#also to be clear; i might just be stupid! maybe this is all explained and i am forgetting

[where-the-water-flows]

HEY NO WAIT

Shan gudao got "murdered", which led to Li Xiangyi going full "I will kill the Jinyuan alliance and everyone in it and burn it to ash and salt the earth on which they walk (etc etc)" and then going to dramatically break up / hate fuck / murder suicide Di Feisheng in the east sea.

but.

Shan gudao also murdered their shifu by telling him that Li Xiangyi was in danger....in the east sea...where he was because....Shan gudao.......got murdered....

like I know this timeline is nonsense but also. um. hey? the guy who got famously and notably publicly murdered shows up a month later and is like lol anyway and their shifu's just like seems legit! and did not ask any further questions I guess.

I know the reasonable answer is that Shan gudao was like 'no time to explain shidi's in danger oops ohhhh nooooo you're injured I can take your qi to save him haha whoopsy you're coughing blood now? gosh. oops. toodles.' but also. what the fuck.

[roturo]

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎♡ BAD GIRL, GOOD GIRL !

he couldn't hide the crush he had for the good girl who's a bad girl to him ! ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎

contains: smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, cunnilingus, masturbation (m), e2l, a lot of praise, overstimulation, fluff & angst if you squeeze your eyes, lore mention (really vague), based when gojo was still in school, multiple orgasms, gojo whimpers, nipple play, throat & tummy bump, creampie, oral m!receiving, a lot of the use 'fuck', kinda getting caught, really cute tbh.

A/N: this was supposed to be a request but... idk what happened tbh, i just created this story. 2.6k + felt lonely

You enjoyed this. Really. You know about the power you have over Gojo Satoru. And he’s childish, he won’t admit it. He will continue with his god complex and see you as a ‘pathetic girl without knowing you well.

And it’s fun. His gaze is so funny, the hypocrisy is funny. He would be talking with Suguru, judging you and how fast you’re getting into his and Suguru’s level. Is he afraid of you?

The worst fucking thing is how hard you get him. Maybe he has a degradation kink to bring him back to earth. But each time it gets harder to hide his clear erection inside his pants.

But he would never admit the admirations and maybe the tiny crush he has for you. You being the first time he saw a girl like this– and he might be afraid of you. Afraid of losing himself to some silly highschooler crush– When there’s more important things to focus on in this world, like… he could focus on the political and economic state of the world right now….?

“Gojo Satoru! Are you paying attention?” Sensei Yaga brought him back from his own imaginary debate. “Uh- Yeah, sensei. I’m paying attention.”

“Oh.. Is that so Gojo?” Oh well fuck. Here you go.  He sighed, saying your name in a whisper like if it’s some bad word full of anger- “Would you mind explaining what Sensei Yaga just said?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fucking you with your face pressed against his bed and silencing your cries for him, while he pounds his cock from behind you into your poor vulnerable pussy he just ate out some minutes ago. 

“Why do you keep acting like some bad girl instead of behaving yourself and learn to be a good girl for me, hm? Learn how to treat your seniors right. How does that sound? Do you have an answer for that?”

Silence.

Sixth fuck. Why did he think it was okay to say that out loud? Does it sound kinky?

“...I– why- uh- Y-You don’t know me Gojo.” Convincible right? His nicknames didn’t affect you. “So shut up boy. Instead of telling me how to behave, why don’t– Ugh. Shut up.”

He would pretend and convince himself that the reddish color covering your face is an act of his imagination, and move his gaze to his best-friend Suguru, which has a mix of confusion and shock adorning his face. “What? Do I have something in my face?” Gojo asked, touching his left cheek with his hand on that side.

“Uh- No. I will… just pay attention to what Yaga is saying.”

He can’t fucking stop thinking about you.

Is this right? His hand sneaking down his abdomen towards the elastic of his sweatpants, just to enter and– FUCK! He shouldn’t be doing this while thinking about ‘someone he hates’ and want to put them in their place. His erect cock was really visible through his sweats, and all he could do was roll in his bed trying to take you off his mind- Being shirtless didn’t help that either,  his also erect nipples having fun with the friction he created while rolling on his bed. Great, not only it affected other areas of his body, but it also brought release to the problem he was trying to stop.

So he couldn’t stop himself. And his sinful right hand went down and inside his boxers to jerk off some tension down there (traitor)-- A whimper escaped his mouth once he teased his tip, already full of pre-cum thanks to stupid bed. His left hand traveled searching to cover his mouth to stop soundings coming out– Not trying to out himself, because it looked like this fucking walls were made of paper. But accidentally while doing so he touched his nipple, bringing out a loud and electric shock to his body.

Seventh? Ninth? Fuck. 

He quickly bit his lips, surely blood coming out of them because of how hard he was trying to stop himself, but he really needed to cum. Fuck- If you were here, he would ask for permission, he would beg to cum. He would do anything to just fucking cum inside your pussy.

And it’s so embarrassing, because of all the rumors of him in this small space for his kind, that he’s a playboy and gets pussy every weeknd– when he’s basically a virgin if he has never got his cock inside a woman's pussy. Does it still count as sex without it inside?

He didn’t have enough fucks in his vocabulary to count all the misfortunes he has in a week. How could he let his guard down? How the fuck the curse got him? But the worst (actually it’s like the best thing that happened in his life) is that you cared about his well-being and you offered to take care of him as fast as possible.

"You're hurt. Is it bad? Do you need the med-kit? Let me see-" He already treated himself, not wanting to be a bother for you– (he wants to) but thanks to his infinity it wasn’t so hard to, and it’s basically a paper cut, but ever since that happened, everyone’s been cautious. Well, at least the people who know.

"Don't bother, it's not serious. I've already tended to it."

"...Someone was able to get the better of you?"

Oh shit. Congratulations Satoru! You used another word to describe how unlucky you are! But did you have to mention him?

“Uh.. No- I mean- When training… y’know? It happens, even to the best” He sent you a wink, anxious to get over this topic and not get too focused on him, because really. It was just a paper cut for him. He called for you, bringing back your gaze to his eyes, did he always look this beautiful? “Uh.. Yeah?” You didn’t intend your voice to sound like that, but suddenly everything felt so hot, and was he so close to you before?

“Why did you want to take care of me? The last time I got the memo you hated me as much as you hate bugs.”

“I.. I don’t hate you Gojo. I just-” sigh.

“It’s okay, I understand if you want to gain Yaga’s confidence for… whatever reasons you have. I’m just impressed- that’s all. I’m very grateful it was you.”

…

“I like you Satoru. I’m scared I'll lose you- even though I don’t show it, I care about you” Oh nice. You don’t hate him, and he liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth. Could easily make him cum. It’s great you also care for him.

“Can’t blame you. I’m pretty awesome.” His quirky smirk showed in his face, earning no reaction from you. Oh.

Oh fuck. 

He really fucked it this time, didn’t he?

“Wait, are you fr?”

“There’s no way you just said ‘ef’ ‘ar’ Satoru.”

He didn’t care about your criticism now, not when you just made him the happiest man in the world and he lifted you with no problem, and got you in a position so you’re now above him, caging his legs.

With no words, he kissed you on the lips with a passion he has never shown. Not even while fighting. He loved the way your lips were perfect for him, how small you felt above him in his touch. As an automatic reaction you slowly started to rock your hips, earning a whimper from him. Which somehow turned you on more, your hands roamed his body until they landed on his chest. Index and middle finger keeping his nipples between- an unexpected thrust from him caught you by surprise and pressed your fingers back together, earning a whine from him. You were about to get your hands under his shirt, and discover this new ‘thing’ of Gojo’s, but-

“Oh my fucking god. WhatshappeningrightnowIthoughsomethingbadhappenedtoyouguys.”

Poor Suguru.

Both of you have been into very… ‘pretentious’ situations while interacting through the years. It stresses him out that it’s just.. well- pretentious. Because you never go to the next base, even after forgetting the bickering and rivalry through the years, (and the raging sexual tension from Gojo), he might finally have the courage to put aside his masquerade and open up about his wants and be vulnerable… At the act? After? During? 

Taking a deep breath and sighing, waiting for your answer, but all he receives is a stare. Which makes him even more anxious. He would prefer a slap, a cussing, fuck! even you laughing at him. But all he gets is a stare. Was it so stupid to say how much he liked you and that you should have sex with him?

He called out your name, bringing you back from your shock- “I- shit…  Wait a second, this isn’t how I wanted things to go.. what the hell?” The last question was barely heard, he was murmuring to himself and planning a hundred ways he could die without bringing down the sorcerer world with him. Is it good he confessed in your room?

“That’s the worst confession I’ve heard in a while y’know?...” He stopped his mental break-down, never believing he would blush for a girl. Not even the girl he has been crushing (and hating) through his teenage years.  “I like you too, like- for my whole life. But I didn’t think you would feel the same. I didn’t see it.”

“But I felt it.” His eyes traced your body until they reached the floor. It was weird seeing Gojo like this. Never in his 20 years of life thought he would be feeling weak and vulnerable to anyone. Not until he met you.

“Yeah- I can see it” You lazily pointed at his crotch. “You seriously have a problem… Do you like being humiliated and degraded?...  This isn’t the first time this happens, y’know?:..”

A whine escaped his mouth like a little child- “Ugh, it’s just… I really need you.”

You wasted no time when your lips glued to his. It was 10 P.M, everyone was asleep, but at this rate you didn’t care. If they ungratefully hear you and Satoru moaning, it was his fault for giving the first step this time.

He called out your name, making you break the kiss and start marking his neck. “Ah, fuck. Please mark me, I want everyone to know I’m yours.” You pushed him back so he’s now sitting on the sofa. Kneeling down for him while you continue marking him and hearing his beautiful noises. You were in between his legs, in front of his raging cock begging for release from the sweat pants. “Is this okay Satoru?”

A lot of little cute nods were made, his flushed cheeks making him look absolutely precious. “I need words baby, I don’t know what you want me to do…” You said while playing with the hem of his sweats.

“I want you to suck my cock and then fill you up… please.” Oh! He clearly answered his desires, making you form a smile while he bit his lips watching you undress him. “No underwear hm? You were waiting for this?” His cock was standing there tall and angry. The pale base with a pink needy tip leaking pre-cum from it. “I was risking my luck”

“Then you’re such a lucky man right now Satoru.” Your lips wrapped around his cock, and you slowly teased his tip with your tongue, making him whimper at the feeling. And you tried to deepthroat him- which caught him by surprise and his hand immediately went to find a place in your head, making a made-up ponytail with your hair for some support. (He was too lost in the pleasure to even know if he doing it right)

With the rest of his neglected cock, your hands traveled up to find his balls and start massaging them. Making Satoru to fucking loose control over his body once he saw the bump his cock caused in your throath- Moans turned into whines with tears, he had to pull up his shirt and bite on it to stop whining. Silent whimpers accompanying his tears while he looks at the beautiful girl between his legs. The sight made him cum faster than he expected, he swears he saw light and white noise was heard in his ears.

You happily showed your tongue to him before swallowing the salty liquid down your throat which earned a groan from Satoru.

“From outside you’re such a bad girl, but inside you’re a good girl f’me, aren’t ya?” You chuckled at his ‘drunk-dazed’ face, moving yourself so you’re on top of him again, his cock still hard against your core. “You don’t know me at all Satoru…”

You placed your arms around his neck, getting closer to him. “Not the way I wished. But you’re giving me the chance to be your man and get to know you, right?”

“Oh… Gojo... I’m looking for a real man, not for a man who pretends to be a man. Are you a real man, Satoru?”

“I’ll be whatever you want baby.” He says, ghosting your lips, making a brushing action with his nose and yours before finally giving in and kissing you again. This kiss was more needy, remembering every place from it. While your hands went insearch of his chest, the hold of your hips with his hands hardened when you ghostly brushed your finger through his nipples.  He thrusted upwards, looking for some friction between your core and his.

He was getting needier each passing second- and you noticed that once he grabbed the hems of your leggings and tore them apart. Murmuring about him buying you new ones continuously tearing apart your panties too. 

One of his fingers going through your folds, coming out wet, you shyly looked away when he inserted the finger on his mouth and moaned. “Sweet.”  His cocky personality was back when he sent you a wink. He looked being in control, to be honest.

With no warning, you placed yourself so his cock was aligned. And it kinda hurt because of how fucking big he is. But his reaction was priceless.

You were full of him already, cum coming out of you. “I-..I.. shit.” He couldn’t believe he just came from being inside you, overstimulation taking over him thanks to his second orgasm, but it just felt so right, he couldn’t stop himself from rocking your hips back and forth using his cum as lubricant.

His cock touched places your fingers could never reach, each thrust and movement felt so good. He called out your name in a whine, his head falling back and taking this opportunity so you could mark his neck more. “IloveyouIloveyousofuckin’muchprincess” He was the first to say those three words, bringing butterflies to your tummy after some time of confessing your feelings to the others. “You’remakin’mefeels’goodmygod.” His cries were because he couldn’t take it anymore, filling you up for a second time. And you swear you looked down and there was a clear bump in your tummy because of how full you were. Making itself more prominent each thrust Satoru gave you.

“Ohyeahbaby…Use me as your fuck toy- shit-i’m yours baby.” He never stopped praising you, not until you came and rested your slumpy body on top of his. Your breathings synchronizing with the other, his heartbeat was audible. His arms wrapped around you like a bear. “Satoru- I need to clean myself-” 

“I will clean you- Just… let’s stay some time more like this, please. I want to feel you.” His head rested on top of yours while he drew figures in your back with his fingers. “You’re so… perfect.” He said before giving a peck on your forehead.

“Satoru…?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Are you hard again?”

Millionth fuck.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of pain

a/n: Thank you again for reading this series, I really love writing it :) More to come! I really really appreciate feedback, as always ♡

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 5 ☁

Series Masterlist

~~

“It’s going to feel like a push,” Rhys explained, his fingers intertwined between his knees. “And then you’ll know I’m in your mind. It shouldn’t hurt—maybe just a pinch and then a pressure.” 

You nodded, clutching the arms of your chair with white-knuckled fingers. 

“He’s in my mind all the time. Uninvited, might I add. Doesn’t hurt, it’s just annoying,” Mor added. 

Turning your head in her direction, eyes downcast toward the floor, you nodded to her, too. 

The faelights gave the room a warm amber hue. It was the day after you met Rhys—or rather, became reacquainted with him—and the day he was going to look for your memories. Mor sat beside you, the blue dress she wore shimmering beneath the glow of the room, and Azriel stood guard by the door. What he was guarding you from, you had no idea, but the act seemed to comfort him. 

“Was Cassian busy?” you asked, and then immediately regretted it. 

It wasn’t Cassian’s job to be here. He was a grown man with a position in this court. He was busy, obviously. You also barely knew him. 

What a stupid question.

Rhys breathed through a smile, anyway. “He’s up at the camps today. But I’ll let him know you asked for him. He’ll love that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” 

“He’ll love it. I was being genuine,” Rhys comforted, interrupting the anxiousness rising in your tone. “Should we get started?”

You took a deep breath meant to rid the feeling of nausea overtaking you. It didn’t work. 

“Yes,” you replied, easing your trembling fingers into your lap. “Yes, I’m ready.” 

Rhys kicked up from the table he was leaning against, spinning a chair around in front of you. He sat, and the instant his knees bent to make the descent, Azriel was out from his hiding place in the dark. He loomed over the High Lord, shadows agitated, wings tucked in tight. To his credit, Rhys only gave the new, menacing presence a quick glance. 

“Should I keep my eyes open? Or do we have to touch or—” 

“Just relax,” Rhys offered. “With everything going on, your mind should be wide open. This will be simple and fast. I promise.” 

A promise from a High Lord—from your family, you reminded yourself. This was going to be fine. You doubled up on tonics this morning, so the pain in your head was minimal and you were safe here.

This was going to be fine. 

You hadn't even noticed the rapid pace of your breath until Azriel’s shadows came to wind around your shoulders, the quick uptick of the darkness more telling than anything else. The small wisps traveled up and down with the rhythm of your breath until it began to even out, and then they curled around your cheeks as if to caress you. When they made the occasional pass by your ears, it felt as if you were being told secrets—as if you were important enough to know something no one else did. 

Yes, this was going to be fine. 

Rhys cleared his throat. 

The first step into your mind was jarring, the sensation making you physically jump. Rhys seemed to raise a hand up at the entry—to knock on something or open it up—but he passed through a permeable wall instead. He passed through with ease. 

The High Lord made a low, surprised sound that echoed in the room. 

“What?” Azriel gruffly asked. 

Rhys paused. “Well, nothing, I just—I just expected some of her magic to have remained where it was. For some of it to be protecting her mind.” 

“Magic?” you whispered. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to you as if on instinct—as if the sound of your voice was simply something he always followed—but his expression did not match the sentiment. He looked haunted, a shadow cast over the grim line of his mouth. 

“I have magic?” 

Your whisper was cut off by a sharp intake of air. Rhys had moved on from the outskirts of your mind, each step deeper a clicking echo in the stark chamber. He went in directions that felt practiced, like he’d been here before but everything had been rearranged, removed. 

You watched as the High Lord ran a rough hand over his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

Mor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

Azriel watched the man within your mind, a preternatural stillness stiffening his limbs.

“It’s like you’ve been wiped.” Rhys shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You still know language, you know how to—to be fae. But everything else is…” 

Within your mind, you felt a darkness roll from Rhys. He was sending something out, inspecting the area. The pain began then, but you weren’t going to tell them. You weren’t going to break and ruin something else. 

The darkness invaded small crevices in your mind, sleuthing and slinking in areas you hadn’t been aware of yourself. More pressure built up behind your skull. 

You could still manage it. 

The air was knocked from your lungs, but you could still manage it. 

“Rhysand,” Azriel warned. Blue began to overpower the orange glow of the room. 

“I think I’m almost somewhere,” the High Lord replied. 

“She’s—” 

“Keep going,” you gritted out. “It just feels odd,” you lied. “I’m okay, keep going.” 

Azriel shook his head, face twisting in an expression of grief that almost had you taking back your words. He abandoned his observation of Rhys and approached your chair, kneeling down next to you, the bone of his knee harshly pressing against the floor. 

He nodded, something resolute in his eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you want.” 

From beside you, you heard Mor’s pained sigh, felt her turn to look away.

You tore your eyes from the piousness before you, but Azriel did not budge. His elbow came to rest on the flat surface of his thigh, his fingers extending out to touch the wooden leg of your chair. 

“Please, keep going.” 

Rhys nodded. The darkness in your mind expanded. It flowed like a cloud rolling out before a storm, reaching every corner of unsearched territory. There was nothing it couldn’t reach, and good, let it fill you up. Let it consume your mind because it was no use to you in this state. Azriel was kneeling before you, desperate and scared, and you couldn’t understand why, so let the darkness become you. 

If it led to understanding, to your life, you would withstand this pain. 

The first scream that left you ripped through the air like a strike, unsettling any gentleness that had resided in the small office. Rhys had found something; his darkness had collided with a wall—the only wall, only structure, in your mind—and he had gone to investigate. With the simple press of his hand against the sturdy cobalt, a blinding pain found a home in your skull. 

Azriel jolted, the fingers that had gripped your chair flying to cover your knee. 

You screamed again. And again. 

“Stop! Enough, Rhysand. Get out of her head,” Azriel ordered, but he sounded as if he were underwater. He raised his voice above your screams but he sounded so far away. 

You collapsed forward, hands coming up to cradle your head. There was a touch at your back, maybe another along your hair—you couldn’t tell. The pain was too great. 

“There’s a wall. Something foreign. The energy isn’t hers,” Rhys called. He sounded distant as well. 

The world grew light. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel gritted out. “We can try again later. She’s going to pass out and last time—” 

“Keep… going,” you panted, fighting past the pain to insert yourself into the conversation.

This was your decision, your mind. Your life that was torn away. 

“Y/n, please. You don’t understand,” Azriel begged, shifting forward and gripping your wrists in his scarred hands. “This isn’t good for you. This isn’t—please.” 

Sweat beaded at your brow. Rhys’s presence hadn’t left your mind. “I have… to know. Have to try.” 

“Rhys, maybe we shouldn’t—” Mor began in a soft, hesitant voice. 

“Go.” With a simple word from you, Rhys bypassed all else. 

Pain exploded at the first talon scratching down the slope of the foreign wall. You surpassed screams, your voice breaking at the peak of the most violent one. At some point, the hands on your head were replaced by larger ones, and you found the texture of them to be a grounding point. Something about the feeling was familiar, like your skin was used to the patterns, the raised edges and the divots along fingers. They traced soothing shapes along your cheeks, dried tears you didn’t realize were cascading down your face. 

And then Rhys stood abruptly, his chair rocking back and forth with his departure. The pain dulled, leaving you with heavy breaths and a lingering ache you weren’t sure would ever go away. 

“You’re okay, angel. You’re okay.” 

Breathing in was difficult. The world felt off its axis. 

Pale-faced and blinking, Rhys breathed out, “We need to go to Helion.” 

You gathered the strength to look up further. 

Azriel’s expression crumbled, his beautiful face only inches from yours and filled with such dread that when you succumbed to the lightness creeping into your vision, you feared the descent. 

~~

Your loss of consciousness was brief, which was, apparently, very unexpected. 

Your once stiff chair was no longer beneath you, and where you expected to be folded up into an uncomfortable shape and cold, you were instead held against a warm, vibrating presence. 

No, not vibrating, that wasn’t right. Just speaking—you were being held by someone and they were speaking. 

“—back there. Rhys, it’s not a good idea. If you said it was the same energy from before, we can’t—I can’t—” 

“He is gone, Az. You know that. Bringing her there would only serve to help her. You know Helion would go to lengths…” 

Your comprehension faded in and out, matching the swells of pain in your head. You were reluctant to open your eyes and welcome the assault of light and sensation that would surely greet you when you did. 

There was a soft lull in the conversation, although you couldn’t decipher where it had left off. You felt a light pressure along your face and welcomed the relief and comfort that came with it. Some of the ache dissipated along the path of the touch. 

“Her screams,” you heard Azriel stress, and it felt as if his words were spoken against your skin. “They were so reminiscent of that night. All of this is.” 

“I know, brother,” Rhys replied. 

“I don’t know if I can do this. If I can survive this.”

A sniff. Something wet along your jaw. The chest you were pressed against seemed to tremble. 

“You have to. She’ll need you when she comes out on the other side of this.” 

“I know,” Azriel whispered, words weaker but somehow even closer. “I know.” 

Disregarding all of your senses that argued against it, you cracked your eyes open. The lights were still low, but even that fact didn’t stop the burning behind your eyes from amplifying. A repercussion from Rhysand’s investigation, surely. 

Whoever was left in the room gave you time to adjust, no one speaking or moving or expecting anything from you other than breath. You felt the hold on you loosen, but not withdraw. 

Part of you, a deep, intrinsic part, knew it was Azriel. His voice and his scent and the feel of his body seemed to be things you could recognize even when nothing else made sense. So, you knew it was him holding you from the moment your mind began to catch up with the environment. 

And still, seeing him so close, feeling him against you—it was a shock to your already overwhelmed system. 

You groaned, face scrunching as you tried to gather your bearings. Azriel’s legs shifted, and your body moved along with them. The motion served as a catalyst in your effort to sit up. 

“Hey, hold on,” Azriel cautioned. Hearing his voice so soft—so careful—had you blinking, trying to parse out what was real and what was still hazy.

“Did…did we figure out what was wrong?” you asked, groggy. “Did you find anything?” 

You turned your head with sharp momentum, regretting the act as soon as you did it. But you didn’t have time for pain—for fear. Rhys looked back at you with a sympathetic smile, both of you ignoring the sound of protest from Azriel at your movement. 

His hand moved to rest along the back of your neck as Rhys spoke, keeping your head in one place. Keeping it supported and still. 

You didn’t have the energy to shake it off. 

Did you want to? 

“I found something. Not as much as I’d have liked, but it’s something to go off of. We’ll… have to go to Day. There’s more information there. I’ve sent Mor to sort out the logistics.” 

A glance around the room confirmed that the blonde was no longer there. It must have been a quick decision to send her away. As quick as Azriel tugging you out of your chair and holding you on the floor. 

Rhys didn’t seem uncomfortable by the display, but of course he wouldn’t—not if his goal was to drive two enemies back into friendship. 

If you were ever even friends to begin with.

The trajectory of your thoughts made you grimace in Azriel’s arms, and even though your entire body protested it, you shifted away from him, hands coming down to the floor to support your weight. A soft grunt left you.

Why did a search through your mind leave you so weak? 

“My lo—y/n, stop,” Azriel fumbled over his words, reaching out for you. 

But with confusion and pain marring your state of mind—causing your usually perfectly practiced, patient replies to skew—you only struggled more and pushed farther away. There were too many unknowns, too many questions, too many feelings surrounding this man who looked at you as if you were never-ending but pushed you away as if you were finite. 

You couldn’t take it. 

And maybe this is how you—the real you, the one with her memories—would react, anyway. Everyone always seemed to expect a strong will and unyielding tenacity, their disappointment at your meekness glaringly obvious. 

Maybe you were supposed to fight against these secrets and this pain. 

“I’ve got it,” you grunted out, pushing closer to the desk, closer to the rift you didn’t understand between you and Azriel. 

You wanted Mor back. 

She made more sense. 

Looking up from your struggle, you caught Azriel and Rhysand in the midst of a staring match, their expressions firm and drawn. With what you now understood about Rhys and his powers, you were sure they were communicating somehow. 

When Rhys spoke next, your hypothesis was only confirmed. “Az is going to take you back to your room,” he said, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger. “He’s going to help you pack.” 

When the High Lord left, the door clicking shut with finality, tension blanketed the room. The worst part of it all was your lack of context. Something big was happening, something immeasurable, and you had no upper hand—not even a foot on the ground. 

You looked down at your palms and then back up at Azriel. He had yet to move from his position kneeling before you, hands still outstretched in some fruitless reach, elbows bent and tense against his sides.

You wanted Mor back. 

She seemed to love you—to want you here.

“I can get back to my room on my own,” you offered, and even though the words were barely a whisper, they were resounding in the silent room. 

Azriel licked his lips and looked down. When his hands fell to his sides, you took that as compliance, as acceptance. On shaking arms, you attempted to lift yourself up. 

“I haven’t been doing this right.” Your unsuccessful attempt abruptly ceased. Azriel continued. “I barely got it right the first time. This time… this time I—” 

“It’s okay, Azriel. I understand, I think.” 

Hazel eyes met yours, the collection of colors confused beneath furrowed brows. 

You so badly wanted to soothe away all of the unease within them, to brush your thumb along his brow even though you were sure he wouldn’t want to do the same—not without his family present to witness it. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

You wanted to sigh, but too much air might’ve made you pass out again. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, twisting your lips as you considered the best way to phrase the thoughts that had been plaguing you. 

“No one will tell me about you—about who we were to each other before I lost everything. I thought maybe it was because you were going to tell me, but then you wanted nothing to do with me and I understood a little better. I understood that maybe we weren’t friends before all of this. And that’s okay, I know that we lived lives that I can’t remember. 

“But then… sometimes you do things that don’t make sense to me. You say things that don’t add up with what I’ve come to terms with and I think… I think my mind and my body get confused. It’s strange,” you admitted, using what little strength you still coveted to push yourself back against Rhys’s desk. “But I think I understand now. And I’m sorry if I make it weird. I think that even if my mind understands who you are to me, there are other parts that don’t quite catch up.” 

“And who am I to you?” Azriel asked, voice raw. 

You looked up from your fingers to meet his gaze again, greedily relishing in the calm they provided you. It was always calm there. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t have the honor of meaning anything to you. Maybe we didn’t get along, or maybe we just never meshed. But I can tell you struggle with this new role—whatever it is the Inner Circle has asked you to do with me. I can tell this isn’t natural for you, spending time with me, trying to be my friend.” 

Azriel fell further back on his ankles, his wings unfurling from their tight coil to drape along the floor in a defeated posture. It looked wrong; you’d been around these men and their wings and they never dragged. 

Azriel’s mouth parted slightly, his jaw off-centered. His gaze left you in favor of staring at the floor, and you surmised that you caught him. You figured him out. This pawn he had become—you had freed him from the game. 

But then sighed and he said, “No,” and the word was whispered with so much sadness that none of this felt like a game anymore. Not that it was fun; this had never been fun.

“No,” he repeated. “Y/n, spending time with you—being around you—it’s as natural as breathing for me.” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Gods, I’ve done this so wrong.” 

“Azriel, it’s—” 

“Even just hearing you say my name. After so many days without it, I could sit and just listen to you talk and I would be content.” 

Your fingers felt numb. 

Azriel stopped staring at the ceiling. 

“We have always meshed,” he said. “I was being selfish—avoiding you when I shouldn’t have. The truth, y/n, is that we are close. Very close. Rhysand, Mor, Cassian—they don’t have to ask me to forge some… bond with you because that has already been 300 years in the making.” 

“But at lunch and every time I—” 

“It’s hard and I have been a coward,” Azirel interrupted, shifting forward until his knees brushed against yours on the ground. “This has been inexplicably harder for you and I have been a coward and there is no part of me that wants to be away from you.” 

It somehow felt as if your life was turning upside down again because you had made conclusions and assumptions and none of them were right. You had come to terms with the fact that you felt safest with a man who wanted nothing to do with you and had mourned the loss already. It had been strange to mourn something you had only just gained, but it had felt even stranger to lose Azriel. 

It hadn’t felt right.

“So we’re friends?” you tentatively asked, feeling the wooden corner of the desk dig into your spine. 

Azriel swallowed. “Yes.” 

“And you… like being my friend?” 

“Very much.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Azriel laughed, the sound so startlingly joyous you felt it swelling in your own chest. It filled you up, consumed you, and you wished for a long moment that you hadn’t been so willing to allow Rhys’s darkness into the crevices of your mind. This feeling belonged there. Only this. 

“I am positive,” he assured, a smile lingering on his face. “Being your friend has been my crowning achievement for the last three centuries.” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of an achievement,” you replied, the snark in your tone surprising you. 

It seemed to surprise Azriel as well, his brows shooting to his hairline. “Fortunately, you are not the authority on my achievements, especially since you don’t remember them and can’t recall how amazing it is to be your friend.” 

He kept tripping over that word—friend. 

You decided to ignore it, too pleased by the way you made Azriel laugh and smile and not look at you the way he had been for the past several days. 

And something was glowing in your chest, something that seemed to replace the near-constant ache you had grown so accustomed to. 

Later, you would ask more questions. Later, you would ask Azriel about Day Court and the reason why he silently panicked every time you ran your hand along your temple to ease the pressure there. 

But for now, you smiled at the shadowsinger, and he smiled back.

Part 5 ☁

[bruisedboys]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜ may i request baker reader who teases miguel by giving him a sweet kiss after trying what they made :)

thank you baby for the ask! I had heaps of fun writing this :) also I cheated and changed the dialogue a little bit oops

miguel o’hara x fem!reader, fluff, spoiler free!!! (also not proofread very well)

Miguel’s not an overly affectionate guy. He likes you, sure, but he keeps the physical affection to a minimum — he kisses you and touches you minimally when there are others around. He’ll hug you if you ask for it, he’ll hold your hand too, but only when it’s just the two of you alone. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, because he does, a lot, it’s just not his thing. Neither of you mind.

When it comes to your affections, however, Miguel is practically bombarded with them every waking second. And he says this in a very affectionate way, mind you. You’re always telling him he looks handsome. Always touching his chest or his arm, putting your hand in his hair (when he’s low enough that you can reach it). You’re not afraid of letting him know just how much you like him. It makes him weak in the knees, if he’s being honest.

You appear in Miguel’s lab slash office with the air of someone who’s excited and can barely hold it in. You’re bouncing on your feet and you’ve got your hands behind your back, hiding something.

“Hi, handsome,” you say, a happy lilt in your voice as you skip towards him.

Miguel bites back a smile. If he smiles, you’ll tease him for it, for sure. He tries not to sound too lovelorn when he says, “Hi,” back.

It doesn’t work. It’s probably the sappiest he’s ever sounded saying one single word. It’s hardly his fault. You’ve caught him at a bad time — he’d just been thinking about you and then you’d appeared. Very inconsiderate of you.

You stop a little way’s away from him and then make a show of pushing whatever you’ve got behind your back further out of sight. Miguel raises a brow.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend at work?”

The way you say ‘boyfriend’ makes Miguel’s heart feel funny. You’ve only just started calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Before that it was coworkers, then acquaintances. then friends, then friends who kiss. Now he’s your boyfriend. It’s a new feeling. Not bad, just new.

“You’re allowed,” he says. “Of course you are.”

You beam then. It makes you look even prettier than you already are when you’re neutral-faced, your cheeks appled and plump, your eyes all crinkled at the corners. Happy you is his favourite you.

“Good,” you say. “‘Cos I brought you something.”

You take another step forwards and finally pull out the thing you’re hiding behind your back. It’s a Tupperware container with a blue lid. It’s decidedly ordinary, in Miguel’s totally unordinary work place. You step closer still and curl your fingers around the lid, pulling it up gently to reveal its contents.

Inside are a dozen or so chocolate chip cookies. Miguel looks at them, and then looks at you. You’re smiling shyly.

“I made them,” you explain, a shyness to your words that Miguel thinks is awfully adorable. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Miguel gets a very clear picture in his head of you in the kitchen, scooping cookie dough onto a tray, and thinks that maybe next time he’ll have to be there when you bake so he can kiss you stupid.

“Here,” you say , reaching for a cookie and breaking it in half. “Try this and tell me what you think.”

You hold out the cookie half to Miguel and he’d be an asshole if he said no to that. Plus, he can smell the sugar and the butter, and you’re right, he is hungry.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the cookie from your, his fingers brushing the back of your hand. You’ve got unbelievably nice hands. He thinks about it as he takes a bite of the cookie. Then he thinks about how good the cookie tastes. It’s caramel-y like you put a lot of butter in it, but he can taste salt too, and the chocolate is just dark enough that it’s not too sweet but still totally delicious.

“Good?” You ask, looking up at him hopefully.

Miguel swallows, then takes another bite pointedly. You giggle.

“It’s good?” You say excitedly. “I didn’t know if you liked dark chocolate, but it was all I could find.”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s good,” he says. “Really good.”

You beam, looking like you can’t contain your glee. “Really? You like it?”

Miguel smiles at you. He’s feeling very fond right about now. And there’s no one around, so he reaches for your face and cups your cheek in his big hand. He stands over you and smiles in a way that Peter B. would definitely make fun of.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “You don’t have to be so nice to me all the time, you know. Have you tried one?”

You shake your head. You’re decidedly silent, like you’re thinking about something but not saying what it is. You shuffle closer to him, the Tupperware container squished between your bodies.

“Lean down, would you, handsome?” You ask, a playful undertone to your soft request.

Miguel obliges. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. He leans down to a point where he knows you can reach and waits.

You look up at him for a moment. Then you push yourself onto your toes and kiss him, your hand pushing up against his chest to anchor yourself. Miguel’s hand latches onto your waist, fingers curling, subconsciously pulling you in. It’s a sweet kiss and Miguel wishes it would go on longer but you’re pulling away after only a few moments, smiling like a fool.

“What?” He asks, and your smile has caught on his lips, too.

“You taste good,” you say, giggling. “I think I did a pretty good job with the cookies.”

Miguel grins. “Really?” He drawls in a low voice, his tone borderline teasing, and your giggling subsides as he inches his face closer to yours. “Want another taste?”

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [vii, preview]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: estimated 100k for the series, 1618 for this preview

— warnings: none for this preview

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: hi. im here to deliver a new chapter and banner for my favourite two idiots. im thankful to everyone for waiting so incredibly patiently and being so nice. i hope this snippet can satisfy you guys until the actual chapter drops (10k+ so far) !! oh and for anyone who might have forgotten the timeline of the story, the characters are stuck in December!!

— find it here

“Is everyone going home for Christmas?” Namjoon asked, wiping his mouth before grabbing his glass of wine, holding it up to his lips, speaking into it. “I know Kook is for sure.”

Jungkook nodded. “Got me there.”

And even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling and more than excited to go back home. He squeezed your hand, and you could tell he did so unconsciously. You squeezed back, happy for him that he was happy.

“Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to ask!” Jimin gasped, turning rather dramatically towards you. You blinked, unsure of what was about to spill from his lips.

“Is it true that you’re going back home with Kook, Y/N?” 

What?

Everyone turned to you, Chaeyoung raising her brow at you because were you? You stared back at her, mouth opened and closing because no, right? You weren’t, or were you? Your eyes lifted to Jungkook, and he had that same look on his face. Neither of you knew what to say or do. This wasn’t something you had discussed. And why would you have? It’d be ridiculous to assume that you’d be going back home with Jungkook to meet his parents for Christmas.

“Uh-?”

“I’m just asking because Kook’s parents have been asking me if I knew if he’s actually gonna bring you,” Jimin continued, shrugging. And maybe you would have focused on how much you wanted to strangle him right now and needed him to shut up if your mind wasn’t reeling from the fact that Jungkook seemed to have not only told his parents about your existence but also that you would be spending Christmas with them.

What?

“Okay, yeah, no, wait,” Jungkook interjected, a clear panic in his voice, turning fully to you. “I can explain.”

You blankly stared at him, unable to even make a single sound. He dug a hand through his hair, looking even more panicked the longer you said nothing.

“So, uh, my brother saw my posts and stories online and might have told my parents… that I’m dating you. And so they’ve been really curious and asking about you a lot, and it was a little annoying, so I just told them that I might bring you around for Christmas to shut them up. But—” He held out his hand as if to get ahead of you saying anything. “—I didn’t promise them anything. I just said it to get them off my back, you know?”

You continued staring at him, unsure of how to react or what to say because well, you hadn’t thought that either of your parents were ever going to get involved in any shape or form. You hadn’t even played with the idea of telling your parents. And why would you? All of this was fake! A ruse, so Jungkook could win his stupid bet!

“It wasn’t planned, or anything, okay? I wasn’t going to tell them about you-”

“You weren’t?” Jimin blurted out, brows pinching together. He seemed to have lost all ability to read the room, just a glass or two of wine enough to dull his brain. “Ow-!”

He glared at Taehyung, rubbing his arm. It still wasn’t enough to shut him up however. 

“What was that for? I’m just saying I’m a little surprised that Jungkook, the definition of a mama’s and papa’s boy, was planning on keeping his girlfriend a secret when he hasn’t shut up about Y/N for months-”

“No, wait it’s not like that,” Jungkook quickly scrambled, gesturing wildly. “It’s just that my parents, you know, can get a little much. And, I don’t know-”

His sentence didn’t find an end, and Jimin seemed to just take that as a sign to go on, 

“Didn’t Narae meet-”

“Okay, how about you finish your food, huh?” Taehyung interrupted, taking Jimin’s fork and picking up a big piece of meat before shoving it into his mouth. Namjoon and Seokjin exchanged glances, cringing. Yoongi lowered his head, and Jennie slid down on her seat. Chaeyoung looked at you with big empathetic eyes and Jisoo even gave your hand a squeeze. 

If there was anything genuine between you, this would have been devastating. Luckily, there wasn’t. So it couldn’t hurt. And yet, your heart felt like it was bleeding in your chest, a dagger shoved in, a dagger with Jungkook’s name. He was staring holes into you, but you couldn’t look at him, settling on the edge of the table instead. You weren’t hurt. You weren’t hurt that Narae with her perfect smile and manicured nails and beautiful hair and glossy lips got to meet his parents and you didn’t. It didn’t bother you at all! That was what you told yourself at least. Because you couldn’t possibly be hurt. Not when your relationship was transactional and just an act. And yet, to your misery, you were hurt, deeply. You hated it, how you weren’t all that unbothered as you wanted and more importantly, should be. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts though when you saw the glare Hoseok was looking at Jungkook with. It dawned on you how awful all of it had to sound to your friends then. Narae, who never even was Jungkook’s official girlfriend, got to meet his parents, but you, who was officially (at least to them) his girlfriend, he not only didn’t want to introduce to them but also planned on keeping a secret?

“Oh my God, you guys!” you laughed, loud and light, like it was all so very dumb and stupid. With a big swoop, you grabbed Jungkook’s hand on the table, hoping no one saw the shake in your fingers. Everyone looked at you.

“You’re misunderstanding. We had agreed from the beginning that we should take it a little slower, and not tell everyone immediately. I knew he wasn’t going to tell his parents. I told him not to.” You put on your most convincing smile, swallowing the knot in your throat, hoping desperately it was enough. Everyone was looking at you, and you looked right back at them, at everyone except for Jungkook. Your vision almost blurred, hazy at the edges, feeling your composure threaten to slip.

“It’s nothing.”

There was a slight shake in your voice, the tiniest of a waver. You couldn’t tell if your friends noticed, their faces unreadable to you. A moment of silence stretched across the room, the food long forgotten about. In the end, it was slightly tipsy Jimin, the one who started it all, to break the awkwardness.

“Okay, well, do I text them… yes or-?”

You wondered if Jimin was this stupid, or trying to put you through hell on purpose. His question made Taehyung next to him sigh and shake his head, lips pressed together as he stared daggers into the older one.

“What?” Jimin whispered, offended. Maybe you should have taken the wine from him sooner. 

You looked at Jungkook finally. He didn’t seem to have an answer at all, his eyes big and wide like a child’s. There was something in them that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It almost seemed like he wanted you to agree, say yes, of course, you’d meet his parents. You had to be imagining it. As quickly as it had come, you squashed the thought.

It was up to you. The decision was in your hands. Everyone was waiting for your answer. Jungkook would have to go with whatever you were saying, whether or not he liked it. 

A lot of it was probably spite, spite that Narae met them already and you hadn’t. And how would it look if you weren’t there when Jungkook inevitably made a post about being back home with his family and you weren’t there in the pictures? What would Narae think? You could already see a backhanded Instagram story in front of your eyes, how there was trouble in paradise. It was something you wouldn’t put past her at all, seeing as she had done so before, posting just an hour after Jungkook celebrated your one month anniversary about how cringe some couples could be. Anyone doubting your relationship might just lead to Taehyung doubting your relationship and then to Jungkook losing his bet and all of this would have been for nothing. That couldn’t happen, right? You had to do something against it!

“They probably won’t stop bothering you until you tell them yes, right?” 

You tried your hardest to sound casual, nonchalant, chill as some might say. This was no big deal, you told yourself.

It wasn’t what Jungkook had expected. He thought you’d give some roundabout answer that in the end summarised that you needed to keep things slow and easy. But you agreed. You were going to meet his parents. He searched for something in your features, anything to tell him how you genuinely felt about it. He was trying to read you, but it was like he had the wrong dictionary. 

“If that’s alright with you-” Maybe it was to hit the nail on the head, finish it off, you couldn’t say. But the urge was strong right then, just once to say it. “—babe?”

You turned to him and looked at him almost confidently. It was both your face and the pet name, but Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, now you were going to call him babe. A grin spread across his lips.

“Okay, yeah.” He held your hand firmer and tighter. “I’d be more than happy for you to meet my parents. They’d be thrilled.”

He was a great liar. It sounded oh so very genuine.

You squeezed his hand and turned to Jimin. “I guess you can text them I’m going.”

find it here!!

[turtlecleric]

[runs through your wall at full speed like the coolaid man] FOR THE DIALOG-ahem, sorry. screaming. for the dialogue prompts 👁👁 may I humbly request number 2 with rise leo por favor mi amor 👁👁

Hiiiiii Keishaaaaa 💕 anything for you, my dear!

-

“Come here, dumbass.” with rise!Leo

AU where future!Leo came to the past with Casey Jr.

CWs: blood, death, technically reader death but also not? 

-

Leon catches himself staring, sometimes. He'd thought that maybe his memory had put you on a pedestal after he'd lost you, painted you as kinder and more lovely than you actually were - but no. You're just as he remembers, with that laugh that makes his heart flutter and those eyes that make it impossible to say no if you look up at him just right. It's so strange, knowing a version of you that doesn't know him. A you that doesn't seek him out. A you that belongs to someone else. 

Well. It's not really someone else, but… in all the ways that matter, it is. 

It has to be karma. Some sort of twisted punishment from the universe. That's all it can be, really, when he has to watch his younger self act like a complete and total jackass around you. Flirting with you constantly but never actually making a move. Making you blush and laughing it off. Cracking jokes and pushing your buttons and making Leon lose his fucking mind because he knows so much better now, knows that you deserve better. 

He's got to keep it together. 

It's movie night, now. Leo is sitting next to you. Pressed against your side, with an arm around your shoulders like it means nothing. Like Leon wouldn't give anything to so casually hold you in his arms again. 

Leon tries to focus on the movie, but he can smell the faint scent of your shampoo from here. He keeps looking back at you, unable to stop himself, and when Leo's fingers idly caress your shoulder, Leon catches the pretty pink that dusts your cheeks. 

It reminds him of… certain memories. Memories he really shouldn't be thinking about right now, in the same room as a much younger version of you. Although, you were about this age when he and you first started to-

Leon breathes slowly. Forces his gaze back on the movie. 

“Are you cold, hermosa?” Leo murmurs in your ear, drawing Leon's eyes to you once again. Leo's mouth is right up against your ear, and his fingers continue to trail slowly up and down your arm. “You've got goosebumps.”

You swallow, breathing a little fast. Leon gets a little lost in the movement of your throat, then in the way your lips part as you speak. “I'm okay. Thanks.”

Leo hums, watching you intently for a few more moments, then shrugs and turns back to the movie. “If you say so.”

Leon wants to punch the smirk off his stupid face. 

By the time the movie ends, Leon has long since given up trying to stop himself from glaring. He can tell that you've noticed, but Leo is acting like everything is fine. He might even be enjoying Leon's quiet rage, if that cocky smile he gets every time he glances at Leon is anything to go by. 

Leon wonders what it would mean for him if he strangled his younger self to death. He won't know unless he tries, right?

He's joking. 

Mostly.

Movie night ends. You say goodnight. Give everyone a hug. Everyone but Leon, of course. Respecting the boundary he's put in place, even if you don't fully understand why. You give him a little wave instead. It's still too much, but he nods in response, trying to ignore the way his chest tightens at your clear disappointment. 

How could he possibly explain?

He waits until there's no doubt that you're out of earshot to confront Leo. “Stop messing with her.”

There's that cocky smile again. “I don't know what you're talking about, Viejo.”

Leon takes a deep breath, trying to quell the rage that simmers beneath his scales. “She doesn't deserve your bullshit, Leo. She deserves to be treated with respect.”

“Come on, old man, what happened to you?” Raph hisses Leo's name. A warning that Leon himself has heard a thousand times. A warning he's missed having, wished he could've heard just one more time, a thousand more. And just like he always did, Leo pushes forward anyway. “What? I'm just saying, he's blowing this way out of proportion. What's the big d-ah!”

Leon grabs Leo's mask tails, yanking him closer and snarling, “Come here, dumbass.” He holds Leo there, glaring into the wide, shocked eyes of his younger self, and before he can think better of it-

Their eyes glow blue when the mind meld connects. 

An odd echoing, familiar but warped. Looking into a mirror in a dream. A flurry of thoughts, a maelstrom of emotions. Flashes of color blurring into images into memory into

He's calling your name. You always answer when he calls. Always. So why aren't you answering? Why

Screeching. Screaming? Each footfall sends a jarring impact through his bones. He needs to find you. Where

Everything stops. Spins, tilts, then settles into place, but it settles wrong because it's you but 

He says your name, but it's like a question he doesn't want the answer to.

He rushes over, tripping over his own feet. Clumsy, Leo, what is he

It's you but

You're stuck, lying flat in the dirt. Impaled by the claws of a dead hound. Of course you took the fucker out with you. Of course you

“Leo. Can't- can't breathe.”

Your hands reach for him. Slick with blood. Panic, his, yours, choking, choking

When he removes the hound you shriek, sobs ringing in his tympana. Gasping. Begging.

“I know baby, I know. I've got you, okay?” He needs to get you back to the base. Get you patched up somehow. Ignore the red. Ignore the

“H-hurts.” He can barely hear you. He gathers you in his arms, wincing at the choking screams. He knows it hurts, he knows. “Leo. Leo, please-”

His hands are sticky. Almost home. “Shhhhh, I've got you. It's okay, it's okay, just keep breathing.”

They're everywhere. It's so loud, but you're so

Quiet. Why are you

Movement. Sound. Impacts that fall too close, making him stumble, but he still makes it through the portal, makes it to the medbay, places you on the cot. You're staying so still for him while he works. You always were a good patient, but this is

Wrong.

“Leo.”

“Donnie, get me a bag of O neg, I need to-”

“Leo, stop. Please.”

Slick hands. You're so quiet. You're

They're pulling him away, but he's not done. He has to patch you up, can't they see that you need

“Leo, stop!”

You're

The connection snaps like a frayed string. Leo staggers backward, his shell colliding audibly with the wall, and he slides to the floor. His plastron heaves with every breath, his eyes wide and horrified, and Leon watches quietly as tears streak down Leo's face. The cocky smile is gone, and he can't find it in himself to feel anything but hollow satisfaction. 

Someone says something, but Leo is focused only on his younger self. Surely, surely, he understands now. He stalks forward, crouching and grabbing Leo by his sash to pull him closer. “She. Deserves. Better. Get your shit together. I won't tell you again.”

Leo stares up at him, eyes somehow widening further. He's visibly shaking, and all Leon can think is good. 

After a long, tense moment, Leo nods. Leon releases him and stands, glaring down at Leo for another few seconds before he's fully satisfied. He turns on his heel, going straight to his room without another word. 

No one follows.

-

Tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @khayalli @mxalmighty @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @shakeyourtrees @silverwatergalaxy

[kanmom51]

A couple of words

So...

JK is with JM.

We all know that.

It's a fact, no matter what those that have their panties in a knot say, or more so, what they would want.

These assholes (you know who I'm talking about) can argue about it all they want. They can squirm and twist and scream and pray, but at the end of the day facts are facts.

JK and JM chose to enlist TOGETHER, through a process that has them TOGETHER, in the same unit, in the same base. Not same duties within the unit (the military utilizing their individual strengths), but all the same, at the end of the day they are TOGETHER.

It makes me laugh how there are those that still argue they aren't placed together, and then there are those that have obviously come to terms with the two being together in one unit (well not really, but have no arguments left as they keep being proven wrong), that now they have shifted their argument to the two not sharing same bed or quarters.

Like, haven't they had enough already? It's just so exhausting.

This incessant need to disprove what these two mean to each other. They are both in the military serving their country. A military that deems sex between two men (while on base, as limited by the supreme court) to be an offense punishable by incrassation. Are there queer men in the army? There most certainly are. Are there men sharing quarters and/or beds in the military? There sure are. JM and JK being in the military and as such being assigned to quarters by their superiors... would them sharing quarters or a bed add or take from what they are and mean to each other? It's stupid to think it would. Serving together is their choice. Being able to share quarter or a bed, well, that would not be entirely up to them, even if that would be a choice they would want to make.

I hope I am explaining this properly.

Bottom line is, they might be sharing quarters and even a bed, but even if they aren't, it doesn't take from what they are to each other or mean to each other, and it most likely wouldn't be by their own design.

What more do you want? Really? Would a selfie from their bed do it for you? Perhaps a shirtless one? Maybe a kissy kissy selfie? Not gonna happen. Not to prove a point for you, in any case. Oh, and btw, we did get many selfies from them in the past.

Same bed, shirtless, very suggestive ones as well. Didn't convince you then, and I am sure it won't convince you now either. You will always have a stupid excuse or explanation why it's not what it is. Just like you do now...

Seriously, the depth of denial at this point is past annoying. Because, no matter what you think about the state of their relationship (and by now you all know my take on the two of them, partners in long term relationship of course, but there are still those having a hard time to commit to it), you have to be an outright idiot not to see or understand and internalize that these two are together at this moment by choice (as no other member of the group and with no other member of the group). They have told us and shown us time and time again what they mean to each other, and this here is them telling us oud and clear that they couldn't go through these 18 months of military service apart from each other.

And yesterday it seems like JK had some time off from his very busy and laborious duties. Or, he chose to spend his couple of hours of rest between meals to go online and for us to know he was online. He actually seemed to have spent quite a bit of time on TikTok following a few more accounts and liking some clips.

He liked some Hobi clips (for his upcoming documentary and album), liked a couple of Fri(end)s' clips and he also liked JM's #thisisJimin dance clip for Closer than this.

JK chose to not only like it, but to comment on the clip as well:

An explanation perhaps? You know, for not liking this earlier, as he did JM's previous #ThisisJimin clips? And understandably so, given the clip was released 21 December 2023, seeing that they were both doing their basic training at the time.

And maybe this is a coincidence... maybe it isn't (you know what my feelings are about those Jikook coincidences), but this happening on 24 March 2024, exactly 1 year from the release of Face.

Idk man...

I gotta remember this is JK we are talking about here.

Same day as this was happening too.

Not saying a damn thing here...

Or am I?

[tealvenetianmask]

Not to overanalyze a joke (I would never do that), but this moment from the fucking penguin short says a lot to me about Blitz and Moxxie's relationship and why it's so rocky.

Moxxie: I first read this interaction as Moxxie messing with Blitz, not gonna lie. But after some reflection, I don't think he is at all. Based on how fucking dialed in to every single task Moxxie gets (think all of Unhappy Campers or how carried away he gets with paying the street vendors in Seeing Stars), I think he's just so fixated on taking the notes Blitz is dictating that he completely fails to realize when Blitz's comments start to be not for the notes.

I think it also reveals a way in which Moxxie fundamentally doesn't understand Blitz. As the audience, we can tell right away that when Blitz switches to complaining, it's not for the notes. But I could see Moxxie viewing Blitz as sort of unpredictable/chaotic and truly not knowing that he wouldn't want it included. Will he yell at me for not including it? Don't know. Better be thorough to do a good job! And then he gets yelled at for including it. Poor guy.

Even though he's often critical of Blitz, Moxxie relies on Blitz's approval for his self-esteem a lot. So he's used to getting yelled at by his boss, but it still hurts him.

Blitz: Okay, our guy has a short temper in general, but especially with Moxxie. From his perspective, Moxxie is doing something completely nonsensical, and yes, beyond stupid.

At the beginning of the penguin short, it's clear that Blitz doesn't want to do this job. He thinks that what the client wants is pointless, and besides, they have to go somewhere freezing. And we get quite a few clues that he's been feeling down about the whole Stolas situation and he's not excited to work any job, much less this one. And in the midst of all that, Moxxie is making a mess of the notes, so now it will have to be fixed. It's very annoying.

Also, Moxxie often has this air of superiority with Blitz. He likes calling out Blitz for having stupid plans, and he often comes across as judgmental. In Truth Seekers, we saw that he feels like Moxxie is smarter than him and/or judging him. So his annoyance might also relate to the idea that Moxxie is both judgmental and always fucking up.

If we want to stretch it a bit (yes, I know it's a stretch), Blitz is relying on Moxxie for accurate and quick notes because if Blitz's dyslexic ass did it himself they'd be a mess. He doesn't want to spend time fixing his own work OR Moxxie's work.

In all: No, I don't think this is a big moment in the plot by any stretch. I just think it's a really funny and interesting way to highlight some aspects of their dynamic, especially since the short later sets them against each other in *cough* other areas.

As a final thought, there are absolutely conflicting trauma responses impacting the friendship/working relationship between these two, and very likely differing neurodivergences as well. Blitz for sure needs to apologize to Moxxie for how he treats him, but Moxxie could maybe stand to explain and possibly adapt some of his behaviors as well. (Get all these characters good mental healthcare please.)

[nolita-fairytale]

did you ever end up writing the phone call blurb?? i am STRUGGLING to find it and im so desperate 😭😭😭

called you again (extended)

a/n: ok so i never got to writing the actual phone call that transpires between carmy and reader, that gets her to chicago in the first place. and if i recall correctly, @cool-girl-is-hot was also patiently awaiting this phone call. since i'm doing the follower celebration, what a perfect time for me to bring this back, @bunnywritesmarvel.

You answer the call before you can talk yourself out of it, immediately putting it on speaker. 

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking a little. 

And it’s as if a fog clears, like you've been waiting to hear it for a long time.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice soft, yet hesitant.

You're met with a long silence on the end of the other line as the two of you dance around whatever it is Carmy called to say. There's a part of you that wants nothing more than to spill everything, lead the conversation like you always do, but after months of radio silence, you know you can't do that. If Carmy wants to reconnect, then he's got a whole of groveling to do considering he pretty much ghosted you since he moved back home.

"I uh. I heard," he finally says, in reference to your recent change of employment.

"Oh," you sound, your voice higher in pitch than you imagined it would be as you scramble to find a better word than 'oh.' "I... um. Yeah. My heart wasn't in it anymore."

What you want to say is, my heart moved to Chicago and forgot how his fucking phone works.

"Yeah," Carmy replies, and you can practically hear him pacing back and forth as he searches for something to say.

You share another silence, this one much more tense than the last, like a hot pot of water about to blow its lid off in pressure, as you wait for him to ask you something -- anything. How hard could it be?

How are you? What's been going on? Sorry I haven't called.

But he doesn't say anything of these things. Instead, when he finally speaks again, all he says is:

"So listen. I uh-, I got this guy. He’s- he’s self taught but he’s got a lot of potential,” Carmy explains, his delivery becoming more and more confident as he hides behind the work.

“He just needs a good teacher – someone to inspire him – give him some of the foundations he would’ve gotten in culinary school. I think uh, I think you'd like him.

So after four months of no contact he... needs something from you? You can't help the feelings of anger and disappointment that grow inside of you.

Was he upset that you quit the restaurant -- here to talk you into going back -- now that he needed a favor? A stage?

“Just for a week, maybe?" Carmy suggests, his voice going up at the end, almost as if it's a question.

"I can’t pay you much but uh, well we’ve got a little money, which is a whole other story, and I can talk to my brother-in-law. He can put you up somewhere… you know… if you want to. If that helps.” 

Oh.

He's asking you to come to Chicago.

While it feels like it changes things, you're still ambivalent and you certainly don't want to get your hopes up.

"Carmy..." you trail off on an exhale. "I don't know."

"Sure," Carmy nods, chewing on his lip, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious about asking you in the first place.

He wants to take it all back, tell you it was a stupid idea, and apologize for even saying something in the first place. But he doesn't. He can't. Because after working himself up to call you for the last few hours, there's no way he's going to back out now.

Let it rip, Bear.

"I uh... well, I understand. If can't-. Don't want to. Maybe I shouldn't've uh..." Carmy stammers through, the heat rising to his cheeks.

"It's just uh. Tim told me... you might be looking for some inspiration."

Right.

You pause before asking:

"Can I... Can I think about it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Sure," Carmy is quick to answer, because he really wants to make this okay for you.

For the both of you.

And because hearing your voice for the first time in four months feels better than he ever could've imagined.

"Okay. I'll uh... I'll think about it," you drag out, because you know you'll need some time to process this.

"Listen, I uh. I'm late to meet Liz. But I'll let you know. Either way."

"Yeah, okay. Okay," he answers, nodding eagerly.

"Okay," you reply, listening to Carmy bid you a soft spoken goodbye before ending the call.

"Holy shit," you hiss, putting your phone down on the table, your hand folded over your heart as you can feel it race.

Well, you've got quite the decision to make.

[foreheadkiss3s]

tate langdon x gn! reader.

trigger warnings : really sad thoughts going through the readers mind. i let my drama queen take over and everything came out too dramatic.

angst/ fluff at the end if you squint your eyes really hard.

this is so messy, really, it’s just a drabble i wanted to put out but i think i’ll probs end up deleting it since i feel like it’s cringey. also, english is not my first language so whatever (and wherever) mistake you might find, please bear with me.

I know it might be confusing, or even worse, not make sense at all. but i just let my messy thoughts flow and that’s the result.

just to get things a bit more clear, tate is still alive and dealing with his situation back home while reader is the only friend he managed to make in high school. the reader was at the house, not the murder house ( let’s just assume the reader’s house it’s near that ) and tate just presented himself there after the reader became distant with him.

« I’m sorry. »

You know about those days, when you wake up and your eyes reflexively land on the window? And then they wander up, and get to notice the soft hue of the blue sky, lightened up by the sun? And it’s almost as if you could feel the warmth of the sun rays seeping through your window?

Perhaps it’s the warmth of the covers, the cozy feeling that you get every time when you just wake up and that later on makes you whine because you know you’ll have to leave that warm place soon to get up and get ready for school. But it’s almost as if you had a restart.

For five minutes— sometimes even less, it depends on how much it takes your brain to process the world outside of your mind again— you get to feel like you’ve just been reborn, and that everything would be alright.

But then it all comes crumbling down.

Your brain registers where you are, the reality you live, and the obnoxious routine you have to do everyday. Get up. Brush your teeth and hair. Skip breakfast because you’re always late. Get dressed. Go to school. Wish to get home during and in between classes. Get finally home, but then you get frustrated because it’s always the same damn thing.

You don’t know what it is that frustrates you, that angers you so much and sometimes even makes you cry. That drains you, leaving you so exhausted that you end up falling asleep only to wake up the next morning and experience the same thing again.

Perhaps, you think, that you’re crazy. Maybe you’re spiralling out of reality. Maybe you’re just being an ungrateful teenager. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe you just want to sleep forever.

But, when you think you can’t take it no more, here comes Tate.

Sometimes you think he’s weird. Not in a bad way, you think he’s just.. weird. He’s one of the most pessimistic people you know, always looking down on the human specie and labelling it as some sort of stupid being. Yet, when it comes to the state you’re slowly falling in, he seems to suck it out of you.

You don’t know how to explain it properly— you don’t even understand it yourself, but it’s almost as if he is a sponge. Just by staying near you, he sucks all the darkness away. He’s like a black hole, but instead of absorbing everything he just absorbs your darkness. Or perhaps he’s just a little hypocrite that doesn’t allow you to be pessimistic just like he is.

Even though you know.. you know that referring to Tate as pessimistic is the least you could call him.

You hate it when he gets clingy, and that happens very often. Who are you kidding? it always happens, hence why you always resort to unkind ways to get him to leave you. You just want to be alone sometimes.

Tate might argue with you and say that it’s more than sometimes, it’s always.

You’re not a good person, you know that. You’re selfish and you don’t care who you’re hurting when it comes to you and the decisions you make.

You didn’t care when you started hanging out with a boy and spent less and less time with Tate. Why did you do it though? You still question yourself.

Yeah, he might be clingy, attached to your hip, dependant on you and the list could go on just like that. But he was the only one that showed you how much you mean, or perhaps, how much you could mean to somebody.

You never thought it possible that a being could be so much for another being.

Tate is your only friend. Even though you’re not sure of that anymore since all you did for the past few weeks—maybe month, was avoiding and ignoring him.

At the beginning it was just to get a little time alone. But then it started becoming more of an avoidance, and now? You thought you were avoiding him out of shame.

But he was your only friend, and you pushed him away for what? To test if you could feel something different than the void you were currently drowning in? How could you have been that selfish?

His eyes seem to be asking you the same questions as he stares deep down inside your soul. His kaleidoscope honeyed eyes.

« I’ll.. » a sob breaks his voice, and his attempt to hold back his tears fails, making the tears break through and fall down his cheeks like diamonds, «.. I’ll leave never bother you again if that’s what you want »

For the first time in weeks you feel something so authentically powerful that it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.

You’re sat there, on your messy, still unmade, bed as you’re looking into his eyes. And he stares back at you almost as if he has already been there, in that position— unwanted and thrown to the side, times and times before. But still it causes him pain.

It’s a subtle but yet stinging feeling. Like a cut being slit open again by a sharp dagger with its blade covered in salt. It’s a swift movement, a methodical cut, because it always seems to be hurting in the same spot.

You don’t say anything.

« You’re just like her. » Constance. Tears stream down his face like pouring rain. His voice taking the resemblance of a wave as sometimes it gets higher and other times it comes crashing down, stopping abruptly to let his tears fall down silently.

Just like rain in the ocean.

Silence fills the room yet again.

« Please.. p-please.. » How come that he’s the one begging you and not the other way around? What is he pleading for?

You frown looking at him, still staring into his eyes like a stone cold bitch. And you might’ve even been one to someone else’s eyes. But not to his.

You were just as hurt and lost as he was.

He got down on his knees, sliding on them on the carpeted floor until he was by your legs, as you were still sitting down on your bed. He sobbed and sniffled as he got in between your legs and let his head slowly come down to rest on your lap. «..d-don’t leave me.

you’re the only thing I have left.. y-you don’t have to do anything just.. p-please.. please I need you. You’re everything to me.. I-I’m.. I.. »

How could you have let everything spin out of control?

You were sorry.

You were so sorry.

Your vision became so blurry, almost as if a plastic wall was swiftly building itself up on your eyes, until it broke down and you felt warm droplets of water strike your cheeks. You were sorry as you could see the hurting boy sobbing on your lap because of your selfish behaviour.

You didn’t know what had happened to you to get you to this point, to hurt mindlessly like that the only person that cared about you. But you knew you were sorry and you wanted to wipe everything you did away.

Your hand, slowly, made its way on his head covered by the soft honeyed hair. You let your fingers slip and comb through the strands of his hair while you finally felt something.

« I’m sorry. » a broken whisper left your mouth.

just wanted to apologize again as i’m sure it came out more cringy than anything, but if you have some advice to give me please feel free to leave a comment ( or just straight up tell me to stop writing and never do it again 🤪 ).

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

i love the incorrect quotes, but i dont agree with your political views. if its not much, could you explain why ur so anti bjp?(thats what i assume anyway)

You know, I actually think that the memes and the quotes are sort of a natural extension of our political views. I'll explain but it might get a little long. Stay with me here.

Firstly, I want to say that I think this way of perceiving politics is so fundamentally wrong.

"Anti-BJP", "Pro-BJP", "Anti-Congress", "pro-congress" etc etc. This isn't a cricket match where you're rooting for your favourite team. Politicians, as a general rule, are a bunch of liars. They lie to gain power and control. It's OUR duty, as CITIZENS, to keep them accountable and in their lane so they actually do their goddamn jobs. That's how the democracy is supposed to work. If they don't do their job properly, you vote them out of the seat. They work for us, and not the other way around.

In India, we grow up with this idea of not questioning your elders. Papa ne keh diya, bas keh diya. As children our natural instinct of curiosity and inquisitiveness is stifled. We go to schools and the same pattern follows. Don't question the authority. Keep your head down and colour inside the lines. We internalise this lesson to colossal degrees. Is it any wonder that we all struggle with critical thinking? If you're spoonfed "the correct answer" your entire life, you never learn to find if what you were told is correct or not. This exact thing is used by all politicians across the entire political spectrum. They use our learned behaviour of deferring to authority and never questioning power against us. The leader of the country becomes the patriarch. Papa ne keh diya, bas keh diya.

I have various issues with various political parties in India, in fact. I have no love lost for any of them. I don't exactly believe in unconditional loyalty to politicians.

Since you brought up the BJP, let's talk about that. My biggest issue with them is their politics of communal hatred. All they keep yapping about is hindu-muslim this and hindu-muslim that. For what? They could spend their time talking about actual issues but the low-hanging fruit of stoking communal hatred is easier to grab onto. Remember when the British did the same thing? It was bad then and it's bad now. All this unrest just to get votes. Imagine fucking up the mind of an entire nation like this and then demanding to be praised for it.

Their foundational roots are from the RSS and that entire organisation's existence is just insane to me. It's even more insane that they managed to go from a fringe ideology to becoming mainstream. "Hindu rashtra", it seems. Who even wants that? WHY do they want that? Is it such a bad fate to live in peace and harmony with other religions? A lot of their talking points are about how much they hate the islamic nations and how those are horrible and then they want to turn around and do the same thing?!? Is the hypocrisy not clear? So what if other countries are religious states? Why can't we try to be different? Maybe I'M the stupid one for thinking all humans are the same that we should treat everyone the same. Who knows.

There are also a bunch of other issues that the BJP has racked up during their rule. The demonetisation disaster, mismanagement of government funds to create public infrastructure, letting the interests of billionaire business ruin PROTECTED FOREST AREAS for mining coal that they didn't even need, introducing and passing HORRIBLE bills through the parliament without any thought or discussion, literally ignoring the plight of people dying in riots, CORRUPTION, destroying the public sector and letting for-profit capitalists free reign in a country which has practically no proper labour laws, aiding in creating a historical record of INCOME INEQUALITY that is higher than it was during the fucking colonial era, fucking up the press even more somehow to the point where they control all of the media houses.

This is not even scratching the surface. I could keep going.

My issue is not whether people vote for the BJP or not. Even if you like the BJP, my issue is that people seem willing to turn a blind eye to all the issues with the government and not even hold them accountable for it.

Vote for whoever you want. My only request is to keep your government accountable. Keep the power in check. The politicians should be SCARED of the citizens fury if they do something wrong. They shouldn't be free to do whatever and get off scot free.

That's our political stance, really. It's Pro-Exercise-Your-Democratic-Rights-As-Citizen.

We will always encourage others to be wary of people with too much power.

Now coming back to why I said the memes reflect our political stance, it's because it's obvious to see why we happen to be willing to risk being a little critical of a literary text. You have to be a little transgressive, in a sense. Perfect obedience and perfect reverence stifles people from engaging with something to their full potential.

I'm sorry to say that if you enjoy the memes and the quotes, you are also being a little transgressive like us. You're also questioning the authority of a religion to an extent. Perhaps our political leanings aren't as different as you might believe.

-Mod S

[bonny-kookoo]

Racer!jk might be my favorite one right now!!! Omg can we please have a drabble on that race where jk crashed?

...but also,,, pretty please can we have a drabble before jk was successful? Shes been with him thru thick and thin, i feel like it would be a great read to see how they were when jk got his first ever major win

I'm doing the second one, before his career really took off.

-> main work

"It looks so cute!" You say, looking at the front of the car. "Like it's smiling!" You beam, and Jungkook laughs, walking up to you to look at the front as well. People are watching you- its the first time jungkook has taken you with him to a race after all.

"Huh. I guess?" He wonders, tilting his head a bit. "If you take the headlights as eyes and then the bumper as a mouth.. it does kind of look like it." He admits, and you laugh. You've not been dating too long- but he already knows that your laugh is the cutest he'll ever come across in his life.

"See?" You tell him, before you take a peek at the inside. "It's so small in there though.. and What're those tubes for?" You ask.

"Its called a cage. Basically, if the car flips, the cage stays intact and as result, I do too." He jokes- but he notices you tensing up a little. "It's for safety." He says, and you nod a bit more quietly now.

"And.. all the wires there? Are they gonna cover those?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"Nah, they stay like that. The car doesn't have to look pretty, just gotta accommodate me and keep me alive and well." He tells you- but it's clear that he's not very tactful in thinking about your emotions. He's not used to having a girl around in this setting- and it shows. "Hey- I'll be fine."

"But this is fucking dangerous, right?" You worry. "I looked up stuff online." You say, crossing your arms. "I'm not stupid." You threaten, and he moves to gently hold your cheeks.

"Baby of course you're not, never said you are." He reassures you. "But it's not my first time, I'll be fine!" He urges, and you can't help but let his big Boba ball eyes get to you. They're sparkling with the heat of his own pride right now, and he deserves to feel like that.

"..okay. sorry." You're not sure what you're apologizing for, but you still do- and he laughs, pecking your lips. Twice, because once is never enough. He doesn't care about his friends whistling in the back.

They're just trying to tease him.

"Dont worry so much. I've got experience, and my driving skills aren't half bad either!" He beams at you, and you smile. "And I've got my good-luck charm here too, so there's no way I'll lose this one." He purrs, pushing you back a little against the side of his car before he kisses you deeper than before, uncaring about looks.

"You sure I'm not distracting?" You ask, watching how he licks the piercing on his lip. "Kook you're literally staring at my tits right now, you're proving my point!" You laugh, and he grins as well.

"Nah." He shakes his head, shamelessly grabbing your ass as he walks you back behind the safety barriers. "I'd call it motivation." He responds.

"Motivation huh?" You tease, and he nods.

"To get back quick, and fetch my prize." He explains to you. "Take you out to a fancy dinner with that money I'll make."

"Maybe I'll let you have dessert in the car." You tease, and he grins.

"Deal." He grins at you, before he leaves to get ready for the dirt track race, leaving you behind with your suppressed worries.

He'll be fine.

Or at least you hope he will be.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

[distort-opia]

Could you maybe explain to me what exactly Jason's problem with Bruce was/is when he came back?

Maybe I'm being stupid but I don't know. Like, I know there's this space between Jason's resurrection and Talia finding him... and Jason returing for a sec to kill Bruce, then changing his mind, and went back to Talia to plan The Ultimatum and travel the world a bit.

I went off the assumption that Jason thought Bruce didn't care enough for him to kill the Joker and then the whole stupid thing with the batarang to the neck after everyone thought Dick died.

But, like, Jason kind of destroyed his relationship with the batfam himself with the whole coming out of nowhere and trying to hurt/traumatize/kill them. I don't mean to hate on Jason specifically, I just don't get him on a fundamental level.

Would really appreciate if somebody could clear that up, I'm kind of desperate. Like I have most of the facts but it seems like a jigzaw puzzle with too many pieces and I can't make sense of it.

To be honest, I don't understand your confusion fully? You pretty much explained it yourself, why Jason was angry at Bruce after he came back. Even Judd Winick, the writer of Under the Red Hood, says it very concisely (in this interview):

When it comes to Jason's relationships with the Batfam, I'll once again let Winick explain his vision (transcription of a podcast episode to be found here):

You say that Jason harmed his relationship with the Batfam himself as if Jason's intention had been to have good relationships with them. At the times he went after Tim or Dick or Damian, I don't think he cared much about that, hah. Most of his choices at the time could be boiled down to "What would piss off Bruce the most, either directly or by proxy?"... and also, "What would get Bruce's attention the most?". Because that's what made it complicated, right. Jason wouldn't have gone to these extremes if he didn't care about Bruce.

As to things not making sense... you're not being stupid, I'm sorry to say that at least to me, it's impossible to reconcile all of Jason's actions within a coherent character. Just because he was written by different people in different continuities with very different goals (though maybe more accurately, by some writers lacking a goal, as in not really knowing what to do with him). This is true for most comic book characters, not just Jason; true consistency is a pipe dream when the history of a character spans decades. Keeping that in mind, my personal approach is forming an idea of the original core traits of a character (which is why I gave examples of what Winick himself said), and then filtering their subsequent portrayals through that. Some comics will be horribly OOC despite them technically being canon and you simply have to go the "I recognize that the Council has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision I've elected to ignore it" route. Then there's, of course, your personal preferences; you can choose what is canon to you because you like it, and form your idea of a character around those instances-- though here I'd always warn to never stop being aware that it's your idea of the character. There is no absolute truth, and we're all playing in a sandbox. Other people will choose other instances of canon, or try to reconcile all of them somehow, and your ideas might not jive. That's perfectly fine.

That being said, while I do like Jason a lot, he isn't my full-time blorbo, so I'm sure other Jason scholars could respond to this much better than I did! If anyone wants to add more in-depth answers, please do.

[tortoise-bearing-cups]

Ministry rambles goooo (because someone reblogged an old comment of mine I never explained and why not, let's speculate a bit on the Ministry)

One of the things I find interesting is that Fudge gets himself in this position of power yet he is so influencable. But I don't think he's just some idiot. I think he has reasons for his decisions, and those reasons are: don't get in trouble.

Take Umbridge. I assume his relationship with her is like keeping a mean dog on a long leash. The leash is short enough that the dog isn't going to bite your kids. But it might bite the people you don't like, because it knows you don't like them, and you can just go, whoopsie! Dogs bite, y'know, it's in their nature, nothing for it. Best case scenario, the dog bites lots of people you don't like and there are no consequences. Worst case scenario, you can just shoot the dog.

So. Percy.

Percy is a very competent, overworking person with no idea what he's worth. I have a few guesses as to why he was allowed to run a department in the first place. His coworkers have their own jobs and may not want to take on extra work, especially if it's so much work Percy barely goes home. (Though he might also have been overworking himself to prove himself, or he may just not have wanted to go home.) It seems kind of strange that none of them are ambitious and want to take advantage--if Crouch was against hiring ambitious people, he wouldn't have hired Percy. Possibly they're all burnt out from failed ambitions already, say if Crouch takes on ambitious people, works them for everything they have, then promotes the next eager young person. (I have worked places like this.)

From outside the department, it may appear that Crouch has the new guy doing everything precisely because no one is going to promote Percy straight to Department Head. If someone more experienced replaced Crouch for months, they might get his job!

(As a side note, I am so, so curious about what Barty Jr.'s instructions were here. How much does he understand about his father's job? Was Percy getting good instructions or getting vague direction and having to figure things out himself? He didn't know about the Second task despite how involved he was with the Tournament, or he wouldn't have been surprised by Ron being there. There's also a lot of room for like, Dumbledore telling Percy that things are handled, and then when Percy shows up no one can see the task and it makes the Ministry look bad, because Dumbledore is not happy about the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts.)

But anyway, Percy and Fudge. Percy's job seems to be following Fudge around attending to him, writing things down, maybe keeping his schedule. (As others have said, he is perfectly positioned to spy on Fudge, oh my god, why would you accuse Percy of being hired to spy on Dumbledore and break with him.)

Fudge is very easily influenced, but again, I don't think this is just because he's stupid. It's blame-passing. His direct influences, Dumbledore and Malfoy, are directly opposed. He can listen to both of them, make what ever decision he wants, then claim that one of them convinced him.

It's not his fault!

Which is how, with Dumbledore gone, you can have Percy fill Dumbledore's role. It's not Fudge's fault that he made that decision, his assistant's information said it was what the people wanted.

(An interesting question is if Percy knows he's being used like this. I don't think knowing would stop him. He is GOING to oppose Malfoy's bullshit and get the result he wants, consequences be damned. And I can only see Percy getting more and more cynical as he sees how the Ministry actually works.

Though ...

What Percy sees is what people are willing to bring to Fudge, a guy who's made his opinions on Voldemort's revival clear. I can see Percy thinking that if there were any proof, it would cross Fudge's desk. But no one is going to bring Fudge information he will just ignore except to get mad at them, and it might take Percy a while to pick that up.)

... which is how we get to the scenario I was talking about, where Malfoy gets in trouble in 5th year and is no longer influencing Fudge. Fudge needs people to give him opinions. Fudge can try to replace Malfoy with another assistant, but unless he's willing to bring Umbridge back from Hogwarts, no one in that office is out-stubborning Percy. He has so many opinions, so many statistics, and he had to explain what statistics even are because the Wizarding World doesn't have them and--

So Percy ends up deciding a lot of things. Why stop him? Fudge has bigger problems, and if it goes bad, he can just get rid of him!

(Also, when Fudge gets punted the rest of the Ministers are like, "You want to do all the inglorious work of running the Ministry while I focus on the war? Sounds good to me!" Which puts Percy in a position to be vital to the Ministry but not seen as a threat, and to fuck with the DEs when they take over.)

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 29 - Reassure

Story so far

Sometimes the time to talk comes before you think you are ready. Sorry Virg.

Apologies in advance for the overuse of …

…

… I blame Virg’s half-drugged inner monologue. And also Alan.

💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡💚💙❤️💛🧡

“It’s my fault Virgil got sick.”

To Scott’s credit the look of incredulity had passed very quickly and returned to concerned big brother as he prompted “what makes you think that?”

Alan was several sentences into his attempt to turn a confused childhood memory into a coherent narrative before Virgil suddenly realised he should have objected to that initial statement. Damn. Not that it would have made any difference, probably… a Tracy determined to accept blame was difficult to redirect… but it wasn’t a great look not to have disagreed at the outset.

Maybe he should say it now, just in case?

He sat up a little and opened his mouth but belatedly realised the rest of the family were now hearing about something deeply personal Virgil had hoped none of them would ever find out. Especially not Scott. He blushed, well aware that objectively his little coping mechanisms from that… time… could sound desperately unhinged, even before he got sick and he hadn’t even properly heard how Alan had described it so he could explain and damn he’d stopped listening again and Alan was still talking…

“… and of course I was a compete idiot wasn’t I because it wasn’t a ghost hug Virgil meant at all it was… more like a memory? Of a hug? And I knew I shouldn’t go in there but… but I missed him…” Alan suddenly looked back up at Scott who had frozen in place, both hands still wrapped around one of Alan’s eyes flicking between him and Virgil “… I mean you. I missed you too and I… thought maybe if…if I went in you’d come and I’d get a hug again as well but then… tried to balance the mug… so stupid and I ruined everything… and he… he looked so sad I couldn’t breathe. And then he got sick… so…”

Virgil just shook his head and moaned a little in lieu of speaking. His eyes were squeezed shut but could feel them all looking at him. He had to clear this up, he had to get his brain in gear. He focussed on the pressure of Alan’s skull against his clavicle and forced himself to lift his eyes to meet those of his older brother…

… who stared back at him, his face bewildered and bloodless. Scott’s lips parted as if to speak but he didn’t seem any more capable of forming words than Virgil did.

“It’s been you with the clothes!” Gordon suddenly burst into the awkward silence. “I was blaming Grandma…”

Alan flushed and looked down again.

“I just… didn’t know how to help and I hoped it might… help.”

Big brother mode re-engaged, Scott put a hand back on Alan’s arm and offered firm reassurance without moving his eyes from Virgil for a moment.

“It did.”

Alan nodded, then buried his face back into Virgil’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Virgil”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Allie.”

Virgil’s voice came out rather squeakier than he’d intended so he held his little brother close and swallowed hard.

He knew from observing both Scott and Gordon as they underwent therapy that it was supposed to be good to revisit this stuff - it was good to deliberately remember and to vocalise the things that haunted you… all of them. He’d reminded them often enough. Gordon had quite naturally found himself able to vent to Scott or to Virgil. Scott… well despite Virgil’s efforts he hadn’t let them in for a very long time, not until quite recently when circumstances forced his hand. Even now Virgil knew Scott’s instinct was to shield them from what was going on in his head, rather than let them help. But he had always spoken to his therapist and so Virgil had had to be content with that.

And Virgil had confided in… precisely nobody. Because really, compared to what they’d each been through... well. Dr Clifford had pointed out only a couple of hours ago that the same advice applied to him too - that eventually the acknowledging and the speaking would take the power of the memories away, the ones that lurked and gnawed at his very being.

But of all the times and places to start… the tiny incident Alan was torturing himself over was one of Virgil’s hardest moments. It had been the tipping point between the living nightmare he recalled and the one he… didn’t. The time reality caught up with him and he lost hope. The moment he had finally let go.

The moment he’d actually lost Scott.

And lost Virgil too.

But Alan didn’t know that, all the guilt-ridden child of his memories knew was he’d upset his brother, that after that Virgil hadn’t wanted to look after them anymore.

This really wasn’t the best time. He wasn’t quite sure he’d know how to put it into words when at his best and he definitely wasn’t. And he really, really needed to get this right. Because even putting therapeutic best practice aside, this wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about Alan, Scott… all of them.

“Ok. Ok, so… I guess I should explain some… uh… stuff.” Virgil’s voice was still shaky and he paused as he was suddenly hemmed in by a Gordon on one side and a John on the other. Scott dropped one of his hands from Alan’s to rest on Virgil’s foot. Thus surrounded, he found the words suddenly came a little easier.

“Allie… it really wasn’t your fault. Uh, I’m going to be honest, because you’re not an idiot but you have to hear me out… Right to the end, ok?”

Alan nodded and pressed the side of his face to Virgil’s chest. Scott hovered in front of him, looking stricken, but didn’t interfere.

“I still don’t remember a lot of it very well.” He used the back of his hand to wipe non-existent sweat from his forehead then ran his hand through his hair while trying to summon up the strength and focus to say this the right way.

“But I do remember that night quite clearly and, yeah I was… upset. Not with you, not really with you, but the circumstances and… yeah you’re right that was when I started to… lose my hold on… um, things.”

Alan closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Virgil’s shirt. Virgil watched his face for a moment, his heart squeezing as he noticed the depth of the shadows across his little brother’s cheekbones. He’d clearly been tormenting himself the last week or so and it had gone undetected. Cut from the same cloth as his eldest brother, said torment had clearly done a number on his sleep schedule.

“But, Alan you have to understand this, it wasn’t because of your little accident. If it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else… maybe something Dad said in passing, or something Gordon made for dinner, or looking at the colour of the sky and thinking how much Scott would have liked it.”

“But it WAS that. I made it happen. It was me messing up.”

“No, Allie, no. Listen to me, it happened… inevitably… because I wasn’t coping. I couldn’t do it. No, don’t look at me like that John, it’s true… I have a go at Scott for trying to do everything, be everything but I’m such a hypocrite because when it was my turn I tried to be Scott AND be Mom AND Dad all at the same time and I didn’t know how to… be me? Without…. Without Scott, you know? I didn’t give myself even a moment to work that out because I was scared I wasn’t enough on my own and so… I kind of pretended he was coming back still and it all had to be… ok… when he did come back… and so….” John’s fingers had tightened almost imperceptibly on his shoulder and with a little start Virgil realised he was still verbalising all these thoughts and everyone was looking at him.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, anyway. The point is it wasn’t you, Allie. It wasn’t working. I was barely sleeping, wasn’t really eating. I knew it at the time but didn’t admit it because I thought I was letting Scott down… because I promised him to always look after you all, no matter what.”

There was a quiet moan from his older brother and Virgil suddenly had absolute clarity about what he was going to say next. Because Scott needed to hear this. They all did.

“The thing is Allie… the thing is… Sometimes people ask you to make promises that… aren’t fair. Promises that are so much bigger than they seem at the time. And when that person is gone, if the promise isn’t really possible… if it isn’t healthy to try to keep it… well... What I should have done is asked myself what Scott would have told me to do.”

He looked up and met his big brother’s eyes which were shining with unshed tears.

“You should have taken care of yourself! You shouldn’t have burned yourself out for me. I never wanted that, I never meant to ask that! I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

“I know you didn’t. And I should have then too, I was just too busy trying to do everything and be good enough to let myself think about it.”

Virgil waited, watching the emotions flicker across Scott’s face, wondering when the penny would drop. He’d know when it did, in some ways his brother would always be an open book to him.

Ever such a slight widening of blue eyes and then an almost but not quite concealed frown in his direction told Virgil his point had landed and that more words would inevitably be exchanged on the subject.

Later. He’d deal with that later.

For now, he could almost feel the adrenaline dissipating and for once he allowed himself to drift without complaint. He knew he couldn’t go far this time, grounded as he was by the not insignificant weight in his arms and held up by the unrelenting affection on every side.

[iamhereonlytobeanunstableshipper]

Ok so. I just saw a Reddit comment (idk why I get on reddit fandom cause it always ends up making me mad) saying that the Alastor and Husk scene was probably the first time Alastor was that violent towards Husk because of him talking back to Al in the first place.

Aka, Alastor isn't abusive to Husk, except for that one time. And ISTG that comment made me want to crawl into the darkest pit of hell (ha, get it?).

SO, let's explain why Alastor's treatment of Husk isn't a one time thing.

Husk and abuse: a character analysis.

First of all, let's explain Husk's personality and why he acts the way he does.

Husk's character is presented to us as a grumpy old alcoholic who only wants people to leave him the fuck alone. He doesn't care about the hotel, about any of its members, or about Alastor's plans. He doesn't want to collaborate, he doesn't want to be there, and he doesn't care enough to act as though he does.

But, reality is:

Husk cares. Way more than he wishes he did.

He doesn't show it often, but he cares. He shows it when he calls Sir Pentious, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel out at the beginning of Masquerade, and ofc, he shows it with Angel throughout this whole chapter.

(I find the heart motif on Husk's demon form to be very interesting, actually. I like to think that one of the things Husk hates the most about himself is that, as much as he wants to fake otherwise, as much as he sees it as a weakness, as much as it just complicates everything, he cares. And death taunts him with that, displaying for everyone to see the heart he so desperately wants to hide.)

Also, Husk is very good at reading people. He hates fakeness, he hates lies, he hates people being dense because they're trying to ignore a reality about themselves.

All of these things get on his nerves enough to show that he, in fact, cares.

And he sure as fuck loves (maybe a bit too much) winning an argument against someone who's pissing him off.

So, let's go to Alastor.

A while ago I saw an amazing post (that now i cant find aaaa if someone finds it pls let me know) that talked about how this isn't the expression of someone who's just been beaten at poker, but it's an expression of sadness and betrayal.

This post implied, therefore, that Husk and Alastor had built a previous relationship of trust before the betrayal, either platonic or romantic (which had been just manipulation from Alastor's side, just like he's now doing with Charlie)

If we take this into account, it makes more sense why Husk would care about Mimzy being trouble. Not only for the safety of the rest at the hotel, but also just a tiny little bit, for Alastor's own safety.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very sure that Husk hates Alastor, but there's this tiny, annoying part of him that can't help but care.

So, let's cut to the infamous scene.

Husk didn't confront Alastor because he had never been violent towards him before. Husk confronted Alastor because he cares, and because people being stupid gets on his nerves, and because he finds it hard to hold back when he knows he's right.

Also, it had been 7 years since he had seen Alastor. It's normal that he's gained more confidence to confront him.

AND, despite all of this, he was reluctant in the beggining.

In the first screenshot, Husk gets visibly angry at Alastor because of his dismissive attitude while his back is turned at him. But when Husk speaks again, you can see him visibly holding back, choosing his words carefully with that "I mean".

(Go rewatch the scene if you wanna, it's way more clear that way than via screenshots ksdldf)

Compare this to the much more accusatory way Husk was calling out Chaggie, Sir Pentious and Angel in back chapter 4. Husk is being careful with Alastor.

Despite all we know about Husk's personality that leads him to warn Alastor about Mimzy in the first place, Husk still holds all of that back.

Why? Cause he knows better than to say something that might anger him.

It's only when Alastor touches Husk and calls him his pet that Husk loses his temper.

As we know, Husk has VERY strong personal boundaries (probably some of them come from Alastor's touch itself)

Alastor trespassing his boundaries is what makes Husk stop thinking logically. He's pissed, and he hates Alastor, and he hates how he makes him feel so powerless, so insignificant, like less of a human.

And he bites back.

The comment I saw implied that Husk said the "big talk for someone who's also on a leash" because he thought it wouldn't have any major effect on Alastor, and he unknowingly touched a touchy subject.

But this is even slightly out of character for Husk. He didn't say it because he didn't think it would make Alastor mad, he said it because he knew it would make him mad.

Husk is fucking amazing at reading people. He knew it was a touchy subject. He wasn't thinking about consequences, he was thinking about pissing Alastor off, about regaining control.

(He's a gambler, cmon. Searching for control and power without minding the consequences is his thing.)

This is NOT a "what the fuck is he doing?" face. It's an "oh no, not again" face.

And immediately, he tries to take it back. The rush of making Alastor mad passes away the moment he pulls out the chain, and Husk knows what's coming.

Alastor has done that before. Judging by Husk's body language, there's NO way on earth he hasn't.

One VERY important thing to take into account is: victims have personalities.

Of course, victims tend to have unifying factors in their trauma responses due to similar experiences, but overall: a victim isn't an archetype, it's a person.

There are different types of abuse. Everyone reacts differently towards abuse.

Saying that Husk isn't being abused by Alastor just because he talks back is. Well. Kinda weird, isn't it?

(Maybe I'm exaggerating but doesn't it sound like victim blaming a bit??)

The important thing is that this is how Valentino and Alastor treat Angel and Husk:

Yes, they are different types of abuse. Yes, Angel and Husk's reactions to it are different.

But this doesn't make one kind less valid than the other. And just because Alastor isn't sexually abusive to Husk, that doesn't mean Husk's abuse is "less important" (this isn't a competition, ffs)

Husk's personality, Husk's hatred of stupidity, Husk's reactive nature, Husk's strong boundaries, don't automatically disappear when he's talking with his abuser. He's still Husk.

And yet, we can still see the signs of abuse, such as Husk holding back at the beginning because he knows what Alastor may do if he's mad, or him flinching away slightly when Alastor turns suddenly to look at him, or him trying to take back what he just said immediately because he's scared of the consequences.

And, let's be serious. Alastor is a serial killer. He enjoys watching people suffer. He enjoys knowing that people fear him.

And, since he's on a "leash", as Husk said, I'm very sure this hurts his ego a whole lot. So, it makes sense that he loves feeling that he has control over the souls he owns, that they fear him, to forget he's not completely free himself.

It's not so far fetched to assume that Alastor gets a quick and an ego boost out of seeing Husk like that, terrified and shivering on the ground. So I don't believe he hasn't done it before.

(And I mean, even if this only happened the one time we see it in the show, it would still be abusive?? It would be Alastor using his power to physically and psychologically torment Husk, which is abuse, even if it's only once ((which i highly doubt)))

In conclusion: Alastor is an abuser. There's no way around it. And Husk is a victim of abuse.

Sorry this got long SLKDS

Tbh I think everything I said here is pretty obvious?? Like to me that scene always read as a way of the show telling us Alastor's true colors once no one's watching, and the way he treats Husk. Like, it didn't even cross my mind that it might have been an isolated occurrence.

But the comment had around 50 upvotes so?? Idk I just wanted to rant about this lmao