch her cheek again. His touch caused Jordan to recoil, as though it had burned her. However, she refused to distance herself or avert her gaze from him. Whether out of pride or something else.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes pained, all previous fire long fizzled out and crumbling into ash now. "Don't fucking touch me. You don't get to touch me now."

She could sense herself shaking, though, even as she mouthed the words. Her feelings for him persisted, even now, despite all she was aware of. All she was not aware of. Even after all this time, even after everything he has done to her. She was utterly torn between anger and grief because of how she felt for this cursed man. She was angry at him, she hated him, yet she also wanted him. Equally intense was her want to reach out and touch him.

Despite the painful revelations she's faced in their last encounter, she mourned him in the years she believed he was dead. In a way a broken lover would. She mourned him in shame, in secret, unable to even share her grief with a single soul. Murderers and villains aren't mourned, after all. What would Chris think of her if she revealed just how much her heart has bled for Albert all these years? How would Jill feel? How would Barry feel?

She could only imagine the disgust that all the deceased S.T.A.R.S. felt for her from beyond their graves.

Her anguish was a concealed secret, repressed and relegated to the deepest corners of her soul. But, God, did it fester. Like a rotting wound, it gradually spread its repulsive decay over her body and soul, until it threatened to consume her whole.

However, she was too proud, too stubborn, and far too angry to concede.

So, she shook her head, attempting to remove his touch, but she remained there, trapped in place. She could sense the warmth of his skin against hers and the subtle pressure of his fingers on her cheek. So familiar yet so foreign now.

"...Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice cracking, "Why are you tormenting me like this?"

Wesker's heart clenched as he watched the stormy emotions play out on her face so clear for him to see. Whether she believed it or not, he truly had no desire to do this to her, this wasn't the way he had wanted things to go. She had a habit of ruining his meticulously crafted plans, it seemed. Still, he'd forgive her every time.

However, he was also a man who enjoyed having full control. He was a man who always got what he wanted in the end. And he wanted her.

He drew nearer till their bodies were nearly touching. He silently observed the way she was reacting to him, the way she was resisting her own emotions. It was admirable how determined she was to stay strong, no matter the odds stacked against her. He's gotta give her that. He always liked that in her. That stubborn spirit of hers. Even if it caused him trouble, time and time again.

He knew perfectly well that it was wrong, of course. From her standpoint, that is.

It was cruel.

But he was unable to stop himself. He didn't want to.

So, he grasped her chin, tilting it up to ensure she met his gaze directly. She looked beautiful, even now, he thought to himself.

"Why am I doing this?" He echoed back to her, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. Almost. "Because I can't stop myself around you. Because I can't resist you. Because I need you. I always did. Against my better judgement."

His thumb swept over her lower lip as his fingers started to trace her jawline, refamiliarizing himself with the contours of her face he hadn't touched in so long. She couldn't help but shiver at the subtle touch.

Her resolve began to crumble. The way he was touching her and speaking to her was just... too much. She wished he would keep being that self-absorbed jerk to her. That would be easier to deal with than this. It was a bit ironic, how nothing he did would make her feel satisfied.

Still, her body dutifully responded to his touch. Her heart started to race, her breathing becoming shallow.

Everything about him right now felt too familiar: his words, touch, presence.

Too soothing.

Too right.

And so wrong.

"Albert..." she whispered. Her weak heart betrayed her, and she hated herself for it. Hated that she still reacted so well to his touch after all these years. "You can't... say things like that..."

Her words have completely lost all semblance of a protest to them. They were just a weak plea now. It was absolutely pitiful. She was pitiful.

"You can't just... you can't just come back into my life and... and act like we're fine. Like nothing ever happened between us."

But her willpower was weakening. He was pressing so close to her now that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Alive. Real. And she felt the growing want to lean in, to melt into his body as she always has, to feel his arms enveloping her, and to temporarily forget about everything else, even if for a single, blissful moment.

Now, though, she couldn't do that, could she? He stole that comfort from her. And she hated him for it.

Wesker was also able to see it. The way she was steadily weakening against him, the way her body responded to his touch. Not that she was even trying that hard to hide it now.

Finally, she was under his control. She always is, after a little bit of effort on his part, after all.

He leaned forward, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin.

"I can say whatever I want," he murmured, his other hand reaching out to rest on her hip, pulling her ever so slightly closer. "And I am aware that we're not fine. But I still want you."

He knew that, with this, he was torturing her mercilessly. But he was powerless to stop it. He has missed her, dear God, he has missed her more than he was willing to acknowledge, and this human weakness of his was seeping into his touch. He didn't want to let go of her after getting to feel her again.

Hid hand gripping her hip in such a way made her gasp lightly. She was steadily losing herself in his touch, his scent, him. She ought not to. But she was.

She did make an effort to put up a fight against it, to the best of her ability. She made an effort to stay angry and resentful, but his touch was breaking down her walls. It has always been this way. He was the only one who had ever seen this side of her. Beneath all of the bravado and carefully crafted independence, there lied a weaker, lonely woman who just wanted to be embraced as she was and soothed from all of her worries.

Because of that, she used to adore him wholeheartedly. Now it just felt humiliating.

"-Stop it," she gasped, her voice strained. "You can't just... you can't just come back and expect me to just... forgive you. Not after everything. I can't."

However, her free hand has grasped the collar of his shirt, her fingers squeezing the fabric with underlying urgency. It was a subtle indication that she was slipping. It thrilled him as much as tugged at his heart. Her other hand that was still holding onto the handgun was also slackening as it lowered slightly from his forehead. Although her mind was urging her to push him away, she wasn't doing so. She should do the right thing and take action. Chris would have made that decision. Jill would have made that decision. Barry would have made that decision. Even Rebecca would. For all the teammates who were killed so cruelly and unfairly. But despite everything that has happened, she still wanted his touch. Despite all the suffering and betrayal.

When she said her final, real words, her voice was nothing but a raspy whisper: "...I hate you. I hate what you did to me."

Finally, he had her exactly where he wanted her.

His own voice was somehow kind yet firm, and as he leaned in closer, his lips lightly brushed her cheek.

"Hate me or not, you still want me. I can tell. You can't resist me any more than I can resist you. We're two sides of the same coin, my dear." His hand tightened around her hip, indicating a possessive grip. "All those years apart, and look at us now... You could call it fate. A rather intriguing concept. What do you say?"

His lips were now steadily traveling down her jaw in quick, sickeningly soft kisses before she could say anything. Jordan was shaken, utterly speechless at the onslaught of sensations that were so subtle, they could almost be written off as figments of her imagination. A taste of something he knew she wanted.

He was quite cruel.

"You act like you can't stand the mere sight of me, and yet you're shaking in my arms. The way you're holding onto me... I think you know why."

Before he could go any farther however, he pulled away after giving her a single, almost tantalizing kiss on the corner of her lips.

She despised the way she reacted to him. She felt completely helpless now as her handgun lowered from his forehead against her will, no longer even pointed in his direction. She was utterly helpless to stop it. Or maybe she just didn't want to, and that was the ugliest truth of it all.

He was correct. Her hatred for him was overwhelming. But with just one push, hatred is readily able to slip into love, much as a pendulum swings back and forth. And right now, her hatred was being overtaken by an even more powerful emotion.Yearning.

With her eyes closed tightly and lips pressed together, she tried very hard to stop the sound that was steadily coming up her throat. A sound of need and longing.

She was fighting a vicious internal battle, using all her willpower to stiffle her desire. However, it was a futile struggle. In addition, she has already failed to act in the appropriate manner the very second she couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger. Maybe she was just not as good of a person as she thought she was.

Maybe none of it even mattered.

She has never been able to stop him from getting what he wants. He had her under his control, and he was very cognizant of it. It's like trying to escape out of a cobweb, only to get tangled up more the harder you try. It was hopeless. She was hopeless.

"...What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice hoarse, the words pushed out past her clenched teeth. It was an implied admittance of defeat, one that certainly did not go unnoticed by him.

He was definitely more that aware of having almost won this wordless battle between them. He was confident that he had her right where he needed her now.

He drew her closer as his hand tightened around her hip. His body was now pressed up against hers, his touch both possessive and demanding, no longer trying to conceal his intentions.

"I want you," he said bluntly, his voice low and rough. "I want all of you. Your anger, your hatred, your pain. Your love. Your need. I want you to give me all of it."

And before she could respond, he closed the space left between them and kissed her, snatching what little breath she had.

He didn't really give her much time to ease into it. His kiss was forceful, controlling, possessive. He was taking what he wanted, what he's been craving for all these years. It was nearly too much. Like she was drowning in him, with his presence actively cutting off all her senses with its stiffling intensity.

She heard the muted sound of her handgun striking the ground, the metal bouncing off the hard rock and reverberating through the walls, as if from underwater. Like a loud declaration of her failure. He did not make her do that. Or did he? She wanted to say he did. Hell, there was still a big, raging part of her wanting to push at his chest as hard as she could and scream her lungs out at him. But now, did she even have the right to do that? Wouldn't that make her a hypocrite? Wasn't the line already crossed?

His words were scathing, penetrating deep into the darkest corners of her soul and eroding all of what was left of her determination. Maybe he was right. Maybe they really were just two sides of the same coin. She didn't know anymore. And it was getting harder and harder to see herself as anything but a failure.

His hand went from her hip and slid up her side, firm and demanding. As he pulled her further against him, he deepened the kiss with practiced ease, making her let out a small, choked noise that instantly got swallowed by him with a sharp breath. His touch was hungry, punishing. In a way that made her knees buckle. She hadn't been touched like this in years, and the familiarity of his scent, his warmth, his everything was just too much for her to bear.

Ah... fuck it.

She pushed all of her reservations away with a single sarcastic thought flashing through her mind, roughly dragging him in by his shirt collar and returning his kiss with a desperate one of her own. Not in any way similar to her heated kisses of the past long lost. She was angry with him, with herself, and with the world at large, and she wanted him to know it, as evidenced by her teeth harshly sinking into his bottom lip with such severity that he sucked in an involuntary gasp against her.

However, he didn't appear to mind it too much. If his small, rumbling groan that followed suit was anything to go by. It certainly sent a sharp shiver up her spine.

The way he held her felt familiar. But it was also different. It had a new edge to it, an intensity that wasn't there before. He was different. Perhaps it's who he has always been. She didn't know.

A tiny, foolish part of her wanted to think that, like in dumb fairy tales with their happily-ever-after's, she could somehow make everything alright again with a single magic kiss. Fix it all with power of love alone. Of course, that was not going to happen. And the sudden piercing sound of her receiver going off felt like a lightning strike on a sunny day, shattering the already frail illusion into a million broken pieces before it could even take its proper shape.

Breathing shakily after the entire experience, she broke away from him with a single gasp. She tried not to think too much about the thin string of saliva that was connecting their lips before breaking off. A good visual reminder of the stupidest choice she could have made. For a moment, she was just frozen, completely unable to bring herself to act.

What the hell should she even do at this point?

It was probably Leon... Or maybe Luis.

Before she could do anything, though, she noticed Wesker smirking to himself, the usual smugness returning to his sharp features. Without any further cocky comments from his side, he merely reached over and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, cleaning off the remainders of their messy kiss from mere moments prior. It was difficult to avoid shivering at the touch.

"What are you-"

"-You should take it, my love. It could be important. I have some... unfinished business to take care of myself. But, believe me..." She blinked as she felt him sweep a lock of hair behind her ear before stepping back. A gesture that felt both sickeningly affectionate and somehow mocking. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. And I will be back for you. When the time comes."

He disappeared in an instant, leaving her with a raging receiver and a flurry of panicked thoughts flying through her mind at the speed of light. She didn't answer. Instead, she simply slid down the nearest wall till she reached the cold stone floor, her body curling up on itself and her head hidden between her knees.

What the hell does she do now...?

Additional notes:

• I wanted to explore Jordan's state of mind and how it could tie into her future mental decline in RE5. While she is deeply independent and strong-willed, it seems that Wesker is definitely one of those few people she's fully vulnerable with (based on what interactions they had in re1 comics!). And, well, of course she is! He is her husband! He is her family! Delving into her inner struggle between her usual independence vs the familiar pull of someone she never got to get over was very fun.

• I based Wesker's mannerisms mostly off of Jordsker comics/stuff! Not gonna lie, I tend to lean more into a cold, measured type of Wesker, so sprinkling in some sassiness and charm that he seems to share in his interactions with Jordan was a very interesting change (and good practice!)

• My interpretation of Jordan's entire mental decline (both presented here and one that would follow later in re5) is heavily tied to feelings of guilt and inner shame more than anything else. I definitely wanted to incorporate that here. She feels shame for mourning him as much as she did, when she should have mourned all the innocent that were affected by his involvement instead. She feels guilt for her feelings towards him - thus never properly opening up about them and working through them in a healthy manner. She feels shame for her inability to do the right thing and bring him to justice when she had the chance. And her giving in to him here, while unknowingly to her, stemming from these feelings of inner shame and guilt, is just yet another piece falling into place.

• Wesker is never really dishonest with her in the latter part. Even his earlier words were more just teasing fun on his part. You could call it flirting (horrible attempt at it, really). I actually find that really fun with him here. He's not really being manipulative or cruel with her on purpose, he means everything he says. It is just twisted. Does that make the whole thing better or worse for poor Jordan? Who knows.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 17 - Family Meeting

Tsuzuru: Chikage-san didn’t run away today.

Itaru: He was rushing to get his futon ready before I was.

Chikage: That’s because you kept just mindlessly playing your game.

Masumi: It’s annoying having to drag all our futons in here every time we do this.

Citron: I will put down my sheeping rag now!

Tsuzuru: Please just say sleeping bag.

Itaru: Well, sleeping here can only mean one thing.

Sakuya: Yeah. I wanted to get to try and get to know the stage a little better again.

Tsuzuru: …I’ve been trying to be careful and not get too worked up about it, but I can’t help but keep thinking about the Fleur Award.

Itaru: I always thought that if we all just did theater the way we always do, we’d one day be recognized and win the Fleur Award, but…

Itaru: Then the rankings came along and reminded me that things aren’t that easy IRL.

Chikage: The Fleur Award system has changed, so that’s understandable, but even if they hadn’t changed, we probably would’ve run into the same wall.

Masumi: If we want to stop worrying about rushing things, doesn’t that mean we should just stop thinking about the Fleur Award?

Tsuzuru: God, I wish…

Sakuya: Yuzo-san said that this isn’t the end of the Fleur Award, so there’s no need to rush things, but if we miss out on this one, it’ll be another two years until the next one happens…

Citron: In two years… I wonder what we will all be doing then~?

Tsuzuru: Hmm… I’d have graduated from college by then…

Masumi: I’d be on my fourth year.

Sakuya: Aside from you two, the rest of us are already done with school, so there might not be that much that’s different for us.

Chikage: Conversely, could any of you have imagined being here two or three years ago?

Itaru: Hell no. I would’ve been like, “Theater, what’s that?”.

Masumi: I never thought I’d end up doing theater.

Citron: I had never imagined doing it either, because I was planning to travel all over the world~.

Tsuzuru: If someone told me I’d get to be writing scripts as an in-house writer like this, I would’ve called them delusional.

Sakuya: And I would’ve been really surprised if someone told me I’d be making a living as an actor with the people I love!

Tsuzuru: Putting it like that, it’s like we’re all living in a future we only could’ve dreamed of back then.

Sakuya: Yeah. Being able to gather a group of trusted friends and continue to perform with them in a stable theater company…

Itaru: But there’s no guarantee that we’ll still be doing this two years from now.

Chikage: Maybe that’s just because our current selves are changing in ways we can’t even imagine.

Citron: If that is the case, I absolutely want to change for the better~.

Sakuya: Two years from now, I want to be standing in the future we’re dreaming of now.

Masumi: If we keep that in mind, what should we do for the upcoming Spring Troupe performance…

Tsuzuru: Obviously, we want to have fun with it ourselves, but our desire to entertain the audience has gotta be unwavering, too.

Itaru: On top of that, we wanna improve our rank and snag ourselves a spot among the nominees.

Chikage: That’s the goal of the entire company.

Sakuya: Aside from that, I knew I wanted more people to be aware of how much fun theater can be after doing the workshop.

Sakuya: And of course, that goes for MANKAI too.

Chikage: That’s why it’s important to boost our popularity and broaden our reach. It’d be even better if we could earn some more streaming votes too.

Itaru: To some extent, if we wanna take on the role of top batter, it’ll be our job to get those results and make a breakthrough.

Masumi: But it’s because we’re too busy feeling like that that we’re sitting here accomplishing nothing.

Tsuzuru: Can’t deny that.

Sakuya: …

Masumi: …We’re right back where we started.

Citron: We are merry-ing the go-round~.

Tsuzuru: I wish we were doing whatever that is, but unfortunately, we’re just going in circles.

Sakuya: I’ve… actually been thinking about that.

Sakuya: The other day, I got a request to play a role that’s bigger than the ones I usually do.

Sakuya: But it’s a regional performance, so I’d have to leave the dorms for a while…

Sakuya: I was gonna turn it down because it’s such an important time with focusing on the Fleur Award and all, and I was worried about my ability to handle both things.

Sakuya: --Until now, that is.

Sakuya: After talking to Towa-kun and Tenma-kun, I remembered how I was back during our debut.

Sakuya: Back then, I had just opened the door to the new world of theater, and there was a lot that I didn’t understand.

Sakuya: I was surprised by everything I saw, everything I felt. I was frantic and all over the place.

Sakuya: But I think I had more courage and bravery to try new things back then than I do now.

Sakuya: I’ve come to understand lots of things. Like how to tell what’s necessary and what isn’t for theater, what’s important to me and what isn’t…

Sakuya: But I think because I’m being made to make choices, I feel like I’m not able to open new doors that I would’ve challenged myself to open back then.

Tsuzuru: I get what you mean, being completely absorbed in seizing the chances you’re given, never thinking about the consequences of your actions… I guess I used to kinda be like that.

Tsuzuru: Not like there were that many chances to begin with.

Citron: It is because you have nothing that you feel like you can do anything, correct?

Chikage: Like a first performance, huh…

Itaru: For us, it’s our debut performance, but for you, it’s Oz, right, Senpai?

Chikage: Exactly. Being able to have something to devote myself to other than work certainly felt like having a new door opened for me.

Sakuya: The place where I belong will forever be MANKAI Company. And I’ll always have my Spring Troupe family to support me no matter what.

Sakuya: It’s because I have a place to belong like this that I’m able to set out on my own and step out into new worlds, and I think that makes taking the leap worth it.

Sakuya: I feel like there are parts of me that always end up being spoiled when I’m with you guys, so I want to set out from the troupe for a bit and try to do my best in a whole new place on my own.

Sakuya: And I want to grow as an actor as much as possible and bring something back home with me.

Sakuya: I don’t want to lose to my past self when it comes to that reckless urge to take on new challenges.

Sakuya: …Do you guys think I’m aiming for the wrong thing?

Tsuzuru: --Nah, I think you’re doing great.

Tsuzuru: I think I’m gonna try and participate in that scriptwriting training camp that I was gonna give up on for the sake of the performance…

Tsuzuru: Maybe I’ll even get some kinda hint on what I’ve been struggling with on the script. And it’s not good to forget about the desire to try new things, y’know?

Masumi: …Then I’m going to try and do that internship. I want to learn more about promotion so I can be useful to the Director.

Citron: Then… I shall participate in the arts festival I have been on the fence about.

Citron: If you are hesitating about something, that means there is a part of you that wants to do it. It is important to be honest with yourself about your feelings!

Chikage: Your own feelings, huh…

Itaru: …What are you going to do, Senpai?

Chikage: Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Weren’t you approached about something important at work?

Itaru: Compared to the rest of you guys, mine’s like the furthest away from actual theater.

Sakuya: Still, if it’s something you care about and are excited about, I think you should do it, Itaru-san.

Masumi: You initially joined the troupe for something entirely unrelated.

Tsuzuru: That something being two free meals made it easier for you to spend money on games.

Itaru: I mean, you’re right, but damn…

Itaru: Actually, y’know what, I don’t like being called out like that, so I’m gonna outperform all of you out of spite.

Itaru: You should follow your heart too, Senpai.

Chikage: …Well, I suppose I’ll try and see if I can come up with a challenge of my own to take on.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Citron: And that is why we are running away from home!

Tsuzuru: Yeah, no, that’s not what this is.

Sakuya: We thought that each of us could leave the dorms and try to take on each of our challenges on our own.

Izumi: I see… It’s a little surprising to hear, but I appreciate that you made the decision after talking it over with everyone.

Izumi: Let’s do rehearsals remotely while you’re away and then really focus in on them when you all get back.

Banri: Aight, we better rearrange the rehearsal schedules with that in mind.

Izumi: We can work that out later.

Izumi: Since you guys already have your roles down way more than you usually would, rehearsals have been progressing ahead of schedule, so we should be able to bounce back from this no problem.

Sakuya: Thank you so much.

Tsuzuru: We’ll do our best.

Izumi: (Each of them taking on a new challenge, huh… Yeah, I think it’ll be a great way for them to remember how they felt during their debut performance.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Chikage: …

Hisoka: …Shouldn’t you be packing? You’re running away from home with the rest of Spring Troupe, aren’t you?

Chikage: We’re not running away from home.

Chikage: I’m basically done packing already. Well, I still don’t know whether I’m even going or not.

Hisoka: You don’t want to go?

Chikage: …There’s something I’d prefer to keep my distance from.

Chikage: No, I don’t even know what it is… I’ve been away from it for so long that I don’t even know what to feel anymore.

Hisoka: …Then shouldn’t you go and figure that out?

Hisoka: Sometimes there’s things that you can’t understand or remember unless you go and look them in the eyes directly.

Hisoka: Maybe the things you’ve always been unsure about or afraid of won’t be scary anymore. You won’t know for sure unless you face them head-on.

Chikage: …I suppose.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[m0llystars]

on my phone so i don’t have twitter rn but i just feel like finally saying this: I don’t talk a lot abt youtuber “drama” bc I feel like it’s often just a waste of energy to do so and what does it matter what i think abt whatever’s happening with a creator who i don’t know personally at all and vice versa but as someone who was a decent fan of his vids, the shit happening with mamamax has to be the most insane monkey’s paw type of scenario i’ve ever seen in my life.

i feel like shit abt it bc i really thought that he was at least somewhat credible in his investigations and that he was genuinely catching pedos and rlly getting shit done there, but it’s one of those things where it seems so obvious in hindsight how much of it was smoke and mirrors, or just not telling the real story to some extent, and yet bc of how gradually his style of content had changed, I just couldn’t have noticed how fucking weird and absurd it all actually was until I really let myself distance from it and think about it more. then again I don’t blame myself bc this dude was seemingly lying to other creators’ faces, to people who even vouched for him in their own videos.

but the fact that this all rlly started going to shit once he poked the bear of “I need to pressure every big youtuber about this Now” once again when he already has a more than considerable following to make good change on his own, just for people to actually talk about the camdan case, only bc they realized he’s handling it, and has handled the previous cases like complete shit, not even having caught any of his targets? yeah you could make the argument that any press is good press but good luck convincing the judge on that. fucking hell.

it’s only left me with a more and more sour taste the more I thought about it. if you are a vigilante in that field, or in any field, who wants to document this kind of shit, the best thing you could do is publish stuff in past tense, or else you’re basically showing your hand and letting your own targets, people who obviously should be held accountable and locked away at minimum, be able to plan an exit and escape before you even get to them. i am absolutely all for taking the guillotine out for abusers, especially of that sort, but the way he’s doing it, he doesn’t even at least accomplish that. and then there’s the constant shilling of his patreon. and then the fact that the FBI is investigating him and his megaupload got removed and sent to authorities. it’s all these little things that seemed so odd on their own, but together, it really paints a whole new picture that im upset i didn’t see sooner, and that im just upset i even have to see at all.

manipulation isn’t okay. not even if it’s in good pretenses, or a good, or “transparent” cause. because no matter what, that bed is gonna crack sooner than you think, and you bring everything and everyone else down with you. it’s kind of a shock he didn’t get this coming sooner

[m5ria]

Chapter 27: The Kill

Warnings: blood; death

“Are you blind?” I ask him mad. “Can’t you see? I’m not in the mood!”

“Ha ha! Perfect! It should be easier for you, then!”

He grabs my arm roughly. I try to back off, but he brings me to his chest. The voodoo symbols surround us as we leave the hotel and arrive... somewhere.

A park.

“Why are we...?” I start asking, but he puts a finger to my lips. I stumble back from his grasp, wiping myself off of him. For some reason, though, I keep quiet as he instructed.

We’re in a place where trees and bushes, as well as the night, cover us. Turning around, I can see two playgrounds. One at the opposite of each other. They look as if they’ve been abandoned for decades. It would have unsettled me if I wouldn’t be occupied figuring out the meaning of this.

Out of the blue, an Imp demon comes up. It’s the first time I’ve seen an Imp child. They go straight to a swing and hop on it, murmuring a song.

If I thought it was weird before, now it is completely sinister.

With a remorseful realization, I turn around to keep an eye on the Radio Demon, only to not find him in his ... corporal form. He’s only a shadow, with only his bright red eyes and yellow teeth shining in pitch black.

“Let me tell you something that will ease your grieving heart,” his smile turns pitiful, irritating me. “The Imp that you killed yesterday? Zumo. It’s the Spanish word for Juice. He was abducting other Imp kids and filtering them of blood to make the best cocktails the Sloth Ring’s ever tasted.”

Uncontrollably, a shudder of horror shakes me from head to toe, but it’s not directed to the Overlord. Then, pure anger takes its place, all towards another demon. A lost demon. A fucking demon that I fucking grieved for a fucking day.

Stop!

Are you so blindly going to trust Alastor? His words can be so effortlessly a lie. What does he accomplish by telling me that?

“So?” I let the word out, hiding my distress.

“So,” his darkness surrounds me. I hardly can see the Imp kid. “You killed an Imp who deserved it, even if it wasn’t your intention. However, the next task of yours is to kill another Imp, this time with intention.”

A shiver goes through me when he finally speaks the words: “Kill that Imp child.”

I jerk a step back, trying to recognize any human aspect of the Radio Demon. He’s only a shadow. There’re no more smiley eyes, no red hair, no coat. No gentleman manners, no songs, no nothing. He’s the darkness itself.

“Alastor,” I try to reason with him. “Why? Why kill a child? He’s done nothing wrong!”

“Oh, how gullible you are, my dear!” he chuckles from everywhere. “It’s so easy for you to say they’re innocent when you know nothing! Just the other day you defended the other Imp!”

“Imps are Hell borns! They can choose to be good. Like Charlie! Charlie is good and she’s from Hell. Sinners made their choice. Imps didn’t!”

“Oh, no, no, no!” he laughs heartily. “That’s absolutely sheer absurdity! I haven’t come across such a rib-ticklin' notion in ages, I'll tell you!”

I want to literally bark in frustration. He doesn’t even take me seriously anymore!

“What if I say no?”

“Will you break so soon, little wolf?”

“Give me another task!”

“I’m not sure this is how our deal works,” he snickers. He starts condensing into a more humane form. “Unless…”

I raise my eyes to what should be his face.

“Oh, well, I suppose we can say the other task is to offer your soul to me!”

Fuck no!

Fuck the fucking Radio Demon! Fuck this deal…

He could do whatever he wants with my soul. He could kill with me thousands of children like that one. He could do worse things. I can’t let him.

This is the price I have to pay. For my thoughtless bargain.

The realization of all of this hits me fully. There’s no way out of this. There’s no more bargaining.

I exhale in shuddering breaths.

It means that it’s the first time I won’t kill by need, mistake, or self-defense. I will murder.

I look at the Imp child, who’s naively singing a childhood song. I silently beg of him to run, to hide, to call for backup or something. Anything to stop me from doing this.

“Tic tac, little wolf,” Alastor whispers in my ears. “The night is young, but I am not!”

I make one step. I make the other. I push through the bushes. The light finally shines on me.

The light shall be the witness of my corruption.

I think of all the ways this could be quick and painless. Thank God Alastor didn’t choose himself the killing method.

God... So far away from here.

I have my daggers as always. A stab into his heart, but he might still feel the pain. Cut his throat? Too brutal. Oh, how I wished I had poison! But it's not my way of killing.

That’s it.

I don’t mean to torture my animals. I simply kill them. They fall dead. They don’t feel pain for too long. And I do that... With my bow and arrows. Which are back at the hotel...

I don’t need to have them, though.

I stop sneaking, not needing any more proximity. With my magic, I start summoning ice and manipulating it in a solid arc. Then, for the string for the bow, I search for the gelatinous kind of ice. The arrow is lightweight and reflects the light like a snowflake.

I tense the bow with the arrow and focus. Everything these days is about focus. Everything will be from now on.

The Imp child is with his back to me. I target first the heart, but then I go for the head. The horns might get in my way, but I have a feeling my arrow will go through them.

He ignorantly sings.

I recognize the song.

“Amazing blaze, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see

Was blaze that taught my heart to fear

And blaze, my fears relieved

How precious did that blaze appear

The hour I first believed

Through many dangers, toils and snares

We have already come

T'was blaze that brought us safe thus far

And blaze will lead us home

And blaze will lead us home.”

I almost back out. I fear I can’t do this at all.

“It’s an it! Not a he. It’s simply an animal.”

“You have to shoot the stag. And if you don’t...”

“Am I understood?”

My father, speaking to me clearly over time. And I am yet again a little girl.

“Amazing blaze, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see.”

I empty my head, my soul of everything. There is no point in crying.

“Was blind, but now I see”

I release the arrow. And the child falls asleep.

Looking at him spilling the blood, I don’t feel anything.

There’s nothing in me.

☽

Alastor’s POV:

All her hesitation made me even hungrier. Would she fail? Would she fall into my hands?

However, just as I wished so from the very beginning, she succeeded. She passed the second task.

Now, now, I would hate for this game to end up so soon!

Her turning around, I search for any weaknesses. A silly tear. A trembling breath.

But there’s nothing.

Afterall, all of this nonsense with innocence and second chances is just a pretense for her. Oh, how clever she is! Hiding her cold heart with constant talk about empathy. All demons would underestimate her intentions, and she would kill them if necessary.

Proof of it was just today.

However, I am intensively curious. How much she can handle? How much can I test that monstrous side of her until she’d break?

“Congratulations, darling!” I clap my hands. “Another fulfilled task with success!”

She simply stares at me with no emotion on her face. Not even her usual vexation.

I tilt my head to one side, waiting for her response.

“My question,” she speaks softly.

“Of course! Ask away!”

“Why do you kill?”      

It doesn’t take me by surprise. After all, maybe that is what’s buzzing in that brain of hers, behind those empty eyes. 

“I suppose you’ll expect an answer such as: I am bloodthirsty; I relish people suffering; it's my instinct. The truth is all of them. Yet, they’re empty, without another one. I kill those who are deserving of it.”

“Who are you to judge who’s deserving of it?” she narrows her eyes, the only clue of any emotion. “By your logic, everyone in Hell is deserving of it.”

Hmm...

I feel my smile stretch even wider as she waits for my answer, raising her eyebrows as motivation. My insides almost give in laughter.

“Well?” she predictably tuts.

“That was another question,” I point out, chuckling. “I’m afraid you’ll have to complete another of my tasks to find out the answer to it!”

I can almost hear her sinful thoughts cursing. But, other than that, there’s no other sign of anger.

“Good night, Alastor!” She vanishes.

The park is the same in her absence. Even the grass she walked on stands tall and healthy. I walk unhurriedly to the bleeding corpse of the imp child.

When I stand over it, I watch the blood pouring slowing down.

Such a young, healthy imp demon!        

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[starshipsofstarlord]

There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

[rphelperblog]

Back to the Future Series Quote Rp Meme

feel free to edit or change pronouns for rp purposes- inspired by @beautifulxfun​

"If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

“I hate manure.”

He's an idiot. Comes from upbringing. His parents are probably idiots, too. you ever have a kid who acts that way, I'll disown you.”

What happens to us in the future? Do we become assholes or something?”

I had a horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I went... back in time. It was terrible.”

If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”

Better get used to these bars, kid.”

it was a wonder I was even born.”

"Nobody calls me chicken!"

"Traveling through time has become much too painful."

the future isn't written. It can be changed...you know that. Anyone can make their future whatever they want it to be."

"He's an absolute dream."

you're beginning to sound just like my mother."

I'm almost 18-years-old. It's not like I've never parked before."

“Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one.” 

"I'm your density. I mean your destiny."

Please excuse the crudity of this model. I didn't have time to build it to scale or paint it.”

"Last night, Darth Vader came down from Planet Vulcan and told me that if I didn't take her out, that he'd melt my brain."

"I'm from the future."

You bet your ass it works.”

“All right. This is an oldie, but, uh… well, it’s an oldie where I come from.” 

"Well, that is your name, isn't it? Calvin Klein? It's written all over your underwear."

"Since when can weathermen predict the weather, let alone the future?"

"I think the woman was born a nun."

don't be such a square. Everybody who's anybody drinks."

"You got a real attitude problem; you're a slacker. You remind me of your father when he went here; he was a slacker, too."

"Say 'hi' to your mom for me."

you don't just walk into a store and-and buy plutonium! Did you rip that off?”

Stand tall, boy. Have some respect for yourself. Don't you know, if you let people walk over you now, they'll be walking over you for the rest of your life. Look at me. You think I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in this slop house?”

I can't tell you. It might make things worse.”

It means your future hasn't been written yet, no one's has. Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one.”

No, I know; you did send me back to the future. But I'm back - I'm back from the future.”

My density has brought me to you.

"Maybe you were adopted."

"Next Saturday night, we're sending you back to the future!"

"Jesus, it was a wonder I was even born.

Are you trying to tell me that my mother has got the hots for me?"

"I finally invent something that works!"

"The appropriate question is, 'When the hell are they.'"

“Jesus, didn’t that guy ever have hair?”

"What the hell is a gigawatt?"

“Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”

“Nobody calls me chicken.”

Something’s gotta be done about your kids!”

“I guess you guys aren’t ready for that yet. But your kids are gonna love it.”

“Next Saturday night, we’re sending you back to the future!”

"It's "Leave" you idiot! Make like a tree & leave! You sound like a damn fool when you say it wrong!"

That's about as funny as a screen door on a battleship.

"Did you get kicked out of another boarding school?"

"Time traveling is just too dangerous. Better that I devote myself to study the other great mystery of the universe: women!"

it's not science! When it happens, it just hits you. It's like lightning!’

you can't go losing your judgment every time someone calls you a name. That's exactly what causes you to get into that accident in the future."

"You're not thinking fourth dimensionally."

Well, it'll just happen. Like the way I met your father."

"I've never seen purple underwear before."

you're my only hope."

Then how am I supposed to ever meet anybody?”

"There's that word again. 'Heavy.' Why are things so heavy in the future? Is there a problem with the Earth's gravitational pull?"

“Why don’t you make like a tree and get outta here?”

“Silence, Earthling! My name is Darth Vader. I am an extraterrestrial from the planet Vulcan!”

"No wonder your president has to be an actor. He's gotta look good on television."

"If you're gonna build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?"

"I can't believe you'd loan me your car without telling me it had a blind spot. I could've been killed!"

“If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour, you're gonna see some serious s***.”

"This is all wrong. I don't know what it is. But when I kiss you, it's like I'm kissing...my brother. I guess that doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Don't worry. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88 miles per hour, the instant the lightning strikes the tower... everything will be fine."

“Oh, and one more thing, if you guys ever have kids and one of them, when he’s eight years old, accidentally sets fire to the living room rug – go easy on him.”

Think! I gotta have time to get them retyped. Do you realize what would happen if I hand in my reports in your handwriting? I'll get fired. You wouldn't want that to happen, would ya? Would ya?"

What on Earth is this thing I'm wearing?

Radiation suit? Of course. 'Cause of all the fallout from the atomic wars."

we all have to make decisions that affect the course of our lives. You've gotta do what you've gotta do. And I've gotta do what I've gotta do."

“Well, there are plenty worse places to be than the Old West. I could’ve ended up in the Dark Ages. They probably would have burned me at the stake as a heretic or something.” 

I came here in a time machine that you invented. Now I need your help to get back to the year 1985.”

[panharmonium]

the other thing that i keep thinking about, especially now that i’ve been knee-deep in conversation about kakashi’s father for the last couple days, is the amount of politically/socially-charged context kakashi must be constantly navigating as a leaf shinobi, even though we don’t get to see much of it.  

the transformation of the hidden leaf village is obviously still a work in progress, and society never changes overnight.  we’ve heard at various points in shippuden about the still-present divide between hardliners like danzo and the (somewhat) more moderate senju line, and it’s clear that there are still plenty of reactionary/conservative forces at work in the shinobi world, which means there are absolutely still segments of the population who would view the kind of challenge that kakashi and his students pose to traditional shinobi values as a threat.  and back when kakashi first chose to reaffirm his father’s principles, i’m sure it was much worse - the way minato tells it, the entire village and the land of fire turned on sakumo, and it’s not like all those people just disappeared when kakashi finally allowed himself to recognize that all of them were doing something wrong.  they were still there.  they were his neighbors.  they were his colleagues.  he had to live with them.  he had to work with them - he had to work FOR them, even.  to this day, he still does.

like.  i am FASCINATED by the complexities of this situation, even though we barely see any of it.  just...thinking about thirteen year-old kakashi being a member of the Jonin Assembly alongside all of these grown adults who persecuted his father until the “great man who everyone looked up to” couldn’t survive it any longer.  thinking about teenage kakashi lost and “waiting to die” in the anbu black ops, but still breaking every rule to rescue little tenzo from a hardline conservative who tried to have kakashi assassinated.  thinking about adult kakashi, still a member of that same Jonin Assembly, still working alongside people he can clearly remember harassing and attacking his father for saving their lives, being asked to serve as a clandestine hokage under danzo’s nose, because foreign nations trust kakashi where they don’t trust the actual nominee, and then being nominated for real when danzo turns up dead (and having his nomination approved, i might add, by the land of fire, whose government officially blamed kakashi’s father for the damage that resulted from that abandoned mission years before).

we only get hints about the lingering controversy surrounding kakashi and his family via danzo and, occasionally, the village elders, but like.  kakashi occupies such a complex place in the hidden leaf village, because he’s become incredibly respected and renowned by many (if not most) of its residents, but he also spends every day of his life moving within a community where many (if not most) of the older people around him participated in a campaign of vicious harassment against his father, one that ultimately led to his death.  some of them may have had changes of heart after sakumo’s suicide - that seems like the kind of thing that might have shocked some people into reevaluating their positions, particularly given how respected sakumo was prior to that time - and some of them probably died later in the war, but we know there’s still a conservative faction active in the hidden leaf village, and some of those people are always going to be who they are.  and even the people who aren’t - even the ones who regret how they acted - it’s still so complicated!  how do you continue to live and work in that environment?  how do you navigate a history of being harmed in that way, when you still have to collaborate with and/or serve the same people who did the harming, some of whom likely view you with the exact same disdain they had for your father?

kakashi manages it, somehow, though i’ll bet he has complicated feelings about it, even if he keeps them to himself.  and that’s yet another reason why (if i can just take these thoughts on a slight detour to the present) i think kakashi’s relationship with sasuke is so vitally important, especially moving forward.  sasuke’s family was wronged by the village too, in horrific, unforgivable ways - the shinobi system swallowed itachi whole and sacrificed the entire uchiha clan on the altar of a mission, in exactly the kind of evil, inhuman decision-making process that sakumo and obito and kakashi said could never be justified.  the uchiha were victims of the same shinobi system that drove kakashi’s father to his death - the one that said “everything is acceptable as long as the task at hand is accomplished.  people are disposable in service to a mission.”  both sasuke and kakashi’s families fell to a cultural context that refused to acknowledge that it is never okay to sacrifice your comrades for a mission, a cultural context that embraced this belief to the point where even literal genocide became excusable.

if sasuke is ever going to really and truly Come Home, he’s going to need to learn how to navigate this situation.  not to excuse the wrong that was done, and certainly not to give up on getting justice for himself and his clan, but also to figure out, in conjunction with these important tasks, how to continue existing in an environment where so much officially-sanctioned harm was done to his person, and where so many people around him have at least a little bit of history of being suspicious of or uncharitable towards the uchiha clan, even though they obviously didn’t know about the impending coup or danzo’s extermination order.  

it’s an incredibly complicated situation, and even if kakashi doesn’t have all the answers, he can at least understand what it feels like to be in that kind of position.  he’s been navigating something like this for many, many years.  he’s the precedent, someone who can help sasuke wrestle with the perhaps unanswerable questions of how am i supposed to dedicate myself to a place that wronged me like this?  why should i protect people who hurt me so badly?  is there even a way for me to move forward here, if i can’t forgive the ones who took my family away from me?  can this actually be my home again, when i know what it did to my people?

kakashi has obviously managed to come up with answers to these questions that enable him to stay integrated in his community and keep building a future he believes in, though I doubt any of his answers are simple, and i’m sure there are some things that he’s just had to accept will never be fully settled in his heart.  it’s like what he says to obito in an episode i watched recently: “i don’t know anything for sure, either...i’ve thought that this world is hell, too...but...”  it’s the but that matters.  even in the face of confusion and complexity, kakashi has found a way to keep moving.  he’s learned to co-exist with the uncertainty and discomfort surrounding him, and to make his own meaning out of this life, regardless of how complicated his internal relationship with the village might be.  he’s found a way to keep his eyes trained on the light, whatever that light might look like for him, and even if said light is only, as gaara says, “the faintest glimmer.”  he has so much to teach someone like sasuke, who up until recently was responding to that same plea of gaara’s with a fatalistic “i shut my eyes a long time ago.  the things i seek now lie only in the darkness.” 

anyway.  i am just having Many Thoughts currently about the intricacies of the political and social context that kakashi is always navigating, even though he never says a word about it.  and i’m curious whether this family history will ever come up again in the last fifth of this show.  if i were going on instinct alone, i’d suspect that we weren’t quite done with sakumo yet - i feel like we barely even started with him, to be honest (and also - whatever happened to kakashi’s mother???) - but i should know better at this point than to try and predict what this show is going to do, so i’ll just wait and see.

[candychronicles]

heavens // t. keigo/hawks

A/N: my take on the roommates theme for the bnharem collab! honestly didn’t know where i was going with this one and it seems a bit random/rushed so i apologize in advance but hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo/Hawks x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,491

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), some language 

SYNOPSIS: despite his growing popularity, you two remained steady roommates, which confused you to no end. what was his true motive in keeping you around? 

And they were roommates! Click here to read more!

Hawks was an interesting character to say the least. when you first moved in, you weren’t all too sure what to expect. he was, at the time, a fairly popular hero, but nowhere near the status he held today. he was charming, suave, friendly and it seemed genuine at the time. things went downhill quick though as his popularity rose and along with it, his annoying, god-like tendencies. 

what you didn’t understand was why he kept you around after all this time. you didn’t necessarily need to live with him still, but as he got more popular and therefore gained more money, the areas he lived in grew nicer and nicer until you were on a gorgeous top floor penthouse with a stunning view, all for the price of your original, dingy apartment. what you could afford on your own would be nowhere near the luxury that he was offering. that’s why you stayed, but you weren’t sure why he offered to let you continue to stay with him after all this time.

sure, you were friends, got along for the most part and when you didn’t, stayed out of each other’s hair, but he didn’t owe you anything and you certainly didn’t want to feel like you were in his debt. yet something attracted the two of you together continuously despite it all. 

what you didn’t know was that Hawks very much enjoyed having you around. you’d deny it until you were blue in the face but he heard one too many times you touching yourself in your bedroom, muffled moans matching those of the girl or guy he was fucking that night. he often did his best to give you a show, cursing, spitting, hitting, anything he could do to rile you up, get you to hear the lewd sounds coming from the apartment. you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about, scoffed when he invited you to join him or give you his own private show and acted like you didn’t know he was doing that all on purpose just to tease you. 

truth be told, you pushed all those thoughts aside when it came to him. he was attractive, very much so, and also very unattainable, in your eyes anyways. his god-like complex was annoying at times but also very warranted. he was popular with everyone he met-children, women, men, the elderly, hell, you don’t think he ever met a dog that didn’t like him. he was strong, powerful, commanding of the quirk he weld so well. his personality was nothing short of smooth, like honey over ice cream melting on your tongue. you felt so incredibly drawn to him that your brain absolutely shut out any idea of it, giving yourself no hope that he would ever reciprocate the pure feelings of desire you felt towards him. after awhile, your convincing became reality and you began to question everything, desperate to detach yourself from his enigmatic ways. 

hey sweetheart, will be gone for most of the day. left some money for groceries and a little extra for whatever you want. don’t miss me too much

-H

you scoffed at the note pasted to your refrigerator, neon pink glaring at you in the morning sun trickling from the balcony window. he had been gone a lot lately, sometimes bringing home people at night, mostly crashing straight on the couch before he had even gotten a chance to change clothes. you acted like you didn’t miss him, miss his presence, the lingering touches that you swore were just him being an ass and making fun of you, but in reality, you missed the hell out of him. the domesticity that he showed when it was just you two vulnerable late at night, tired from a hard day of work, it made you realize that he wasn’t a god all the time after all.

that thought didn’t change your mind about his attainability, however. in fact, it only seemed to spur your ideals on more, convincing yourself that a man who could be so vulnerable and yet so strong was one who deserved more than what you could give. it would never be you and you were content with that fact, or so you thought.

your day was long and grueling, working patrols and small missions as a pro hero. you were likeable enough but when it came down to it, you didn’t care to be popular, didn’t care to make a ton of money or be interviewed by dozens of people a month. you just wanted to do your job and keep people safe and at the end of the day, that was what you accomplished. 

it was nearly midnight when you returned home, the elevator dinging closed behind you as you walked into the penthouse. the lights were still off, everything in place from this morning, which meant that Hawks had not arrived home yet despite him being gone for nearly the whole day. anger bubbled up underneath your skin. you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you were nothing more than roommates, but sometimes feeling so isolated and alone in this big space with no one to talk to or do anything with left you antsy and annoyed. in simple frustration and retaliation, you locked the balcony window, forcing him to come up the elevator like a dignified man, bringing his nightly fuck in through the lobby instead of sneaking them inside like he often did.

it was nearly six am before you were woken up to a loud thud, the door smacking against the wall. you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down before you tried to go back to bed, but before you got a chance, a knock sounded at your door.

“what?” you asked irately, not in the mood to entertain him and his antics.

“why’d you lock the balcony window?” he asked simply, arms crossed. 

as you sat up to answer, you noticed his calm demeanor not so calm anymore. his chest was flaring up and down, body wobbly, and he reeked of alcohol.

“so much for a calm night,” you muttered. “i locked the door because i didn’t want to hear you fucking any of your whores while i was trying to sleep.”

“oh baby, you know you like it, like the sounds i make, the words i say. all you have to do is admit it and i can be all yours.”

“you wish bird brain,” you spat back at him, done with the conversation as you shimmied yourself back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and promptly shutting your eyes, ignoring the feeling of his stare burning into your brain.

“i do wish. i wish it were you i was fucking. i’ve wished that since the day i met you, all excited and doe eyed, ready to take on the world and all of its challenges. you never let my fame get in the way, never treat me any differently. you’ve been by my side throughout it all and yet you won’t let me get too close to you. why is that? afraid i’ll break your heart little one?”

you sat back up again quickly only to realize that he had moved to the foot of your bed. he sat down, taking off his boots and shucking them on the floor only to crawl practically into your lap, snuggling into your thigh.

“i won’t break your heart. i’ll only hurt you if you want me to, which i know you do, at least a little bit. but i’d n-never hurt your heart. you’re too precious for that princess, so sweet to me, so so angelic. and yet i can hear your moans through the walls, practically feel you arching off your bed as you chased your high, desperate for a release, wishing it were me who was touching you instead of your own fingers. i can do that you know. all you need to do is say the magic word and i’m yours. no more fucking other people, just me and you. i’ll spoil you rotten, anything you could possibly want and it’s all yours. you’d never have to worry about a thing again, yeah? what do you say?”

your heart hitched into your throat at his babbling confession. surely he wasn’t serious, right? it must’ve been the alcohol talking. you knew that if you said yes he was just going to tease you and tell you that he was joking and never wanted to see you ever again. you were just sure of it… but, in the off case that he was being serious… you couldn’t mess this up.

“yeah, okay,” you replied, voice hitching in your throat as you agreed with him.

you waited a few seconds for the harsh sting of a reply but nothing came. you cast your eyes down to see Hawks passed out, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. sighing, you flopped back down onto the bed, heels of your palms pressed into your eye sockets, brain full of thoughts as you tried to sift through your feelings. eventually you just gave up and passed out against the cool sheets of your bed, too tired to deal with the emotional turmoil you were putting yourself through.

when you woke up the next morning, Hawks was no longer against your thigh but rather plastered to your side. you weren’t sure how you ended up being spooned by the lanky man but it wasn’t necessarily the first time you had cuddled. your brain began working against you almost immediately, convincing yourself that the previous night's events were nothing more than a drunken spur from your roommate and that he did not, in fact, want to be with you.

with those thoughts in mind, you began to wiggle your way out of his grasp, nearly making it out of bed before you felt a hand shoot out and grab you by the wrist. 

“where are you going beautiful? sleep with a man and then ditch him before he even gets a chance to wake up? how heartless of you.”

“oh shut up, you know damn well that we did not sleep together. in fact, you came in here at six in the morning just to simply annoy the hell out of me. now that’s what i call heartless.”

“we didn’t sleep together but we could’ve,” he teased, fingers rubbing gently up and down your arm as he attempted to coax you back into bed, but your mind worked on overdrive, simply not believing that he was interested in you at all. 

“why do you always like to make fun of me, huh? does it give you some sick satisfaction to dangle hope like that in front of my face only to snatch it away from me if i ever say yes?” you spat, getting sick and tired of his games.

“princess, i’m not lying to you, nor am i making fun of you. i would never offer something like this if i wasn’t serious. i want to take care of you in any way i can-emotionally, sexually, financially, anything you need, i want to give it to you. i was trying to drop you hints, give you the space to come to your own conclusions but it seems that i miscalculated how that pretty little brain of yours works. instead of believing that i was seriously flirting with you, it seems as if you thought that i was making fun of you instead. how funny that the mind works like that sometimes. i must admit i was a fool for not seeing it sooner, but now it makes so much sense.”

“what are you rambling on about?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion as you tried to make sense of the fact that he was not only dead serious about wanting to be with you but also psychoanalyzing your thoughts at the same time.

“how you would always get mad when i brought people home but never said anything to me, how you always scoffed at my sweet words, would never take money from me despite me leaving it very clearly for you, never getting too close to me despite living together for years. i’m honestly dumbfounded that i didn’t realize sooner. you’ve been in love with me for a long time too, huh? except, unlike me, you truly never thought you had a chance.”

“u-uh, yeah, i-i just, Keigo, what are you really trying to say to me?”

“sweetheart, be mine, wholly and fully in every way possible. let me take care of you like i’ve always wanted, always tried to do. this isn’t some joke or elaborate ruse, i’m not lying to you or trying to hurt you in any way. i really, truly want to be with you.”

you exhaled heavily, not realizing you had been holding your breath the whole time, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, not finding anything except sincerity and hope.

“okay,” you relented, nodding your head. “yeah, if you say you’re not lying to me, i’ll trust you. i just, i don’t know. i never realized that you actually liked me back. i never would’ve guessed it in a million years. never would’ve thought i would hear any words like that come out of your mouth let alone so sincerely.”

you looked down, twiddling your thumbs as you contemplated the situation once more, but before you could let your brain get the best of you, Hawks placed his slender fingers underneath your chin, lifting your face up so that you could peer at him. he leaned forward slowly, foreheads pressed together.

“is it okay if i kiss you?”

you nodded your head, squeaking out a quiet “yes” before surging forward to place your lips on his, desperate to feel him, desperate to quiet the negative voices in your head and surround yourself with him instead.

he matched your pace eagerly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward even more, his own desperation leaking through the kiss. he was so enamored with you, the way you smelt, your mussy hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the feeling of your soft lips against his own. it was almost too much to handle. he hadn’t been with anyone in awhile, preferring to wait it out and confront you when he had the courage to do so, and he felt himself getting more and more antsy as time went on. he wanted to respect you, treat you with the dignity and honor that you deserved, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was ruin you and mark you as his own.

“baby, you need to tell me if i go to far, yeah? i just want to make you feel good, never uncomfortable. let me take care of you like you deserve,” he panted, adjusting himself closer to you.

“i trust you Keigo. i’m yours.”

he groaned at the sound of you, of how pathetic and weak you were towards him, how you trusted to be vulnerable around him, trusted that he would take care of you. he had never wanted to ruin anything so badly in his life and he was going to do his best to make sure you knew you were his.

the kisses turned more sensual, tongues dipping in and around each other, exploring one another for what felt like the first time ever. for you, it had been awhile, telling yourself that you were too busy to be sexual with someone else when in actuality you had been craving a certain blonde all along. for him, this was something entirely new and special. he never got the chance to be truly intimate with anyone, let his guard down, want to please his partner more than himself, but you were different, special in the fact that you loved him for him and no other reason than that. 

“please Keigo, i need more,” you whined, fisting at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to your body. 

“anything for you princess.” 

his shirt came off first, a delicate process he mastered years ago. he reached for your own shirt, fingers playing at the hem as he once again asked permission. you replied by pulling it off yourself, exposing your breasts to him. he immediately latched onto your left nipple, hand coming up to pinch the right, gently coaxing you to lay back down on the bed as he followed, hands and mouth never leaving your body. he laved you with his tongue, leaving a trail of cool moisture in its wake, sucking and biting at every soft spot he could think of, wanting so hard to hear you moan. 

“that’s it baby, don’t be shy. i want to hear you moan, say my name.”

you responded with a groan as his hand came to rest on your clothed cunt, feeling the wetness through your shorts. he smirked at the realization that you did truly want him as bad as he wanted you and the thought had his cock straining in his pants. it wasn’t long before he had freed himself from his confines, watching the way your eyes drank up the sight of him through the filtered light. 

gently, you reached out your hand to paw at his cock, marveling in the way it twitched at the slightest touch. you were enamored by him, all of him. before you kneeled a greek god willing to worship you, a mere mortal. you didn’t know what you did to deserve this but you figured you’d spend the rest of your life thanking the heavens.

“don’t worry about me right now, yeah? let’s just focus on making you feel good,” he cooed, reaching down to gently tug at your shorts.

you lifted your hips up without question, allowing him to pull the fabric down your body, your underwear coming along with it. he greedily watched as your slick stringed against the fabric before snapping. he was amazed that he could make someone so wet just by kissing them and was more than curious to see how soaked he could get you by the end of the morning.

he slowly dropped himself down to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. kisses were placed to the soft flesh on your legs, pinching and nipping along the way, relishing in the squeals and moans you let out of your mouth. experimentally, he licked up your slit, watching how your breath hitched and your hands grasped the sheets below you, desperate to hold onto something. he licked again, this time using one of his hands to hold you down and the other to come and open you up. you responded immediately, back attempting to arch off the bed at the already intense situation.

he started up a steady pace, watching each little movement, breath, moan, grasp of the blanket to analyze what you liked best. he was enraptured with you, everything about you. you were so strong, fighting crime like it was nothing, doing anything you could to keep citizens safe and yet here you were, putty in his hands, baring your heart for him, trusting that he would take care of you.

the pressure inside of you slowly built up. it was like an intense heat you had never felt before, white hot and pulsing inside your abdomen. you clutched the sheets, your thighs, his hair, anything you could to purchase yourself to this earth as he brought you closer and closer to the promised land. finally, with one final lick, you came, crying out his name in a symphony of praises, singing to the high heavens.

he watched as you came done around his tongue, how your breath labored, eyes screwed shut, face flush and face twisted in pure pleasure. it was a magnificent sight to see, you so relaxed and carefree, enjoying every feeling that flooded over you.

when you had finally come down and your breathing began to even out, you opened your eyes to find Keigo still nestled between your thighs, head resting gently on you.

“how are you feeling love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“like i just left this world and came back,” you answered truthfully, laughing at his proud expression.

“are you okay? is there anything i can get for you?”

“no, Keigo, i think i’m okay,” you answered truthfully.

for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. your body was relaxed, your mind foggy from the pleasure and you had the man you loved staring up at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“good, i’m glad you’re okay because we’re not done here. lay back down baby bird, let me make you feel good.”

[svankmajerbaby]

my very long winded thoughts on episode two of chucky season 2

summary: better than the first episode but still leaves me cold when comparing it to season 1. funnier moments interesting developments and new characters dont fully compensate for the weird pacing and things being mostly setup.

the biggest issue for me so far is definitely that the first season was such a solid 8, and this one is kind of like a weak 6

i thought we would have more of the new characters, at least to establish them better and have a feel of their personalities. but sister ruth (freddie lounds!!!!!!!) made me miss ms fairchild big time, and the detective looking for nica and his interactions with tiffany made me somehow miss gladys from season 1 (the funny "high as a kite" lady, the woman who chucky gave the razor apple to on halloween night and who later was the realtor who sold tiffany the old ray house). i think even the tied-up guy back at the hotel had more of an attitude than these new faces. i dunno if thats a casting thing or a writing thing tbh. the previous episode had ended with an interesting note regarding that boy trevor, but he was absolutely nothing in his only scene here. lexy keeps saying hes evil hes awful but we dont get anything specific (”life a living hell” this and that, i need details), so it feels even more like just talking and no real outcome

nadine is a sweetheart though. i really like her and how she is so drastically different to the other three main kids, even though putting a kid in a catholic boarding school for kleptomania (what a letdown of a backstory tbh) when theres others who were sent there for blowing up a kid with a homemade bomb feels.... a bit weird. but whatever, what do i know. i just hope she gets something to do besides hang around the main three, bc otherwise the feeling that she will only be around to be killed by chucky for some quick emotional impact is not going to go away.

i!! actually loved!!!! that one scene in class with the teacher talking about hieronymus bosch, along with that projection it gave me big hannibal in florence vibes and i loved seeing jake talking about art, even if it was just a quick thing. im really curious about the religious aspect of the season, beyond the aesthetics, which so far seem to be the only way it really impacts the story. i think it was a missed opportunity to not make any of the three kids catholic/religious, especially either jake or devon (not even super religious, just a mention of being baptized or having been raised in a christian household), since that would intersect very well with issues of guilt which feels like its going to be a running theme for jake in particular. having him feel guilty for everything that happened so far (which makes perfect sense and his two little breakdowns were very well done i think) and not really have anything to do with the religious environment feels like such a waste.... especially with how interesting it could be to acknowledge fully how devon sawa is once again portraying a sort of paternal authority figure, continuing with his authority role as logan and lucas. maybe its just too subtle for my thick skull, maybe its something they will build towards as the season goes on, who knows

i really really really hope devon gets more to do in the rest of the season. jake has his guilt, lexy has her drug addiction, and devon... he feels so lightweight compared to the other two. i love him so much, hes a sweetheart (and i think he would accomplish what i think?? nadines role is meant to fulfill) but having him just be the emotional rock for jake in this season is not enough, nor is it to keep the previous seasons tug of war with jake regarding their relationship and whether theyre good for one another. i was all episode hoping hed come up with some interesting info on the school and with charles lee rays childhood in it or something..... devon is a smart one, he made the important research and came up with the trap in season 1, and i wish the series remembered that, like it remembered that jake is an artist at heart

really dumb thought but im kinda glad that in the scene with nica and chucky talking inside her head we didnt get like a gollum/smeagol, david-hasselhoff-as-jekyll-and-hyde-the-musical thing (not that fiona dourif wouldnt be able to pull it off); i liked that it showed them as two separate entities even in her own body. probably not the intention but i always like to see nica in some way in control of herself and it makes absolute sense that in that discussion with him she would conceptualize him as a being apart from her. i do think we will eventually get a pretty hammy “shifting” scene and it will be probably a little bit cringe even if its fiona’s wonderful acting

i liked seeing nica trying to manipulate tiffany to leave her alone with her chiding her for wasting money, it was believable but also just clumsy enough of an effort to show shes really getting desperate and that tiffany is still smart enough to realize when shes trying to get her to do something. tiffany as a whole has been feeling just a little too.... dumb? in some way? especially with how little care she put into even properly lying to that detective. like i know its meant to be funny.... but i dont want the comedy to come from tiffany being clueless or dumb. shes ditzy and a bit naive but never dumb

and also i really didnt like the opening credits with the portraits. what the heck was that. i know its a detail and im petty but that was so lazy why didnt we get like crucifixes or sth else, even if it didn’t fit super well it made more sense than those silly production images of the doll and of fiona floating around...........

most of all i feel like stuff IS happening in each episode (here theres the interesting thing with the doll doing recon and taking those pictures?? for some reason???? and now chucky and nica working together to break free and get revenge) but its nowhere as tightly structured and well built up to as in the first season. im thinking of how every scene added a little more to the characters and the environment and the dynamics and how it juggled a whole bunch of plotlines masterfully, while here i think we might have. three. if we count devon and jake, and lexy and nadine as separates. and theres still this feeling of waiting for something else to happen, of building up to something, instead of a constant succession of impactful events. i hoped first episode was all setup even if it wasnt super well conveyed, and this episode too felt most of all like catching up and setting up possible threads. it got better after the halfway point but it still feels like a slow climb. thinking it will eventually get better isnt much of a comfort to me when i can easily remember how much better season one was

[ellana-ravenwood]

Good Night Rituals - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : You have a special little way to tuck your children in, to tell them “Goodnight” and send them off to have sweet dreams, and they absolutely love it. It makes, however, your Bruce a little jealous, at times...

When I was a kid, my mom used to sing to my brother and I a song every night, after our bed time story, and then she’d tell us she loved her, we’d in turn be like “I love you from here to the Moon !” and it’d go for a good half an hour of arguing over who loved the other one most...It inspired this mini-fic. Something very short, again to make you wait for longer more elaborate stuffs. Sorry i’m being slow, a lot of things (good things) is happening and I have very little time. I hope you will like this little thing :) : 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Dick

Dick is the one that invented this little “night ritual”. 

He told you this was the perfect name for it, because it sounded like you were witches up to no good, and he “loved that for you two”. 

Of course, it was fairly obvious he’d be the instigator of it all, as he was the oldest child. Your first little kiddo. Oh, but you helped too. 

The good ol’ days, during which you had absolutely NO idea how to raise a child. When you and Bruce, frankly, hadn’t been adults for THAT long, considering. 

And yet, and you were sure it was entirely thanks to little Dickie, everything came to you naturally. Everything felt right. Even if sometimes, you were a little clumsy. 

Both you and Bruce tried so hard though. To make Dick feel home. And like you were his parents. You never tried to replace his mom and dad. But in Dick’s own words, you just slowly became his chance at having parents again. 

Becoming Dick’s mom, and Dick’s dad, didn’t mean he forgot the ones he lost. It just meant he loved you as much as he loved them. And though the loss would forever hurt, he did know both John and Mary Grayson would’ve want him to be happy. 

And at Wayne Manor ? With you and Bruce ? He became happy. There was a few rough and dark first days, but things slowly build up. 

You became a family. You were his parents, now. And he knew, that his mom and dad wouldn’t be mad at him if he “moved on”, and allowed himself to love again. 

Bruce often said that he adopted Dick because he didn’t want the boy to become him. And in that simple fact, in that simple way little Dick Grayson understood he still had a chance at being happy, at having a family...He was already extremely different from his “new” dad. 

At least, from when he was at his age. 

Mission accomplished. 

In any case, this parent thing that was thrown your way, became one of the most important thing you’ve ever done in your life. 

And again, although there were some clumsy moments, and not everything was always great (Dick had some mighty fit of rage at times, Bruce could be a jerk, and hell sometimes you needed to get away from them as well because you could be such a dick...Everyone has their moments where they’re not on their best behavior, it’s called life), you were a mom, now. 

And being a mom, in your mind, meant tucking your kid in when it was time for bedtime. 

Only, it was easier said than done. 

Dick was a difficult child to put in bed. He’d always find ways to not sleep, and make you stay longer with him. Eventually, you made a “deal”. 

And that’s how the “night ritual” was born. 

You see, before this little ritual. This “deal” as you called it at first, before Dick found the name. It took you hours, to put him to bed. 

Bruce was often out in the city early (although he always made sure to be here for a good night kiss and a “love you, champ. See you tomorrow, sleep well”) and Alfred would monitor the computer, at those times. 

Later, when Dick grew up, you’d often be behind that monitor. But if a kid had to be put to bed ? You gladly took it upon yourself to do it. 

For you, especially in those early motherhood days, it was important to be there for your child. For him to feel like he wasn’t an afterthought, and that “the butler” (although everyone knew Alfred was more than that) wasn’t here to take him off of your hands. 

So bedtime, was your task. The task you gave yourself. 

And oh boy, with Dick ? It quickly turned into a hassle. 

“I’m thirsty...Wait, I’m afraid to stay alone in the room, piggyback ride to the kitchen ?” 

“I can’t sleep, it’s a full Moon.” 

“Hey, I didn’t clean up my room today ! We can’t leave all my toys laying around like that, can we ?” 

It was always “one last story” or “I have to pee” or “I forgot to brush my teeth !”. 

And at the time, you just didn’t have the heart to scold him and tell him it was enough, that it was time for bed. Oh well, who were you kidding. Even now, you didn’t scold your kids if they took their sweet time to get to bed. 

You just didn’t quite understood the point in getting  mad at them just because they didn’t go to bed right away. Dick eventually fell asleep, and not even that late. And if he was stalling for too long, he would only get mad at himself the next day because he’d be exhausted, and then that night he’d go to bed earlier. 

So no. You didn’t get mad. It sounded ridiculous, to yell at kids for this. However, you were a mom now. And you knew your kid couldn’t just do whatever he wanted, even if he was as sweet as Dick. 

Dick was nice almost all the time. He listened, did his chores, worked in school...So what if you gave him a little freedom sometimes ?

Yes. Sometimes. It was fine sometimes. 

But not all the time, like it had become. And not for bedtime. Seeing your son, in the morning, with big bags under his eyes, made you think of your husband, and oh you didn’t want this little 8 years old to be as tired as your Broosh could be. 

Of course, Dick was in bed WAY BEFORE Bruce came to bed. But for a small child like him, falling asleep at 10 or 11 pm was already too late. 

And so, one day you had enough. And you decided to make a deal with him. There had to be things required for him to go to bed (like a story, for example), but when you said : “it’s time for bed now”, he HAD to listen. The threat was that you’d just kiss him goodnight and leave. 

At first, Dick didn’t believe you. You couldn’t possibly have the heart to not tell him a story, and leave him alone so soon ! But you had to give him a lesson. 

And so, came the first unpleasant act you did as a parent. Because being nice and lenient was one thing, but you still were his mom. Not his friend. And there had to be certain rules, especially for such a young child. 

Rules, that he had to understand, or it was meaningless. Now, of course, you weren’t as harsh as your husband (you’d get mad at him enough, when he trained Dick and was a little too much). But still. You couldn’t let him decide of everything. You really REALLY didn’t want him to become a brat who thought he could just have anything whenever he wanted. 

Dick was a great kid, your worst fear at the time was that he’d turn into a phony who thought of himself as superior just because he was from a famous and rich family, and allowed to do whatever he wanted. 

And so, the “night ritual” began. On a common accord (because Dick was such a good kid, but also because that time you just kissed him, tucked him in and left really left a mark on him and he hated that so much !). 

You realized the reason he couldn’t get to sleep right away was because he was always wayyyy too excited, but also...because he didn’t want you to leave so soon. 

He dreaded the moment you’d leave, and he would be alone in his room. 

So you put in place a system, that would gradually make him sleepy. And...

It worked. 

First, you’d get dessert in bed. Usually fresh milk and a cookie. Something light, just to put him a little bit to sleep (Dick always got sleeping after he ate something, for some reasons). And you’d talk about your day, about how you felt. You’d lay it all out, so that your boy wouldn’t get to bed with any negative feelings. Talking, always helped. 

Then you’d read him a bedtime story. Better yet, you’d invent a bedtime story just for him (this is how your most famous book saga, “Richard and the Space pirates” came to be). If you felt benevolent that night, you’d even tell him two stories. 

One would usually do the trick, however.

Then you’d sing him a few lullabies, to lull him softly to sleep. 

And as he’d fall asleep, you’d whisper : 

“I love you so much.”

And he’d answer, outraged but too weak to really argue. A few last words before falling into a deep slumber : 

“I love you more !”

And bam. He’d be passed out. Your soft voice in his ears, as you told him a story, sang to him, and told him he was loved...It was what he needed. 

He was a rather young child too, who had a busy life. School, training, homework...So of course, with a little coaxing, he’d fall asleep fast. 

But he had to know you were there. Had to know he had those moments with you, and wouldn’t be alone before he fell asleep.

See, you understood that all his stalling before the “night ritual” was put in place, was because he was trying to tire himself out before you left. He was trying to keep you there as long as possible, just so he would fall asleep fast once you were gone. 

“I love you most.” 

You’d tell him, as he was already sleeping sweetly, clinging to his comforter as you slowly caressed his hair, laid a last kiss on his forehead, and left the room. Making sure before, that his little light was on, in case he woke up at night. 

Dick hated the dark. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you more !”

“I love you most.” 

Night ritual. 

Existing because your oldest kiddo, Dick, needed some “guidance” to fall asleep. But most importantly, because he needed to know you’d be there too, until he fell into his dreams. 

You’d indulge him. Meeting him half-way between “doing everything he wants you to do” and “being way too strict”. There were rules, to bedtime. 

A “night ritual”. 

But the rules were lax. Could be bend. And existed only so he would be able to sleep relatively early. 

For years and years, you’d do that little nightly ritual with him. It stopped when he was around 14, even if he still had a kiss goodnight and got tucked in. Things really stopped overall when he left for the Titans, shortly after turning 16, after that awful fight with his father. 

Oh and to be honest, something he’d never tell anyone...Even now, as a grown ass adult, he’d sometimes call you at night just so you could sing him a song, as your voice was still the thing that’d put him peacefully at sleep even to this day. But the real “night ritual” stopped. Your little boy grew up.

Which made you so sad...But then Jason came in. And soothed the pain. 

Jason

Jason ressembled Dick in that he really wanted you to stay for the longest possible. But, unlike Dick who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind and who could be a bit of a brat sometimes, Jason wouldn’t say anything. 

Dick definitely used his little charms and smiles to make you and Bruce crack, and give in...the little bugger even taught his younger siblings everything about how to manipulate you two into saying “yes”, to your greatest dismay...

Oh but, was one more scoop of ice cream really that bad ? After all, your children were nice most of the time, it was fine to be a little lenient sometimes, and though Bruce loved to think of himself as a strict parent, nobody was fooled, you were both pretty cool and lax...Which didn’t mean your children were misbehaving brats, although they had their moments, like everyone. 

Anyway, Dick used to make it clear he was demanding for you to stay longer with him when bedtime was coming. 

But Jason was a little shyer. He spend his entire life until then thinking he was bothering the people around him, that he was a burden, so he really didn’t want his new family to think that of him. 

But you could see it in his eyes. You could. When he wanted for you to tell one more story, or to sing him one more lullaby. And although you were constantly teased by your husband about how easy those kids played you (as if he was one to talk)...you couldn’t resist. 

You were always left rather sad and depressed, if you put one of your kids to bed and they looked visibly upset. So you’d stay longer. Anything for them to go to bed feeling good. 

About life. About themselves. About everything, really. 

A child shouldn’t have his sleep burdened by any worries.

Of course you knew you couldn’t be forever there for them, they’d eventually grow up and you wouldn’t really need to “tuck them in” anymore (at the time, you had  no idea that even well in their twenties, if they came to sleep at the Manor, even as they already moved out, they’d ask you for a good night kiss...The magic of being consistent in your love for them, really). 

You knew that eventually, they’d grow up too much and wouldn’t need you as much. That it’d be harder, too, to cheer your little ones up. Growing up unfortunately meant your worries grew with you too, and were harder and harder to forget. Or to be distracted from. 

You knew one day would come, in which little Jason would not be soothed anymore, by you telling him a bed time story. 

So maybe, you cracked a little too often, especially with him. 

You knew Dick had a good childhood, before you adopted him. But Jason ? He was bruised and abused, and thrown away like a dirty socks too often. Nobody ever wanted him, anywhere he went. 

Which was why, he didn’t dare to ask for a second story when you finished the first one. 

See, Dick would just jump up in his bed, do a backflip and dramatically say : “Pleaaaase fair lady, another story for the poor squire boy !”. Which would make you smile, and tell him one more. 

But Jason ? He didn’t say anything. And held all his feelings of sadness and disappointment inside. 

He wanted, more often than not, a second story so bad. But he didn’t want to bother you. He didn’t want you to realize he was actually a burden, and to throw him away, just like everyone else did. 

Jason always got to have a second story. Of course, any of your kids would if they asked. But Jason never dared to ask. So you’d just give it to him naturally. 

He always started to fall asleep half-way through the second story, which you’d keep on hold to then sing to him. 

Your songs would make him slowly drift to sleep, a genuine smile on his face. 

Oh. Jason. Always such a sweet boy, afraid to bother others, yet as contradictory as it sounded boisterous and full of life. 

Your little Jason. When Dick left for the Titans, you hadn’t realized how much you missed having a little one home. And then. 

Then there was Jason. 

When he died, you thought your “motherhood” died with him. Dick was over eighteen by then, and even if Jason’s death made him come back to the Manor, there was no “night ritual” anymore. You didn’t have the heart for it anyway...

You still had Dick, but losing your young son like that, knowing how he died, made you feel like you would never recover. You were in such a bad shape, that you couldn’t even help Bruce when he also fell into a dark well. When he turned back to being overly violent as Batman, practices he stopped when Dick left and opened his eyes. When Dick questioned him. 

You still had Dick, but it felt like part of what you were as a mother, died with Jason. How could you do a “night ritual” properly now, with the memories of your son’s sweet smile, him telling you this was his favorite part of his day ? With the memories of...

You moved from the East wing to the West wing, after Jason’s death. None of you could walk past his empty room anymore. 

Dick came back. And it was his turn, to help you fall asleep. More than one night, he spend trying to comfort you as you couldn’t stop the tears from running down. He never left you alone. 

Bruce couldn’t handle any of it, and he buried himself under his work as Batman. It would take him some time, before he realized that you had to be there for each others...

When Jason died, it felt like it was the end of everything nice about motherhood. Every night, you fell asleep with your head in your oldest son’s laps, seeing in his eyes the grief and pain of it all.

And you felt guilty. More depressed and sadder. You always hated seeing your children off to bed looking upset...

But it was hard to resist. Everything felt so far away. And Bruce wasn’t there. This was one of the darker moment, in your family life...

Dick felt helpless. He hadn’t been able to save his little brother. Now he couldn’t even help his parents. It felt like the entire family was breaking...

And then. Then Tim came in. 

Tim

Tim’s parents never tucked him in, too busy with their high society lives. 

So when he started to live with you and Bruce, after he lost both of them, he didn’t really expect you to...

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?” 

You asked him on his first night being officially adopted. 

Oh but this was rather long after you started to see him as your own son. Tim already stayed over the Manor many times (without his parents ever even calling to know where he was). And he’d been Robin for a few months, before his parents passed away and he was officially adopted into the Wayne family (A/N : no need to tell me that canonically, Tim got adopted quite a long time after his parents died and he was “just” a ward like Dick was, for a while ;). No need either to tell me he was “older” than the age I give him there, which is around 10/11...Firstly because it varies according to canons, like sometimes he’s young, sometimes he’s fifteen, but also because this is a fanfic and my canon ages for the boys are taken from the canon I prefer XD which are not the ones in which he had a certain “Happy 15th birthday” pizza. Anyway what I mean is, that I’m not entirely accurate here for sure, but eh, it’s a FANfic, let’s allow ourself a little freedom...there’s no official canon on his age or how old he was when adopted anyway, it varies wildly from era to era hehe). 

Both you and Bruce kept your distance from him, at first. In more way than others, he painfully reminded you of the son you lost. And it felt wrong, to replace him so...

Replace him ? 

Slowly, both of you were reminded of that conversation you had with Dick, once. When he was little, and asking if his parents would be mad if he called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. 

That conversation, during which all of you talked about how you didn’t replace John and Mary, you just became another family for him. His new parents. 

Didn’t mean he would ever forget about the ones who were ripped away from him. Just that he...

He allowed himself to love again. 

And you did, too, when you finally accepted Tim in your life. 

That boy had a way, anyway, to crawl inside your heart and settle comfortable there...He was just such a bright one, in more than one way. Sure, he was extremely intelligent, but he also just...Shone. A new sun in your life. 

Not one that would replace any other Sun. Just. A new one. That you were allowed to love, too. 

“Do you want a bedtime story, maybe ?” 

Now, he was officially your son. And this was the first night he’d spend in the Manor being yours. Before, you never dared to tuck him in, by fear of getting too attached just for him to be ripped away from you...And he almost did. 

His father, almost took him away, before his ultimate demise... But that was another story. 

Tonight, was the first night as your son. And he was still so small, just ten little years. The age Jason was too, when the official adoption papers were signed...

You chased away the painful memories, as little Timmy looked at you, surprised. But you could see a hint of interest in his eyes. 

“A bedtime story ?” 

“Yes, if you want to of course. You don’t have to-”

“I’d love a bedtime story !” 

He was in such a hurry to tell you this, that it made you smile. And you could feel it in your bones. That boy never had anyone asking him if he wanted to be told a story, before sleep. 

It was obvious in his excitement, and it was obvious in his hopeful eyes. Eyes that were asking : “...Do I really mean something to you ? Enough that you’d spend time reading to me ?”. 

It broke your heart. Poor little one. Even though he had parents, and came from a rich family, he was never truly cared for. It was obvious in everything he did. 

Often, he’d try to do stuffs on his own, and would be surprised if you, Alfred or Bruce would ask if he needed help... 

Ah. Well tonight. Tonight called for one of your made up stories for sure. A mere random storybook wouldn’t do. No. You had to tailor one for him. Just for him. So he would finally know how special he is. 

“Ok, well then.”  

You settled next to him in his bed, as he sat up, the excitement pouring out of his very being. Alfred chose that time, to drop some milk and cookies, as he informed you he would be down in the Batcave to help Bruce. 

Impeccable timing. As usual. 

You thanked him, and started your story, as Tim looked at you with wide eyes, eating his cookie absentmindedly, quickly realizing you were telling a story about him ! : 

“Once upon a time, there was a little boy. His name was Timothy, and he didn’t know it yet but one day...He’d save the entire Kingdom of Waynalia. How, you might ask ? Well it was simple. You see, young Timothy had a talent to cure people’s heart. And the King and Queen of Waynalia, who were known to be cruel and vile, only were so because they’ve had broken hearts for far too long...” 

Tim fell asleep at the end of the story. And just like his brothers, quickly took to this “night ritual”. After all, he was still just a child. And this entire “milk/cookie/ story/lullabies/kiss goodnight” was great. 

Cassandra

Cassandra was fifteen, when she started to live with you at Wayne Manor. Too old, you thought, for the “night ritual”

Dick himself stopped demanding it around aged fourteen (after a certain Wally West mocked him when he heard of it), and even that was rather old when you thought of it. One of the main reason he slowly detached himself from it (apart from being mocked), was being Robin full time now, and going most nights out, so he didn’t really have the energy anymore for the ritual. It wasn’t needed. Which sort of broke your heart. 

Jason died before he ever got the “chance” to ask you to stop....

But this was not something you wanted to think about. Oh no. 

In any case, Cass was fifteen, and you thought, too old to want some bedtime stories by her mom, or any sort of snuggles. 

That was until...

A nightmare. 

You heard her, it felt even in your sleep. Something woke you, and then she started to scream. Bruce wasn’t home yet, and it was her night off (you forced all of them to have one, at least once a week). 

That night, you had marathoned your favorite TV show with her, and went to bed your separate ways. You did kiss her goodnight, and told her you loved her (you always told them at least once a day, because you learned that in your line of work...you never knew what could happen...Jason’s smiling cheeky face came to your mind, did you tell him often enough that he-no. Not tonight.). 

And then, late, it was pitch black out, you heard her scream. 

Your mother instinct made you run to her. Quickly, you understood she had yet another bad dream about her father coming to get her, and forcing her to be a weapon again. It happened so often... 

You shook her up, and she almost knocked you down as she was slowly regaining consciousness and wondering what the hell was happening and where she was. You know, those few seconds before you’re fully awake, when you’re not even sure you’re even someone anymore ? The time you need to remember oh right, I’m human, and I was in my bed. This is my bedroom. Right. 

To sooth her, you started to slowly sing to her. To hold her while you rocked gently back and forth, and sung. 

She didn’t talk, as you dried her tears. As you reminded that this was all fine, she was home, and David Cain would never hurt her again. 

Cass calmed down, and fell back asleep. You held her most of the night, waiting for Bruce to come back. You just didn’t feel like going back alone in your bed, after such screams

The next night off she had, when it was time to part at the top of the stairs after yet another TV show marathon, when you’d go to your room and her to hers...

She stopped. And held onto your sleeve. 

“Cass, honey, what is it ?”  

There was a few seconds of silence, before she said : 

“Do it again ?” 

And you understood instantly. 

See, the other nights, the ones she didn’t have off, Cass would come home exhausted after a night of vigilanting. But when she had her night off, when she wasn’t “working”...Sleep was hard to come. 

You knew all too well what she felt. Your Broosh was the same, and already poured his feelings to you about it more than once. 

Now, Cassandra wasn’t much of a talker (your husband either, really, but then it was different with you)but you could see it in her eyes. 

“Sing ?” 

She nodded. And so you went to tuck her in. 

You thought she was “too old”. You thought she wouldn’t like it. You thought, as she was slowly discovering her own independence after being treated as a weapon and not choosing anything in her life, that she’d want to be alone in moments like this. 

And oh. Oh you thought wrong. 

That night, you sang to her until she fell asleep. And slowly but surely, the “night ritual” put himself into place. 

Over the years, it didn’t change much. Because it was such a successful formula. Milk and cookies was talking about their day, getting their feelings out. A story by you. A soothing lullabies. Snuggles and kisses. 

Winning formula. 

Why change it ? Your children were all wildly different, but the one thing that linked them all, was how much they loved you and your antics. 

Each of them had “mom time”, where they’d spend the day just with you (just like your Broosh and you had date nights and such). You always took time to spend individual time with all of them, and during those times the activities would be very different from one kid to another. 

But those “night rituals” ? They didn’t need to change. Because they were perfect the way they were. Exactly what they all needed. Pure love, in many ways. And the knowledge they’d never be alone again. 

Love and loneliness. 

Two things your youngest son, Damian, struggled with for years. 

Damian

“I love you, little one.” 

The first time, Damian didn’t respond. He just nodded, and turned around in his bed, back facing you. 

He couldn’t face you, or you’d see the “stupid” smile plastering his face at the mere thought he was loved, and had a real mom...But that, you didn’t know.

You didn’t really take it personally, you happened to know another “emotionally stunted” Wayne, so you were used to it. It took a while, for Bruce to finally admit his feelings for you. Even if they were obvious, and written all over his face (which is why Damian used the “back facing you” trick). 

You knew it’d take time. So for now, you’d settle with a simple kiss, and reminding him he was cherished. 

And then one day... 

“Why do you not read me bed time stories ? Or make one up, with me as the hero ?” 

“Beg you pardon ?” 

You were diligently tucking him in, as he never told you off when you did it, when he asked this, taking you by surprise. What he said didn’t quite register, until he added : 

“Grayson says that when he was little, you’d tell him a story. Made him the hero of it. And then you’d sing. He said there were cookies, too. Why do you not do that with me ?” 

Oh. Oh. Oooooooooh. 

You got it now. But you’re no less surprised. 

“I thought...You had no interest in those ?” 

Damian nodded slowly, and said : 

“I know why you would think this...Mom.”

Mom. That...He hadn’t call you that very often, so far...

“But when you come to tuck me in, I never have nightmares. I sleep soundly, and I dream of-Soft things. Like unicorns and cats.” 

This makes you smile. Oh. Oh if only people could see the Damian right in front of you, and not the Damian he liked to pretend he was. 

Sweet, sweet boy. 

“I know why you think I don’t want a story, and snuggles, and all the thing Grayson gushed about for hours. But I...Do. I like when you come to tell me goodnight, and I wouldn’t mind if it lasted longer ?” 

He was so unsure. Very unlike his cocky usual self. 

This, was the real Damian. 

The one who really wants to connect with others, who wants to be good, but he’s just not really sure on how to proceed. So he pretends he doesn’t care. 

But he does. He cares a lot. 

He’s very much like your Broosh, in that regard. Like father like son, eh ? Both of them love to hide emotions from their faces, and pretend everything is ok, even when they’re breaking inside. 

Silly boys. 

You managed to reach Bruce. You were sure you could reach your son...

And it had already started. You could see it. You smile, and leave his room to get cookies and milk. 

And oh damn it, you should’ve told him you were doing that ! Because when you came back, he was laying in his bed and looked absolutely crestfallen ! There was even small tears in his eyes, oh no ! 

You quickly understood that he thought you were refusing to do the famous “night ritual” with him. That you just went to bed too, and weren’t going to tell him a story. 

His face brightens, truly brightens, reminding you of when the sun just comes out from behind high mountains. He sees the cookies and milk, and oh. Oh he looks so excited. 

You dried his tears with the back of your hand, and smiled fondly at him. 

It makes everything worth it. All your effort to connect with him, worth the work and heartache it brought. 

You knew. You knew you’d eventually make it. And it’s that evening, when he asked for “the night ritual”, that you truly realized it. 

First, cookies and milk, and a little talk about his day. His feelings, too. 

Then the story, one you made up with him as the hero. He seemed to love that, especially to be a good hero, and not a villain. Cute, and heartbreaking at the same time. 

Then come the lullabies. 

And finally, the soft drift to sleep, and a last feel of warmth as you kiss his forehead and leave him to a deep slumber. 

Damian has never felt so peaceful in his life before. 

Duke

You didn’t really dare, at first, going to tell him good night. 

Unlike your other children, Duke arrived in the family being a sixteen years old boy. Way pass needing someone to tuck him in. And you didn’t want to overstep your bound, you already knew how difficult things were for him. How hard it was to adapt to it all. 

It was quite the same than with Cass. But even more complicated. 

Cass’ childhood was inexistent, really. Destroyed before she could enjoy it. So sometimes, when with you or Bruce, she’d let go, and act like a child, even though she was older. It was fine. She never had a childhood, she could make up for it now. And so what if she liked hot cocoas and cuddles ? Nobody would hold it against her. 

In fact, most adults would probably LOVE to be taken care of by their mom again.

But Duke, was different. He had a happy childhood, parents who were loving and caring...His mom most likely told him stories, and sung him lullabies. 

And he was sixteen. And in the middle of an identity crisis, as his powers just barely manifested. 

So you didn’t go to tuck him in. Even if you really wanted to. 

You wanted to give Cass freedom, let her explore herself, as she always lived following someone else’s orders and view of life. 

But Duke ? Duke was an entirely different case from Cass. And you could see him, at times, feeling lost and sad. 

You always hated having your kids go to bed upset. But what could you do ? 

He was certainly not gonna let you...Or, was he ? 

After all, you never asked. 

“Do you...Want a bedtime story ?” 

He stares at you, visibly confused and thinking you’re a little crazy. And you realize yes, this question is ridiculous. The boy was sixteen ! 

“Nevermind, sorry that was stupid. I was just thinking...Well I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry. Night buddy.” 

“Wait !” 

Uh ? There was a sort of little panic, in his voice. As if he was afraid you were leaving so soon. You turned around, and waited for him to speak again. 

“Maybe not a...bedtime story but...Maybe, maybe we could talk ? For a little bit ? My...My mom and I used to talk every night, it helped me sleep.” 

You felt a lot of things at the same time. 

Touched he wanted to do with you what he used to do with his mom. 

Reassured to realize your guts were right, and that his mom did tuck him in sweetly every night. 

And sad that it took him so long to ask you for this. 

“Of course Duke, of course.” 

Duke, was older than any of your other children, when he came into your life. But it didn’t mean...

It didn’t mean he didn’t need you. Or your motherly side. 

He never quite had the full “night ritual” experience, as some aspect of it were definitely too childish. But he had the cookies and milk. And the talk. And the feel that you would always be there for him. 

Always. 

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

The end ? 

No. 

Bruce 

Bruce tossed and tossed in his bed, sleep evading him. 

There used to be a time, every nights were like that. Unable to fall asleep, and when he did, his slumber was plagued with the most terrible nightmares. 

Maybe that’s why, more than anything else, he decided to use his nights to be a vigilante ? Of course, the cover of nights helped in many ways, doing his Batman work in broad daylight would be more difficult (even if he did do some work during the day). Especially in regards of his “Brucie Wayne” persona, his cover up, pretending he definitely can’t be Batman. 

Ever since his parents died, Bruce had trouble falling asleep. That’s probably why it was so easy for him to train himself to sleep barely a few hours a night, and stay in shape even as he often ran on very little resting time. 

He lived like that for so many years...

And then. Then you appeared in his life. 

And every nights in your arms were peaceful, he was taken by a deep sleep that could happen only with you. He slept so soundly, when you were there, that often when you had to wake up before him, you had to call Alfred so he’d help you untangle yourself from his grasp (I wrote a story about that haha : How to remove a Wayne safely).

You forced him to take at least one night off, and he was so sure he wouldn’t be able to rest on those nights...yet he always fell asleep like a baby, around 11 pm max, often falling asleep in front of whatever movie you were watching, just the two of you. 

You had that power. To allow him to sleep well, and not have such awful nightmares.

So when you weren’t with him, he couldn’t find sleep. 

He would toss, again and again, and whenever he’d almost fall asleep, his hand would unconsciously look for you in bed and the fact you were absent would make him be wide awake again. 

Yes. He just couldn’t sleep, when you weren’t there. 

Which is why...Which is why he was a little grumpy, when you would take a long time telling your children good night. It was a sort of jealousy he wasn’t very proud of. 

Fighting other men to get your attention ? Any day. Fighting his own children...Felt a little shameful. Not like he could control this feelings, there was time, he was a little selfish. And you two had such few times to yourself, with the life you lead, that any opportunity was taken gladly.

He’d always try to be there for the story time, and for a kiss and some “Love you, kiddo” before leaving either for the cave, or to take an early night in.

Early night ins. Rare occasion. 

Like tonight. His one night off this week. 

He trusted his cousin, Batwoman, to take care of the city, and his oldest sons, Dick and Jason, who were now old enough to go out there on their own, too...Well, he did still hid trackers in them, and made sure to ask Kate to keep an eye on them, but they were adults. 

Capable of taking care of themselves, and go out there to keep Gotham safe, and take care of their younger siblings.

They were still absolutely forbidden to go out there alone. And no one wanted to argue much with your husband about safety, he had already made punchlines for those occurrences and it was impossible to win against him. 

Cass, Tim, Damian and Duke weren’t allowed yet to fly solo like their older brothers. They were only allowed to go out there while Bruce wasn’t IF they were with Kate, Dick, or Jason. 

Bruce particularly liked when they were with Jason because although many would think he was the most reckless one, because of his “bad boy” reputation but...When it came to his siblings’ safety, he did NOT joke around. 

Dick encouraged them to become their own person, and to take initiative (he trusted them to know what they could and could not do, and he was right). But Jason ? Jason took after you, and your “mama hen” personality, for sure. 

Actually, Bruce often sneakily stuck one of his younger kid with Jason, so his reckless son would be more careful. Neither you nor your husband wanted to ever lose him again...So what if you had to resort to dirty tactics and ask him to look after a younger siblings for him to be less incautious ?

In any case, it had been a long time deal by then, that Bruce HAD to take at least one night off. All of them had; They each had one night a week. Conveniently, there were seven of them. 

On those nights, you and Bruce would be together every single second of it, relishing in a little alone time, and in spending an entire night together for once, and not just a few hours there and there. 

But tonight, Damian was sick, and couldn’t go out either. Which was why you weren’t in bed with Bruce, right now. You were tucking your sick son in, and it already took quite a while on normal days but as he was feeling under the weather ??

Bruce knew you. He knew you would stay with him until he fell asleep. And he knew his son, too. He knew he would try to stay awake as long as possible just to be with you. 

Which meant...Your husband being alone, right now, and unable to sleep. Ugh. He should’ve just gone out as Batman tonight, and take a break another day. ...As if you or Alfred would’ve let him. You knew that “taking a break another day”, with him, meant never. 

Bruce tossed a few more times, and resolved that he couldn’t sleep up until you’d come. So he sat up, and thought he might as well take a walk around the Manor. It always calmed him down, as a child... 

That’s when you decided to come in.

“Going somewhere ?” 

You ask him, suspicious. He knows you think he was about to leave for the Batcave. And he doesn’t correct you. It’s better you think that, you already knew way too much how to push all his buttons down, he’d rather you not know that he was in fact about to just walk around the Manor and not go to the bat cave because he promise you to take the night off... 

Oh. Oh if Superman could hear his thoughts right now. He would surely not recognize his “workaholic” friend...And definitely not recognize his will to not piss off his wife, and listen to her. The Batman didn’t care, if he pissed people off ! Well. Except for his wife, who could be very scary, when angry. 

Damn it. 

Your face. 

Your face shows much concern, behind that slight bit of anger at the thought he was about to sneak to the Batcave, that he can’t hold it back for too long. 

To hell, if you were the only one who knew him perfectly, and had him wrapped around your little finger. You gave it back to him plenty. So, just as soon as he was telling himself he wouldn’t tell you the truth...He told you the truth : 

“No. I was-...I was just about to take a walk around the Manor.” 

You look at him, a question in your eyes. And you don’t have to ask him, as he answers : 

“I can’t sleep when you’re not there. Needed to clear my mind.” 

It makes you smile, of course. And it’s the truth, oh it’s the truth. 

He really can’t fall asleep, when you’re not near. 

You climb on the bed, and slowly move to him. 

“How’s Damian ?” 

“Asleep. His fever went down, finally. Thanks the gods.” 

“Was he trying to fight sleep, and argue to have another story ?”

“Oh you know he did.” 

“Haha, I don’t blame him. Anything, to keep you closer for longer.” 

“What a sappy man you turned out to be, my heart. Who would’ve thunk, right ?” 

“Don’t tell Clark.” 

This makes you laugh, and you move even closer to him, settling in his laps, facing him. His hands find themselves around your waist naturally, and as you lay your own hands on his cheeks, looking at him fondly and longingly, you say : 

“I love you, my Broosh.” 

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.” 

“I love you so much I think I’d die if you were gone.” 

“I love you so much I put up with your bullshit.”

“Hahaha. Cheeky. I love you so much I eat your awful gluten free cake without batting an eye.” 

“You ass ! Well, I love you so much I don’t even mention it when you call this disgusting mixture you make in the morning “coffee” “

“Oh wow, ouch. I love you so much I don’t even care about you criticize me.”

You chuckle a little, and kiss his nose, before adding :  

“I love you so much, that I wouldn’t change anything in my life. Not even the heartaches...Because everything lead me to you. And a life without you, is no life at all.” 

Admittedly, you cheated a bit, using his “I love you so much without you I’d die” against him, twisting things a little to pack a little more punch. And...

There’s a short pause, he looks at you, and then he leans over, slowly and softly pecking your lips. You think this means you won tonight, and you will be back in his arms in no time, allowing him to sleep properly...But you’re wrong. 

He says, after burying his face in the crook of your neck, in barely a whisper, his breath tickling you softly : 

“I love you so much, I would quit being Batman if you asked me to.” 

“Wait, what ?” 

You never asked him to. You never did, and never will. Because you were on of the only person on this Earth that truly understood him, and that loved him unconditionally. 

You knew and understood why he dressed like a bat each (or almost each) nights, to go fight crimes in Gotham City. 

You knew and understood all of his motives. 

And for this reason, you’d never ask him to stop doing so. But him admitting he would stop if you did ask, it made you feel...So much. 

It touched you beyond all measure. You didn’t even know how to respond to it. 

“Ah, I win, didn’t I ?” 

You had no words to answer. You knew how much you loved him, how much he meant to you, and how impossible it was to even envision a life without him. But he always  managed to surprise YOU with how deeply in love he was with you. How much he’d give up, just for you. How you knew, he would burn the entire world, if it meant saving you...

He would for his children, too. There was no doubt in his mind that if he had been to that warehouse sooner, and killing the Joker meant saving Jason...he would’ve done it. There was no point doing in afterward, once his son was already gone...But there, in the moment, to save him ?

He would. He would kill everyone, just to save his family. 

This was a side not a lot of people knew. They all assumed he wouldn’t do it, that he would let you or his children die for the greater good. That’s why considering, you guys weren’t kidnapped that much. 

Every villain, everyone, always thought that the Batman would not budge from his principles even if it meant saving those he loved. 

And they were wrong. They were so wrong. 

It was good, though, that only you knew that. 

“Ah. I win, didn’t I ?” 

You don’t have the words to answer him, your heart overflowing with so much. Overwhelming. So you go to the next best thing. 

Actions. 

You kiss him. With all the passion and love you can gather in your being. 

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. 

That. 

That was his night ritual. 

The only way he could fall asleep peacefully, like he used to when his mom and dad tucked him in. Before their death. 

Finding purchase once more, in your arms, after years of night plagued with nightmares and pain. 

Being near you. With you. In every way possible. Touching you, feeling you near. Right there. By him. 

The big bad bat’s “night ritual”, it was you. 

It was, and would always be you. 

The end (for good, this time, haha). 

_________________________________________________

As you might’ve noticed, I’m in a very soft mood lately haha. I guess I’m just happy about my current situation, so I wanna write all the fluff and make the Batfam happy...Not for long though. I have some mighty angst in store for you, just you wait ;). In any case, here’s to a small bonus story. Hope you liked it even if it’s not what I said I’d post ^^'. I assure you what I planned is coming, I’m just being damn slow. As usual any comments and reblogs are more than welcomed <3. 

PS : Last time I posted a bonus story, an anon wasn’t happy I wasn’t posting longer stories I said I would post soon haha...So just a quick thing : those stories I’ve been posting lately literally take between 20 minutes to an hour to write. It’s extra fast, and I don’t re-read myself. So I can post them rather rapidly. But those I have in store that are long as hell and full on one-shots I thought a lot about, not just random drabbles, need a lot more work. Which is why they take longer. Which I’d think is obvious to everyone (most of y’all are super understanding and nice <3), but I guess not huh...Please. Be patient with me. I’m super busy lately. But everything I said I’d post WILL be posted. I can promise this much. 

[itsclydebitches]

The post about death being cheap really is true. Cause its not just a meta problem, but even in universe, the reason Salem is a villain is because she refused to understand the importance of life and death, and getting her to do so is supposedly the key to beating her. But how would the story do so when its made death so cheap? Why would Salem care when not only RWBYJ will be coming back from the “dead,” but even before the God of Light brought Ozma back, showing that it was pointless anyway?

That's always been my problem with the Gods' lesson in relation to RWBY's world building. My immediate thoughts upon watching "The Lost Fable" were: "Why shouldn't Salem ask Darkness to bring Ozma back if Light won't?" followed by, "Why can't they just bring Ozma back permanently?"

I maintain that the flaw Salem originally demonstrates—an inability to accept death—is only a flaw from our real world perspective. We know we can't bring the dead back, we know death is a permanent thing, so therefore it's healthy and appropriate to teach others to accept loss as a natural part of life. In the real world, understanding that balance really does have meaning (even if, notably, we still strive to conquer death in whatever ways we can). However, RWBY's world is not ours and they very much HAVE established that bringing people back is easy-peasy. The Gods do it a number of times without any noticeable downsides, essentially treating Ozma like a toy they're fighting over. If RWBY wanted Salem to be positioned as in the wrong for pushing to get Ozma back (which, quite obviously, it did) then we needed to establish why, in this fictional world, it's not okay to resurrect people. Create some kind of cost that the Gods aren't willing to suffer. Give them a selfish reason like, "If we granted your wish everyone would want one and we're not doing that all day." Tell us that once souls have passed on if they're brought back to this world they just can't live happily anymore, with Salem's own selfishness resulting in Ozma suffering while here. Hell, just make it so the Gods can't resurrect the dead, full stop, but Salem refuses to believe them. As it stands, there's no reason why Light can't just summon Ozma back and send the two of them on their way, made happier by the aversion of his untimely demise. Generic speeches about "balance" mean nothing when you've got the power to accomplish something and seemingly no reason not to do it. Our aversion to Salem's request stems entirely from our own, real-world discomfort with demanding something that's not possible. But in Remnant it is possible. What's the "importance of life and death" in a world governed by Gods who control mortality? We're simply not told.

Where are my DBZ fans out there? Imagine if someone collected the dragon balls, but was then told they couldn't bring their friend back to life because that's just not how things are done. The dragon balls can 100% grant that wish, there's no established downside to doing this, you just can't because... reasons. And you're supposed to look bad and evil for requesting it. Really bad for going out of your way to do it anyway, despite being told "No." Honestly though, prior to the whole raising an army thing, I would have done precisely what Salem did. Light says I can't get this? Let me ask Darkness. He says I can? Well, cool! Salem essentially went to Mom, asked to keep the stray puppy she found, was told "No" without any explanation as to why, asked Dad, he said sure, and then she watched them have a massive fight over this in a manner that absolutely terrorized her and the puppy.

And then she got saddled with whatever the real world equivalent of being made immortal and forced to suffer alone would be.

So all this was cheap to begin with. Not just cheap, but plain nonsensical. And you're right, our personal thoughts on Salem aside, Light immediately undermines his own, vague beliefs by resurrecting Ozma anyway and granting him immortality. Why is it okay to bring someone back to unite Remnant, but it's not okay to bring them back to live a happy life with their partner? Given how horrible the Gods are overall, there's an easy reading here that they're just cruel, abusive beings. That's the answer. Their ideas about death were never supposed to make sense because they never said those things to truly impart wisdom, but just to mess with one of their creations. It's a power trip. You could even go the more clinical route of building off them leaving Remnant like a failed lab experiment: "We were interested in seeing how a mortal would react to being denied something we could easily fix. Salem's grief, and her subsequent fall into revenge and madness, was fascinating to witness. We did it because we could." The equivalent of growing up and learning that Mom and Dad deliberately fucked with you about the dog because your meltdown was a scientific curiosity. Write down how often she cries and what it took to make her smash something in fury, we'll co-author a paper later. But, quite obviously, RWBY hasn't done anything like that and at this point I think it's too late for the group to have a revelation about the Gods essentially being full of shit. I mean, they still technically could, but it wouldn't work well after three full volumes of not giving Ozpin's vision any thought, let alone specifically questioning the Gods' motives and claims. It would be like Nora randomly realizing that maybe someone other than Ozpin can defeat Salem, only for everyone to completely ignore that for a kiss scene and a framing plotline that goes nowhere... only worse.

Given the redemption focus we've gotten lately, I'm starting to expect that Salem will learn some lesson about life and death, thereby either being fully redeemed, or dying like she wants and finding a bit of peace beforehand. Which, for a character who has been through A Lot and whose choices are pretty divisive given the questionable writing (something I'm still trying to unpack in "The Girl in the Tower"), that would work for a lot of fans. There are a lot of people who don't want to see Salem suffer anymore, for her to get some kind of happy ending despite her status as the Big Bad, and I get that. I don't think it'll make much sense though. The Gods' involvement, the question of agency post-grimm pool, her actual desires and motivations... it's all too muddied at this point. If RWBY does get an ending like that, the majority of the fandom will likely be swept up in the positive vibes, taking the, "She learned the importance of death" claim at face value... not questioning what that means in a world so different from our own. It'll be a 'good' ending, provided you don't think about it too much. And that's really what RWBY keeps coming back to nowadays. Are you someone who watches with a focus on what's just happened, prioritizing the emotion the show is selling without questioning how we got there? Or are you someone who watches with a focus on what also came before this, prioritizing your own questions about this world that often undermine, or outright contradict, the intended message and tone? Neither way of approaching RWBY is right or wrong—people consume media for different reasons and with different needs in mind—but your way of viewing will very much change how "good" the show is when the dust clears. The whole concept of death in RWBY very much falls under that category. For those of us invested in questions like why Light broke his own rule, or why the group hasn't discussed any of this, or why accepting death is important in a magical world where resurrection is possible, or even who the "real" bad guy is when pitting Salem against the Gods... none of those questions are getting answered. It's just a free for all leading to some fans running with excellent interpretations as canon, and others going, "Yeah, this was a mess."

[lcvemalfcy]

Mission Accomplished || D.M

summary: pansy and blaise make it their mission to get y/n and draco together

pairing: draco x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, not sure abt anything else — please comment if I missed something!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: pls ive been writing this since the beginning of feb but i didn’t know how to end it off

draco had taken an interest in you ever since you had laughed at a joke he mumbled during class, with no intention of being heard. he turned to the owner of the laugh, to see you sitting next to your friend with your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your giggles. that’s when he decided that your laugh was now his favorite sound in the world and that he wanted to hear it more.

he hadn’t made his crush on you known, besides to blaise. he rarely even talked with you before, but he wanted to change that this year. he started off by greeting you whenever you two passed each other in the halls, to initiating small conversations with you during your shared classes, and now he was joining you in the library to read after he ‘coincidentally’ shared the same reading spot as you.

pansy and blaise entered the library together, in search of a book they needed in order to start on their astronomy project. they both walked to the aisle where the book would be found, pansy’s fingers gliding over the spines of the books as she searched for the one in particular. “do me a favor and help me find it?” she spat out to blaise, irritated that he stood there staring off at something she could care less about.

“is that draco with y/n?” blaise asked instead, noticing the familiar blonde boy sitting at a table across from you. this immediately caught pansy’s attention as she averted her focus from the bookshelf in front of her to the table you two sat at. “no way!”

“they are so into each other,” pansy silently squealed as she watched you burst out into giggles due to some awful joke draco had made, you seemed to have a thing for his jokes. “draco’s liked her for months now.” a grin appeared on blaise’s face, trying to hold in his laughter at draco’s lame attempt at flirting with you.

“and he hasn’t made a move on her yet?” pansy questioned. blaise shook his head side to side to answer her question when an idea suddenly entered her brain. “blaise we have to do something!”

“like what?” blaise was confused, unsure of what pansy meant. “forget the project, we have to set them up! mission y/n and draco!” pansy exclaimed. she excitedly grabbed blaise’s hand and dragged him to a table far from yours to create a plan, while blaise internally groaned, knowing how passionate she could become when it came to stuff like this.

being a prefect always was an advantage. and luckily for pansy and blaise who were both prefects, this made it easy for them to execute their plan.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

one foggy night, you threw a jumper and sweats over your body, preparing for your late night stroll around the castle. you liked to do this whenever you couldn’t fall asleep, finding that a walk seemed to be relaxing and calm the thoughts running through your head.

you exited your dormitory quietly, being careful enough to not wake your sleeping dormmates. you walked down the stairs and into the common room, feeling chills run up and down your body as you felt the temperature drop. you made it across, about to exit the room when you walked straight into something — no, someone.

“sneaking out again, y/n?” there stood pansy ahead of you. she kept a straight face, slightly raising her eyebrow in attempt to intimidate you.

“weren’t you just asleep?” you looked back and pointed towards the steps to the dormitories, confused as to where she came from. she was asleep in the dorm, right? 

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to give you a detention,” she stated as you gave her a questioning look. “you’re not serious, are you? you know I’ve snuck out a million times already and never gave me one before,” you tried to reason with her.

“and that’s exactly why I should be giving you one, you’ve snuck out one too many times y/n. meet me for detention in snape’s classroom. saturday, 5PM, and don’t be late.” she left so quickly and was already gone before you could question her sudden change in opinion.

meanwhile, draco sat in the common room one afternoon, looking back and forth between papers as he copied goyle’s homework. with one question left, he was almost done and turned to glance at goyle’s paper one last time when it was suddenly snatched away from underneath him.

“what the hell?!” draco looked up to see blaise holding onto the piece of parchment he desperately needed in order to complete his assignment.

“really, draco? cheating? I’m absolutely flabbergasted and disappointed in you!” blaise overexaggerated and flailed his arms around, causing draco to furrow his brows in confusion. “I’m giving you a detention for going against your academic honesty!” blaise sighed and crossed his arms, dramatically shaking his head at his friend.

“what are you on mate? did you not just copy off of his homework before me?” draco was irritated as blaise prevented him from finishing his homework. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. now, meet me in snape’s classroom at 5PM on saturday for your detention.” and with that, blaise left, not giving draco a chance to hex him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

it was now saturday, a few minutes before the clock struck 5PM. you were making your way to snape’s classroom, pissed that you had to spend your free time in detention.

arriving at your destination, you opened the door and entered the classroom, curious as to what pansy had planned for your detention. the first thing you noticed was an empty classroom, before turning to the back corner and spotting your favorite blonde. “draco? what are you doing here?”

“blaise gave me a bloody detention for ‘going against my academic honesty,’ whatever that means. you?” he raised an eyebrow as he waited for your reply. “pansy caught me trying to sneak out.”

he slowly nodded as you took a seat beside him, “don’t you find it odd that blaise and pansy never give slytherins detentions, especially not their own friends. and the one time they do, it happens to be on the exact same day at the exact same time?” he questioned as you thought it over.

“you’re right, that is a bit odd.”

after waiting a few more minutes for blaise and pansy to arrive, draco went to grab his bag off the floor as he stood up. “I have better things to do and seeing that they’re late, I’m going to go do those other things. care to join?”

“lead the way, malfoy.” you grinned at him, gesturing your arm towards the door. he made his way over to the door, you following right behind him. you waited for him to open it, yet that never happened.

“the door won’t open,” he concluded after a few moments of him rattling the doorknob.

“what do you mean the door won’t open?”

“it means, the door won’t open.” you lightly shoved him out of the way, pulling out your wand and muttering alohomora. you became frustrated when you went to open the door and the lock still wouldn’t budge.

after multiple attempts to open the door, both of you realized it was no use. you guys were locked in.

you found yourself sitting on the floor besides draco, talking with one another for hours on end as you wore his jumper. he had politely offered it to you when he noticed you shivering due to the cold dungeon air, in which you denied it at first, but he kept on insisting.

you started drifting off, his words started twisting into gibberish and his voice became muffled. draco felt his heart warm when your head fell onto his shoulder. “oh c’mon y/n, don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just your jumper is so comfy and warm,” you lightly spoke as you snuggled closer into his body. draco thought his heart was about to burst.

suddenly, the door opened and entering the room was snape, who only stared at the two of you when he noticed his two students just casually sitting on his classroom floor. the sudden noise made you bolt awake.

“out.” his voice was curt and blunt, causing you and draco to rush to your feet. you hurriedly exited the room as draco mumbled a “sorry professor.”

you and draco ran down the hall, hardly able to contain your laughter when you entered the common room.

sitting on the couches before you and draco were pansy and blaise, who wore amused looks upon draco’s and your appearance.

“nice jumper, y/n.” blaise wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you when you and draco finally realized what was going on. “they did this on purpose, didn’t they?” draco spoke up beside you.

“I’m gonna get those little gits.” you ran straight for pansy as she yelped and ran towards the dorms, you following straight behind her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the following day at breakfast, pansy was fangirling over the sight of you two walking down the hall hand in hand. “mission accomplished, blaise! you were actually a good partner, we should do it again sometime. ooo how about daphne and theo?”

truth be told, you were glad blaise and pansy had done that as it allowed you and draco to realize your feelings for one another.

what you did not like, was the fact that pansy and blaise had the audacity to take credit for your relationship with draco. and while it may be true, you would never admit it to them out loud.

[drabbles-mc]

Compromising Positions

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon: So, seeing your Juice post just now, I got another idea (oops) if it's okay to send another. I was thinking a Juice x Female reader, who gets super defensive over him, gets teased over it a lot, but goes absolutely ape shit at the guys when she finds out they stapled a sign to his chest when he accidentally drugged himself to sleep. And then after she goes ape, threatening to staple some bitches, she cleans him up and maybe some sudden release of emotions and pooooossibly smut? ^_^ maybe :D

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Being ready to pop off in defense of Juice is a sentiment that I can totally get behind, so thank you for this request lmao. I didn’t end up going the smutty route because I just didn’t feel like it fit the whole mood of this story. But fear not! There will be other fics for our boy in the future that take care of that haha. Hope you enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @mijop @garbinge @xladymacbethx @kkim120 @multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-read-stuff @chibsytelford (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

You tried to tune out the conversations of the guys as you wiped down the surface of the bar. They’d hardly been out of church for five minutes and they had already completely moved past everything that they had been talking about behind closed doors. You loved them all but you would be lying if you said that listening to the way that they spoke about things sometimes didn’t get underneath your skin a little bit. You’d learned to pick your battles wisely because there was only so much that you could be frustrated about all the time.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the guys reach over and give Juice a light smack to the back of his head. You looked up, eyes instantly zeroing in on what was going on. It wasn’t shocking to you that it was Tig who was doling out the abuse—that seemed to be a large part of their relationship with each other.

Juice never seemed overly bothered by it whenever the guys would rag on him. You wished that you were as good at brushing it off as he was, but every time you saw them picking on him it made your blood boil. For that reason alone you knew that your feelings towards Juice were no secret, and the guys went in on you about it just as much as they went in on Juice for everything else. It seemed like the only person who never picked on you for how you felt about Juice was Juice himself. He never said anything about it one way or the other.

“Look out, Tig,” Jax spoke up with a laugh, “keep that up and you’re about to catch some hands from someone else.”

Your frustration must’ve been instantly apparent on your face. You made a concentrated effort to relax your features, but it wasn’t much use. Shaking your head silently, you returned your attention to the bar.

“Go on, then, Y/N,” Tig said with a cocky laugh, “If you got something to say then say it.”

You didn’t lift your eyes, knowing that getting into it right now wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Juice spoke up on your behalf, though, “Leave her alone, Tig. She’s just trying to work without having to listen to you guys talk shit all the time.”

“Funny how she only seems to get uptight when it’s about one person in parti—”

“Are you done?” you cut him off.

Tig held his hands up in mock surrender, “Sure, doll,” he turned to Juice, “Should start bringing her with you on runs. Maybe she can keep you safe out there, too.”

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying something that would undoubtedly make the situation worse. You tossed your cleaning rag onto the surface of the bar before turning and walking towards the door of the clubhouse. Without missing a beat, you swiped a pack of cigarettes off of one of the tables as you went. You could hear the guys murmuring behind you but you blocked it out.

You were lost in your thoughts, camped out on the picnic table outside the clubhouse, when someone came and sat down next to you. Glancing over, you saw that it was Juice. You didn’t have to fully look at him to know the expression that he had on his face. It was the same one that he always had whenever the guys gave you a hard time—a mixture of pity and being flattered.

You shook your head slightly, “You don’t need to check on me, Juice. I can handle them.”

“You realize I can handle them too, right?” he gave your shoulder a playful nudge with his own.

Despite your annoyance, you smiled as you took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers. You let yourself make full eye contact with him, “I never said that you couldn’t.”

You passed him your cigarette and he took it with a smile. The two of you didn’t say anything else about what had just happened, opting to just sit and enjoy each other’s company silently. Juice was one of the few people in the world that you could enjoy silence with, and you knew that in moments like this when you were cooling off from being frustrated, it was truly a blessing to have him around.

A few days ticked by and you managed to not get yourself into any more arguments with Tig or any of the other guys. Every now and then when things were getting a little rowdy in the clubhouse you could feel the guys looking at you, waiting for you to speak up and insert yourself into the middle of it. It took some conscious effort on your part, but you stayed out of it.

You were just starting to get ready for your next shift at the bar when you heard the door to the clubhouse open. You didn’t look up at first, too immersed in everything that you were doing to try and straighten up a little bit. The only thing that caught your attention was the quiet groan that filled the room.

Looking up, your eyes went wide when you saw Juice. You had so many questions but you weren’t sure if you really wanted answers to any of them. You went to walk up to him to offer a helping hand but he waved you off as he walked back to his dorm. Every fiber of your being was telling you to follow him, but you didn’t. Part of you knew that you weren’t going to get any answers from him, so instead you stormed in the opposite direction from him to find the other guys.

You flung the clubhouse door open and were greeted by the sight of the guys huddled around the table, all laughing and joking around. You had a feeling that you knew exactly what they found to be so funny.

“What the fuck did you do this time?” you made a direct line for Tig.

“Whoa, whoa,” he laughed as he took a step back from you, “why do you assume that it was me?”

“You telling me it wasn’t?”

“Depends on what you’re talking about.”

“What the hell happened to Juice?”

“Maybe you should keep a better eye on your boy, Y/N,” Jax said, trying and failing to stifle his laughter, “and he wouldn’t land himself in such…compromising positions.”

You weren’t naïve enough to think that Juice couldn’t get himself into difficult situations on his own. He didn’t always think things through. But you also knew that when he was putting himself in sketchy situations, the guys were the first ones to try and capitalize on it.

“Alright then, VP,” you turned your attention to Jax, “what did he land himself into this time?”

“Your boy knocked himself the fuck out. Thought he was taking vitamins when he…wasn’t. That’s on him for popping whatever gets put into his hands,” Jax was shaking his head as he spoke.

“That doesn’t explain why he walked into the clubhouse practically naked and bleeding.”

“The blood was probably from the staples,” Tig chimed in with a laugh.

“The what?” you managed to keep your voice below a yell, but barely.

He continued to laugh as he motioned for Chibs to hand you the sign that had been discarded onto the table, most likely tossed there by Juice when he finally made his way back to the clubhouse. You snatched it from the man’s hands, unfolding it and reading what it said. As you continued to put the entire situation together, you saw red for a moment.

“You stapled this to his fucking chest?” you folded the sign in half and proceeded to start hitting Tig in the head and chest with it, “What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tig was holding his hands up to try and block the onslaught of slaps coming his way.

“Y/N,” Jax reached to grab your arm to stop you and you ripped it from his grasp.

You turned back to him, not afraid to go toe-to-toe with the VP. He might’ve held an office in the club, but he was just another blonde biker at the bar as far as you were concerned, especially in this moment.

You shoved the sign into his chest, pushing him back in the process, “What? You got some smart shit to say?”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to. Juicy is a grown man, he can handle his own shit.”

“You think it’s not a big deal?” you stepped in close to him, “You put two staples in his goddamn chest and you think it’s not a big deal?” you shoved him once more for good measure, “Get me a goddamn staplegun! We’ll see how big of a deal it is when I’m drilling shit into your chest!” you shook your head, “I swear to fucking god, Jax, I should put some staples into your fuckin—”

You stopped short when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You whipped around, ready to fight, but you were met with Juice’s eyes. He was still going without a shirt, but he’d taken the time to go put pants on. You were assuming that he could hear your rage from inside the clubhouse and it prompted him to come outside. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes and you would’ve been more enamored with it if you weren’t still focused on the two wounds that were bleeding on his chest.

“C’mon,” Juice tried to redirect you back towards the clubhouse, “it’s fine, Y/N. I’m alright.”

You turned back around, staring daggers at all the guys, but mostly Jax and Tig, “This isn’t over with,” you huffed and shook your head, “Motherfuckers.”

Before you could say anything else, Juice started nudging you back towards the door. You were grumbling underneath your breath as Juice continued to usher you into the building. When you were inside and it was just the two of you, you turned to him and let the anger fade away slightly.

“What the fuck is the matter with them?”

He laughed and shook his head, “We’re all a little fucked up. Can’t just hold it against them.”

“I’ll be mad at you later, don’t worry,” you sighed, unable to pry your eyes away from his injuries, “At least let me clean you up a little? I’m no doctor but I feel like I could still help you out a little bit.”

He smiled and nodded, glad that he had a way to pacify you a little bit for the time being. The last thing he wanted to be dealing with was you going on a rampage with a staplegun. You went and dug out your first aid kit from behind the bar before following him back to his dorm. The two of you sat on the edge of his bed. You wanted to stay completely focused on the task at hand but you were only human. You chastised yourself for your wandering thoughts.

“Considering you took a bunch of mystery pills,” you said with a slight shake of your head as you laid out your supplies, “you don’t look too worse for wear.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he chuckled as he watched your calculated, meticulous movements.

“Trying to sweeten you up because cleaning out these cuts is gonna hurt like a bitch,” you managed a smile, “Don’t want you to end up hating me too much.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

You tried to ignore the heat rising in your face as you set about cleaning the torn skin on his chest. He cringed and cursed under his breath when you swabbed the cuts with alcohol. You fought the urge to apologize but it was difficult.

You were leaning in close enough to feel his breath on the side of your neck. It was taking all of your self-control to stay focused on placing bandages on him. Your hands begged you to let them wander but you kept it together. When you pulled away and looked at Juice, there was something in his expression that made you feel like he was reading every thought that had been crossing your brain as you worked.

“What?” you tried to sound less nervous than you really were as you started to put your medical supplies away.

“Were you really about to threaten to put staples in Jax’s dick?” he couldn’t keep his laughter in any longer.

You smiled as you set your first aid kit off to the side, “I sure fucking was.”

“Felt like you really meant it.”

You waited for his eyes to meet yours, “I did.”

He laughed, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, “I know I spend a lot of time telling you not to worry about the guys, but I hope you know it is nice to know that someone has my back.”

You nodded as you tried to focus on both the feeling of warmth coming from his body and the words he was saying, “Of course. I’ll go after anyone with a staplegun for you. No questions asked.”

He chuckled before leaning in and pressing a kiss against your temple. You nearly melted into a puddle in his arms at the contact. He let his lips linger against your skin for a moment, “Thank you.”

You rested your hand on his thigh, allowing yourself to lean completely into him. His arm wrapped tighter around you and you smiled as your cheek rested against the bare skin of his chest, careful to not touch the bandages you had just dressed him with.

“Y/N?”

“Mhm?”

When he didn’t say anything else, you pulled away so you could look at him. There was a small smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he looked at you. Your eyes searched his, trying to figure out just what he was thinking.

His free hand came up and rested on the side of your face, and you instantly leaned into his touch. The palm of his hand was rough and calloused, but despite that you couldn’t deny that it felt like it was in its rightful place resting against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut as you soaked up the moment. Juice chuckled quietly, not expecting you to react so quickly and comfortably.

It gave him a little boost of confidence as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes, smiling as your heart began to speed up inside your chest.

“Wanna know what would really make me feel better?” you could hear that he was trying not to laugh as he spoke.

“What?” a giggle slipped out past your lips.

“If you let me kiss you.”

You laughed, reaching up to rest one hand on the back of his neck, “For your health.”

You could feel the smile still on his face as he pressed his lips against yours. Everything else that had been happening suddenly faded from your mind—the only thing you could think about was how right it felt to be kissing him. His thumb traced lightly along your cheekbone as he leaned into you. You couldn’t win out over the urge to smile as you continued to kiss him, and you could feel the laughter starting to vibrate in his chest.

He pulled you so that you were straddling his lap, keeping his lips locked onto yours as he did. Your hands cradled the back of his head as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You could feel the warmth of his body seeping through your shirt and the only thought coursing through your brain was that he felt like home.

When he finally pulled his lips off of yours, they were still curved up into a smile. You could feel the warmth flooding your face as you tried to stifle a laugh, biting down lightly on your bottom lip. He ran his hands up and down your sides and you pressed a quick, light kiss to his lips.

“Feel better?” you finally said, your laughter beginning to escape you.

“I think so,” there was a playful glint in his eyes, “but just to be sure, could you do that again?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head despite the fact that you knew you were never going to say no to him, “Anything for you.”

[bcdwhcre]

“Night Wings,” Hawks x Reader

Requested!

Summary: After being insecure about your quirk, Hawks finally finds out what it is

Warnings: none, soft Hawks

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You were outside on the balcony of your apartment, the sun was setting and you decided to watch it while waiting for Hawks to return your messages, even though you knew he was on a busy mission.

You two haven’t been together for long, maybe half a year but it had gotten serious pretty quick and you couldn’t help but instantly fall for his cheesy jokes and massive heart. He won you over completely.

But even though you two have been completely comfortable with each other, you still held back your quirk from him because you just felt like your quirk wasn’t the best to have.

In simple terms, your quirk can only work when it’s dark. Once the sun goes down and the moon rises up, your bat wings can activate and make you fly through the night sky.

The reason you felt so insecure about it is because your wings weren’t as great and big like Hawks’. It made you admire his wings more than before, the way they bloomed and spread out so beautifully. Yours was just simple black bat wings and the pathetic part about it is only being able to use them at night.

But you couldn’t complain, the late night flies throughout the city made you feel at peace, especially being able to jump off the balcony and enjoy the fall before taking your wings out and flying up high.

Hawks has always admired you, he loved every inch about you and made sure to let you know. He never pressured you to show him your quirk, he was more than patient and gave you all the time you needed.

After he was done with the long mission, it was now dark and he decided to bring some chicken dinner to your place to celebrate. He missed you terribly and the mission that had taken days to accomplish was now over.

He didn’t bother to send you a text, he wanted to surprise you but when he walked through your door and saw you standing at the railing of your balcony, ready for another night of your daily flies- he thought of the opposite.

The way his heart had stopped, watching you leap and he was quick to drop the chicken and run off the balcony to catch you before you even had a chance to extend out your wings.

“Hawks? What are you doing?” You were caught by surprise, the look of pure terror on his face had made you worry.

“I should be asking you that, why the hell are you jumping down to your death?” He stayed flying in place, looking at the fear in his eyes and you started to laugh.

“Wait- why are you laughing? You were about to die.” He stared at you as you laughed for a bit then gave him a cute smile.

“You’re such a dork, Keigo. Just let me go and find out.”

“What? No! I’m not letting you go.” He shook his head, his arms tightly around your body and your hands had caressed his cheeks.

“Do you trust me?” You asked him, rubbing your thumb over his soft cheeks and slowly he nodded his head.

“With my life.”

“Then drop me.” You leaned forward, placing a quick kiss to his soft lips and he softened at your touches.

“I promise I’ll be fine.” You said again, trying to convince him and finally he gave in.

His hands loosened up before fully letting you go and watching you fall down below him. Your wings had finally bursted out from your back, extending out wide as you flew up and he stared with his mouth open.

Watching you fly up in the sky then falling back down to where he was floating, settling to fly in front of him and he stayed quiet, the way his eyes had sparkled and looked at you full of love and admiration.

“Baby! I didn’t know you had such a beautiful quirk.” He said excitedly, he looked like a child from how excited he was and your cheeks started to heat up.

“They’re not as great as yours.” You went back up to your balcony, landing then letting your wings tuck inside your back again.

“No no! They’re better than mine, yours looks so beautiful. I can’t top that.” He mumbled, landing beside you and in an instant his hands were on your face and his lips planted quick kisses all over your face.

“Keigo,” You whined, watching him pull back after planting his final kiss on your lips.

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I am too.”

You were caught off guard with his reaction, the way he was so fascinated with your quirk, he was in absolute awe and as he thought about how he couldn’t fall in love with you more, here he was falling harder.

“We can go on flights together, it would be perfect.” He mumbled, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair and he continued to ramble on about your quirk.

You had mentioned it could only be used during the night and he found that even more interesting before he had dragged you inside your apartment to eat dinner and listen to him talk about your quirk.

As he ate his chicken peacefully, he would constantly bring up how cool it was. How he liked it the way it is and black is a good color on you, he was cute.

“You’re too sweet, Keigo.” You mumbled as he embraced you on your bed after he had finished eating, he cuddled you like the baby he is and held you tightly.

“All that time you were so nervous to show me your quirk and it ended up being so sick.” He huffed out a breath, making you roll your eyes from how dramatic he is.

“It still isn’t as great as yours, now shush.” You had tried to shush him, looking down as his head was rested on your chest and he shook his head.

“No, yours is beyond amazing, I wish my wings were black.” He pouted while you ran your fingers through his soft hair, laughing at him.

“Oh whatever, so dramatic.”

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This is all I could come up with for this idea oop.

Semi short

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