#but i just wanted to make it clear i'm aware of how awful the relationship was

[dragonlands]

There's so much negativity around Izzy's death so I wanted to address some of the points I keep seeing thrown around.

"Izzy's death was pointless"

No, he just had his big speech about how basically they can kill him but they cannot kill the movement. That is a clear paraller to a lot of real life protestors of unjustice. He died protecting the community, he died so the community could go on.

"Izzy's death made his healing pointless"

No it didn't. Healing is always good, feeling happiness and belonging are ALWAYS worth it. We never know how long we've got, doesn't mean we gotta stop trying to be better or happier. His healing was still real. It still mattered.

"Izzy's character arc was left unfinished, it's bad writing"

Oh my god. If you open any writing guide about how to write impactful deaths, and the first thing that comes up is to leave some part of their arc unfinished. And his arc did go through quite a beautiful line, sure there could've been more but his story didn't end like, mid arc. As a writer, of course you want to make the audience sad when a character dies. It's good storytelling. Good stories are supposed to make us feel.

"Izzy died on the arms of his abuser"

Where the hell did this idea come from? Ed and Izzy have been in a toxic codependent relationship way before this show started. You could argue that Izzy was Ed's abuser, but that is not the argument I want to make here. Yes, we saw Ed driven to madness shoot Izzy on screen, but we know Izzy's the one that forced him to be Blackbeart when he didn't want it anymore. There's turmoil all around them. But the final moment is them finally meeting as people, not as components of Blackbeard.

"Izzy's death was unnecessarily awful"

His death was sad, yes, but it was quite beautiful as far as deaths go. He was surrounded by family who cared for him. He was loved, and accepted as he is. He knew his legacy will be carried on.

"They killed off the only character that showed us healing is never too late"

Did we watch the same show? That begins with then unhappy 40+ year old Stede deciding it's finally time to reach for his dreams? Where we see Blackbeard slowly gaining back his humanity? Where Black Pete starts off as toxically masculine dude but ends up in a soft gay marriage? Where most of the crew wanted to mutiny but then they realized being soft is good, actually. Jim's whole purpose in life being revenge but them learning to let that go and instead concentrate on love and fun and family. And so on. Izzy's arc is beautiful, but he's not the only person healing who thought it was too late already.

"Izzy's death was bury your gays trope"

No, what, no. In a pirate show where everyobody is queer some queer people will die. Bury your gays is about only having one or few queer characters and killing them off while the straights get their happily ever afters. This is so far from that.

Also, I want people to be aware of the phenomenon, where creators of diverse shows are subjected to more critism than those of non diverse shows. If this intrests you, Sarah Z on Youtube made a great video on it called Double standards and diverse media. Our flag means death has given us so much, queer love story with a happily ever after, finding community, nonbinary character. And the creators have always been so kind to fans, so let's show them tht kindness back. Because critizicing this one aspect can easily turn to seeming like the whole story is just unwanted. That stories like Ed and Stede's aren't worth telling. And I'm so aftraid that will happen, when just now for the first time in years we are finally getting queer stories.

Also, I understand people are sad. I am sad too - Izzy was an amazing character and his death was sad but that's just. Good writing. You can grieve, but trying to turn it into a moral or dramaturgy issue is just not a good look. And attacking the creators of this wonderful show is just horrible.

Remember - this fandom is a safe space ship 🏴‍☠️🏳️‍🌈

[bbyquokka]

1:16 pm (hhj)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | timestamp, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | established relationship, dirty thoughts, consensual distribution of sexual pics/videos, sex toys, little bit of nipple play

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 0.8k ~ (896)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | this won in the poll i did a few days ago! i hope you all enjoy! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

he's bored. the meeting he is currently stuck in is boring. his eyes keep drooping, threatening to close whilst the tall coffee he got from the coffee shop is failing to do its job and keep him awake.

he's been cranky since the moment he woke up at five am. hyunjin wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with the person he loves, maybe even make love to you when you woke up.

either way, everything is irritating him, no matter how small or big it seems. his collar on his white shirt feels too tight around his neck. his blazer feels that it's constricting him. his suit pants feeling more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. 

he glances at his silver watch that sits on his wrist, groaning at the fact that he has 4 more hours of his superior telling him the same old stuff that he already knows. he knows the company needs to up their sales. he knows the company had a rough month last month. he knows because he looks at the numbers and puts it all together. because he was the one that made the superiors aware of how shit the company has been doing lately.

hyunjin's mind drifts to you. it drifts to this morning where he had to leave you. it drifts to how beautiful and ethereal you looked. your face all cute and smushed together. the duvet covering your body but somehow outlining your curves. the soft snores and whimpers of his name. the way you'd roll over into a more comfortable position and just flop on your back.

he wanted to ruin you. pepper your skin in kisses and bruises. caress your skin and your curves and listen to your sweet and beautiful moans in the form of his name whilst he watches your mind slowly cloud over and fill with nothing but thoughts of him.

fuck, hyunjin wishes he didn't have to attend this stupid meeting. 

as he listens to his superior drone on and on about useless information, he feels his phone vibrate. he frowns and pulls it out of his pocket, keeping it under the desk.

a message from you. he thought it was just a simple “good morning” message but as he opens it up, his eyes widen and throat becomes dry.

you sent him a video. a video of you bouncing on your clear suction dildo. you have your back to the camera so hyunjin can see everything so perfectly. the way the dildo disappears and reappears. the way your ass ripples with each bounce. how you lean forward slightly to give hyunjin that perfect view. unfortunately, his phone is on silent so he can't hear you but he can use his imagination.

he swallows thickly, eyes glued to the screen. his body heats up as tingles shoot all over his body and lay dormant in the pit of his stomach. hyunjin shuffles in his seat slightly, readjusting himself and crossing his legs to hide the growing erection 

hyunjin [7:30]: well, good morning to me i guess 🤤

yn [7:30]: good morning, hyun! 😇

hyunjin [7:31]: my love. you can't be sending me stuff like that. im still in a meeting! 

yn [7:31]: aw :( did you not like it?

hyunjin [7:32]: quite the opposite darling. i fucking loved it which is a problem when i'm at work 🫣

yn [7:34]: great! then you wouldn't mind if i sent you more stuff 😇😚

hyunjin audibly groans which causes heads to turn. he looks up, clears his throat and shoves his phone in his pocket.

“apologies. just family stuff.” the superior gives hyunjin a disgruntled grunt before continuing on with the meeting. hyunjin rolls his eyes, his mind now wondering back to the video you sent him and the possibilities of what's to come.

his mind wanders into a daydream. it wanders back to the video you sent him and how he wishes he was behind you, a handful of your hair and his cock replacing the dildo. how he wishes he could hear your screams and pleads for more. to see your body shake with intense pleasure and glisten with sweat. to see your knees bruise from the hardwood floor.

the more he thinks, the more he throbs. he adjusts and shifts in his seat for the nth time in a row. his hand grips and pinches his thigh as an attempt to calm himself down. he feels hot and wants nothing more than to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt (maybe use said tie to bound your hands behind your back whilst he fucks you)

his phone buzzes in his pocket several times. he takes it out and unlocks it, revealing the treats you’ve sent him.

pictures and videos of you naked and in lewd positions. driving the dildo in and out of your hole, teasing your nipples and looking so perfect; too perfect for hyunjin's liking. 

hyunjin [8:49]: you're a menace..

yn [8:50]: please come home. i need you 🥺

“fuck.” he mumbles before stowing his phone back in his pocket and standing up.

“i'm terribly sorry but i have to leave. family emergency.”

and with that, hyunjin leaves the meeting room in a rush. his only goal is to get to you – even if it means getting an earful from the boss tomorrow.

[justabigassnerd]

Rough Days

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 1,516

Warnings - mentions of Goose, death, Mav intentionally stands under very hot water, angst, fluff n comfort at the end

Summary - after losing his best friend, Maverick finds comfort in his daughter

A/N - hey y'all! this was a request sent in by @coffeeandbatboys which I must formally apologise for taking so long to do this request I'm working as fast as I can it's just hard sometimes. I hope I did this idea justice. as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

“Goose! Oh no!” Maverick’s panicked words when he saw his best friend’s lifeless body floating in the ocean haunted him. No matter how much Maverick turned up the pressure of the shitty locker room shower, it couldn’t drown out his thoughts. No matter how high he turned the temperature, the scalding water pelting against his back angrily, turning the skin red upon impact, he couldn’t use the pain to distract himself. He felt he deserved every feeling of pain that spread across his back.

When he finally decided to get out of the shower, he pulled on his clothes, stopping before he pulled his shirt on, turning his back to the mirror and craning his neck to look back at it. The skin was an angry red and was stinging slightly but the pain didn’t go beyond that. With a sigh he pulled his shirt on, barely flinching at the stinging of the shirt rubbing the irritated skin before he exited the bathroom, stopping short when he noticed Viper stood outside the room.

“Sir.” Maverick said, caught off-guard by the sudden sight of his chief instructor, instinctively standing up a little straighter just out of habit.

“Relax, Maverick.” Viper says softly, watching as the young aviator loosens the tension in his shoulders, allowing them to sag slightly. Viper felt awful for Maverick, knowing firsthand how hard it is to lose someone. He knew how close Goose and Maverick were, practically attached at the hip inside and out of training.

“Maverick, we’re giving you the rest of the day off. Tomorrow you’ll have to have a meeting with the board of inquiry to discuss the incident to determine what caused it. But for now head home. Spend some time with your little girl.” Viper urges, watching as Maverick’s gaze falls to the floor, shame evident in his body language. Viper hated seeing the normally cocky and smiley aviator so broken. His eyes were bloodshot, and he held no ounce of the person he was within him right now.

“Head home, son.” Viper says softly, watching as Maverick lifts his gaze to nod lightly, more tears shining in his eyes. Viper was confident that Maverick would be cleared of any wrongdoing in the meeting that was to come, no aviator was to blame, it was simply a freak accident.

“Thank you, sir.” Maverick says quietly, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Viper.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Maverick.” Viper says, just before Maverick nods one final time and turns to leave the building. Maverick then made his way across the base to the daycare where he walked in, startled at how quickly the door slammed behind him before taking a breath and approaching the receptionist.

“Hello, Lieutenant Mitchell, what can I do for you?” The receptionist, Sally, was always grinning and happy, sunshine personified, and could always make Maverick muster a smile, but unfortunately, today was not a day where Maverick could meet her energy.

“Hey, Sally. I was wondering if I could pick y/n up? I got let off a bit early.” Maverick asks, barely able to hold eye contact with Sally, he just wanted to get you and get home as quickly as humanly possible. Sally noticed the change in Maverick’s demeanour. Usually, he’d lean up against the desk, all grins and confident eye contact, and would usually toss in a few flirty comments that never overstepped any of Sally’s boundaries, they both saw it as a joke, Maverick was fully aware of Sally’s husband and respected their relationship.

“Is everything okay?” Sally asks quietly, a seriousness sneaking into her tone as Maverick shakes his head with the smallest of smiles on his face.

“I’ll be okay, nothing for you to worry about.” Maverick assures, not wanting to drag Sally’s delightfully bright disposition down with him.

“Well, I’ll go and grab y/n now.” Sally says, rising from her chair and heading down one of the corridors in search of the room you are in. Maverick waits anxiously while he’s waiting, trying to figure out how to act normal around you after losing someone not only he loved but you loved too.

“Daddy!” Your cheerful voice cried out the second he was in your sight. Running towards him as fast as your little legs would allow.

“Hey, squirt.” Maverick greets, scooping you up instantly and doing his best to offer you the best smile he can to make sure you don’t pick up on his sadness.

“Goose?” You ask, peering over your dad’s shoulder in search of your uncle who often tagged along with Maverick’s pickups, especially while Carole and Bradley were back home. Maverick felt his heart shatter at your innocent question and just shook his head with a light smile.

“Just me today, kiddo. Your dad’s not that bad, is he?” He asks, poking you in the side gently which causes a light squeal to escape your lips as you cuddle further into your dad’s arms. Maverick glances over at Sally who offers him a gentle smile.

“If you ever need some support, you can always come to us. We try our best to support all parents.” Sally says, making Maverick fight back any more tears as he nods, grateful for the wonderful daycare you were at.

Maverick carries you out to his car, buckling you into your car seat before climbing into the driver’s seat, turning the key in the engine, and driving back to his quarters. When he gets to the house, he parks and gets you out of the car seat, grabbing your tiny rucksack as you rush to the door, eagerly waiting for Maverick to unlock the door so you can get into the house. The second the door is opened you’re rushing inside happily.

“y/n/n, shoes off sweetheart.” Maverick reminds you gently as he hangs up your bag before you come rushing back to take your shoes off, being softly prompted where to return the shoes to before disappearing into the living room. Maverick kicks his own shoes off and follows you into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa and leaning back into the cushions with a sigh. You hauled yourself up on the sofa, watching your dad curiously as you noticed the unusual sadness in his eyes.

“Daddy sad?” You ask, head tilted slightly as Maverick turns to look at you, instantly shaking his head.

“No sweetheart, just tired. It’s been a long day.” Maverick says, forcing a smile onto his face to convince you that he was okay. You, however, were not convinced of his words, and slipped off the sofa, rushing off in search of something as Maverick watches, confused. You soon come back into the room with your favourite stuffed animal in your hand. You climb back onto the sofa, this time assisted by Maverick and the second you’re sat up on the sofa you push the stuffed animal into Maverick’s hand, making him raise an eyebrow.

“You’re giving me Pluto?” Maverick asks softly, looking at the stuffed dog that bore no resemblance to his Disney namesake, but you claimed the name for the toy anyway.

“Make you happy.” You insist, pushing the plush dog further into his chest, making sure he wraps an arm around it too and that’s when it clicked for Maverick. You were insisting on giving him the toy because it made you happy, so you wanted to give him something to make him happy. When Maverick found himself unable to respond, you reached out and gently put your hands on each of his cheeks, gently pushing them up until his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Smile, daddy.” You then say, wanting nothing more than to see the smile that so often sat proudly on your dad’s face. Overwhelmed by the emotions of the day and his gratefulness for having you in his life, Maverick pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as he fought back another threatening wave of tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” He whispers, cuddling you a little tighter as you curl into him.

“Love you, daddy.” You reply, your wide grin looking up at him before snuggling back into his chest as Maverick presses another kiss to the top of your head, the first genuine smile since the accident creeping onto his face as he holds you.

Maverick knew navigating life after losing someone as precious to him as Goose was going to be rough. But in having you by his side, he knew he had someone to stop him from drifting away in the sea of grief. Even if you didn’t know you were doing it, you provided Maverick with the comfort he needed on rough days. He didn’t know how to vocalise any of his thoughts to you, especially given your young age so all he could do was cuddle you close and press the softest of kisses against your hair as you curled into him.

And he definitely didn’t make a comment when you attempted to sneakily drag Pluto back into your grasp.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Have you seen the latest MHA S7 OP ? The visual are so pretty, bkg has such a soft look! These days hori is drawing Katsuki with such smiling expressions so i wonder if bkg is going to have a change in personality like not being angry 24/7 etc what do you think ? His relation with izuku is definitely going to change but will deku accept this new soft side of kacchan?

Listen, my friend, and hear the gospel: Katsuki has always been soft.

Katsuki is known for bolstering his tough guy, shit-talking side, yes, absolutely. But his tough side and his soft side do not contradict each other, they complement each other. He is not suddenly not the guy who explosively roars or tells people off just because he's more comfortable showing himself to be thoughtful, reliable, considerate, compassionate, loyal, and selfless. He is still ferocious, ambitious, self-confident, and smug--a sore winner if there ever was one.

Hell, you see this on clear display in his fight against AFO. He's mocking that guy. Just utterly shitting on him. And it's fantastic.

Katsuki hasn't been "angry 24/7" since before Deku vs. Kacchan 2. I could quibble about how we're reading his character even earlier, but this point inarguably marks a change for him. We're now on chapter 421; the series is not over, but just those 301 chapters since DvK2 represent over 70% of its length. Even cutting the 40some chapters he was down for the count still allots us at least 60% of the story featuring some softer, more introspective, less combative flavor of Kacchan than what we began with.

I'm not trying to criticize you, anon -- but I do want to point these things out, because I think people underestimate and misread this kid sometimes. Don't buy into his bluster wholesale!

We're seeing Katsuki at his most comfortable, right now. We're seeing his truest self. He is allowing people to see the softness he has always had inside him, and I love it.

But Katsuki has always been and will always be feisty, snarky, and a little contrarian. He's always gonna roast the people he cares about for being thick-headed or careless or making his life hard. And then he's gonna be there for them anyway, which is what he's done for Izuku all this time.

As for how Izuku is gonna receive him, I have no doubt whatsoever that Izuku will beam at him with joy, satisfaction, and the occasional awe. He has accepted Katsuki as he is ever since DvK2, happy to be by his side to watch him better himself and then chase after him. They have been getting more and more comfortable with each other, working together, planning together, talking casually together.

I don't think their relationship is going to change much, other than the ways they are going to let each other in more. And gosh, what a joy that would be to see, huh?

It's all gravy from here on out, man.

Also the opening fucking rocked, and I absolutely yelled when I saw explody boy doing his fourth-wall-breaking gentle gaze at the camera. Izuku is very lucky to be the one those eyes land on more often than not, and he's superfan enough to be grateful even if he's not particularly self-aware!!!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized

8/9 God's Away on Business

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

I'm 20 minutes away. You home?

Sure! You're always welcome.

Simon never told her if he was a minute away. Something was different here.

The key turned on the lock of her front door sharply 20 minutes after he had sent that text, and she went to greet him.

Their hug lasted longer than usual, and she could feel the relief and sadness just pour from him. He embraced her like a 200-pound shadow, then kissed her gently on the cheek, not mouth — that kiss spoke of companionship rather than lust, and her heart melted against his chest.

He looked like hell. Not only drained but like he had been through hell. Something awful must've happened if a man like Simon couldn't conceal the emotional maelstrom he was evidently in.

"You just got back?"

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

She didn't usually ask How was work. It wasn't really work. It was something else.

Simon didn't answer, he just took off his jacket and shoes like he was sleepwalking. He continued that sleepwalk to her couch. It had become some sort of a safe place he had carved out from the world to curl in, even if he never curled in anywhere, simply sat down with a manspread that usually made her mouth water. But seeing him stare off into space like he had just seen a mushroom cloud in the distant horizons didn't make her want to jump his bones. It made her want to close him in a hug and shelter him from all the pain in the world.

"I lost people yesterday."

"Oh. Oh shit."

Something like this was bound to happen at some point. Her first feeling was relief from knowing that Simon had survived unscathed from whatever horror he and his team had been through.

"That's… I don't know what to say."

Now that he had poured some of that exhaustion on the floor of her hallway, she noticed that he was enclosed in a shroud of latent need for revenge. The air seemed to thicken around him: of course he would deal with heartbreak by silent wrath. His eyes reminded her of the Antarctic stare; they just kept staring off into the void while also appearing sharp and aware, like he might burst into action from the slightest little threat such as a sudden sharp sound. Her tiny little home, soft lights, and messy book piles seemed childish and nonsensical compared to the ominous man who had seen too much.

"23."

"What..?"

"23. The number of people I have lost in total."

Shit… Fuck. She tried to remember something useful from the psychology books she had gobbled up not too long ago. But she couldn't turn into a therapist and offer him treatment. He might only laugh at such tries, anyway. Surely they offered counseling services or trauma therapy in his workplace for these kind of situations… But Simon probably steered clear of those, too.

"Is Soap alive?"

"Yeah. Wounded."

Compassion took over, and she finally walked to him, sat down, and reached to place a hand over his.

"Sometimes I wonder if thousands of people are worth one good man," he said with a deepening, impending fury, a tempest barely held in confinement. "Not to talk about three."

Thousands of people…

That meant… Wow. Okay.

He was definitely working on preventing missiles or some shit. Saving the world.

Sweet Jesus… And she had just joked about it.

"This world could use another flood."

The shroud turned into a whole cage that prevented her from comforting him. The hand underneath her palm seemed to tingle and burn as if it was coated with tiny spikes.

He was always so dramatic, but it didn't make him sound whiny or childish. It was actually scary. He was the weapon of mass destruction, an atom bomb in one man, about to detonate and level a whole city with a blast and nuclear winds.

"Have you ever thought about… quitting, you know? Doing something else?" She offered him a choice like someone would offer a doughnut to a murder victim, hoping it would make the pain go away.

"I was an apprentice to a butcher before I enlisted."

"Well, that's… a bit different from what you're doing now."

"Is it?"

Another sliver of information about his past, and she wasn't necessarily surprised. The worlds they lived in were like night and day. She had a safety net, friends who didn't kill or fear being killed, she had a degree, access to education, a promising career in the culture field ahead of her. Simon had a rough childhood and a dark past; he had chopped corpses of dead animals for money and then pursued a career in killing humans. He had lost 23 and killed God knows how many people.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You got any food?"

"Sure. Um, no. But I'll order something."

She moved to rise from the couch, but he turned his hand and seized her by the palm. The warm fingers closed around hers and gave her a soft squeeze.

"I like that pasta sauce you make."

"The Bolognese?"

"Yeah."

"Then that's what you shall have."

There wasn't much else she could do. He wouldn't, or couldn't talk about it, so she ran to the nearest market to grab minced meat and some fresh herbs because dried ones simply wouldn't do right now. She made him food and seasoned it with as much love as she could while he put up a floating shelf she had gotten for books that didn't fit in her bookshelf anymore.

The scene was domestic, almost traditionally so. She had never thought of herself as a woman who would happily cook for a man. A man who put up her furniture for her. But then again, she had never thought she would date a man like Simon in the first place.

She suggested they watch a few episodes of a new tv show she was binging while they ate. Then he went to the shower, and she soon stood at the door, asking if he wanted to be alone. There was no answer, which in Simon's case meant it was safe to proceed. He was facing the cascading water as she stepped in to hug him from behind.

Perhaps it was the simple things. Even when the world was burning or war was raging or families were being torn apart, it was the simple things even then: some good, homemade food, some distraction, no matter how brainless and meaningless, some skin-on-skin connection and a good night's sleep.

It wasn't much; it wasn't a therapy session or a resurrection or anything life-changing. It wasn't much… But on the other hand, perhaps it was perfectly enough.

She gathered he might not be in the mood right now, but when he grew hard just from her embracing him, she slithered a hand down and stroked him shyly. He didn't stop her from pumping him to a release filled with weary sighs while he merely leaned on the tiles as she tried her best to alleviate his pain. He grabbed her hand after and laced their fingers together, used her hand to hug himself while a single, almost inaudible sniff pierced the sound of running water. It immediately turned into him clearing his throat — Simon didn't know how to cry.

He usually slept with boxers, perhaps a shirt on too, but this time he wore a whole set of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt into bed.

"You got that Glock here somewhere?"

He checked the mag and gave the gun a routine inspection, which seemed more like a comforting procedure than having anything to do with actual necessity. He had left it to her fully operational and with a weighted note to remember to rack the slide before firing.

It dawned on her that his gift served a whole other purpose too. It had been planted in her apartment, and not just for her protection.

A bleak thought passed through her mind about whether she would die that night in the hands of a traumatized, paranoid soldier, but she crawled into his arms nevertheless. He fell asleep right away — a sign of deep exhaustion. She wanted to caress him, hold him, but he rarely let her. Even now, when he was at his most vulnerable, he was the one who spooned her as they drifted off into sleep while there was a knife tucked under his pillow and a gun sitting on the headboard of the bed.

But instead of a possible homicide victim, she felt like a sleep toy when he tightened his grip on her through sleep with a sharp, irritated rumble when she tried to change position only slightly. It was then that she cried the tears he could not.

***

The darkness woke her up with a nightmare. Not a cold sweat one, but the kind where you were free falling and woke with a jolt just before the impact.

It was a familiar dream where she tried to hide from her abuser, the one who was supposed to love her but had turned out to be a grooming hunter. The most nightmarish thing wasn't that she was being chased again. No: the most aggravating thing was that she still felt weak. She was a grown-up now, she had more grit, she should've been perfectly capable of fighting back with words and fists. She wanted to voice her will, shout at him to leave her alone, even hurt that man, find some weapon to stab him with, just fight back somehow — but her muscles never worked, and time was running out: he was getting inside the building she was hiding in.

This time, it was different. With ecstatic thrill, she realized she could call for help. This time, she had a weapon called Simon. But the rotten thing was that he didn't answer the phone. He didn't come to her aid even when she sent distressed texts, and she was alone, weak, nothing but trash to the man about to come and bend her under his will again.

It was just a dream, but waking up was always a relief. She was breathing like she had just been saved from drowning. To her surprise, Simon was fast asleep, probably too spent to stay vigil, which was both unsettling and heartbreaking. He was hard against her, and she realized it must've bled into her dream, adding to its menacing nature.

Still, the relief was immeasurably sweet as she noticed Simon was physically here, holding her. Trauma was a bitch, but it didn't get to her this time. Nothing could hurt her. No one could come and take her away from the heavy, safe cage of his arms. The ripples of the nightmare slowly turned into something entirely different. How she could get wet just from feeling him thick and pulsing against her back after such a night terror was… well, it was new.

What had happened in the shower before they retreated to bed was fucking hot. Despite the evening full of grief and loss, that simple, urgent, shiver-ridden handjob in the shower was so beautiful that she could've cried from that alone. He was so done in that she finally got past the wall that seemed to prevent her from touching him. The connection was so pure that she didn’t quite know where she ended and he began.

She had never felt this kind of bond with another human being before. She hadn't even known that there were men like Simon, and perhaps there weren't. He was one of a kind.

Curling up together amidst a burning world, a selfish world, a world sinking like a ship, was so utterly beautiful that it was breaking her heart into pieces.

She shifted, sure of Simon waking from her turning around, but he only stirred a little and fell back asleep. Her hand seemed to have a will of its own as it found its way under his pants and caressed him. The thick flesh pulled against her palm, calling her to give him more of that stress relief, to drown him in love. Surely he would only be pleasantly surprised if she woke him up with her mouth.

She didn't get far before a hand shot out. Fingers scraped against her scalp and grabbed, yanked her by the hair, then raised her from between his legs.

Fuck… Of course.

How could she be so stupid?

"That's not a good idea, sweetheart," he said with a sleepy, slightly alarmed grunt. "Even though I appreciate the gesture."

He gentled his grip on her as if it had only been something naughty that had accidentally, in the spur of the moment, turned into too rough a treatment. Her scalp was burning, but what shocked her more was witnessing how quick his reflexes could be.

She was dealing with someone who had gotten used to being touched only with violence, with pure intention to cause harm. The darkness was the time for phantoms; they appeared in her bedroom as if she had called them forth with her mouth. The nightmare was still fresh on her mind, giving ground to having another talk about things neither of them wanted to discuss… But she had wanted to ask a certain question from the moment she had seen all those scars.

"Have you ever been tortured?"

The hand caressed her hair now, and she cursed that they almost always made love in the darkness. She wanted to see him, needed to see him, to make sure that that hand belonged to Simon instead of a ghost.

"Just ask how many days."

"How many days?"

"98."

She had expected the answer to be something like two or three days. That Simon had survived full-on torture without breaking for a week, at the very maximum.

98 days covered over 3 months.

He took her hand and brought it to his ribs, on a protruding scar she had seen many times. It wasn't the most prominent, but it was, apparently, one with the meanest memory.

Shouldn't have asked… Shouldn't have asked…

"Got slapped up on a meat hook like those pigs back there in the butchery. You believe in karma?"

"Simon.. Jesus Christ."

"Nah, the hook was the nice part. It's the brainwashing that really gets to ya." He rubbed himself with her hand as if to relieve a long-forgotten pain.

"If the mind breaks, you're done."

Simon wasn't living in the same world as her. He lived in the same realm as Roman slaves who were slaughtered for entertainment in the Colosseum, as soldiers freezing to death on the Eastern Front of World War 2, as political prisoners tortured in North Korean internment camps.

"This is horrible."

"What's horrible is you wakin' me up like this and not finishing the job."

Shivers of ice seeped down her spine. He was so unfazed… and it wasn't just denial or a defense mechanism. He was simply in terms with what had happened to him — what had been done to him. He didn’t turn his gaze away from the abyss. She wouldn't call it healthy or normal, but it was mature as hell, something so profoundly self-sufficient and fearless that she knew she would never meet a man like Simon.

Feeling both scared and aroused, she granted his wish and took him back in her mouth. They had just talked about meat hooks and psychological torture, but he was hard as a rock. The moan that left him as she went deep and flattened her tongue against him was an exhausted and deprived sigh, and she felt tears welling up.

He was broken and perfect and beautiful, he simply wouldn't yield. Not in any storm, not before a hurricane, not amidst a fallout, not in the thick of whatever apocalypse would come and rain upon this world. The least she could do to honor such a man was to make him sigh like that.

The moans that left him were different from when he was fucking her. They sounded fragile, arduous, and brought pain to mind. His enemies had tried to break him for nearly 100 days and failed. She couldn't stop thinking about where all those scars had come from — mutilation, beating, cutting, flagellation, not to mention being suspended on a meat hook…

Had it ended in him being buried alive? Or was that a whole other story? And who had been in the coffin with him? An enemy or a friend?

He said the physical torture wasn't even the worst of it…

She thought about how he always looked so incredibly tired, was so paranoid about someone coming to get him. He had most likely been subjected to sleep deprivation and constant interrogation, other slow methods meant to break someone psychologically. Methods that escaped her imagination.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she sobbed against him, like a pathetic woman who knew nothing of the world’s darkness. A killer's hand found its way in her hair again, this time with the gentlest caress.

"Dove… C'mere."

Whatever test this was, she felt like a total failure when releasing him and letting him pull her into another staunch embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said softly while petting her hair like she was a child who had had a nightmare.

He shouldn't be sorry for anything. He shouldn't be consoling her for his own torture. Her own past seemed like a walk in the park compared to this, her depression was laughable. Even when she knew these kinds of things shouldn't be compared.

"Sometimes forget that you're a civilian."

How on earth he could forget that was beyond her. What Simon had forgotten, though, was what civilian life was like. What ordinary, day to day life looked and felt like. Why would he want to continue his job after everything he had been through?

Unless he didn't care if he got killed.

Unless he wanted to get away. Had been wanting to get away for years now, just like her…

The tears were running in streams now, and her nose was stuffed, broken sighs passed through her mouth as he kept her in one piece with a simple hug.

"Gotta say it gets me fuckin' hard when you shed tears for me,” he said, amused, while she was crumbling under the weight of their darkness.

"You're always so cocky," she sighed, trying to get air through her mouth because her nose was clogged from the tears.

"Isn't that what you like about me?"

When she wouldn’t speak, he turned her around to lie on her stomach and started to caress her back. Slow and steady, purposeful. He cherished her from neck to waist, rubbed the knots between her shoulder blades, soothed tension in places she didn't even know she had any. It was the gentlest touch she had felt since childhood, a caress of her entire being.

How poetic, that a butcher was the only one to have touched her with such mercy.

She should be the one doing the comforting, but here they were again. All those psychology journals, all those books, all that education, and he was the one who knew what to do, how to handle his shit. And her shit too.

"C'mon... Tell me you like it."

The callous hand cupped her ass, slid down her thigh, beckoned it to lift to gain access to her. It was just an inspection due to her not having said a word, and he must've taken it as a sign of her being proud and stubborn... And then the night laughed at her with a gratified haze as his fingers met her wetness.

"Alright, have it your way. But you're always drippin' for me… That's how I know ya like it."

He relished in what he found, spread the moisture all over her folds, causing her hips to rise up to present her pussy to him — like it was normal that she was soaked after such a sad evening and a fright of a night.

But Simon didn't seem to regard it as perverse at all. To him, it was quite natural, mostly an endearment, as he climbed on top of her like a god of war about to get a taste of bliss after a hard day on the battlefield.

The bulged tip found her entrance with a familiarity that was only sublime. He was such a tease when he wanted to be, coating himself with her before going straight in.

"Got your eyes and your cunt wet for me. If that ain't love, don't know what is."

Words escaped her again as he stretched her wide, and she could feel his hunger, both their hunger. He simply had more patience than she did to not act upon it right away. He set a pace that was sweet and slow, so greedy that it made her grab the sheet in a tight fist.

"You're hopeless," she sighed while her back arched to meet him in perfect sync, the rhythm they had established long ago was the most divine for both of them. Perhaps he wanted to feel alive too, especially on a night like this. His hand found hers, the one grabbing the sheet, and she opened for him, interlaced her fingers with his, and squeezed. The sadness turned into a lazy, warm pool of love and arousal, even euphoria.

"That's it sweetheart… what else? Tell me how much you like me."

It was never straight-shooting with him. She couldn't just say that he was driving her insane. It had been embarrassing enough to spill all that love in the air when she had been drunk, with him between her legs like a bloodhound that had caught scent.

So she told her what he disliked about him. Those things happened to be the ones she absolutely loved about him as well.

"You talk too much," she offered, already out of breath.

"Never hear that at work."

"Probably because you don't fuck your co-workers."

He laughed at that, so uncharacteristic and unbridled that it made tiny bubbles brim all over in her, too.

"Know a few dolls who wouldn't mind if I did."

Jealousy bled instantly. No — it clawed at her insides. Simon had women on his team? He had discreetly left them unmentioned up until this point.

It crossed her mind that maybe he was the lovesick one now. But that couldn't be true… He was just being arrogant, as always.

"Don't worry darling. I'm all yours."

That husky purr drove her only more nuts. He even sent his hands down to her waist and held her steady while making it known to whom she belonged.

"Think you can handle me?"

The next thrust was punctuated, his balls pressed against her clit, rewarding him with a tight moan she simply couldn't hold back. The appeased rumble above her told her that he only got a kick out of this childish boasting.

"I don’t know. Your ego is too big for me," she tried to sound dry during yet another delicious fucking.

"Got somethin' else that's big," he bragged, voice covered in molten gold. "Right? Just for you."

On that, she refused to entertain him. He knew perfectly well just how big he was. Simon didn't do relationships but had surely had his fair share of women who had run into his arms more than gladly. Far more eagerly than her, or at least, with far less dignity. It was despicable, but she was jealous of his past too and envied every single one of them, whether the women he'd had amounted to dozens or hundreds.

"You like big men?" He brushed her hair aside from her cheek as if wanting to see her face to read the answer from her expression, even if it was too dark to see anything.

"I like men who know when to shut up," she blurted.

A laugh, rough but hearty, echoed in the bedroom.

"Marry me."

Her eyes went wide, her jaw opened, a quick gasp passed through…

"Or don't. 'S not worth the pension."

A joke… He was joking.

Her eyes fluttered closed, but her mouth was left hanging open; then it slowly but surely curved into a quivering little smile. This goddamn man would be the end of her.

He caressed her again, then brushed a thumb over her lip in a soft, yearning gesture that told her he wanted to kiss her but couldn't from this position. The gentle lovemaking in the dark thick of night was sweeter than any pain, and she did something rebellious: she reached for that thumb, captured it in her mouth, and sucked.

"Fuck…"

It was a surprised huff. Completely taken aback.

She swirled her tongue around it, gripped it tight, mouthed it like it was his cock — and could feel his hips buck unexpectedly.

"Not gonna last long if ya..-"

The hurried explanation ended in a lengthy groan, and the body above her went rigid, then shuddered. He came without warning, the thumb was pushed even further into her mouth, and he was buried in her to the hilt, hissing and moaning like it caused him pain.

He was always a gentleman when it came to her pleasure, never chased his own before she had gotten hers first. It must drive him a bit mad to spill so soon — especially when it wasn't even the first time today.

It was the softest cataclysm she had ever seen, another stealthy peek behind those high brick walls. His body crushed her, the massive arms closed in around her, he rubbed his face somewhere in her neck… and he was trembling. Perhaps it was his way of weeping since he couldn't cry actual tears.

He was finally speechless, gathering himself after an unusually weak moment. He swallowed, panted, then swallowed again. Struggled to regain control, snatched it back like an injured soldier. But he wasn’t angry, nor was he ashamed, he was pretty damn delighted.

"Now look at what you did," he scolded, but the tone was playful. He slipped out of her mouth, the heavy chest was throbbing against her back, and she mourned the fact that her skin only met cotton.

"You had it coming."

Arousal made her voice thicker than usual, and he buried his face further in her hair.

"Really…"

And again, he wouldn't pull out. She was just gathered in his arms and dragged to lie on her side. Her back met a solid chest, and the hand traveled up her throat, making her expose her neck for him to wolf from behind. It was probably her weakest spot – and as soon as he noticed it, he took advantage of the knowledge. He even used teeth on her, made love bites like they were some horny teenagers. She would have to wear high collars for classes next week…

"Does that feel nice?" The attentiveness was nearing unbearable proportions, his voice so close to her ear that her eyes rolled back. He was big, even when soft, and continued to rub against her after slipping out. Another hand dove down to assist her reach her own peak.

"Judging by how wet you are, it does."

He was right, as always. The tears were dry, but her pussy was not; she was so wet that it was a miracle how he was able to be as precise as he was.

How the hell could one man be so good at everything…

"You're too sweet for your own good," he whispered when she shattered against that chest and those fingers, her own flexing against his arm as she came. She let him carry her to the shore, break on it like a wave. The broken cries were such a signature, the music of them such a tell, that it really didn't matter that she didn't, couldn't use words with him.

This was the best therapy either of them could get, no matter what any book or professional said. They were wildly alive, they had found each other through horrors and blood and tears. Somehow, he had found his way to her orbit, collided with her in that dark, grimy, degraded place where she danced for money for a tortured killer like him. Her job was a good workout, and it paid the bills, but it had also brought Simon to her, and she had never been more grateful for deciding to go on those pole dance classes years ago.

"I have to wear high necks to school again," she said afterward in his arms, all snug and prepared to glide back to sleep.

"Serves you right."

He was hard again while she was feeling sore and puffy and content — and slathered, with both of their juices, which he used to lazily guide himself through her folds.

"Ready for another round if you are," he offered.

That would be his third one already… The ungodly amount of stamina on this man was frightening.

"I- I don't think I can."

It was mostly an acknowledgment of his size, and they both knew it. Simon just tightened his hold on her, appearing quite pleased with this outcome. Won another round, the gloating, lovable bastard.

"Alright, dove. Let's get you some sleep."

***

The next morning, when she was making him an omelette he suddenly began to speak.

"I usually fuck everything up when shit hits the fan, no matter the cost."

She turned off the stove and moved the pan away to stop the hissing sound threatening to drown his voice.

"This time, I just wanted to get back."

It was a confession of another kind… A compliment. Might even be the highest compliment she had ever received from this man. Simon wanted to stay alive and return to her rather than avenge his fallen ones.

Still, there was bound to be recoil, some survivor's guilt — or a bitter self-reflection moment of a superior.

"Are you blaming yourself?"

"I don't know. No, that's not what I meant."

"I realized…" His brows drew together in an attempt to search for the right words. "I realized there that… You might be the only person I can trust."

She was moved, ripe for walking to him right then and there and relieve that tension in his shoulders. Freaking finally give him that massage he had yearned for since autumn. There was something profoundly wrong with her that she hadn't done it yet.

He always attended to her. It was supposed to be a display of authority, but she knew that the best leaders didn't lead with fear; they served. It was high time someone served him.

"It's not a good sign," he muttered.

"I would see it as a great sign," she said with a shy smile, but it died on her lips as she saw how he only appeared to fall deeper into misery.

"Right? Simon?"

"I thought I already dealt with this shit 10 years ago."

That sentence sent ice down her back. Her skin broke into goosebumps, they seemed to travel all the way up to her head. Her palms were already sweating by the time he spoke again.

"You see, everyone I trust either dies or…" Simon was staring inwards into some distant memory she knew nothing about. She went to sit on the small piece of furniture that could almost be called a dinner table. Not necessarily because she wanted to get closer to him, but because her stomach was churning and she feared she might faint in her little kitchen.

"Everyone I love, dies."

She forced a hand reach out to grab his as she tried to call him back to the present moment and back to her.

"That can't be true. I mean, that can't be set in stone kinda true."

"Who knows."

The walls were suddenly so high that she couldn't get to him even when they were holding hands like this.

But this was the most precious thing in her life. She would fight for it if she must.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she said without fear.

"I admire your courage."

He didn't say he was willing to take that risk too. She hadn't quite prepared for that, nor for what came after.

"I can't do my job if I'm…"

"If you love someone?" She offered when he wouldn't continue.

She fucking hated his job at this point. She hated his dead father, and she hated the Manchester slums, she hated everyone who had hurt him and betrayed his trust. But it was like peeling an onion when it came to Simon: there was always a new layer underneath the one that was shed away. Who knew what was hidden at the core, or if she would ever even reach it?

"Well, what about… your mom?"

"Dead."

"You have siblings?"

"Dead."

Holy shit. Things were even worse than she had thought.

"What about friends? Like, off work?"

"Not anymore."

Terror began to swell and roll inside her like a tidal wave. A menacing calm before the storm, an eerie silence a split second before the explosion.

"You have nobody?"

He stared off into space, telling her with that look alone that he had no one. He released her hands, or rather, forced her to release him. Then he dropped the atom bomb.

"I didn't mean for things to go this far."

All her fears, long since lulled to sleep, crawled through the earth to suffocate her.

It was true after all: she had been just a bit of fun, a one-night stand that had turned into a plaything. A plaything who had latched itself onto a man who didn't want extra baggage.

"What a nice thing to hear." Her voice was metal, and Simon wouldn't say anything, proving her worst nightmares true.

He had had enough of her and now wanted to end things. The beautiful dusk had rolled into a knifelike dawn, and it was time to finish the show.

"Then why are you still here?" She finally dared to look up at him, and he looked confused, like he didn't know the answer to that question.

Things spun out of control so fast that she felt faint in the head. It was hard to think rationally when all their shared memories were suddenly covered in a wicked haze of shallow fucking, noncommitment, and her being an absolute fool for having believed that Simon would want her for the rest of his life.

"I get it that you're a super secret soldier spy, that you have to sneak around and give me a heart attack every other week. I get that we can't be together as much as I would like. But if you don't even want this, then what the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes were wide, his throat worked an arduous swallow. He looked more hurt than ever, more in pain than he had been last night due to the death of his teammates.

But to her, it was the look of a poker player who had got caught red-handed in cheating.

How dare he joke about marriage and elaborate on how sweet she was during the night, only to set everything on fire the next morning?

She was just a sweet little stray cat he liked to pet and pamper and fuck when he had the time, a nice little vacation from work filled with excitement. Everything needed to be exciting to him, he needed a dose of adrenaline and knife play and showering bullets to make him hard so he could fly back to grey London to get a go with his pole dancing little school girl.

Putting up shelves, seeing pictures of her spending Christmas with the family, tea and omelette in the morning were too mundane, too boring. She had been another kind of adrenaline shot.. But now she was only a dry syringe with the words I love you spoken in the air.

She got up and took a few steps back, tried to cut off a love that she already knew wouldn’t die, would never, ever die.

"This is so fucked up. If I'm just some momentary lapse in your life, then…" she shook her head at a loss for words. He had been silent for the whole outburst, but at her last suggestion, he cut in.

"No. Never. You're–"

She was so riled that she couldn't even hear his words. "You know what? Go do your job then. I'm sick and tired of waiting for you to come home to me, only to hear something like that. God…"

He snapped his mouth shut after she cut him off and simply raged on, all the longing and confusion of whole months streaming out of her mouth with an annoying high-pitched account. If she hated her voice right now, she could only imagine how it must sound to him. Her irritating hysteria only worsened the situation, especially when Simon remained so fucking calm.

"This is just…" She laughed through tears she didn't want him to see. With sheer willpower, she fought those tears back to the abyss. He would probably just get off on seeing her cry.

After all, she was the sweetest girl there was. Too sweet for her own good. The most gullible, naive piece of shit.

"I don't know how this is gonna work."

He stared at her with chest heaving, then his breath settled into a calm, ordered roll, his expression turned to stone. The rage was directed inwards before it could lash out at her. The man called Simon turned into Ghost, a professional killing machine, so quickly amidst a raging storm that she could hear the eye of it reach them, the whole world around her go silent. Or perhaps she was momentarily deafened by that cold-hearted stare that turned away from her with a final, lingering tinge of sadness. Even that was gone by the time he rose from the table and walked to the hallway.

Her heart was struck with a blade; she bled dry before she could even take a step to follow him. She saw him put his shoes on, then reach for his jacket, which he flung on with heavy shoulders and a broad back turned to her like a shield.

Simon was resigning.

He was fucking leaving.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He reached for his pocket and drew out a cigarette and a lighter, the flash of cold steel stinging her eyes although there was little sunlight because the day was grey. The Zippo was something she had found for him from a thrift store, and it had the tusked Snaggletooth logo of Motörhead on it. It felt like the perfect gift after noticing Simon had played the band's music from some old, burned cd when he had taken her on that shooting trip. He had ruffled her hair when receiving it, evidently pleased. "Knew you were a keeper," he had said when she told him she loved Motörhead too.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, the cigarette was sent between his lips, and he wouldn't look back, only marched to the door with heavy steps.

The fear wouldn't die even when she tried to tell herself that he was only going for a smoke to calm his nerves from her sudden fit. They would talk things through when he got back.

Which was why she never said anything, didn't follow him.

The door slammed shut, and she swallowed and turned to get a sip of her coffee. Her hands were shaking, the coffee was cold, and she realized she had just basically told him to get out. That cold-blooded stare still haunted her, and she wanted to go check if Simon was truly there, smoking on those steps and being a wall, her wall, against the cold, uncaring world.

She played the conversation over and over in her head, what was spoken, and the frost of horror turned her senses sharp, her ears started to ring from the silence. Simon had told her he trusted her and she had just freaked out — hadn't even let him finish what he had tried to say.

She wanted, needed to tell him right this second that she was sorry for being such a lunatic. She turned for the door, then walked back, forced herself to remain calm.

He needed space, and she didn't want to upset him more than she already had. He was older than her, used to nuclear seasons and warheads and blunt trauma, he was sharp as a whip. He wouldn't get rattled so easily. He would come back, smelling of fresh smoke, he would tell her what to do. That they would make it work no matter what. Flesh out a plan.

Because that’s all she wanted to hear. That he was serious and wanted this to work as much as she did. That it was just some miscommunication.

But her instinct told her that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Minutes passed, and she finally went to open the door, and there was no one there. The streets were silent, the grey clouds even darker still, hanging over her like doom. She was feeling nauseous, a shudder went through her whole body, then her teeth started to rattle.

She closed the door and turned and tried to take a step, but her knees gave in and she slumped somewhere on the floor of her hallway filled with shoes and dirt and emptiness.

#simon riley x oc#ghost x oc#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x oc#mw2 smut#ghost fanfiction#simon riley fanfic#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley x female reader#ghost x female reader

[13eyond13]

Something I think fiction does sometimes is make sex represent the end goal for relationships so often that if two characters sleep together it causes readers to automatically see them as truly in love / that it would solve all problems for the pair to be together forever, even when that isn't necessarily what the narrative is trying to say / depict otherwise.

I am thinking about this because of Guts and Casca... to me they sleep together initially almost as an act of friendship? A way of experimenting with each other and learning about sex, perhaps of distracting themselves from the person they're both more actually into, and of course also because they do care about each other and maybe are attracted to one another on some level, and want to see what it would be like to try to get even closer together. But I think the story also makes it pretty clear that Guts is more emotionally invested in his relationship with Griffith than with Casca, in what you might call a narratively romantic sense... and Casca is shown sort of seeing the futility of her feelings for Griffith and eventually growing apart from him that way pre-Eclipse, even though she still cares for him the most out of everyone she knows (though I don't think he ever feels nearly the same way about her). So getting with Griffith isn't end game for Casca (and she herself eventually realizes that), but I also don't read Casca as a character for whom getting with Guts is the end game character arc-wise, either. I'm not sure Miura even had a concrete end-game character arc in mind for her, to be honest. I feel as though unfortunately she was written mostly as something to be used between Griffith and Guts rather than to end up having her own fully realized narrative journey in the same way that Guts (and maybe also Griffith) will. I want to see her and Guts as friends and at peace more than I want to see them live happily ever after together as a couple, because I feel like that's actually more how they really feel for one another than anything else. Granted, there's a bit of an interesting ironic twist in the story that happens during the Eclipse, where Griffith (unintentionally?) drives Guts and Casca closer together than I think they might have been otherwise with the trauma that he causes them both (even though I think their relationship is probably something he'd be jealous of and read as more romantic than it actually might be and wish to destroy, simply due to his own insecurities and his own possessive feelings for Guts). But I also didn't really read Guts' reactions in the Eclipse scene as Guts being jealous and possessive over Casca in a sexual / romantic sense - I read it more as him feeling empathy for her pain and desire to protect her from harm / from the darker side of Griffith he maybe knew about a bit better than anybody else. I DO care about Guts and Casca's relationship a lot, and find it one of the most emotionally compelling things in the story. But I don't think shipping them together for a happily ever after is really what I'd want for them, nor something that the narrative was actually trying to work towards / suggest to be the best ending for anybody involved? I don't know if I think shipping Guts and Griffith necessarily is either, particularly because of how irredeemably awful Griffith behaved during the Eclipse... but I DO think the story intentionally hinges more around the Griffguts relationship and their emotional journeys / character developments than it does about any other pair/relationship in the series, and that both of them have intense unresolved feelings for each other that come off much more suggestive and stronger than ones of just simply wanting to be friends. And I think all of these characters are pretty explicitly aware of that themselves even in the story as well.

Haha I don't even know what I'm trying to even say here except to work out some of my own thoughts about the main 3 that I care about, I suppose!

[thedaythatwas]

don't mind me, I'm just thinking about how much akechi would probably hate the fact that people defend his actions with some form of the argument "he was so young when he first started killing, he was taken advantage of and groomed by shido, etc."

this is going to be a long one, so let me add a page break real quick:

let me be clear: he was! the last thing I want to do is diminish akechi's agency, but when you are a young teenager there is absolutely no reason an adult in your life should be encouraging you to commit murder for their political gain. that feels... self evident? we know that akechi was young when he killed wakaba isshiki. shido saw an opportunity, and he took advantage of it. he's scummy. absolutely zero argument there.

still, it is integral to understanding akechi's character to remember that he viewed himself as taking advantage of shido throughout their relationship. he was aware that shido was using him, but he viewed himself as using shido right back. in his head, he had complete control of the situation, and his actions therein. for all accounts and purposes, he did! we all have control over our actions. akechi didn't need to do anything. we also know that he was eager to follow shido's orders, not for the sake of the orders themselves, but for his belief that his plan would end with shido utterly defeated and betrayed, groveling and desperate and recognizing akechi for everything he was. valuable. someone who maybe, shido shouldn't have abandoned.

so he was meticulous. perfect, and beyond reproach. we can see it in the interrogation room, when he shoots "akira." it's clear that he's still playing their game (asking akira if he's "figured it out yet"), but when he goes in for the kill, akechi is cold. we know that he cares about akira, but he puts any feelings that he might have aside for the sake of his ultimate goal. nothing is more important than ingratiating himself to shido and subsequently ruining him.

akechi's desire for revenge is complicated. yes, he wants to hurt shido, but more than that, he just wants to prove he's worth something to the man that ruined his life. he hates shido, and he needs him to see that he should have done better by him. he needs to be loved, even if that desire ends up twisted. we've all been there, yeah? it makes a lot of sense, all things considered. this in mind, it's pretty clear that akechi did not have nearly as much control over his relationship with shido as he thought he did. but I digress.

so, back to akechi defense. akechi sees himself as the sole perpetrator of his actions. technically, he was. but he was still taken advantage of. those truths can coexist.

that doesn't mean their coexistence is easy to digest. in the third semester, akechi acknowledges that he was manipulated by shido. arguably, his defining characteristic during the third semester is his refusal to be under someone else's control again, even at the cost of his own existence. still, he regrets the fact that he let himself be manipulated more than he regrets his own actions. for those, he seems unapologetic.

the crux of the issue here is akechi's acknowledgement that he let himself be controlled. that itself is a form of agency. allowing himself to be influenced was his own fault. at least, that's how I suspect he sees it. he can't allow it to not be his fault. that would be too hopeless for him to process.

akechi is angry, and sure as hell, he lets everyone know it. third semester akechi is absolutely awful in a completely different way from base game akechi (and I say this in the most affectionate way possible). as much as goro akechi hates the world, he hates goro akechi. anger internalized is rarely solely internal, likewise, anger externalized is rarely solely external. anger is also often a mask. the black mask is angry in the same way that the detective prince is polite to a tee. neither persona (no pun intended) is complete.

(after all, we know that akechi has feelings other than anger, even if he tries to downplay them. he turns himself into the police in akira's stead. he may not harbor affection for the rest of the thieves, but he certainly feels something for akira. call it respect. call it a need to be seen. call it love. I think that those are all pretty similar in the mind of our guy in question.)

the way I read it, akechi is his own worst enemy, and consciously or not, it seems that he sees himself that way as well.

to claim that akechi isn't accountable for his actions under shido would grate at him because, well, it just isn't true! at least not entirely. the argument that he was manipulated? it wouldn't work either, because akechi sees himself as at fault for that too.

the guy has issues. and isn't that what makes him compelling?

anyway! that's enough for today. perhaps I'll continue this later. believe it or not, I still have things to say!

[kiwinatorwaffles]

hmm. i'm usually not one to post about these topics but i think i've gathered enough thoughts on wilbur's abysmal apology towards shelby to form a cohesive message.

WARNING: the rest of the post will discuss abuse and also a lot of my personal experiences as someone who has hurt other people in the past. obviously not to the extent that wilbur has, but please move on it you don’t want to see it. thank you and stay safe.

being stuck in a hard place, whether it be living conditions, mental conditions, or any other factor, will naturally hurt the person going through those tough times. and hurt people hurt people. but i think there's a pretty Big Fucking Difference between doing bad things in the past and actually owning up to your actions after regretting it VS doing bad things in the past and turning a blind eye against those you've hurt to wallow in your own ego and misery.

i’ve experienced my fair share of abusive friendships, but when i was fifteen, i WAS the toxic friend. (yes, i’m aroace. friendships aren’t the same as a romantic relationship but they can be just as strong. i value my platonic bonds as much as allos value their marriages or date partners.) i was going through a huge depressive episode. it was tough for me, but during that time, i made fun of my friends' interests to their faces because i couldn't personally understand it, and i also vagueposted about the little things they did that ticked me off right where they could see it. it got to the point where they had to make a separate group chat to talk about their interests where i wouldn’t see it. i hurt all of them, and it ended in them confronting me about my actions. they put me in my place and called me out for my horrible attitude.

after seeing my friends' perspectives, i realized just how awful i was to them and sincerely apologized to each of them. i recognized their feelings towards my actions and didn't make excuses. even though i was going through a hard time myself, my abuse towards them was absolutely NOT justified. as i recovered, i made sure not to hurt them any more, and years later, our friendships are still going strong.

my experiences aren't nearly as extreme as what wilbur has done to shelby, but i think it's pretty fucking clear that his apology was flaming dog shit served on a trash dump. like, i was a fifteen year old. he's a Grown Ass Man with a big platform. he dug his own grave by talking about himself first instead of actually addressing his mistreatment of shelby first and foremost. he didn't even MENTION shelby by name. talking about his "strides to betterment" without even directing his apology towards the person he actually hurt is just pathetic. that whole spiel about how he "thought" the whole exchange was consensual is fucking wild. he didn't even apologize for that; he moved on right afterwards.

we can infer that wilbur has been struggling with being a person who has done bad things through his songs and lovejoy's music. he might have been going through a hard time and maybe even regretted it (though his apology really makes it seem like he's just doing it for damage control), that STILL doesn't validate any hurt he might have caused. the least he could’ve done is to sincerely apologize to shelby, even if she didn’t accept it. but he couldn’t even do that.

it's just disappointing that, as someone who has a platform of millions of followers, he displayed an act of shallowness. in the end, his attempt at sincerity fell flat and benefited no one, especially not the people he abused. if he had properly apologized, even if his apology wasn't accepted, it would've shown people in a similar situation how to apologize to the people they hurt in the past in a mature and sincere way.

so, yeah. FUCK wilbur soot. focus not on the fact that he has done bad, but that the one he abused didn’t get a proper apology. support shelby and other victims of abuse. listen to their experiences and spread awareness of these cautions. uplift their voices, not his.

for those who have connected to his and lovejoy's music that have gone through a similar dark time in their lives, i also extend my heart out to you. it must also be hard to see someone who reflected your struggles of betterment reveal himself to be someone who really hasn't gotten better at all.

but you don’t have to be like him. you don’t need to follow in his steps as long as you own up to your mistakes, even if you can’t talk to those you hurt anymore. in the end, what matters most is that you apologize in a sincere way and make sure you don’t repeat those mistakes going forward.

you CAN get better. if anything just so spite that british boy’s ass

thank you. kiwi out ✌️

[threwedaway]

TW: SA, ABUSE

Someone said some victim blamer shit in my reblogs and that's an automatic no, but I needed to share... Because what the hell, man?

I got this reblog and I'm trying to keep my composure. This is probably going to be a rambling mess. I was just trying to make a fun little post about HuskerDust, but here we go!

I crossed out the name, because I don't know how old this person is and I don't know what their experiences are.

This will kind of go back and forth between Angel's situation and general information/experience. I think from what I've seen it won't resonate with everyone, but it is definitely within the realm of possibility and makes sense given his circumstances.

I also use the terms victim and survivor interchangeably as a fair warning.

I know there's been a lot of talk around victim blaming and this is blatant.

I'm aware this is a fictional character. I have, however, worked at multiple non-profits that focus on helping survivors of abuse and SA as well as being a victim myself. So, I am pissed beyond belief.

No one lets themselves be abused. Even in situations where someone resigns themselves to abuse, it is for their survival and safety. It is under duress and it is not someone letting themselves be abused. This person says Angel is doing an awful job saving himself, but in all reality he is attempting to keep himself as safe as he can in the environment he's in.

Husk isn't doing everything right and a relationship with the foundation of it being we both suck and we're both stuck in shitty situations isn't going to be stable, but as I said in my original post, he's telling Angel he's not alone. He's not doing that perfectly, but he's saying even if we can't fix everything I'll be here. He says we're in this together, respects that Angel doesn't want to be saved, and he takes the pressure off. He makes himself a safe place for Angel to vent and makes it clear that he enjoys being around him no matter what.

Trying to force someone can push them towards their abuser and isolate them further or put you and the victim in a lot of danger if you're untrained. Which is what happens in the episode when Charlie comes to the studio. Someone tried to help when he didn't ask for it and it ended badly, which just reaffirms that he cannot accept or ask for help without repercussion.

If you have someone close to you who is in an abusive situation and they don't want to leave for whatever reason, applying too much pressure can be counterproductive. If it is safe to do so (mentally and physically), be there for them. Try and keep the line of communication open so they have a life line if or when they're ready.

Angel is under contract, there has been a pattern of abuse for at least a decade, his self worth is extremely low, there are threats of violence against him and people he cares about and Valentino seemingly provided everything before Charlie and is still providing for his drug habits. That's not even getting into the intricacies of the fact he was trafficked, which makes things more complicated.

Aside from the magic piece of paper, these are real reasons people stay in abusive relationships.

My point is, this is uninformed and victim blaming. The amount of times I've heard from survivors all the reasons they didn't ask for help even though it was awful is too many to count. So many people come out of these situations after years and years and blame themselves for not getting help. It is never the fault of the person being hurt, it is always the fault of the person hurting them.

Angel is trying to save himself and is making steps forward. He's going to the hotel, distancing himself from Valentino and he's also trying to 'break himself' or make himself less appealing to his abuser. While that last one isn't good, he's not doing nothing. He is trying to use the resources he knows to stop the abuse.

Autonomy is very important in situations like this. Of course someone in this situation should ask for help, but if someone isn't ready it's not our place to decide that for them.

This struck a nerve obviously!

No one is a bad victim. We do not judge victims choices to ask for help or not ask for help. We do not imply any survivor of abuse lets it happen somehow.

Keep anything close to victim blaming off my blog. All and all, don't put these words in that order! Ever!

[romancemedia]

Balto and Jenna's Love Story Clarity

I'm feeling in the mood to watch Balto tonight and while I'm at it, I feel in the mood to clarify a few things about the movie. All the time, I read about how people have different views and ideas about the circumstances about Balto and Jenna's relationship in the movie, but I think the situation itself it pretty clear.

Fans of the movie often wonder/believe Balto and Jenna first met each other at the start of the film and fall in love right afterwards, the typical root of a movie love story, but that's not it. Balto and Jenna already know each other at the start of the film. They are friends and at that point, they are already in love with each other. Balto is well known around town as the wolfdog that nobody likes or trusts from both humans and dogs, so how could Jenna not know about him?

Jenna is one of the only dogs in Nome that is friends with Balto, alongside her owner, Rosy and as it shows when Balto retrieved Rosy's hat, they are already well acquainted with each other.

By the time the film had begun, Balto and Jenna were already friends and already smitten with each other. Like any other couple, they are simply just shy and nervous in expressing their feelings.

And as it shows, although Balto and Jenna maybe shy in admitting how they really feel about each other, it's obvious everyone else... especially to Rosy, Boris and Steele! Both Rosy and Boris are supporters of Balto and Jenna's romance, teasing and encouraging them to be together.

On the other hand, Steele is against their blossoming relationship! Although Steele is a pure husky and is beloved by all the humans and dogs in town, he is jealous of Balto! Balto is the faster dog since he outran Steele at the beginning of the movie and Jenna, the most beautiful dog in town is in love with him.

Steele is aware that Jenna loves Balto and makes a remark about her feelings for the wolfdog early in the film after his failed attempt to ask her on a date.

Steele prides himself. He is the town hero dog, who is the best, most popular and supposedly to be the fastest dog. He has it all and because of that, he believes he should be with Jenna. He has it all and wants it all. Those are Steele's beliefs that he is better, proving what Jenna said was true, Steele is a glory hound who can't handle when he doesn't get his own way or what he wants. This results in Steele bullying Balto, sabotaging his efforts to join the sled team and tries to steal Jenna away.

Balto and Jenna become closer and their feelings stronger after the boiler room scene and that's when things take a shift: Balto and Jenna begin to express and be more open about their feelings! The key moment to prove it is when Jenna's friends confront her about the event and Jenna practically admits her feelings!

Even better, Jenna cheers for Balto during the race to determine which dogs will be joining the sled team!

Gradually the events of the movie continue to bring them closer than ever before as both are amazed by the other. Jenna is moved by Balto's efforts to retrieve the medicine to help Rosy and the children while Balto is in awe of Jenna's bravery; Not only did she follow him, but she fought to protect him from the grizzly bear.

The ending is what is especially sweet and heartfelt. Jenna continues to have faith in Balto's return by seeing through Steele's lies and uses a special trick Balto previously taught her to help lead him and the sled team home... which Balto happily sees and lights up!

And by the end of the movie, Balto and Jenna are reunited and FINALLY Get Together!!!

[satureja13]

Ji Ho has the deeper connection to the Bond. The craving and the urge to charge the Bond is stronger than Vlad's, so of course he felt Vlad approaching and he eagerly waited for him. It's painful for both of them (but more painful for Vlad, because the Bond hates him ^^') when the Bond is raging and Vlad feels bad because he hadn't been more aware. He hates to hurt Ji Ho. But these are thoughts for later. Now they only needed each other to touch, hold... And when Vlad pulled Ji Ho close and his breath ghosted over his neck before his lips tasted him, Ji Ho was in bliss. Has Vlad changed his mind and will they finally start a physical relationship so he could become more comfortable around Vlad? Saiwa and Jack watched them in awe.

Until... Jack sensed it first, Vlad was about to bite Ji Ho! They already overstretched the Bond too far and Vlad wasn't himself anymore! Vlad once died because of Ji Ho's poisonous blood so they have to be careful even though their Bond now protects Vlad from the poison. But we also know how fickle and vengeful the Bond can be... Jack: "Vlad stop it! You can't bite Ji Ho!" Ji Ho was shocked. Vlad wasn't about to kiss him. He wanted to bite him. Because he lost control - again. (Ji Ho looks so hurt, it's breaking my heart 😭)

Ji Ho left to care for Kiyoshi and Jeb, glad to escape this awkward and painful situation.

And the others went inside and tried to calm down so they could discuss Vlad's adventures in the Therapy Game. How annoyed Yang Mal looks! And Jack is smiling even though he's so upset because they are making baby steps forward :3 Even if it doesn't look like it. And so Vlad told them how beautiful the world was, about it's horse-eating inhabitants...

...and the threats (he means NPC Leander lol). Saiwa: "This is better than expected! The feelings, even if painful, stay in the game and don't affect us when we log out. We can explore our therapy in our own pace and if it's too hard, we can just leave. And Tiny can even managed to adress all your problematic behaviors and made them quests and offered solutions! That's just amazing!" Vlad: "What problematic behaviors are you even talking about? I wasn't there for a therapy -I was just playtesting so you can safely get your therapy!" Saiwa: "What problematic behaviors? I don't even know where to begin! Your foolish pride, your bad temper, your silly attitudes... and you're still unable to forgive Leander after all he'd done for us because you're jealous!" Vlad: "He touched Ji Ho!" Saiwa: "And what about you? You just tried to bite him! That's far worse! Ji Ho trusts you and does anything to learn how to love you and you only think of your own needs and you're unable to keep ypur teeth to yourself!"

Jack: "Boys. All we need to know is that the Game is safe and it'll help us. Because we all (!) clearly need help. I will go back." Saiwa: "No!" Jack: "Who will then? Vlad?" Vlad "No way! I've seen enough!" Jack: "Saiwa needs to supervise the computer and Tiny Can. We should wait before we send Ji Ho to not open the Pandor's Box and let out all his surpressed feelings at once. So I'm the only one left. I can do this. 'Cause I'm the Super Soldier after all!" The Super Soldier looks like he already has a clear vision of his mission ^^'

Ji Ho is on his way back home. To care for Jeb and Kiyoshi. Lost in thoughts. Yes, he knows Vlad loves him. But how deep is this love when Vlad has no control? He knows how afraid Ji Ho is of him. And again Ji Ho pondered about if Morgan was right. That Vlad was under a spell and his love for him wasn't real. Ji Ho had been so worried when Vlad was ingame, after what had happened to Jack. And Vlad's only concern is to sink his teeth in his neck. Tch. (But Ji Ho's neck still tingles where Vlad pressed his lips against his heated skin...) Vlad and the Bond are the only stable things in his life. The only things no one can take from him. He's not able to love Vlad (yet) but he tries and he can't loose him. Ji Ho is also determined to make this therapy a success - as soon as they let him.

Little Goat: 'Aww I really hoped he would kiss him!' Other Little Goat: 'Ikr! Nonetheless - it was so hot when he grabbed him omg!' First Little Goat: 'Let's visit Tiny Can and talk about some BL plot ideas for the Therapy Game!' (One of their anchestors must have been a Satyr or something ^^')

Plus: When I logged in, it was still raining. But when Vlad came near Ji Ho, it stopped! (Like last time!)

'I know your eyes in the morning sun I feel you touch me in the pouring rain And the moment that you wander far from me I wanna feel you in my arms again And you come to me on a summer breeze Keep me warm in your love, then you softly leave And it's me you need to show

How deep is your love? I really mean to learn 'Cause we're living in a world of fools Breaking us down when they all should let us be We belong to you and me'

How Deep Is Your Love - Bee Gees

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[ofallthingsnasty]

good night ❣️ I saw on your last reblog that you like chubby reader so I was wondering if you could write Kaiser with a chubby fem! reader. Not to be too vague, it could be a concept like: Kaiser always gave obvious signs that he was interested in you, but reader never noticed because she wasn't used to being desired (He was very handsome yes, but handsome guys take more effort, so you always ended up dating normal guys, which pissed off the kaiser because how could you prefer people below his level?), in the end the story ends up going in the direction of noncon (more from the surprise and shock of learning that the kaiser likes you than feelings of revulsion, he just didn't give you time to react)

Tbh, you can disregard every idea I sent (I conceptualized it sleepy so you may not be good), would love any X chubby Reader you made of bllk anyway. i was impressed when u wrote foreign reader with oliver and michael (Kaiser gave me so much anguish...although i think i could handle being a trophy gf for himkk)

I'm so happy you enjoyed the foreigner!reader and Oliver/Kaiser thoughts!! I've said it before, but foreigner!reader is just too much fun haha - and sorry this isn’t a full-blown fic, I wracked my brain but I couldn’t do much more than a thirst - feel free to request more, request are open haha ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

tags: chubby (and insecure about it) reader, yandere, fat-shaming (in retaliation), yandere, dubcon mention, minors dni word count: 0.7k

I think he is the type to get downright nasty. The first few times you reject him (unintentionally, of course - because how in the hell would a soccer star like him truly go for someone like you?) he takes it in stride. Maybe you're just a little dense or he wasn't quite as clear as he thought he had been with his intentions - no matter, there is always another chance. But the moment you start flaunting your absolutely average and dreadfully boring dates, he gets so offended. You rejecting him and picking some loser over him could be a pivotal point in your relationship - where he was just crushing on you before, thought you were cute, he is in such disbelief at this awful display that he gets so mad that you turn into a new trophy to acquire. And my, he is such a pursuer - he’ll double-down on his efforts to get you to date him but most importantly: He’ll threaten your current partner. Not out in the open, not directly, of course - but he knows how to be subtle and yet still obvious enough that even the drooling idiot you picked over him will get it. And what could they ever do to protect themselves from him? Absolutely nothing - Kaiser has the money and influence to match his threats and he isn’t afraid to stay true to his word. Your new fling suddenly ditching you and blocking you on every social media platform will have you questioning your abilities as a romantic partner - and as hurt and confused as you probably are, this is the perfect time for Kaiser to swoop in and make it even worse. Now, he isn’t out to punish you. While he is definitely still mad at you for denying him, he’s not going to take that anger out on you. He does, however, make little comments here and there, points out your looks, your weight, the way you carry yourself - all this to lower your self-esteem. He is going to make you keenly self-aware of your body, of the way the fat of your belly pinches when you sit, how different you look from him. How generous, how selfless, how loving of him it is, then, that he ignores all that, just wants you the way you are. He knows how to weasel himself into the deepest, darkest, ugliest little insecurities of yours - got a double chin? Catch him staring at it, sometimes pinching it with his fingers in a mock-sweet gesture while he crinkles his eyes at you. Insecure of your eating? Oh, now is just the right time to discuss his new meal and workout plans - and ask you for yours. Whatever it is, he’ll sniff it out with glee and amplify it by a million. He’ll make you feel small and undesirable after every interaction you have with him. Your confidence will get destroyed bit by bit - he wears you down with utmost patience and precision, taking his sweet time. Kaiser needs you small and meek - so small that you won’t protest when he finally makes his move, that he’s sure you won’t ever leave him because you think he is way out of your league. Being pursued by him is a dizzying mix of constant flirting and snide remarks - every compliment comes with a caveat, every aspect of your appearance and behavior is analyzed and criticized yet there is always a hand on your thigh, on the small of your back. He’ll confuse you so thoroughly you’ll think you’re dreaming when he finally makes a move on you. But even then - he has it all figured it out, uses that to his advantage. You’ll be blindsided by a sudden kiss one night, after he has worked you open with just enough alcohol to lower your inhibitions - and drunk as you are you let yourself fall into it. You don’t know what you’re getting into, think this is just a one time thing and as desperate as you are for some attention after feeling so undesirable for so long you let him fuck you, blissfully unaware of the fact that everything is about to become ten times worse.

[mikuni14]

The Sign - Ep 11 of DOOM

No, it's not a mistake, it was the famous episode 11 of fucking DOOM. Traditionally, in episode 6, we should have had their first kiss! That's the law! 😤

Look, I don't even mind their another fight, especially since it's technically possible to explain what's going on. What I didn't like was the EXECUTION of all this and how Tharn was portrayed in this episode: as a dick and as an idiot. Tharn's anger could be explained because Phaya was pushy, agitated, and aggressive. Why Tharn keeps rejecting Phaya could also be explained, because we learned that not only his parents died, but also his first love. But why is Tharn in this episode simply so awful, stupid, out of character, inconsistent with his previous behavior??? Literally in the previous episode, Tharn goes out of his way to clear up the misunderstanding, doesn't hold a grudge at all, spends time with Phaya, lets him sleep over at his place, tries to protect Phaya, talks to the abbot about him and the Dr. Chokeanddiealready, and the abbot CLEARLY tells him what he should do, and when Phaya annoys him and Tharn swings at him as if he wants to hit him (like earlier in the scenes when he's angry with Yai), he… stops himself and just smacks him lightly in the arm. He's also downright sweet with Phaya, whether he wants it or not 🥰 And in this episode, Tharn is just plain terrible towards Phaya, ignores him in an unpleasant way, treats him icily. This punch was also completely unnecessary, Tharn is a grown man, a trained cop, and he completely screwed up the situation. He is unable to handle Phaya, and instead of de-escalating the situation, he only makes it worse. What further pissed me off was that Tharn never once stopped to think WHY Phaya is like this, to analyze what Phaya was saying to him, he just goes back to his old method of gaslighting Phaya and then states that he doesn't want to see him and this is the end of the matter for him (while previously Tharn was visibly concerned about Phaya's behavior and pressed for a resolution to the conflict). What is even more incomprehensible to me is that their situation is unique AND THARN KNOWS IT, both of them have strange dreams, visions, both of them are aware of the strange connection between them. Phaya wanted to talk to him about it, warned him about the dangers, and Tharn simply ignored it all, pushing Phaya away. It was horrible and also inconsistent with Tharn's caring and forgiving nature. He never once wondered why Phaya was so agitated, why he was so angry at Dr. ChallengeacceptedIwillkillyoumotherfucker. Even Yai literally told him why Phaya was like that, and Tharn still ignored it. What I don't like is how harsh Tharn is towards Phaya, but as soon as his "rival" shows up, Tharn acts like a jealous, hurt boyfriend, secretly staring at Phaya and his "girlfriend" having a great time. (Making a cockblock out of this nice girl was funny the first time, but it's tiring the second time. Just... stop.) There's this trope I HATE: The Evil Rival makes The Not-So-Smart Girl trust him and not The Good Handsome Guy, the audience cheers for The Handsome Guy and sighs in annoyance at how Blind and Stupid The Girl is. The Girl is in trouble because of The Bad Rival, The Handsome Dude saves her , she realizes that she misjudged him, throws herself on his neck and APOLOGIZES to him for not believing him "I was so Stupid and Blind and you are so Smart and Handsome, what would I do without you". 🤮 And I'm afraid that's where the plot of The Sign goes. That they will make a stereotypical Dumb Girl of my Tharn.

So far, Tharn had rejected Phaya too, but this was more like an exciting dance and Phaya was never hurt by it. Besides, even though Tharn "rejected" Phaya, the series provided us with a lot of content, a lot of great scenes of them. There was ZERO quality content in this episode, the episode simply did not spark joy.

What did I like?

Phaya/Nee relationship. It was 10/10. There are often sibling scenes in series that I know weren't written by someone who has siblings. Phaya and his sister's conversations and their behavior was 100% real 😊

Yai is a best friend, a brother, a supporter, someone you can always count on. If only Tharn would listen to him just once 😭

I was so happy when The Sign dropped a potential lesbian couple out of nowhere, the show just keeps on giving

Cat! A cat with its tail raised, which means it's happy! 🥰

Tharn with a magic aura. Did Phaya actually see this?

beautiful Garuda/Wansarat scenes. I've already criticized this episode enough, so I won't bother with my strongly worded opinion about this pathetic montage of seconds-long scenes and focus only on the pretty 😄

Khem and Tonghtai, their love scene was so… free, unstaged, with the wardrobe malfunctions, with them being silly and goofy, so… real and absolutely hilarious 👍👍👍

*takes a deep breath* Phaya Tharn has been giving us 200% so far, in this episode we got a measly 2% on which I somehow have to survive until the next episode. Which probably promises to be even worse, because we will get more of Tharn's TRÄUMA, oh joy. So I plan on feeling sorry for myself at the end of this year and wallow in self-pity because The Sign was mean to me 😭😤 (passing 🍹 🍹around)

Edit: oh! I also liked that Phaya's sister looks more like a Tharn's twin actually lol

Edit2: I'm guessing that "I promise, that from now on I'll always listen to everything you say" doesn't extend to Tharn 😑 I need more 🍹

[fangirls-fanfiction]

Chapter 17

♦️𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍♠️

Queen Dice opened the door ajar, looking out to her partner, patiently waiting for her to invite her in.

"It's just... It's a stupid thought." Queen Dice sighed, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"It's not stupid," Luci frowned. "What's bothering you? You can tell me."

Dice hesitated. What were the odds that her Boss would understand? That she wouldn't lash out and get defensive about her past. She wasn't exactly one to be good at admitting her wrongdoings.

Even so, Dice was aware that ever since the 'good for nothing lackey' incident, the Devil had been treating her very differently. Respectfully. She took her and her emotions seriously.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd understand.

"Why don't you come in?" Queen Dice opened the door further, without a word, Luci nodded and did as she was told.

They sat at the edge of her bed, Lucifer gently taking her hand, patiently waiting for her to explain everything.

"I've just been thinking recently... The whole reason I started working for you was from a life or death situation... I had no choice but to sign your contract..." Dice started, taking notice of the demon's ears drooping ever so slightly.

She looked like a puppy almost, ashamed of causing a mess and getting yelled at for it. Even so, she didn't say anything. Not so much as a peep. Stll, she kept quiet and listened to what Dice had to say.

"That's how it was for years... I was just an employee under a contract. The first few years I worked for you, you hardly spoke to me unless it was to yell at me; when I was successful, you only gave me one chance before knocking me down again... And that was the cycle for a long time..."

"I know I've been a real pain in the ass in the past..." The Devil finally spoke.

"Just when I think things are going my way, something or someone blows it, and I lose all the respect I had from you... It's disheartening... I guess..." She stopped. "I— I want to know that you're going to take this relationship seriously. That if I mess up, you won't cut me off like you did before."

"I won't. I promise." The Devil reassured her.

"So this relationship... What we have... Is it just built on a contract?" Dice continued.

"I wouldn't have met you if I didn't make a deal with you." The demon replied. "But I mean... Yes, in the past..."

Queen Dice began getting tense, the waterworks threatening to burst as her Boss continued.

"I know I've made far too many mistakes in the past... I called you names, I treated you badly... I was awful to you... Truthfully, I have no idea why someone like you would go out with someone like me... But despite all my faults and mistakes... You gave me the one in a million chance... I don't want to mess it up."

Luci paused, her gaze going unfocused as she got lost in thought. Turning her attention back to Dice, she opened her mouth, hesitant to ask;

"Do you... Do you still want to work for me?"

"What?"

"Your contract. I can— I— I can go and rip up your contract right now, you'd be free. Would that make you happy? Would it make up for everything I've done?"

That single question cleared the air for Dice. She understood perfectly now that things had changed. She wasn't just an easily replaceable pawn in the Devil's game. Luci cared about her now, she wanted her to be happy, even if it meant sacrificing her best worker and potentially losing her girlfriend.

Queen Dice couldn't help but smile, touching Luci's face before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course not, I love working for you. I wouldn't want things any other way. Just knowing that you're willing to change for me is all I needed." She said, making the demon smile. "Besides, someone's gotta keep this place up and running."

The Devil immediately frowned, her ears shooting back slightly as she glared at the other.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"Good."

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Midday, the sisters had found themselves wanting to go on yet another adventure. This time with their new companion, Lucas, they went upstairs, running through the Casino to the front doors. As came with every game they played, they weren't paying attention to their surroundings. They certainly didn't expect to run into someone while heading to the front door.

"Hey!" Cuphead snapped after they'd been knocked down with the collision. "Watch where you're... Going..."

"Me?! You were the ones..." Ms. Wheezy angrily brushed off her clothes before her attention went to the girls. "Wait... Wait— I know you two. You're the little punks that raided the Casino a few years ago."

"We didn't raid the Casino, we just... Beat you guys up... And stole contracts..."

Ms. Wheezy raised an eyebrow.

"It's... It's completely different."

It wasn't a moment later, another familiar face entered the Casino. Stopping short at seeing the sisters, Chips Bettigan blinked as she stared, as if her mind couldn't connect the dots.

"Man, I think I drank too much... I'm starting to get hallucinations." She furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's not a hallucination, it's the two brats that kicked our asses."

"Well... I— I wasn't really tryin y'know... If I was, I woulda whipped both their asses in no time flat."

"What are you two doing here anyways?" Ms. Wheezy ignored what Chips had to say. "If the Devil catches sight of you, she'd have you for breakfast. And who knows what Dice would do after that. Christ, she was wasn't just upset about the contracts; we had to endure her loudly complaining about that chipped tooth you gave her." She rolled her eyes.

"How'd she even fix her chipped tooth?" Cuphead asked.

"One of life's greatest mysteries..." Chips replied.

"That still doesn't answer my question." Wheezy said.

"Well... It's a funny story, really..." Mugma'am chuckled. "Not funny haha but... We're staying here at the Casino for a bit..."

"Really?" Ms. Wheezy raised an eyebrow.

"God, they're so scared they're starting to get delusional." Chips frowned.

"It's true!" Cuphead snapped.

"Why should we believe you?!" Ms. Wheezy just snapped right back.

"You can go ask them yourself." Cuphead sassed her, Wheezy only rolling her eyes again.

"Yeah right. Right after they're finished making out in the Boss' office." Ms. Wheezy scoffed, walking past the girls.

"You walked in on them kissing once, Smokey." Chips followed close behind.

Cuphead and Mugma'am looked at each other, the latter shaking her head as the former smirked. Following the two ladies, they sat up on barstools as Chips and Wheezy prepared for their shift.

"So, what exactly do you guys do for fun around here?"

"You're underaged, you can't sit at the bar." Wheezy immediately said. "You shouldn't even be in the Casino in the first place. What are you like... Twelve?"

"17." The sisters said in unison.

"That would've made you..." Chips counted on her fingers. "You two were 13 when you gambled your souls?!"

"When Cuphead gambled our souls." Mugma'am corrected her, glaring at her sister.

"Why did Queen Dice even let you play?!" Chips asked.

"Well... I guess I did call her old when she greeted us at the door." Cuphead thought back.

"Yep, that'll do it." Wheezy's expression went deadpan. "Now go on, shoo!"

"But you didn't answer our question! What do you guys do for fun at the Casino?" Cuphead asked again.

"Well... There isn't much to do besides work..." Chips thought. "Personally, I like to play little pranks on the other workers."

"Nuh-uh! No way! I already have to deal with the likes of you! I am not letting you create two more menaces in this damned Casino!"

Chips rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, frowning. Ms. Wheezy shook her head turning to the last dirty dishes presumably from the night before and began cleaning them.

"So... If you don't mind me asking..." Mugma'am said. "How'd you two start working at the Casino in the first place?"

"I was in debt." Chips sat in a chair behind the counter and leaned back and relaxed. "I used the last bit of my money trying to gamble some big bucks and I was so close to winning that the Devil got jealous and took my soul."

Ms. Wheezy filled a glass full of water and splashed it over Chips. Immediately sitting up, she coughed and sputtered, shaking off her now soaked clothing.

"You mean you lost everything within just a few minutes and had no choice but to hand your soul over to the Devil."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know I woulda won, Devil just doesn't like to lose and Dice cheats at every game she can weasel her lying ass into." Chips glared at the other, wringing out her blue hair.

"Now that's true."

Chips went back to relaxing in her chair, Wheezy throwing a rag straight at her face.

"Go make yourself useful and wipe down those tables."

"gO mAke YoUrSelF uSeFuLL aNd wiPe dOwN tHoSe TAblEs." Chips mocked her under her breath, Wheezy simply shaking her head.

"What about you, Ms. Wheezy? How'd you end up in the Casino?" Mugma'am asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on, Wheezy, you told me! Get this, girls, her brother— "

Ms. Wheezy whipped around to face Chips, scorning her with the sharpest glare either of them had seen from anyone. Chips cowered slightly, going back to wiping down the tables.

"When we're on friend terms, I'll tell you, until then, keep your nose in your own business." Ms. Wheezy snapped at the girls.

"Wait, so... Does this mean you consider me a friend?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it either~"

Ms. Wheezy groaned, shaking her head again.

"Wheezy and I are friends~" Chips teased in a sing-song voice.

She laughed loudly, leaning on a table as she watched Ms. Wheezy's anger build.

"We're practically besties, y'know." Chips snickered.

Ms. Wheezy whipped around to tell the other off before the Devil beat her to it;

"Bettigan, you'd better not be slacking again." She snapped and she strutted through the Casino.

"Of course not, ma'am." Chips stood up straight, going back to wiping down tables.

"And you two, away from the bar, you're underaged for Hellfire's sake!" She turned to the girls. "And get that mutt before it rips my curtains!"

They immediately got down from the bar stools, their attention turning to Lucas gnawing and tugging on the crimson curtains by the windows.

"Where are you going?" Cuphead asked as the demon stopped short in the Casino's doorway.

"Places. Don't follow me." Lucifer was short with her as she walked out the door.

Looking at one another, the sisters smirked at each other before they went to follow her.

"I wouldn't do that." Wheezy caught their attention once more. "'Places' usually means she's going off to make a transaction. And usually they get pretty ugly."

"Did you know she once took down a five person gang?!" Chips chirped in.

"The point is, wherever the Devil is, trouble isn't far behind. Personally, I'd stay clear of her."

"Do you even know the Devil?" Cuphead crossed her arms.

Ms. Wheezy turned to face her, Mugma'am immediately pushing her sister to the Hellevator before things could escalate.

"God, she's still a bitch." Cuphead muttered under her breath as they rode the Hellevator down.

"I mean... She's gotta point..." Mugma'am sighed. "She is the Devil. She has no reason to care for us..."

Cuphead's gaze lowered to the ground. This was painfully true. No matter how much they wished it to happen, this would never be home. After this month was up, they'd surely be kicked right out of the Casino and left to fend for themselves.

The Devil didn't want them around and no one could blame her.

[grasshopperdoingdogpaddle]

What do you think of jermomi ?

A solid ship, there's definitely some basis for it.

(I have another ask in by inbox requesting my in-depth thoughts on Jermaine, so I'm going to truncate some points of analysis here.)

I definitely think they have crushes on each other.

They occasionally blush at fidget at each other, and you can really how much they want to impress each other. They care a lot what the other thinks of them.

They hit it off really well, and both represent something new and unknown for the other. Jermaine's the first friend Omi's made with no connection to any of the Xiaolin-Heylin stuff, and vice versa, and they're both amazed by the peek into the other's world that the other offers.

And Omi's also probably the first kid who actually came back and helped Jermaine after Jermaine stuck his neck out to save him from getting jumped. Jermaine's fully prepared to just accept a beating in the place of this kid, but he lights up with surprised joy when Omi saves him right back.

Their first to each other was literally rescuing each other, with both being absolutely floored with awe at the other's skill and heroism. That's a meet cute you'd find in lots of action romances.

Omi getting all three of the bullies to run away with their tails between their legs is probably the first time Jermaine ever seen anyone take down all three of them. And it's the first time anyone's ever stood up and fought them to protect Jermaine.

Omi was the first person to inspire and save Jermaine like he did, even before Omi went on to introduce Jermaine to all this magical stuff. Jermaine so readily came to join Omi's side when Jack challenged him, because Omi and Jermaine have already fallen into this fun, easy chemistry and being there for each other.

It's no wonder they mean to much to each other after their first meeting.

And they keep in contact after that, probably through letters and packages and basketball trickshots.

They're a fun team, they play off each other well and pull each other out of their comfort zones, they're very cute. They also push each other to grow, even with the rocky bumps that come at first. Through all the highs and lows, I could see it.

And speaking of lows, even when they had their fight, where Omi was absolutely in the wrong, Omi was surprisingly quick to drop it when he became concern about whatever Chase's intention with Jermaine were.

Omi's jealousy was fueled by his deep fears about losing the only place in the world he's ever been condition to think he'll have, his role as a Xiaolin dragon, and that's so deep-seeded that Omi holds onto it. Until he learns that Chase is involved.

Omi apologizes and threw the match completely when he has to measure that fear against letting Jermaine fall victim to whatever Chase was scheming. Omi's willing to lose and let Jermaine decide how things end.

Omi knows Chase very well and navigates their relationship warily. It's apparent that Chase is keeping far more from Jermaine if Jermaine hasn't even been made aware that Chase is evil in the first place.

Even at their lowest, Jermaine says that the thing Jermaine wanted most from all his training was for Omi to be happy for him. The thing that hurt Jermaine the most was that, through all the grueling training he was going through, he was looking forward to seeing Omi be happy at Jermaine finally taking up that offer he was too anxious to take before, when Omi offered to bring Jermaine back to the temple.

Jermaine loves Omi's confidence and finds his signature boasting pretty cute. He really enjoys Omi's base personality and finds his quirks endearing. It's only a problem when Omi specifically butts heads with him out of envy, and Jermaine makes it very clear in moments like that.

But outside of that, he wants Omi to be himself. Jermaine even lightly teases Omi when Omi invites Jermaine to return to the temple, and he grins when that teasing eggs Omi into adding a bit of the playful self-aggrandizement that Jermaine loves about him.

tldr; Jermaine and Omi know each other pretty well like each other for the personalities, not "despite them," we've gotten to see how they are both when they're fighting side-by-side or when they're fighting each other and there's solid chemistry either way, they both have to get better with communication but are very willing to grow there together, they inspire each other to look past what holds them back (Jermaine's hesitance about the big world, Omi's pathological fear of losing the only place he thinks he can have in the world as a tool for good), and the crushes are definitely there.

[charmstwit]

Can we get another snippet of Remus and Kingsley being wholesome? 🥺

Kingsley finds Remus pacing in the kitchen, his hair mussed, eyes still red. The tension is obvious in his body. He’s still dressed in his jeans and jumper, even though it’s half past eleven and the rest of the house is dark. 

“Hello, brother-husband,” Kingsley says as he enters the kitchen. “You’re still awake?”

Remus startles at his voice, turning to look at him. “Kingsley. Hullo.” 

Kingsley moves towards the kettle. Remus looks like shit, although Kingsley isn’t going to tell him that. He sets the kettle on the stove, murmurs a quiet confrigo to start it heating. “Sounds like you had a rough day,” Kingsley says off-handedly.

“You heard,” Remus sighs.

“Just a bit,” Kingsley says. “Want to tell me about it?”

Remus scrubs his hands over his face, and for a long moment, Kingsley thinks he'll say no. They've been brother-in-laws for almost three years, and in this weird relationship adjacent thing for one, but they've never really been each other's confidante. Not since that first day they met in the Hogwarts hospital wing. 

“Sirius is mad at me,” Remus says, staring down at his fingernails like the answers of life are hidden behind a particularly painful hangnail. 

Kingsley spoons tea leaves into the pot. He doesn't think that Sirius was actually angry, but he's not sure it is really his place to correct that. Instead, he says nothing and lets Remus have space to talk, if he wants it. 

“He's right to be, I think. I've not been a very good alpha,” Remus says. 

“Why do you think that?” Kinglsey asks. The kettle whistles, and Kingsley flicks his wand to pour the boiling water into the teapot with the leaves.

“Because it's true.” Remus threads the fingers of both hands into his hair, tugging at the roots. “I’m drowning in university, and I can barely keep up. I feel like I spend all of my time trying to manage these classes, and I'm not even seeing Sirius or James. I missed James’s last game, and I know he said it was alright, but I should have been there. And Sirius is probably over here all the time because I barely have time to look at him. I didn't make it to our call today because I was in the library at school and–and I forgot.” 

Kingsley hums. His tempus chimes, and he pours the tea into two tea cups, sliding one towards Remus. The smell of chamomile and mint fill the kitchen. “And you don’t think Sirius would understand that you were overly stressed today?”

“He didn’t,” Remus says bitterly. “We got in this—it was awful. He yelled, and I yelled, and I don’t even remember half of what we said. James will be just as upset when he finds out how I’ve failed.” 

“What did you tell him? Sirius, I mean,” Kingsley asks. 

“I told him I was busy, and he kept trying to… I don’t know,” Remus groans. “He kept trying to make some point and I don’t know what it was. I was still trying to study, but he was so upset about the call. It was like he wanted to duel me, almost, that kind of—you know when he and Regulus get properly mad, and you can smell the magic on them.”

Kingsley nods. “Yes, I am aware.” 

“And now he’s not even in our bed because I’m such a shoddy fucking alpha,” Remus says, setting his tea cup down. “I can’t even handle university. I studied the roots of magic, and I can’t…” He drifts off, self-loathing in his voice.

“Did I tell you about the trip to Belize?” Kingsley asks.

Remus looks up at him and shakes his head. “When are you going?”

“We went last year. It was meant to be a romantic getaway. I’d been busy with work, Regulus is always busy, we thought we’d reconnect. Instead we fought. Regulus felt I was being demeaning by planning the itinerary. I was hurt when he dismissed my plans. He ignored me at dinner, and I went to take a walk to clear my head. I couldn’t understand why this lovely vacation had turned into such a nightmare. And when I got back from my walk, I found our hotel empty. He left.”

“Regulus left?” Remus asks, perhaps in disbelief.

Kingsley nods. “I found him three beaches down, under the strongest Notice-Me-Not I’ve ever seen someone create, crying his eyes out with his feet in the waves.”

“Merlin,” Remus murmurs.

“When we talked it out, we unraveled it all. How I thought I’d been kind to take the planning off his shoulders. How he felt alienated by that. What I took for him ignoring me was Regulus spiraling about losing our magic, and he subsequently took my going for a walk as leaving him,” Kingsley says. He stirs his tea. “A whole, terrible fight was really just the two of us, in our own heads, worrying about each other.”

“What did you do?” Remus asks.

“First I sat and cried with him. I felt awful by then. Wrung out. Then we went back to the hotel and spent the weekend in the nude, eating room service.”

“I don’t think that would work for us,” Remus says. “Sirius isn’t wrong that I’m not doing enough, but I don’t have time to do more. I haven’t been around enough, and it was right of him to point it out. They deserve better. I’ve known that the whole time.” 

“They deserve better than what?” Kingsley asks. 

“Better than me!” Remus shouts, and it’s then that Kingsley notices the tears in his eyes. “I’m not good enough for them, not either of them. If I was smarter, I wouldn’t have to study so hard, and they would be better for it. Either of them could take these classes and not even need to study. If I was a better alpha, I would make time for them. They would be my priority, and none of this would happen. If I was a better human, I wouldn’t be so goddamned tired and trying to play catch up after every fucking full moon, but I just– I can’t do it.” His face is in his hands again, his voice losing the fire on the last few words. “I’m not good enough for them, and I should never have let them convince me otherwise.” 

“Did Sirius say any of that?” Kingsley asks, though he knows the answer.

“Yes, of course,” Remus says, but his brow furrows. “I mean, I think he did. He didn’t need to, though. It’s the truth.” 

“I’m almost certain he didn’t,” Kingsley says. “I do not want to speak for him, of course. I’m sure you know him better than I do.” 

“Right,” Remus says. “Of course. And I’m right.” 

“You’re taking three literature classes, aren’t you?” Kingsley asks, purposefully changing course. 

Remus jerks his head, thrown by the sudden change. “Yes, as well as a class on Roman mythology and a stupid mathematics class.” 

“Do you know what Sirius has been doing when he was over here all week?” Kingsley asks. 

Rmus huffs, shuffling his teacup again. “Getting properly railed since I couldn’t do it.” 

“Reading,” Kingsley says, ignoring Remus’s statement. “He started with Jane Austen, and worked through all of her books. Followed by Dickens and James Joyce. There was something by Becket too. He made Regulus read the Virginia Woolf novel with him. Perhaps you might recognize this list?”

“He’s reading through my course materials,” Remus says, something like surprise in his voice. “Why would he do that?”

“You would have to ask him,” Kingsley says, “but I suspect that he wanted to help you, if he could.” 

“He didn’t say anything,” Remus says. 

“No, I suspect not,” Kingsley says. “I don’t think he wanted you to feel bad about it, but he wanted to be ready in case you needed help.” 

“Right, because I’m such a fuck up, and he finally decided to tell me when he’d had enough.” 

Kingsley sighs. “I do not believe that was his intention, but of course, you know him better than I do.” Remus grunts in acknowledgement, as though Kingsley has finally come around to his way of thinking. Kingsley continues. “Can I tell you about our day?”

Remus half shrugs, which Kingsley chooses to take as permission to continue. “Regulus and I took him to Diagon Alley today. I think he was already feeling a bit out of sorts, so Regulus had hoped, I think, that it would be a bit of a treat for him. We were going to the shop to see Hope, but as you can imagine, Regulus was sidetracked along the way by some wizard who demanded his attention.” 

“Not uncommon,” Remus mutters. 

Kingsley smiles. “No, unfortunately it’s not. Well, Sirius wandered a bit ahead. I kept an eye on him, but I stayed with Regulus. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.” 

Remus tenses next to him, like he knows what is coming next. “What happened?”

“At first, nothing. Sirius stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and then the next thing I knew he was talking to a man I didn’t recognize. I started down the street after him, but by the time I got there, Sirius was already dueling the man.” 

Remus inhales sharply. “Was he injured?”

“No, quite the opposite,” Kingsley assures him. “He put the man on his knees. The man kept talking, however. Asking something about you–whether you’ve hurt Sirius yet, or whether you had run off to be with your own kind.” Kingsley sees Remus’s pallor pale, a green tint coming to his skin, and he goes on without prompting. “It wasn’t until Regulus caught up and told Lyall to leave or he’d make him regret it that I realized who he was.” 

“You met my father today.” Remus’s shoulders haven’t relaxed. 

“I suppose I did. I would say it was a pleasure, but it really wasn’t.” Kingsley sips his tea. 

“He didn’t hurt Sirius?” Remus asks. 

“Not physically, no.” Kingsley sets his cup down again. 

“That’s good, at least,” Remus says. 

“Sirius’s main concern seemed to be you. He was worried lest Lyall approach you somehow,” Kingsley continues.

“Of course it was,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because Sirius is perfect and I’m a fuck up.”

Kingsley snorts. “Apologies, Remus, but Sirius is far from perfect.”

“I just mean—this, right, Sirius gets attacked defending my honor and I don’t even show up for our standard call and somehow end up yelling at him,” Remus says. 

“Didn’t you yell at each other?” Kingsley asks.

Remus sighs. “Yes, I mean, yeah. But—“

“Is it possible,” Kingsley asks slowly, “that Sirius was especially on edge after seeing your father?”

Remus looks down at his feet. “Maybe.”

“Is it possible that he was as worried about you as he needed your comfort?”

“And I yelled at him,” Remus says miserably.

“Is it possible he yelled back because he was upset about what happened?” Kingsley asks. Remus doesn’t respond, just nods. “Is it possible you yelled because you were so stressed about classes?”

“That’s not a good enough excuse,” Remus says.

“Is it possible you’re two humans who had a bad day and miscommunicated?” Kingsley asks.

Remus rubs at his eyes. “But I should’ve been better. I should’ve listened. I should’ve remembered our call.”

Kingsley shrugs. “Do you think Sirius and James want a perfect alpha, or do you think they want you?”

“I—me, probably. But they deserve better,” Remus says.

“It’s not your place to make a choice for them. Isn’t that what you believe? That omegas should make their own decisions?”

Remus groans. “This isn’t about secondary genders.”

“Nevertheless, they chose you. I, personally, think that was a good choice.” Kingsley grabs Remus’s arm, squeezing it lightly. “You’re a good man, Remus. You had a bad day. Go tell Sirius you’re sorry you missed the call and ask him to tell you about his day.”

“He won’t want that,” Remus says.

“He wanted nothing but that after your fight. It’s why he’s sleeping with Regulus upstairs.”

“He’s sleeping with Regulus because Regulus is a better alpha,” Remus says.

“He’s sleeping with Regulus because Regulus is the closest he can get to you when you’re gone,” Kingsley says. “And anyway, he’s got your pillow in his arms.”

Remus rubs his eyes again, suspiciously close to tears. “To punish me?”

“To be close to you,” Kingsley says. “He may come here when you’re busy, but he’s always wearing your jumpers. Why do you think that is?”

Remus hangs his head, a mournful noise spilling out of him. Kingsley grabs him and pulls him close, squeezing Remus against his chest. Remus sags against him, finally accepting the comfort he’s been fighting all night.

“It’ll be alright,” Kingsley promises. “Go. Wake him up. He’s waiting for you. I’m sure you’ll sleep better in each other’s arms. And in the morning, call James. Then call the school and drop a class.”

He expects Remus to argue. Instead, he just nods wordlessly, hiccuping against Kingsley. Kingsley pats his bat. “T-Thanks, Shack,” Remus says, his voice wobbly. “Thank you.”

Kingsley doesn’t follow him immediately, watching him slowly trudge up the stairs. Instead, he cleans up the teapot and cups, not wanting to leave a mess for Kreacher and Dobby when they wake up, and wipes down the counters. After a few minutes, he ascends the stairs as well. 

The room across the hall from his and Regulus’s bedroom–the one that has tacitly become James, Remus and sometimes Sirius’s room when they stay–is closed, and he can hear soft murmuring from inside as Sirius and Remus work through the day. Kingsley doesn't bother them. 

Instead, he opens the door to his own room and climbs in behind Regulus, pulling him into an embrace. Regulus’s eyes flutter open briefly, and he nuzzles against Kingsley’s shoulder. “Did y’fix it?”

“I spoke with Remus, yes,” Kingsley says, kissing his temple. “I believe he listened, and they’re talking now.” 

“Good,” Regulus says. “Then maybe I don’t have to kill him tomorrow.” 

“You are as kind as you are wise, my Little Prince.”