#but the fact that they actually went to all that effort cracks me up

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

When you’re sick

Warnings: none, one Monsters Inc. reference I hope won't confuse people

Please let me know which is your favourite!

☆ gender neutral reader

Soobin

You'd tried everything, from warm baths to drinking god-awful concoctions people swore by on the internet. But you were still sick. You'd been holed up in your bedroom for almost a week, leaving poor Soobin to have to sleep on the couch. You missed him, but you couldn't let him catch what you had. The only contact you'd had with him all week was through texting, and the meals he'd leave outside the bedroom door for you.

Of course, you'd been apart longer than this before; being in a successful group, Soobin often went on tour for months at a time. But this almost seemed harder, maybe because you felt miserable physically and just wanted to be held and loved on.

"I just wanted to see you," came his muffled voice, a hint whiny. "I won't come any further than this, I promise."

Sighing, you retreated from hiding. You hadn't seen him with your own eyes for what felt like longer than it actually was. There was no helping how good it felt to look at him now. "I miss you."

His lopsided smile gave you a rush of warmth. "Please get better before I go crazy."

You felt guilty. "I'm sorry. You can go and stay at Taehyun's if you-"

Soobin's mouth quirked, his brow creased. "It's not that. I just want to see you, touch you, have a real conversation. I want to hold you until we fall asleep." You felt the longing for him increase. "You always take care of me when I'm sick, even if you might catch it. Please, let me do the same for you."

His eyes held a helpless look that tugged at your heart as much as his words did. You felt your resolve crack, and it must have shown in your face, Soobin crossing the threshold and shuffling towards the bed. Relief flooded through you as he crawled up next to you and tucked you into his arms. His warmth was everything you'd needed for the past week, and he sighed as you buried your face against his neck. You swear you started melting when you felt his fingers in your hair. This was home.

Yeonjun

You weren't sure how long you'd felt like this. Time seems a blur when most of it is spent in bed, falling in and out of sleep and dreams. It took a monumental effort just to roll from one side to the other, so you couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten or showered. One small mercy was the fact that your ears were blocked, muffling the noise of the world outside the window; birds and neighbours dogs and traffic sounds couldn't disturb your sporadic naps.

Suddenly there was soft skin against your cheek, a warm palm and fingertips that you leaned into without question, and a deep sound somewhere close by. It took a few minutes for your mind to kick in and realise that these things were real and not a dream. Opening your eyes to the dim room, you found a face smiling down at you; your Yeonjun. But something was strange about this. Hadn't you been alone? Wasn't there a reason you were in the middle of the big bed, his pillow trapped between your arms?

"Junie?" You whinced as your voice seemed to reverberate through your head, your throat burning as the word tore through it.

"Hey, baby," he replied softly. You felt his fingers swipe the hair off your forehead before his nose was touching your own.

With what little strength you had, you tried to sink further into the mattress to put space between the two of you. "Jun, I'm- I'm sick."

"It's okay." You felt his arm slither under your back and peel you off the bed, pulling you into him. "I'm here."

You sniffled, swallowing against the dryness of your mouth that comes with not being able to breathe through your nose for so long. "Why?"

"'Why?'" He laughed. "Because the tour ended and I came home to you. Aren't you happy to see me?"

You nodded weakly against his chest. "Junie... I'm sick," you said again, half warning and half complaint.

His hand began to rub your back soothingly, and it felt so good to be in his arms again that you sighed heavily, raspily. "I know, babe, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't..." Words were too hard. Instead, you brought your hand to his chest and tried to push him, rather feebly, away.

A large hand wrapped around your wrist, softly pulling your arm up over his shoulder. "I don't care. I missed you."

Not having it in yourself to argue, you surrendered, letting your body totally relax into his. You had pictured him coming home after tour very differently than this. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to talk about his trip, but you couldn't fight your body. You heard the rumble of his voice again. "What?"

"I'll make you some chicken soup," he repeated. But as he tried to turn to leave the bed you grabbed a handful of his shirt. You heard him chuckle, and his arms were back around you again. "Maybe later, then."

Beomgyu

One minute you were studying, the next you were being woken by your phone blasting the most annoying ringtone Beomgyu had set for himself. You scrambled to snatch the phone off the desk where you had evidently fallen asleep. "Gyu? What time is it?"

"Half past the time you were supposed to meet me at the cinema."

Your heart sank. How long had you been asleep? "Oh no. I'm so sorry, I fell asleep."

"Why do you sound like you're talking into a tin can?"

Now that you were more awake, you noticed the feeling in your throat, the pounding of your head. Sure, falling asleep with your head on a desk wasn't the best, but you'd never known it to make your head feel like this. Come to think of it, you couldn't breathe through your nose very well either. You thought back and vaguely remembered your roommate having had a cough before she left for the weekend. There was a knock at the door.

"Hang on," you said into the phone, crossing the small space to open the door and-

"You look terrible," Beomgyu said, to your face and in your ear before hanging up. His cheeks were flushed, telling you he'd walked all the way here, in the cold, probably to check on you.

"Wow, thanks," you deadpanned as you let him in. "When's the next showing? Maybe we can make that one."

Your boyfriend pulled his hood down and looked at you for a moment before pressing his palm to your forehead. Trying not to flinch at the coldness of his hand, you looked up at him, his eyes still studying you.

"You're hot," he told you.

You scoffed, but it came out as more of a cough. "That's not what you were saying a minute ago."

Without another word, Beomgyu's hands were on your shoulders, turning you around and steering you through the small dorm room and sitting you down on your bed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with a towel that he pressed against your head.

"I'm fine," you sighed. "Let's go see the movie."

Beomgyu tisked, gesturing for you to hold the towel before dipping to his knees to pull off your slippers. "The only movie you're seeing tonight is the DVD I got you for Christmas." Standing up again, he shooed you up the bed and pulled the covers over you.

"But we've seen that a hundred times," you whined. You'd been looking forward to a night out with your boyfriend; the movie, popcorn, leaving the confines of your dorm room after so many days and nights of studying.

"But you love it," he retorted, mocking your whiny tone. He handed you the remote for the tiny TV at the foot of your bed. "I'm guessing you haven't had dinner?" You shook your head. "Got any cup ramen?" You nodded.

You opened your mouth again to complain, but the words never came as Beomgyu kissed you on the top of the head and walked over to boil the kettle. Instead you let yourself sink into the comfort of your bed, only now noticing how exhausted you actually were. So you weren't going to get your date, but how could you complain when you had a boyfriend like this?

Taehyun

You were up before Taehyun this morning - an unusual occurrence. You'd woken up with a funny feeling in your throat and quickly but quietly escaped his room to cough without waking him. Then you'd tiptoed to the kitchen to boil water, eyes meeting with Yeonjun's who was sitting at the table eating cereal. His smirk said it all.

You were sat on the couch when Taehyun emerged from his room, tired eyes searching for you. By now, Soobin and Beomgyu were also sitting at the table eating. Taehyun plodded over to you. "Morning."

"Don't get contaminated," Yeonjun called, looking up from his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Soobin, who looked like he could've still been half asleep, whipped his head up in confusion, chewing his toast with a new expression.

Taehyun's eyes swept from his friend to you, scanning your face for signs of anything amiss. "Are you not feeling well?"

"M'fine," you croaked, arms wrapped around yourself inside your hoodie as you tried to hold off a shiver.

"Tried to cough up a whole cat this morning," Yeonjun snitched. Soobin looked between Yeonjun and Beomgyu, still puzzled, his messy bed hair comedically flapping side to side.

You rolled your eyes, looking up at Taehyun with a small pout. "I just have a cough. It's probably the change in the weather."

"Or bronchitis."

Taehyun ignored the oldest boy's comment as he crouched down in front of you. "Do you want me to go to the pharmacy?"

"Really," you persisted. "I'm fine. I feel okay, just an itchy throat." As if on cue, you started to cough again, burying your face into the crook of your arm, then quickly tried to recover yourself. "I don't want you to worry."

"Sounds like a duck," Beomgyu said with a tone that gave away his amusement.

Taehyun sighed and rubbed up and down your arms comfortingly. "I just want to help you feel better, so anything you need, you just tell me, okay?"

You nodded. He stood up and went to the kitchen to start breakfast, giving you a kiss on the cheek first. Suddenly there was a commotion, as Beomgyu grabbed his breakfast bowl and ran from the kitchen yelling, "twenty-three nineteen!"

Huening Kai

The first thing that you noticed was a dull ache in your head. You'd taken some pain relief, thinking it was just a normal headache, and pushed on to get ready for your dinner plans. Kai's parents were always so happy to have you for dinner, and to see him catching up with them and his sisters made you happy, too.

You started to feel a little weak halfway through your meal, participating in conversation less and less, and after dinner you'd slipped away to a quiet room for what was supposed to be a few minutes. Your body felt heavy, more exhausted than what would be expected, and as you sat on an armchair in the dimly lit room, you became aware of the dull ache in your muscles. Eyes closing, the sound of distant chatter and laughter from the dining room lulled you quickly into unexpected sleep.

Kai had thought you were gone for the bathroom, and after ten minutes of your absence, his eyes flicking to the door every so often in anticipation of your reappearance, he thought he should check on you - maybe something you'd eaten wasn't agreeing with you. When he'd knocked on the bathroom door and there was no reply, he'd let himself in only to find it empty. He checked the kitchen, then the garden, then walked back to the dining room to see if you'd returned there while he'd been away. His mother joined him as he went to check the living room.

The two of them found you dozing and lowered their voices to a whisper, Mrs. Huening commenting that you hadn't seemed yourself earlier. Kai gently touched the back of his hand to your forehead and found it clammy. This, along with the headache you'd mentioned before the drive up and how quiet you'd been, probably meant you'd come down with something, and he decided to take you home.

That's how you woke up in Kai's arms, in the cold night air, on the way to the car. "There you are," he said when he noticed you awake. "Have a nice nap?"

You noticed a sore throat was beginning as you spoke, glancing around the street. "We're leaving?"

His soft brown eyes met yours as he continued to walk. His arms kept you steady against his chest, so you barely felt like you were on the move. "You're exhausted. You fell asleep."

You hated that you were the reason Kai's family time was being cut short and that you hadn't said goodbye to anyone. "I'm fine, Hyuka. Let's go back. Please?"

He came to a stop as he reached the car, looking down into your eyes again with a soft smile. "You need rest. We'll go home, I'll run a bath, and then we'll get into bed." Seeing you open your mouth to argue, he added, "Let me take care of you."

You couldn't argue with that.

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[bleedingoptimism]

Steve only agreed to go out with Tommy after their parents set them up because he “owed” his dad for ruining a potential business partnership for him at a dinner party.

To the rest of the guests, the man had just tripped and embarrassed himself but he knew and Steve knew and Steve’s dad knew: Steve had tripped him. But the guy had groped his ass when he crossed him on his way to the bathroom. He had it coming.

And even if his father had agreed with him after Steve told him the truth, he still needed help landing another client since his most profitable opportunity turned out to be a big ol’ creep. A date with another client’s son. Young, rich, good-looking, a single dad. It didn’t sound that bad.

And so Steve met Tommy. 

At first, Tommy was… good. He was charming, cute, a praiser and a joker but the more Steve got to know the less he liked. After a while the compliments stopped and the commanding requests began. Get me this, pick this up, cook me, blow me, dress me, feed me, drive me, me, me, me.

But if Steve wanted or needed something? Tommy was sooo tired and busy. He hadn’t even made an effort to meet Steve’s friends yet. Plus he was always making Steve feel dumb and unimportant, saying his job was silly, even if Steve made almost as much money as him with fewer hours.

Telling him not to ‘worry his pretty head about it’ when Steve asked for clarifications or wouldn’t talk to him about work because Steve ‘wouldn’t get it’. He talked down on Steve all the time and offered him money to “buy himself something nice” in a degrading manner as if Steve was nothing more than arm candy for him.

The worst part was when he realized Tommy… wasn't funny. At all. All his jokes were based on making fun of other people. And he was the only one who laughed at them. He was no better than a bully. He… kind of sucked.

And Steve would’ve loved to never have to see him again. But the problem was he had fallen in love with Tommy’s daughter, Tarja. Because Tommy might have been a terrible boyfriend but at least he was a good enough father. So the weeks Tommy got Tarja, Steve spent most of his time with her. 

She was just a delight. Cute, smart, and actually funny. She had the most deadpan sarcastic humor a 6-year-old could manage and it cracked him up. She was also super creative and loved drawing, reading, bedtime tales, and coming up with stories of her own.

Her emotional maturity was impressive, better than her father’s actually, and one of Steve’s favorite things about her. He’d never forget the day he went to pick her up from school and she’d been upset. When Steve asked her how he could help she had calmly explained what had happened, how it made her feel, and what she could do about it… over ice cream, obviously. It made him wonder what kind of person her other dad was like because she had clearly not learned how to communicate like that from Tommy.

And the thing is, Steve had always wanted a kid, ever since he was young all he wanted was a family and even if Tommy wasn’t great he just couldn’t make himself leave the connection he felt with Tarja. And he couldn’t just come out to Tommy and say: ‘Hey I wanna break up, but I’d love to keep seeing your kid,’ that would land him at best a punch, at worst in jail.

There was also the fact that, no matter how much he tried to deflect, Tommy’s comments were starting to get to him. Maybe Tommy was as good as he’d get, maybe he was dumb and uninteresting and the only thing he had going for him was his looks, maybe this was his only chance for a family. So he stuck it out. Cherished the times when they were all together.

And then he met Eddie.

👈previous part

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☕🥐💕?

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: namjoon wants a raise & y/n is kind of scary

i watched the proposal again recently + i’ve been on depop trying not to spend a million dollars on all the y2k corporate-core clothes = inspired me to write this snippet of ceo!y/n (you all know i have a soft spot for anything ceo i’m sorry) 

“ever since you hired me, i’ve managed to boost sales up by approximately 28%-“ namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to continue standing tall as he points to the screen with his little laser pen, “i’ve been working here for nearly a year and a half which you can argue hasn’t been very long, but at the same time i feel as though my efforts and the results that i’ve produced is well deserving of a raise, miss y/l/n. i wasn’t going to say anything but i’ve actually been offered a position elsewhere with a higher salary, and, well- i do enjoy working here, and i would like to stay here, but-“ 

you lean back against your office chair, propping both elbows up on the arm chairs before pressing your fingertips together, staring intently at the presentation in front of you 

your eyes follow the little red dot darting across the screen and you lick over your teeth as your head tilts to the side slightly 

“-so, what do you think?” namjoon reaches the end of his presentation and tucks his pen into his shirt pocket, very much aware of how much heat is radiating off his body from the nerves 

he’s heard some things about people who’ve tried to ask for raises, and making the bold move of coming directly to you has historically never ended very well for those guys 

jungkook presses the button for the lights to turn on and the blinds to roll back up from where he’s standing by the front door, offering namjoon a smile and a supportive nod 

at least five seconds of silence linger in the air and namjoon wonders if you’re able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest 

you’ve also been maintaining eye contact with him the entire time he’s presented which makes him ten times as nervous because he’ll be the first to admit you have very nice eyes 

“…i think all of this could’ve been an email, kim.” you lean forward, office chair squeaking slightly as you swipe your phone off the table and unlock it, “the next time you want something, i don’t need a thirty-eight minute presentation on why you think you deserve it.” 

“ma’am?” namjoon’s face reddens and suddenly it feels like the collar of his button-up is suffocating him 

“who’s trying to poach you from me?” 

“i-if you don’t mind, i’d like to keep that detail priv-“ namjoon immediately stops talking when your eyes flicker up from your phone to look at him through your eyebrows, “ah- min corporations, miss y/l/n. i was contacted by their secretary last week.” 

“mm, i’ve spoken to that secretary. preppy little thing.” you snort, eyebrow raising slightly at the memory of the one time you got a call on your personal cell phone from min corporations (you’re not even sure how that secretary got your damn number in the first place) inviting you to a lunch with mr. min yoongi himself 

you went, of course, more than surprised to discover that the secretary wasn’t just his secretary but also his wife and the mother of his (adorable) daughter 

you don’t know how she managed to go from secretary all the way to wife/mother but hat’s off to her for pulling that off

with that being said you’re sure that if she spoke three decibels higher all the dogs in the city would start barking and all the windows in your office would’ve cracked 

“you’re a hard worker. i like having you on my team.” you set your phone face down on your desk, “get back to work. we can discuss numbers another day because if you make me look at another excel spreadsheet i might change my mind.” 

“oh, i- thank you so much, miss y/l/n, i really appreciate it! thank you so much-“ namjoon fumbles with the projector and switches it off, a weight instantly lifted off his shoulders at the implication that he will, in fact, be getting a raise 

“mm.” you gesture with a flick of your wrist for him to leave your office as you raise your phone to your ear, “min yoongi! trying to steal my star salesman, are you?” 

jungkook opens the door for namjoon, stepping aside to let him out before shutting the door behind him quietly 

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jungkook beams, giving namjoon a hearty pat on the arm, “congratulations on the raise!” 

“i think i need to take a shot or something, that was- so stressful.” namjoon lets out a breath, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, “god, she really- her eye contact is crazy intense sometimes-“ 

“it’s probably the eyeliner in her waterline making her look ten times scarier, you’ll survive-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for eyeliner recommendations (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to your other faves!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon zips up to Tim, puts the little clay goat in his hands with a quick "hold this," because he is clearly not aware of how the oils on people's hands can damage this kind of thing or concerned about how magic or cursed it may or may not be, and deals with the panicked thieves. Tim shakes the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands to hold the goat more carefully and watches attentively as Kon tosses them all into a pile and then ties them up with a combination of TTK and velvet divider ropes. Tim would not typically use velvet divider ropes as restraints, but imagines that choice probably works better with telekinetic reinforcement behind it.

Actually, it definitely does, because Kon just whapped Lisa upside the back of the head with a loose end of the heavy velvet divider rope when she started trying to squirm free. 

"Ow!" she yells indignantly. 

"How's that whole 'the idol will protect us!' thing going for you now?" Kon asks curiously. 

"You don't know the shape of its blessing!" Mark snarls, attempting to kick him. The effort is futile and pathetic and also pretty stupid, since if he actually managed to hit Kon he'd probably just break his foot on him, but whatever, not Tim's problem. 

"The shape of its blessing is a cute goat and a jail cell," Kon says. 

"We should probably find a staff member to take this, on that note," Tim says, glancing around for one. There's got to be somebody. The guards are an option, he guesses, once Kon gets around to untying them. But he definitely should not still be holding this goat, even with his sleeves tucked over his hands and him being as careful as he reasonably can about it. 

Seriously. Somewhere a museum curator is crying and doesn't even know why. 

"Oh, sure," Kon says. The guards' restraints all simultaneously fall off. Unfortunately, none of them happen to be wearing gloves or have sleeves as long as Tim's, so that's going to be an issue. 

"Thanks," Tim says anyway.

"Eh, it was nothing," Kon replies with a shrug. "Literally, this whole situation was nothing. Like, this situation was the opposite of a situation. Nothing even happened." 

And then Tim just . . . has an idea, almost. Or at least the nucleus of one. 

"You did save my life, actually," he points out, making his tone politely appreciative but also carefully casual. 

"No offense, but I save a lot of people's lives, that doesn't really stick out in my day-to-day activities," Kon says. 

"I don't know, it stuck out a bit for me," Tim says, and Kon laughs. 

"Okay, fair," he says, flashing him a grin. "You're not actually hurt or anything, right? Eardrum didn't rupture when the gun went off?" 

"Doubt it," Tim says. Frankly he's unspeakably lucky that it didn't, but Kon's TTK probably did block at least some of the sound. 

He really didn't know Kon could use it like this, to be honest. Kon cracks out his TTK every chance he gets and brags the whole time he does, obviously, but Tim's never seen him manipulate it quite this way. 

It occurs to him to wonder if that means it's a new trick, or if Kon just always wraps up hostages or threatened civilians in his aura like that and just never mentions it. It seems likelier it'd be a new trick, considering literally everything he knows about Kon and his desperate and unsubtle need for validation and attention, but Kon was so unshakeably confident in the move–and not in a brash or blustering way, but in an obvious, matter-of-fact certainty. Like he'd done it a thousand times and it hadn't failed him yet. 

Tim should definitely figure out a way to follow up on that later. 

"Cool," Kon says, then looks around the gallery again. Tim feels oddly bereft without his immediate focus. 

Stupid, stupid inadvisable crush. Ugh. Bats don't want to be the center of anyone's attention unless they're deliberately drawing fire away from someone else. Tim definitely doesn't want to be the center of anyone's attention. 

Except, apparently, for Kon's. 

This incident report is going to be nothing but lies. Filthy, shameless lies.

[allastoredeer]

Do you have any headcanons about Alastor's participation in WW1? The Selective Service Act of 1917 made it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service and was later expanded to include men as young as 18, so if the stream saying that Alastor was late thirties to early forties when he died is still canon he'd have lived through that

So, I hadn't gotten to this part in my development of Alastor's backstory, but it got me thinking because, huh, how DID Alastor manage to get out of that?

Unless he just served in WW1. Which...I find oddly funny. I don't know why, but the the image of Alastor in the trenches...

But anyway, you got me curious so I looked into it. You're 100% right about the Selective Service Act of 1917 making it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service, and they even came up with different "classes" of the men who qualified, and if they exhausted one class, they'd go down to the next.

However, even with the Selective Service Act, there was still a lot of draft evasion going on. In fact, a significant amount of draft evasion happened in the South, which, as I'm sure you know, Louisiana is part of (some of it was in part of Southerners not having documentation, and thus, unable to even legally draft, which would probably give them a whole other slew of problems).

So, I was looking into how people evaded the draft. A lot of it is split up into different groups, like draft avoidance and draft resistance, with their only little list of things, but that's a lot and I don't wanna get into all of that. But my bet is on Alastor doing draft avoidance.

And there were actually quite a few interesting ones, like:

Claiming to have a mental or psychological problem (if you could find a doctor willing to certify that for you)

Student deferment, when someone is primarily in school to learn and study (or obtaining one in an effort to avoid the draft)

Deliberately failing the military intelligence tests

Professing sincere or religious ethical beliefs (join a church, avoid the draft!)

Bribery

and my personal favorite:

Being homosexual.

Because, as you know, the government can't allow the gay in the military!

And look, I'm a silly goober, so of course I immediately went to Alastor claiming to be homosexual. But the thing is, I kind of do think that is something Alastor would do for a majority of reasons.

In the 1920's, social values were evolving, and a lot of postwar "youths" began questioning traditional concepts of family, sexuality, and gender. There were "little Bohemia's" around the US, including in Manhattan and San Francisco, with communities and groups like this, and they weren't exactly unknown.

Back to Alastor, he lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans (or, at least, that's where I think he lived as a majority of mixed-raced Creole people lived there, which we know Alastor canonically is). And it just so happens, that it became the birth place of New Orleans gay community in the 1920's. There were entire gay neighborhoods, there were clubs where people dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender, they had parties and bars, and while it wasn't "the norm" to live this "lifestyle," and there was still a lot of harassment, it was still fairly normal to see. (Of course, then came what we can call the "gay panic" where government started cracking down on it, and claiming the gay community were all predators and pedophiles, and - well, you know. You know.)

But that was after/close to Alastor's death, so...

Anyway, I 100% believe that Alastor did take part and lived in communities like those. Names and labels for those things didn't exist at the time, so it's not like he knows what they're called, but homosexuals, cross-dressing, drag queens, they were normal to him. He's lived with them, partied with them, maybe even tried a few things out himself(so many headcanons, guys. So many).

This is to say, I think Alastor would 100% be comfortable claiming to be homosexual to avoid getting drafted. You've seen getting married for tax benefits, now consider becoming gay for draft evasion! I actually had a pretty fun talk about it with a friend in Discord, which only cemented it in my mind LMAO.

I have SO many headcanons around Alastor and him living in the French Quarter, in gay communities, where they challenged social norms (and we all know how he feels about challenging status quo's 😏)

But if not that, my runner up is that he totally bribed his way out of it. I don't know how he got the money, maybe he killed someone and stole their wallet, IDK, but bribery is a yes from me.

And if not THAT one, then he joined and church and claimed to have sincere religious and ethical beliefs 😇 🙏 (Yes, this is inspired by Nun Alastor, and no, I do not take constructive criticism. That's what happened guys, I was there). Besides, New Orleans was pretty Catholic, I'm sure he could find a church somewhere.

That's my take on it XD I think the one closest to Alastor's canon character would be bribery, but this is fandom, and if I say he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war, then goddammit he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war.

[nuhuhwinniethepooh]

C-rumble

Wanted to make a gojo fluff fic but it matches sukuna's vibes too 🥲👍🏻sukuna's scenario won tho cuz why not 🤷🏻‍♀️

Trueform!Sukuna x F!Reader

Pt.2 of A-muse, can be read as a standalone or a series depending on what you want.

Trope: Gore ( I really, seriously don't know how much is too much so please don't come after me ), violence, Fluff? ( idk if I'm twisted or sumn🤷🏻‍♀️ seems like fluff to me), Angst if you look hard enough

Preview : As the town crumble and silence surrounds the chaos, only then did he crumble at your touch.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

Sukuna was bored, bored of the same repetitive life, bored of the way he was revered, bored of everything he had and most of all, bored of the people around him, they were visibly unamusing. Barely holding on to his sanity with the little amusement he had with a massacre every now and then because for once in his life, he wanted a challenge.

Sukuna wanted someone, hell even something would've sufficed, to challenge him- to push him to his limits, to make him high from the adrenaline that can be obtained only from a death defying fight but everyone he met and saw disappointed him to no end. He was immensely disappointed; disappointed in the fact that they were all bravado, disappointed in the fact that the fight lasted only a few single minutes, disappointed in the fact that they all broke in the end, disappointed in the fact that they were all bark and no bite, disappointed in....the list went on and on.

Until he met you.

Sukuna was amused for the first time in a long while. He was amused at the lack of emotions in the chaos ensuing around you, amused at your actions, amused at the fact that you had lasted so long, amused at how you somehow managed to crumble his pride into dust and most of all, amused when you voiced your agreement to his proposal. You literally just agreed to be the queen of curses with no hesitation, of course he'd be amused- a little excited too but he'd never admit that.

But right now, all he felt was a rising rage as he watched from afar, rage against you, rage against the servants surrounding the both of you, rage against the very earth with it's flourishing bloom and most of all, rage against the slightly upward curves that graced each ends of your lips as you listened to your maid, Rita, excitedly babbling on about curses knows what ! That vermin had the audacity to not notice your smile at her words- the audacity you had to have cracked your first smile to a mere human instead of him, your husband-to-be ?!

Sukuna was angry at the fact that his efforts had gone down the drain; he had tried for months to get an expression out of you and when he was finally giving up, you finally showed him an expression different from your default face of unmoving lips and uninterested eyes that seemed to register nothing but everything at the same time. You had finally raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a peculiar look when he unknowingly knelt on both his knees to present a gift he painstakingly had customized and he had experienced true joy then, refusing to give up on his attempts with renewed motivation. You actually could react !

But now, he felt rage and betrayal at seeing your smile, however small, gracing a presence that wasn't his. Sukuna stands from his seat and walks over to you with an overwhelming aura that had all the attendants straighten their backs and lower their themselves almost as if they were trying to meld within the ground. As he stops and towers over your seating figure, he watches your head move up and your eyes gaze at him, your smile no longer present on your face- he feels disappointed, an itching uncomfortable feeling clawing at his chest.

One swift movement was all it took, a barely noticeable move before a sliced head falls down right next to your feet, the eyes of the dismembered head blinking once, twice before it finally noticed that it had gotten sliced off and falling limp with the body finally dropping on the floor with a thud. Blood sprinkled around the ends of your kimono as your eyes followed the sound only to see Rita's dismembered head resting next to your feet and her bleeding headless body right behind.

He watched and waited with bated breath, you had graced her existence with a smile so that must mean she meant something to you, which could only mean that he could finally see a new reaction other than the two reactions you showed him but alas, Sukuna was disappointed, he expected a gasp or maybe even a look of surprise but all you gave him was the same raised eyebrow, the peculiar look on your face.

The rising anger had finally reached his peak, how dare a mere woman mock the King of Curses, in front of an audience that too!! Barely audible gasps was heard before all the attendants around was dismembered from head to toe, blood and innards gushing out like rain on the pristine grass, splattering bright red all over the area.

His eyes still on yours and yours on his before he roughly grabs your arm, refusing to show the courtesy of holding out his hands out for you to take. Oh no, he wasn't gonna show any courtesy to someone that doesn't do the same for him.

He drags you behind him, taking singular big steps against your multiple small steps just so that he could have the small pleasure of having you stumble on the rough and uneven road that soon followed after the flowering place although it was now filled with soon-to-be rotting dead bodies.

The crunch of pebbles and dried leaves echoes in the dying light while you two continue to walk for what seemed to have been hours. Not a sound of complaint was heard or raised besides the soft huffing that escaped from your lips which in turn soured Sukuna's mood yet again. He had expected a question or maybe even a complaint, but all he did in the end was expect before finally reaching to a stop.

A town finally came to sight, your breathe heaving before your eyes falls upon the sprawling buildings and markets filled with people at every inch before resting on the large, looming building at the center of it all.

"Multiple vermins and tributes were sacrificed to me as an offering of peace by this town which was once a desolate village, our attendants were filled with them and I left them in your care since you seemed to like the people from there, but you have disgraced my kindness," Sukuna hisses in a low threatening voice, his hold tightening around your arms as he points at the town.

"My protection allowed them to flourish but since none of the vermins from there now attends to me, I no longer see any reason to grace my protection over them. You dared to show your smile to a mere maid and now her hometown will no longer be in existence and it's all your fault," He continues, turning to face you. All four eyes burning red with bloodlust- he had restrained himself from going on a massacre for a long time now, choosing to spend his time with you and amuse himself with your presence but the situation at hand, had his self control crumble to nothing.

One moment you were standing on the top of a hill looking at a sprawling city, illuminated with the setting sun and the next moment you find yourself standing in the city, illuminated with raging fires and screams that was seemingly coming from everywhere. A seemingly curious glint in your eyes as you walk in the market area that was once filled by people and still filled by them except now, their blood and body parts had made a path for you. A red carpet of sorts for your grand entrance that led to your maniacal, blood-thirsty husband-to-be.

Sukuna finally stops after making sure every house, every shop and every living thing had been torn apart. He turns around and sees the red carpet he laid down for you, proud of his accomplishments as he watches you turn the corner and walk up the stairs of the large building in the middle of the city, towards him. He may have had destroyed the city but he saved the best for the last, a grand finale where he makes you watch him fight against multiple sorcerers- he wanted you to watch him in awe and worship him as he worshipped you maybe then, you'd realize his strength and listen to his wishes as he did yours.

Yells emanates from the building as sorcerers begin their attacks upon him, cursed energy upon cursed energy aimed only at him but his eyes was on your climbing figure- your disinterested gaze steady as you walk up the bloody stairs towards him. Flicking away the attempts of attacks at him easily, he presses a kiss on your forehead with a grin on his face before rushing towards the top, ripping apart summons and summoners alike with bare force.

Sukuna was done before you arrived at the top, sitting on the benches that resided next to the entrance, waiting for your timely arrival before ripping apart a terrified sorcerer right in front of your eyes, grin reaching from ear to ear, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his deathly aura emanates the surrounding. He hopelessly wishes to see you falter, at least this once.

But your walk towards him never falters, your eyes on him never wavers and your body never halts, stopping only when you stand in front of him.

Your hand reaches up to his cheeks as he wonders curiously at your next move, only to flinch internally from surprise when your fabric comes into contact with his skin. Sukuna is further surprised when he realizes that you were wiping the blood on his face before he relaxes into your touch so naturally it felt like breathing, he looks up to you.

His breathe stops, his body turns rigid under your touch and he can't believe his eyes, all four eyes were left unblinking, frozen and on you.

Your lips were curved, not slightly curved like how it was before- barely noticeable unless paid close attention to. No, it was curved to the point that creases formed around the corner of your eye and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest is replaced by a blossoming and growing warmth. All thoughts and previous feelings of betrayal and rage was gone- all he could do and did was gaze in wonder at your smile, at the softened look in your eyes that no longer held any disinterest towards the world because all you saw was him.

All you saw was him- Sukuna Ryomen, The king of curses and your husband....-to-be.

The town releases a loud groan in the silence and the floor rumbles along with it, breaking the moment as you turn to look at the sea of flames surrounding the two of you but Sukuna is unwilling to break the moment so he places a hand atop of yours and you look at him with the same smile on your face.

His breathe hitches at the beauty of it- your blood stained kimono, your loose flowing hair, your soft figure and face illuminated by the fire, your even softer eyes that reflected him and the smile that rested on your lips, only for him. Sukuna burns every little detail into his memory and into his very essence, his soul.

"Shall we go home, Ryomen?," You say softly, your voice ringing in the silence and everything is perfect for Sukuna Ryomen.

He presses a kiss on your hand that held his cheek and stands, this time refusing to hold out his hand for a completely different reason. You had walked a long way because of petty anger and he sure as hell wasn't gonna repeat the same mistake again.

He slides an arm under your knees and supports your back with another before gently lifting you up, your hand sliding over his shoulder as if natural and he walks towards the burning city, towards the direction from where you came.

As the town crumbles and silence surrounds the chaos, only then did he crumble at your touch.

"Let's go home, my Love," he whispers and this time, he meant it.

◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇

My imagination went on overdrive on this👹 didn't proofread so it might be kinda funky

I'd appreciate any sort of interactions with this post, also should I write the gojo fanfic I have in mind too??🤨Same title and alphabet, just different scenarios.

Masterlist

Tags ( due to request of pt.2 )

@badtrinia

@kariatenoh

[pbs-theundeadmaggot]

hi angel! i see your requests are open and if you’re up for it, i’d love to request an older!sinclair sister w our lover boy eddie? :) some angst for character development LOL and fluff? ♥️♥️♥️ thank u pookie

Mistakes were made but atleast we fixed them, sort of…

Eddie Munson x Fem!OlderSinclaire reader

[a/n] sorry this took longer than I’d hoped, I really tried to make it a balance between angst and fluff so I hope I did your request justice! Feel free to send more asks in the future, I’ve never written for Sinclair reader before this so it was definitely new to me, but I had fun! <3

Valen-Cries masterlist available here!

Request a Valen-Cries fic here!

Eddie had been your best friend for as long as you could remember, practically joined at the hip, so much so that it was uncommon to see you apart, until recently. With the cracks of your steadily crumbling friendship beginning to show, questions naturally arose from both your parents and peers. 

What you refused to tell anyone was the real reason behind this break, constantly spewing excuse after excuse when anyone broached the topic. It was unlikely anyone would hear what actually went down, with Eddie probably far too embarrassed to explain that you, his best friend was in love with him, and you mortified for even thinking he could feel the same.

In fact just thinking about it months later, your cheeks still burned with a mixture of hurt and rage, picturing the night you’d all but spilled your guts while he sat there half heartedly shrugging at your confession like you meant nothing to him at all. 

Poor Lucas had attempted to console you but was met with a cold pillow to the face the moment he entered your bedroom, quickly deciding it wasn’t worth possibly losing his head over some ‘girl drama’, or so he thought. However, it was also just your luck that the following morning he’d not only told Mike and Dustin but the entire Hellfire group, Eddie included.

For a while after the whole debacle you’d tried to remain just best friends with Eddie, truly believing that if he wasn’t interested in you romantically you could still salvage the friendship although, that proved more difficult than ever.

Which led you to now where you were stuck between the awkward and depressing limbo of wanting more but trying desperately to get over you know who, in an effort to go back to how it was before, if that was even possible. 

Poking around at the food in front of you as your family chatted happily about their day, zoning in and out of conversation had become the new norm. The numbness taking over once more until Lucas had let it slip that Eddie had a date with none other than Chrissy Cunningham, Hawkin’s princess. 

Of course he did, you’d thought. The bitterness beginning to take over as you thought of the numerous reasons Eddie would never be attracted to you and how you’d ruined everything. Excusing yourself from the table and going straight to bed, not that you’d be getting any sleep.

If only you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

You weren’t sure how long had passed until the faint knock of the door echoed through the room, followed by the creak of the worn down door. “Hey y/n, I was thinking we could have a spa night this weekend if you’re up for it? You know how mom used to do when we were younger?” Erica shifted somewhat nervously. It was clear she didn’t want to anger you, with your mood changing faster than the wether nowadays, likely confused how the once close family dynamic had become to distant. 

Guilt weighed heavy against your chest, the urge to decline and simply wallow, outweighing a possibly fun and equally horrendous sister night. Desperate to think of an excuse but deciding to agree anyway for her sake. It wasn’t like you had anything planned either way, with Lucas and your parents going on date. 

The bonus was she might actually succeed with killing you this time, if her cooking was the still as you remembered.

—- 

Eddie knew it was wrong as soon as the thought entered his head, he just couldn’t understand how you could tolerate let alone be in love with him. Hell he’d be lying if he tried to deny the feelings he felt, yet he still choose to play the fool. He hadn’t anticipated the fallout would be quite this bad, with you avoiding him for the most part or pretending for his sake the confession was in the past and to be forgotten, and his conflicted feelings making him temperamental, for lack of a better word he well and truly was fucked.

How was he supposed to rely on you to protect his heart if he couldn’t do the same for you? So used to being the other person in any given situation, this was all new. Hell he’d have studied for this moment if it meant he’d have an answer with how to move forward, alas that wasn’t coming anytime soon.

Trudging up to the van like usual unaware that someone was following him until the crinkle of a snack wrapper sounded from behind, stopping him in his tracks.

 “Sinclair I know you’re there” Eddie had called before turning around to meet the sheepish grin on Lucas’ face.

“How did you know it was me?” The boy had sighed, munching away on his favourite snack bar which coincidentally was also yours. 

“Well apart from the obnoxiously loud noise you made opening that.” He’d pointed at the half eaten food “I also happen to know there y/n’s favourite and they’re the most annoying thing ever, especially when trying to plan a campaign.”

“Well anyway I need you to come to my house tomorrow evening.” Ignoring Eddie and continuing “and before you ask she’s not going to be home so don’t worry about that, she’s got a date.” He trailed off, watching something in the distance

“I wasn’t worried but okay…” Eddie muttered watching as Lucas suddenly ran off shouting at what he assumed to be the others to wait up for him

—-

Getting into your pyjamas and heading downstairs to see what chaos Erica was cooking up, literally, you hadn’t expected to be met with the person you’d been trying to forget, or at least just for one evening. 

“What are you doing here?” Looking around the otherwise empty kitchen confused “you’re supposed to be on a date?” You questioned

“No you’re supposed to be on a date.” Eddie echoed back as the sound of chairs dragging against the hardwood floor grew closer. 

“Neither of you are on a date but you are locked in, so sort whatever it is going on between you out now!” Your younger siblings shouted, clearly having planned tonight.

“By the way I know you both love each other so just admit it already.” Erica added, earning a thump before it grew quiet again. 

Unsure of how to comprehend her words, you simply pulled up a chair and sat down. You definitely weren’t going to start the conversation, hurt enough over the first time you’d talked argued about ‘this’.

“Look I’m just going to get straight to the point. I lied.” Eddie started, pulling up a chair near you and sitting “I do love-” the hesitation was enough to send you reeling, the urge to simply run, scratching away at your insides. 

“Fuck” he was pacing now “I’ve never said these words to anyone but I love you.” Breathing out without hesitation this time. “I know I’ve been shit at showing it and I don’t expect you to forgive me for lying and hurting you but when I heard you were going on a date something changed.” Now still and silent once again as he got down and looked at you for real this time.

“I lied because I thought you could do better than me. I mean I’m still in high school, barley passing and you’re in college with your whole life ahead of you. It wouldn’t be fair for me to hold you back, you know that.” 

“Eddie what the hell?!” You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or cry at how dense he could be, you’d probably end up doing both “I don’t care about that shit, we’ve been friends for years and you didn’t think to at least talk to me about this?”

“You know I love you and you let me think you were basically disgusted at me?” Pausing as you pondered on your next words. “Don’t answer that.” 

Where words failed, actions came into hand. Leaning over and pressing your lips against his, savouring the faint taste of mint and tobacco that lingered, while cupping his cheeks between your hands. Now that you’d started you weren’t sure you could stop, understanding now what it means to be intoxicated by someone. 

Gasping for breath between kisses and hands grabbing at each other while the room grew hotter until you were startled by a bang.

“Hey! We’re still here you know.” Lucas shouted “also I’m still mad that you like him” It was now Erica’s turn to slap him playfully, prompting a spat between the two over who’d genius plan this was. Honestly you couldn’t care less now that you had Eddie back.

Little did you know that it was thanks to both Lucas and Erica meddling for this Valentine’s miracle. Although, that was an argument for another day. Erica insisting she knew was the head of operation Valentines.

[bittersweetresilience]

Sentitwin fake dating AU! I gotta know man

SENTITWIN SHENANIGANS AHOY @asukiess

i love the premise a lot, so i got overexcited and shared the entire outline. romantic tropes in platonic relationships... yes, please. also, a rare crack fic from me.

Adrien, in an effort to divert suspicions on his secret identity, pretends to be dating Chat Noir. This is sort of difficult to pull off, since he is in fact Chat Noir.

Enter Félix. Jazz hands.

Félix doesn't know Adrien is Chat Noir. Félix thinks Adrien is busy and he is supposed to be pretending to be him. Félix has no idea how romance works and completely sucks at fake dating. Chat Noir thinks this is absolutely hilarious and is having the time of his life poking fun at him.

After their first date Chat Noir fesses up to knowing Félix isn't Adrien. He says Adrien told him ahead of time and he just thought it'd be funny to tease him.

Félix gets dropped off at the mansion. Whatever, he thinks. That's the end of it. He goes back into Adrien's bedroom, where the both of them have been staying. Adrien is coming out of the bathroom. He feigns a smile and asks how Félix's date went. Fine, Félix says. That's great, Adrien says. They stand in awkward silence for several minutes until Félix pretends to start reading.

Okay. Awkward. Sentitwins are actually fighting. But Adrien is in a pinch after he ran his mouth about Adrichat, and Félix loves his cousin. Come a few days Adrien says he's busy again and Félix agrees to keep fake dating.

Chat Noir and Félix hang out. Chat Noir and Félix hang out again. Chat Noir starts taking Félix to places he likes instead of torturing him. To Félix's surprise, he discovers Chat Noir is kind of tolerable. He even acknowledges why Adrien might be dating him. Meanwhile, Chat Noir is ecstatic. He gets to get away from the tension in the house and hang out with his cousin.

The secret identity suspicions fade away. But Chat Noir keeps coming around to hang out with Félix, and for some reason, Félix keeps agreeing to go on fake dates with him.

The two of them spend more and more time together. First they do things Félix wants to do. Then they do things Adrien always secretly wanted to do with him. Adrien is having a great time ignoring the fact that they're fighting at home and, as Chat Noir, bonding with him. Félix is lightening up to Chat Noir. Eventually he starts opening up about his childhood to him.

Félix now has one friend, which unlocks character development. He decides he should try to mend his relationship with his cousin. But Adrien is so happy about how things are going as Chat Noir that he keeps unintentionally blowing off Félix's olive branches to run away and transform and hang out with him.

Félix is getting kind of stressed out by this.

Chat Noir notices something is wrong, but he has no idea what. They keep hanging out, but Félix gets more and more quiet. Finally one night after Chat Noir drops him off, he breaks down and confesses he thinks he's ruined things and Adrien must hate him.

Okay. Awkward. Two seconds ago Chat Noir was feeling incredibly good about how close he was getting to Félix.

Chat Noir realizes he's lost the plot and forgotten that the whole time he was lying. He reassures Félix that Adrien loves him. Um, he knows because remember, he's dating Adrien. Adrien talks all the time about Félix. Adrien definitely misses him.

Félix takes some convincing, but he has come to trust Chat Noir, so he does appreciate this.

Chat Noir transforms back and stews in his guilt about tricking Félix into befriending him. He only dug himself a deeper hole by continuing to lie while comforting him. Félix is going to be so angry. Chat Noir has to tell him the truth. He gets in his head. It's cool, he can totally do this. He'll just have to plan the perfect day. He'll put Félix in a good mood and say and do all the right things and then he'll gently break it to him and they can be best friends again and forget about this.

Félix tries to talk to him as Adrien, and Adrien is trying to pay attention but he's distracted and doesn't notice when he says something he isn't supposed to know as Adrien.

The next day Félix stops Adrien by the door to their room. Adrien is rushing to finish preparations for the last fake date. Félix catches him by the hand and hugs him. Adrien hugs back, surprised, but then he skedaddles, which is okay, he justifies, because it's the last time, really. Félix will understand once he's explained everything.

Midway to the kitchen he realizes his finger is bare and wheels back into the bedroom, where Félix is holding his ring.

Okay. Awkward. He didn't get to explain anything.

He's expecting Félix to be angry, but Félix just starts laughing.

Of course you were always running out of the house. Of course you were always busy. Busy patting me on the shoulder and promising you loved me.

You're not mad at me? Adrien asks timidly. Oh, no, I'm furious, Félix says. But don't worry, you have a chance to make it up to me. Take me on whatever date you were planning as yourself and we'll see.

(wip ask game)

[timidxtempted]

It's never just a carrot.

I was standing in my kitchen this morning looking out at the garden. The only bed that I can really see from that vantage point is the carrot bed. That's not a complaint, the carrot bed is actually my favourite one.

I like carrots. Always have.

They're delicious pretty much any way you eat them. Lots of good things for the body. Easy to hide in food for people who (for whatever reason) don't like veggies. Honestly, one of the first things I remember wanting to grow when I thought of trying to grow anything.

It turns out that growing carrots is a lot more complex than I thought it was going to be just from reading about it. Like most things, lived experience often veers off the course of what the research tells you.

Is your soil fertile? Is it balanced? What are the boundaries of the space you are growing? What are your favoured varieties? Will they grow well together? Do you have enough light? Do you have enough shade? Are you ready to dedicate yourself to watering, and to fertilizing and pest control?

Are you ready to do the work?

Make no mistake, it is work. The carrots in a garden don't just appear for your use with zero - or low - effort. Lots of work before you get to partake. It's hard work that needs to be consistently done. If that effort isn't maintained, the crop won't be very fruitful and you might not have them when you need them; alternately, your carrot won't be viable - it might just wither in the ground.

But you! You did the work.

You learned as you went, made adjustments... hardest of all - you learned that you didn't have to tend the garden all by yourself.

Good for you!

So now that you have a gorgeous fucking crop of carrots, everything is wonderful and you can stop working so hard! Right? Everything is planted and look at all the lovely green growing up out of the ground... and "oh I have carrots here, I'm covered for all happy carrots, everything is great and I can kick my feet up because look at all the carrots!"

Mmmm.... Carrots. We are all set.

Hold up, hoes.

Lo and behold, one day you need a carrot while you're trying out a new recipe. You go and pull one out and it's the most wonderful, beautiful carrot and it's perfect and bright and full of nutrients and oh-so-good-for-us-ness... you talk about how excellent the conditions are for your carrot, and how healthy your garden is and eat together in happy-joyful-floaty, well earned satisfaction.

Delicious.

Enjoy your healthy garden!

Next time you are cooking up a storm, you suddenly need another carrot and you run to the garden to pull one and... it's ugly and twisted and there's dirt caked in a crack down the side of it and why does it look hairy? But that's the carrot you have and you use it because... you. need. a carrot.

This time, you discuss the garden conditions and the soil amendments. You make the choice to add and change and adjust and grow with your carrots... You let the fucking difficult carrot teach you how to cultivate a better garden. You share your meal, and it is made no less nurturing or nutritious by the ugly carrot; in fact, it is made even more delicious and fulfilling by the work you have put in to enhance your garden... by the choice to secure your future full of delectable, lovely carrots.

Each time you pull a carrot - be it perfect or ugly as hell, each time you talk about pulling a carrot, each time you tend to your carrots... you can make the choice to improve your garden as a whole. You can make the decision to apply what you have carrot-learned to how you handle other issues you might someday come up against with your lettuce, or your beans.

.

Hey, something just occurred to me...

.

Kinda the same with safewords, isn't it?

Who'd have thought that carrots and safewords would have so much in common?

.

Are you ready to do the work?

To prepare your soil? Plant your seeds? Tend your garden?

When you are ready... Use every single veggie or herb you pull... Every flower you pluck... to make your whole garden healthier, more nurturing...

Having to harvest your carrots is not a bad thing. Done with respect, with care, with mutually supportive intention, it serves to improve your garden.

Making it stronger. Resistant to pests.

Growing ever healthier and more resilient.

Sew.

Get fucking filthy.

Garden safe(word)ly on.

🥕

[class1akids]

Is it just me or based on your previous ask, not only are they repeating the same "Don't Cause trouble" or "Stop Touya!" but all of them minus maybe Rei (she's there to cool him down) believe Toya can be saved. It's sad how the people Toya had direct contact in the house like Fuyumi, Natsuo and Enji gave up on him while only Rei and Shoto are putting in any effort.

It's also sad how his stranger of a brother is the one who puts in more effort than Natsuo and Fuyumi do whom he actually knew

I just hope Shoto gets

Hold on, my previous reply was not in any way to blame Fuyumi and Natsuo. And Rei is also not cooling Touya, she's even unable to cool herself which is why she's burning. Her "I'm sorry" sounds a lot like Inko's "I'm sorry" back in chapter 1. She says it with a good heart, but maybe not what Touya needs to hear.

Also, if you look at characters in-story and also the fandom out of it, people have been asking forever "how is Touya still alive" - he should be dead. His body is falling apart, cracking open - so I think it fully makes sense for them to think that Touya's explosion is an inevitability. It's sad, but you can't blame them for it really.

I think Shouto now has facts that the others don't - about Touya's coma, about his escape, about him wanting to come back to the family. Shouto also knows Phosphor the best - and as the fight went on, he also changed his opinion about Touya. Beyond just thinking of him as "idiot big brother", he's noticed that Touya is actually incredibly talented and has great intuition to be able to copy moves just by sight.

So far everyone (including Shouto) only ever told Touya to stop. And it's perfectly reasonable from the POV, even if it wasn't what Touya needed to hear. (Familiar? back to Ch 1 Deku's situation).

So I think not only Shouto will show up to stop the explosion, but he will do it by telling Touya to work with him and he will teach Touya how to stabilize Phosphor.

Everyone running into the fire and trying to save each other is proof that the family changed, but I think the solution will be "The Right Way to Put Out the Fire" - i.e. not discouraging Touya, stopping him, overpowering him, but recognizing his unique strengths and working with him, teaching him how he can use his quirk without self-harm and harm to others.

[ice-cap-k]

Get Some Rest

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Get Some Rest

______________________________________

“Skizz! Psst! Skizzleman…”

“I think we have to be louder, Grian. Try getting closer.”

“If I got any closer I’d be on top of him. Skizz! Come on, wake up old man.” 

Skizz didn’t want to wake up. He was just so nice and cozy and warm in his bed. Even Kevin Bubbles Malone Refrigerator Jimmy Mad-Eye Dugon complained from his spot on top of the covers. The poor pup whimpered in annoyance as he covered his ears with his paws. Skizz wished he could do the same. Instead, he settled for pulling the pillow over his head as he rolled over. “I don’t want ta-” he managed to mumble. 

“Well, you gotta,” Grian said with a huff. “If me and Scar can’t sleep, then neither can you.”

“Meh.” 

“Well if that ain’t the comeback of the century.” 

“Don’t just stand there doing nothing, Scar. Help me.”

The wonderful warmth of his blanket vanished as someone pulled it away. The cool air came as a shock to his half-asleep system, but he kept his eyes screwed shut even as he reached after it. The two tricksters were too fast, though. The blanket was flung off his bed before he had a chance to snatch it back. Defeated, he could only grumble into his pillow and wish for them to disappear. “Let me sleep. Go bother Impulse instead.”

“We tried-” Scar started, only to have Grian cut him off. 

“Impulse said he’d throw a crucifix at us if we didn’t leave him alone.”

“And you’re the only other one of the Dads left,” Scar added. “I still can’t believe Impulse, though. He’s always so nice and polite, and here he went and threatened us. It’s so unlike him.” 

It was unlike his buddy to go and do that, but then again sleep deprivation made people act out in some wild ways. He might be tempted to do the same if he had a crucifix in arm’s reach. Not that he’d ever actually go through with it. Well, maybe… No, he’s just joshing with himself. Alas, all he had was an alarm clock, and that was plugged into the wall. Not a good choice for a projectile. Speaking of which…

Skizz dared to crack one eye open to get a look at the clock. The number 3:16 glowed bright green back at him in the dark. There were two things very wrong with this picture, and he was stashing away the fact that Scar and Grian had slipped into his house uninvited without so much as turning on a light as the one to address later. 

“Dudes, do you realize how late it is?”

“It’s dark,” Scar provided unhelpfully. 

“And it’s late,” Grian said with a smile. He threw open the blinds to Skizz’s bedroom, leaving a clear view of the stars twinkling outside. “As far as I’m concerned, that makes this the perfect time to go looking for ghosts. Let’s go back to Tanglewood and do a hunt!”

At this point, Skizz had given up on the possibility of them just going away and leaving him be. With a massive amount of effort, he managed to push himself up to a seat and out of the warm embrace of his bed. Kevin looked just as put out as he felt. He doesn’t blame the poor pup for crawling off the mattress and padding out of the room to look for someplace quieter to sleep. 

“No guys. We are not doing a hunt right now. It’s way too late for that. I need my beauty sleep and so do you.”

“We already told you we can’t sleep,” Scar said with a shake of his head. 

“Then you should go be at rest, or whatever else it is you guys can do,” Skizz shot back, throwing his hands up.

“We can go on a hunt,” Grian said again, a mischievous smile on his face. “That’s what we can do.”

“Come on Skizz.” Scar’s eyes become glossy as soon as he sees the look on his friend’s face. “Just one more. We can go back to the house. I can set up the motion sensors in the garage and Grian can do his spirit box thing… And you! Oh! You could run the camera this time instead of Impulse. And then if we get lucky we could find ourselves a monkey paw-”

“Or,” Skizz butt in. “And here me out with this one. Honestly, it sounds fantastic. Sounds like we’ll have ourselves a lot of fun and all, but how about we wait for tomorrow?” 

‘Never mind that they probably wouldn’t be able to do any of those things,’ he thinks to himself. Almost 90 percent of everything Scar just said was literally impossible right now. But he doesn’t dare say that out loud. He can already see the smile drop off his two friends’ faces and it makes Skizz feel bad. Really bad. Gosh they look so disappointed. He was always such a softy. “Aww, no long faces. Just think about it for a moment, really. We already had a pretty bad run yesterday. If the three of us go at it right now on our own, we’re never going to get the job done. That ghost is going to flatten us like pancakes and eat our faces for breakfast.” 

Grian didn’t look too pleased. “You mean ‘flatten us and eat our faces for breakfast again,’ right?” 

Skizz could only shrug. “Yeah. I mean again.”

“Then what do we do?” 

“We go tomorrow. Us three, and a well-rested Impulse with an actual set of equipment and the van… Hey, we could even ask Gem to help us out this time. She can watch our backs while we scope the place out.”

“Then what are me and Grian supposed to do until then,” Scar asked, sounding pretty sheepish. “We thought maybe a big strong Skizz would be able to handle it. Work some of his crazy Skizzleman magic.”

Stay strong Skizz. You have to stay strong for the sake of sleeping, and for the sake of tackling tomorrow well rested. He needed to be in tip top condition to catch some ghosts. But then he saw that Scar brought out the puppy dog eyes. Big wide glistening brown eyes of sadness and sweetness and he can feel himself melting the longer he looks at them. 

“If you think that flattery will get you anywhere…”

“Then you’re right,” both he and Grian say at exactly the same time.

“And you know me too well,” Skizz finished with a sigh. These two really did know him too well. He takes one last longing look at his cozy bed, because he knows what he has to do. And he doesn’t like it. “Fine. How about this, dudes? How about I go back to hang out with you guys until the morning? Then I’ll go get Impulse and Gem and we can go ghost hunting then. How does that sound?”

Grian looked a little skeptical, but he knew by the smile plastered across Scar’s face that this was happening. “Absolutely!” 

“Alright. Let me grab my coat and some shoes. Gentleman, let’s get ready to go.”

_______________________________

“I thought the weird hissing noise meant that it was an Oni?”

“No, apparently. Like, I don’t get it either. I don’t know why it means it’s not an Oni, but Impulse keeps saying that’s how that works. Right Skizz? Skizz…? Helloooo… Earth to Skizz!”

Grian’s loud voice jolts Skizz back awake before the tires can hit the bumps on the side of the road. He really shouldn’t be driving while drowsy like this. 

“You alright, Skizz,” Scar asked from the back seat. “Do we need to talk louder to help you stay awake?”

Grian tapped his fingers against the dashboard. He looks a little nervous, but then again he didn’t have much reason to be nervous about the situation right now. Skizz caught the young man shooting him a few sidelong glances out the corner of his eye and figured Grian must be more worried for his sake than his own or Scar’s. “You probably shouldn’t be driving drowsy like that. Want me to drive?”

“Oh please. You can’t drive,” Skizz huffed. 

“Very true, and for more reasons than one.” 

“We’ll talk louder,” Scar piped in, practically shouting into Skizz’s ear. Somehow, the man in the back seat managed to project his voice loud enough to leave Skizz’s ears ringing.

He wasn’t about to start dealing with that for an extended period of time. “Nope! No. No need for that. I’m good. We’re all good. We’re almost there anyway. I can stay awake for the next mile and a half.”

The other two didn’t respond right away, and the silence quickly became awkward. He could only endure so much time without background noise to focus on. There was always the radio. He was just starting to debate whether or not he should turn on some tunes when Grian spoke up once more. “Are you seriously going to stay with us all night?”

“Sure dude.” He flicks on the blinker as he pulls up to a stop sign. “It’s kinda my fault things went wrong earlier today. I’m the one who opened my big mouth when she came out to play. I sort of owe you guys.”

“Not true,” Scar jumped in. “That ghost was just an angry jerkface.”

Skizz could see Grian nodding in agreement in the rearview mirror. “We all were triggering hunts left and right. We’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Yeah, but I still feel bad.” 

“Don’t,” Scar insisted. He added a little more quietly, “but we’d really appreciate the company if we’re not going back to check the house.”

,

“We’re not,” Skizz confirmed. “There’s no way I’d be able to pull it off.”

“We,” Scar corrected him. “You mean ‘we.’”

Skizz nodded. “Sorry. I mean ‘we.’ But we can chill out until everything gets sorted. And if this will help you guys, then maybe I can even get some sleep myself.”

Grian scoffed. “Outside?”

“Sure. Stranger things happen all the time.”

“Thank’s Skizz. You’re the best dad ever.”

Gosh, that nickname was still so weird. But the weirdness wasn’t enough to keep the sentiment from making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Awww, stop it.” 

The car came rolling to a stop alongside the open field. They were just outside the edge of the suburb where they frequently checked Tanglewood for ghosts. Nobody was around. They were all probably asleep in their beds like normal people who didn’t get pestered by their friends in the middle of the night. You know, the boring kind of normal people. Skizz threw open the driver-side door and stepped out into the cool night air. He rubbed at his shoulders, glad he had thought to bring his coat along. He didn’t hear the back door of the car open or close, but wasn’t surprised when Grian and Scar caught up to him.

“Which way was it again?”

“Over there,” Scar says, pointing towards a familiar row of trees. “It’s honestly a lovely spot. We could probably find you a nice mossy place between the roots to get comfy in.” That got a few giggles from Grian. 

It’s a bit of a hike, but the promise of sleep is plenty of motivation for Skizz. Even if that meant sleeping on the ground. The dew had just started soaking into the hem of his pants when they reached the first tree in the line. 

“It really is a nice place you two have here,” Skizz said as he leaned against the trunk. “Remind me to visit more often.”

“Hardy har-har,” Grian snapped back, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Keep that up and it will be you staying here next time things go south. We’ll see how you like it then.” 

“Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll pass.” 

Scar looked much more comfortable to be back here at least. He was already settling down in the grass, taking a seat with criss-crossed legs. Skizz found himself marveling at how unfazed the man was by the dampness. The dew-laden grass brushed past his pants without leaving so much as a wet spot. “You and Impulse will find that monkey’s paw or the tarot cards, right?”

“Better believe it, dude.”

“And if everything goes wrong again, you both can hang out with us here until Gem figures out-” Grian started, but Skizz cut him off.

“Hey, don’t think like that. We’ve got this. Remember, we’re professionals. The best ghost hunters the world has ever seen.”

He can still make out a glint of skepticism in Grian’s eyes, but his friend doesn’t try to protest further. Instead, he settled down next to Scar in the grass. Skizz decided to join them, letting his back slide down the side of the tree trunk until he was seated in the damp moss lining its base. He frowned as the dew seeped into his clothes, but it wasn’t as bad as the grass. Things could be worse.

Scar yawned. He stretched his arms over his head in a nice big stretch. “Good,” he managed after the yawn faded. “I can’t wait to go back home and see Jellie.”

“Now how about you get some rest,” Skizz offered. “I’m here now. Just… I don’t know. Don’t move on or whatever it is that might keep you from coming back.”

“No worries,” Grian said, suppressing a yawn of his own. “We’ll be around. And if not, we'll see you on the other side tomorrow.”

“Grian! Don’t say things like that!” 

The young man made no attempt to correct himself. He broke into a fit of giggles before letting himself flop backward. His back hit the mound of dirt behind him and the laughter abruptly cut off as he vanished from sight. 

“Hey! Don’t go incorporeal on me now, mister! Someone’s got to teach you about the wonders of positive thinking.”

Scar started laughing too, though with less gusto than Grian. “Night Dad,” he said before falling backwards as well. Skizz watched as his remaining friend disappeared into the dirt mound behind him. 

It was quiet with the two of them gone. Only the sound of the breeze rustling through the leaves over his head was left to keep him company. He was alone now. Probably. Maybe. It was hard to tell with ghosts. 

Not that Skizz would have minded the company. Clearly, they were glad to have him nearby. So he settled down in his own bed of moss alongside the two graves and tried to get comfortable. He even made sure to face the mounds in case Scar and Grian needed him for any reason. Hopefully, they would let him get some sleep tonight… Then he felt the jab of a branch in his back and realized, yeah, he's not getting much sleep tonight.

Tomorrow he and Impulse would hunt down a cursed object and wish them back to life. They wouldn’t have to stay in those temporary graves for very long. But until then, he had to get whatever sleep he could get during this impromptu little sleepover. Going into a haunted building half awake was a surefire way to get himself a hole of his own right next to Grian and Scar’s. 

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Story # 27

TW: Blood, knife, injury, angst, death mentions, implied past torture, choking, bruises, a little flirty by the end

Notes: I am so sorry for disappearing. Had writer's block. Have this kinda long piece I spent days writing. I hope it is up to your standards.

Villain's eyes met the empty, stone cold ones reflected back at her in the mirror, a sight utterly devoid of life. It almost made her wish to laugh, the fact that she still expected something different every time, all while repeating the same patterns, much like an insane man does.

She looked away before her eyes would catch the patchwork of bruises across her cheekbones, the cracked lips with a faint stain of cherry lipstick and the scratch on her nose that always seemed to reopen no matter what.

It was even funnier, how vain she used to be, so painfully aware of minor details and tidbits she knew were inconsequential. But maybe that also meant she had the mind to worry about such things, rather than the decaying mess that remained, barely even functioning, almost primitive really.

But it didn't matter. None of it made a difference. She would just continue her cycle of monotonous tasks, and she wouldn't bother to dwell on the sentimental aspect of it. The villain went from loving change, to abhoring it, to completely disregarding it.

Ignorance is bliss. Words of wisdom; the most comfortable example to live by.

The criminal let out another tired sigh, not the first and definitely not the last as she walked back to her room, forgetting why she even left in the first place.

The cool midnight air seemed to hit her abruptly, as the stray hairs of her messy hairstyle flew even further out of place and the sheer curtains on her window swung back and forth. Except she didn't remember having her window open. . .

Hero made no effort to hide himself at all, sitting on her windowsill and leaning casually against the frame. At the sight of her, the crime-fighter gave her a soft smirk, more self-satisfied than anything else. "I really don't get why you'd keep the windows closed on a night like this," he drawled lazily, closing his eyes, letting the moonlight illuminate half of his form.

"What do you want, Hero?" she asked impatiently, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she reached for a knife in her sweatpants's pocket, always there in case she needed it. There was no point in asking how he got in; the man loved being cryptic to an infuriating degree, part of the theatricality he employed to paint over his jaded side.

The hero was definitely a better actor than she was.

"I'm bored," he remarked, rolling his eyes and sauntering over to the door, almost completely disregarding her presence.

"Enough games," she hissed, twisting the blade in her hand so that the blade was pressed against the hero's carotid artery, bitingly cold against his skin, letting a streak of crimson snake down his neck.

"Agreed," he answered coolly, wrenching the knife out of her hand and tossing it back with an air of absolute casualness, yet his eyes were still flashing with danger, a subtle warning sign the villain knew not to ignore but didn't care much about following.

"You don't actually want me dead, love," he attested, looking down at his nails appreciatevely as though they were perfectly manicured (the way they usually were), and not actually dirty and chipped with an impossible amount of blood caked underneath them.

She only replied with a vicious snarl, lunging at him, twisting her fingers around his neck and pressing down on his windpipe and smiling savagely as he let out a pathetic choking noise. The villain wasn't exactly a sadist, but the hero's ego, even if it was mostly an act, was infuriating.

Still, he ripped her hands off his neck, gasping for air, and he slammed his leg into her shins regardless. The villain almost felt foolish remembering the hero was much stronger than he looked, which was saying something, considering that even with the slight diminishing of his figure, the hero was still somewhat lean.

The force of his kick sent her stumbling back, and if she hadn't held onto the desk with a white-knuckled grip, she would've lost her footing. Not that the hero gave her a chance to react much beyond that, trying to shove her to the side with more ruthlessness than she was used to from him. The villain was correct in assuming the crime-fighter had been holding back in those previous fights.

Well, so was she.

As the hero's hand crawled up her arm, ready to pop her elbow out of the joint it was tethered to, something entirely savage painted across his visage, she quickly broke her hand out of his hold, punching his nose, making his eyes water. She used that momentary distraction to her advantage, aiming a kick to his shins to get him to lose his footing.

Except all Hero did was laugh, moving his leg out of the way only narrowly, the near-miss so frustrating she let out one of the filthiest curses she knew. "You think I haven't memorised your tricks by now? Do you really think so poorly of my intelligence, my dear?" he sneered, giving her a split lip as he slammed his knuckles in her face.

"You goddamn bastard," she growled, pure venom dripping from her tone as she grit her teeth so hard it hurt. She wanted blood all over him, staining his skin crimson, pooling around his mangled corpse. She wanted to rip the hero's heart from his chest, just wished for his infuriating cackles to stop, for his existence to be no more. The desire was so deep and profound, it was exhausting, slowly eating away at her.

The villain raced out of the room, the hero on her heels, faster than she'd remembered. His energy seemed limitless, his own thirst for destroying her just as powerful as her own for him.

Ironic how they hated one another as fiercely and as passionately as lovers yearned for each other.

While the hero had the advantage of strength, the villain had a much better knowledge of her own home than he ever would, not that he really paid any visits. Her hands worked like machinery as she pulled her throwing knives from underneath a floorboard and concealed herself in the shadows, trying to keep her shallow breathing quiet and her eyes wide open, wishing she could see behind her, trying to find her monster of a nemesis before he found her.

"Oh, come on. I missed it when you weren't a coward," he taunted. He wasn't normally this reckless, compromising remaining hidden for a worthless, petty insult. Maybe the hero's fragile ego was no longer a pretence anymore.

"Is not being a fool cowardice to you?" She threw a knife, and he dodged only narrowly, still it left a jagged scratch across his cheekbone, stabbing through the drywall instead of his flesh the way it was meant to. The hero ripped it out of the wall, throwing it back, missing terribly. Close combat had always been his strong point, but accuracy with projectiles was more the villain's thing. Instants later, her second knife was already between two of his ribs.

The hero, stoic as ever, bit down on his lips to stop himself from howling out in pain. He didn't collapse to the ground the way she desperately wanted him to. He was nothing, if not a fighter.

"The next one goes in your heart," she bit out, ready to strike, to end her worst nightmare.

"You know," the hero attested thoughtfully, an enigmatic look in his eyes, "I don't even get why you claim to want me dead so bad. If you really did, you'd try harder. But even if you really had any half-baked desires to kill me, why?" he asked, stalking towards her, trying to keep the breathlessness out of his tone, but otherwise showing no signs of discomfort. A knife to the ribs was a far cry from what he'd been subjected to before anyway.

"Why?" she breathed out, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. She knew he was trying to aggravate her emotions, invoke her ire and manipulate that to his advantage. But it was just too much, too heavy of a burden, too painful to address calmly and rationally. "I trusted you, and you left me for dead!" she screamed, shameful tears streaming down her face against her will.

For a moment, something in the hero's demeanour shifted, sobering up only slightly as the cold indifference thawed and his eyes went a little wide. 

If the villain hadn't known him so well, wasn't used to seeing his face so much that she'd unintentionally memorised his features, she wouldn't have noticed the almost imperceptible change to his features. She cursed herself for getting lost, even for an instant in those cruel, midnight blue eyes, in the way they softened. The way they could be tormenting, gentle, almost loving, happy, smug; so many tricks he could play with those eyes that she hated staring into, whirlpools that sucked you in and never let you go. 

"I didn't have a choice," he bit out tersely, wrapping a hand around her neck and choking, his other hand pinning her arms down so that she wouldn't be able to break out of his hold. "The agency found out that I never tried to kill you. And for that, I was punished. They had me 'retrained' for a few months of hell. They threatened to kill my goddamn brother," he snarled, his bruising grip on her neck tightening.

"And I still let you live. I knew you would make it. You really think that it was an accident you survived? I still risked all this for you!" His voice broke, and she could already feel his own hot tears on her skin, no matter how hard the hero tried to bite down on his lips and stifle his own tears.

Even someone as stoic as the hero fell prey to the vulnerability strong emotion demanded, and his grip loosened against his will, only slightly, but enough for the villain to wriggle out. 

She fell to the floor, gasping for air, hoping with every fibre of her being that the hero didn't try anything else. She wasn't sure she had enough energy to resist. But the hero looked too exhausted to even think straight. "Why did you, then? If we are enemies and no more, if all we feel is hate towards one another, then why not keep it simpler?" she breathed out, her gaze refusing to meet his own, her tone barely above a whisper.

To her shock, Hero laughed, a broken sound through his hitching breath, through tears that stopped faster than they should. "Can't you tell? You know me, I avoid the things I hate until they force me to meet them. Yet, I ran right back to you, pathetic as always." He was sitting down on the floor now, leaning against the wall, his wound taking a toll on him. 

"Pathetic?" she questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"Running with my own two legs to someone who only wishes to kill me."

"I. . .I don't think I do. What's the point? What is left in my life for me to fight so hard for? I thought it was a game, that you thought I was some toy for your entertainment. And I know that this might be my worst mistake, but. . . " she trailed off, getting up from where she was and walking over to the hero and offering him her outstretched hand.

Terrified as he looked, he tentatively slid his own hand into hers as she walked towards her living room. "Trust isn't on my list of favourite things," he'd told her the first time they'd met, like an off-hand joke of sorts, but it couldn't be more truthful now. 

With the hero lying down on her lap, his breathing uneven and medical supplies from the bathroom cabinet around her, the villain carefully grasped onto the knife in his abdomen and swiftly pulled it out, with a sharp hiss escaping from the crime-fighter.

"Easy," she whispered, running a hand through his hair, lifting most of his shirt up and setting the filthy knife down on the coffee table, surprised to notice the hero's breathing slowed.

It was a flesh wound, definitely somewhat deep, but not as horrible as she'd feared. It was strange that the hero didn't fidget, or let out any noises of distress as she cleaned up his wound, but again, the man wasn't particularly fond of vulnerability, and this much of it must have been overwhelming anyway. 

It was even stranger how even when he was wounded, there was something weirdly beautiful about the crime-stopper. Sure, he was muscled, and that was attractive, but she already knew; could already tell from the costumes he wore. He'd become a lot more slender anyway, probably a side-effect of whatever the agency had subjected him to. His body was riddled with scars, different shapes and colours, some seeming to be from years ago, and some barely weeks old, criss-crossed on his skin in irregular patterns that each came with a story, some definitely more gruesome than others. 

His face was beat-up, covered in scattered bruises, the skin dry and dark circles under his eyes. It all made him look older than he really was. And it's not that he wasn't naturally handsome, it was the fact that being this much of a mess, he shouldn't have still looked this good, especially that before, when she'd started fighting him, the hero was almost a little meticulous when it came to his looks. 

A lot like she used to be. 

"There," she added, breaking the empty silence with finality to her tone when she finished bandaging up the hero's wound and tending to his smaller cuts, even the bruises on his face, an activity that felt strangely intimate, even if it was purely out of necessity. She found him an old, zip-up jacket she'd had to steal from a random man during a robbery to divert the attention of the authorities.

He pulled himself up, putting it on, careful not to jostle the wound too much. "Can you hand me the gel you used for my bruises?" 

Raising an eyebrow, she gave it to the hero, wondering if he had any bruises she couldn't see, but instead he inched closer to rub the gel into the marks on her neck, surprisingly gentle. A little paradoxical how touching the contusions hurt, but the hero's fingers working through the tension in the villain's muscles was entirely soothing. 

"I mean, I gave you these, so it's only fair if I fix what I did," he explained, "though, I think you really don't mind," he added, letting his lip curl upwards with a soft smirk and a playful look dance across his eyes. 

It was embarrassingly flustering how relaxed the hero seemed to be as he shifted his position to lie down on her lap, but for a moment the cockiness faded as his gaze, oddly reminiscent of a lost puppy met her amber eyes, searching for reassurance. 

She nodded her approval at him, and he let tightness seep out his posture as he made himself comfortable. One of his hands wrapped around her arm, pressing his lips, surprisingly velvet-soft in a passionate kiss to the back of her hand. The crime-stopper traced haphazard patterns into the skin of her arm, a cheeky, almost boyish smile on his face.

"Pretty," she mumbled in a silky voice, scratching at the hero's scalp and almost brushing through the tousled hair with her fingers. "Can't believe I let myself mess you up." 

"Come on, you just despise how unbearably attractive blood looks against my skin. Still, you're awfully ravishing, angel," he purred, still running his fingers along her arm. 

Villain was incredibly far from an angel, and thus she'd never been called that before; she had enough comparisons to the Devil to her heart's content, though. But it sounded so honey-sweet in Hero's warm voice that it really didn't matter.

Love, much like wildflowers, will thrive in the strangest of environments. It is as unpredictably powerful as hate, but in the right circumstances, more rewarding than it is taxing. Maybe it cannot fix a broken past, but it creates a sweeter present and a kinder future, persevering even through the trials and tribulations it must endure.

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[all-things-ghostly]

Just One Touch - Skull x Reader Lockwood & Co.

I’ve been in this fandom for nearly a year and for the entirety of it I’ve been obsessed with this little green asshole. And honestly I’m flabbergasted that I haven’t been able to find ANY x reader fics of Skull on any site. Maybe this just says something about me lmao. But in case there’s any other ghost lovers out there, this one’s for us 🫡 I got some inspiration from Elemental :)

The very idea of it screamed forbidden.

Skull knew you could never love him. You were a mortal, and he was a ghost. No one has ever heard of such a thing, and if they did, they’d probably be crowding at the door with pitchforks the next day. He had little hope that you would be into to the idea of such a relationship either.

And frankly? He wasn’t quite sure why he liked you himself. He typically hated people like you. The sweet and loving type; the type of person that would go out of their way to make others happy. He's never quite understood the concept of looking out for anyone other than yourself. To him, such kindness was a weakness that would surely get you killed at some point.

Maybe it was the fact that you were a Listener, like Lucy. A good one, too. The two of you were the only people who could communicate with him, so I suppose he’s bound to form at least some kind of bond with you at one point or another. But… no, it went beyond just that. If that were the case, he would’ve just fallen for Lucy. There was something… different about you.

He thinks it’s the way you treat him like no one else does. Shockingly, you seem to decently respect the guy. Everyone else throws insults in his face (although, to be fair, he starts it), never truly trusts him, looks down on him for being a ghost, and in the case of George, hardly cares about his wellbeing… but you were always nice to him. He would’ve found it annoying, he should’ve found it annoying, but he can’t. Skull loves the way to talk to him like an equal. Most nights, his jar will be safely tucked away on top of your nightstand, so he can talk with you long into the night. The two of you could talk about anything—your life, his life, any struggles you’re going through, the awesome movie you just watched. And, you’re shocked to find that the ghost actually has quite a bit of wisdom to him, considering his usual snark. He will put in an effort to comfort you with his words when it’s needed. It’s a side to him only you know.

You had grown deeply attached to one another in the couple of years that you knew each other. Even if you liked to admit it much more than he did. Although, he didn’t really need to admit it… you knew that old ghost cared about you. Lucy did, too. She heard the way Skull’s voice grew warmer whenever he spoke to you. She noticed how he rarely ever said anything remotely cruel or snarky to you. She saw his face soften up whenever he watched you walk by, those green eyes of his staring with a sad and deep longing for you. Lucy could tell that the little ghost was pining for you, and boy, did she tease him BAD for it.

But… he never got to tell you.

He was going to. At some point, anyways. But unfortunately the explosion at Fittes got to him first.

Of course, you were the one who grieved the most after this. There had been no response from him for nearly two weeks. Every day you clutched the burnt skull close to your chest, hoping to feel anything, anything at all… it broke your heart to even look at it. The bone had turned brown and black from char, and it had a large crack running up the right eye socket all the way down the back of the head. The other socket had melted in a way that created a sad and droopy appearance.

Skull thought he would be ready to move on after this. He really did. But every time he felt his soul slipping away, he stopped himself. It wasn’t that he feared death anymore, no—if that were the case, he wouldn’t have sacrificed himself to save the rest of you in the first place. This time, he felt he had some unfinished business.

It took him so long, much longer than he would’ve liked, but eventually he gathered the energy to connect back with his injured Source and return to the mortal world. Of course, he was right by your bedside, as usual. It warmed him to see how you’ve been taking such meticulous care of his skull ever since the incident. And then, when his eyes fell on you, the heartache started up all over again. The confusing mixture of love, passion, and pain.

“Y/n?” Skull whispered, struggling to fight back a mess of emotions swirling up inside of him. He wanted so badly to reach out and wrap you in his embrace. The ghost was so caught up in his emotions that he didn’t even realize he was free until now; the jar was gone, which means he was no longer bound.

You were in a similar state of shock upon seeing him, and stood up from your bed with tears forming in your eyes.

“Skull…?”

In front of you was something you never thought you’d see: a young ghost, similar in age to you, gazing at you with the most caring eyes you’ve ever seen. His skin was a lime green that glowed slightly in the darkness of the room. He wore a white dress shirt that tucked into his dark gray pants, which were held up with matching suspenders. His hair was a slightly darker shade of green than the rest of him, and although it was messy, it looked absolutely adorable on him. You have to admit, he’s one handsome ghost.

The more you looked at him and let the situation sink in, you realized that the urge to hug him was just as strong for you, too. But unlike him, you didn’t hold back. You stepped towards him with your arms spread out, more than willing to take the leap and finally hold the ghost you grew to love.

Skull, however, took a step back.

“No, Y/n… we can’t,” he said with a deep frown, looking down at his feet. “I could hurt you. The Ghost Touch…”

A frown spread across your features, too. You knew that he was right. Ghost Touch was still a possibility and could kill you if you made contact with him.

“Can’t we at least try, though?” You ask, a more hopeful look replacing your sad expression. “You never know. Maybe things are different for us.”

“How can things be different, Y/n?” He says, sounding a little strained. “You’re the only one with any sort of common sense around this bunch, you should use it. My ectoplasm is like poison. If you touch it, you die. There’s no other way of putting it.”

“But there could be! Just look at Marissa and Ezekiel. They touched each other loads of times!”

Skull thinks about that for a little while, and then smirks. “I suppose you’re right about that. There was certainly a little something going on between those two idiots,” he chuckles to himself. Then, his tone goes back to being more serious. “But, still. Their circumstances were complicated. I think it’s better if we just play it safe. I’m sorry.”

You look visibly disappointed, and Skull does too. He ponders his words for a moment and speaks up again.

“Believe me, Y/n… I want this just as much as you do. Maybe even more.”

He then sighs deeply, and this catches your attention.

“Look… there’s a reason I returned here. Personally, I could gladly go without ever seeing some of these ‘eccentric’ people again,” he scoffs, clearly thinking about a certain egotistical leader and bespectacled boy. “Lucy… it’s safe to say I’ve formed an attachment to her, as much as she begrudges me. Although, I suppose I don’t charm her all too much, either. But you, Y/n… I hate to say it, but you genuinely mean something to me.”

Skull has to pause for a little moment again. It seems that this is all very hard for the green ghost to admit. He’s not used to being vulnerable like this, and feels like somewhat of a hypocrite for being sensitive when he so often gives others a hard time for behaving the same way.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He sniffles. The ghost has begun to cry.

“I never knew how to say it until it was too late. But I love you. So much more than you could ever know, more than I ever knew I could. I could hardly believe myself once I realized I was starting to feel this way. I wanted so badly to deny it, to push it down… usually I would just find people like you to be a pathetic twit, never anyone I would fall in love with.”

Skull chuckles in a bittersweet way. “Who knew. Looks like this crude old ghost still has a heart in him after all.”

It takes a moment for you to process all of these words. You never knew he felt this way about you. You just thought all of those little “hints” were just him messing around as he always does. There’s a slight moment of silence that fills the air as you think through what he says.

Skull cuts it off. “So, believe me, Y/n. There’s nothing I want more than to hold you, to kiss you. But I’m sorry, my love. I cannot risk losing you. I would never be able to live with that guilt.”

Another moment of silence, this time slightly more solemn.

“Isn’t that exactly why we should try it?” You ask in a soft voice, a little smile forming on your lips. “If anyone’s worth risking it all for… it’s you, Skully. I love you too.”

A sob wracks its way out of Skull’s throat the moment those words hit his ears. A green hand quickly covers his mouth as the tears stream down his face, muffling his further cries. He's not used to acting this way at all but there’s just something about you that allows him to feel vulnerable and break down his walls. Teary eyes meet with yours, and you can sense deep emotion within them.

When you step closer to him, he doesn’t fight it this time. He just stands there and cries, still covering his mouth, and never taking his eyes off yours.

Then, you reach out… and gently wipe a tear away.

More silence.

Your hand lingers there for a moment. A thumb caresses his cheek. Nothing happens.

You and Skull glance at each other with the same shocked expression, still in complete silence, before your hand moves again. You lovingly cup his face. Then pet his hair. Then grab his shoulders.

Nothing.

The silence is broken when Skull’s sobbing resumes. His hands shake intensely as he reaches up to grab your wrists. This ghost boy has been touch starved beyond belief and he hasn’t even realized it until now when he finally feels your gentle touch. Suddenly you find him scooping you up in the tightest of hugs, his hands wandering every part of your body they can touch, memorizing every curve, every feature… all while he weeps. You retaliate the affection by giving him those soft touches he has already fallen in love with and kissing his forehead and cheeks.

“Y/n, my darling…” He whispers, pulling you into another strong embrace once again. “Oh, dearest…”

He simply melts right into you once you hug him back. Years of pining, tension, and heartache melt right off of him. All he feels now is peace, love, and pure joy. The things he thought he could only dream of having.

It’s up to you to take the initiative and kiss him, since he seems far too preoccupied in just the feeling of your hugs. Soft ectoplasmic lips meet yours and the two of you fit together like it was always meant to be. Poor Skull still cannot believe the luck he has.

But rest assured, he now knows that he has you. And he will never, ever let you go.

[khonaker]

Hi

I think ochako is one of the most under utilised and underrated characters. I'm not a fan of her character (no, i DONT hate her). She had so much of potential amd her fight with BK just proved she's more than a pretty face. I'm fully aware of the fact that this show is oversaturated with characters. But let's not forget that she is the main female lead of the show. My biggest issue with her is that she didn't get to do a god damn thing in the Stain arc. She joined the academy with the sole intention of making money, and that's exactly what Stain hates about the hero society. Their monetary outlook. She could have been a part of the arc, the build up was there. She could have shown Stain that yes, while there are heroes who are there solely for the financial gains, that doesn't make them bad people. She all she wanted was to help her family get out of the poor financial situation they were in. Instead, she gets the typical shonen lead heroine treatment- being the love interest and whose sole purpose in life is to be a satellite character to the male lead of the show.

All her effort in the UA sports festival to do her best against Bk, all the desires to make good income as a hero to help her family financially, devolved into a girl who becomes a blushing mess infront of her love interest.

They did her so dirty. She was one of the few female shonen characters who felt like she could be someone in life without having anything to do with matters of the heart.

Also, notice how it's other characters around her who enforce her this whole Deku crush on her. Mina, toga and Aoyama to name a few. These are the characters who constantly remind her of her feelings for deku, thus pushing her further and further away from the plot relevancy.

I find this very annoying and makes me sick to think that a girl with tremendous potential is now relegated to the role of a girl hopelessly in love.

One last question: So many people think she's a terrible person for wanting to make money. I'm like, what? Are you serious? (If you want me to give further explanations I will) but it's the most human and realistic thing to do when you're stuck in a financial rut.

Please let me know and thanks for reading my extremely long post

Cheers

Ooooooooooo Lordy.

(Cracks hands and neck)

First and foremost, I still love Ochako. But I can’t ignore what’s happened to her throughout the series.

Honestly, it’s been ages since I’ve had that exact thought about Ochako and Stain situation! While he had a valid point (that wasn’t further explored, HORIKOSHI) about there being heroes that didn’t have the EXACT same mentality as All Might, her duality of wanting to provide enough money to support her family all the while having the desire to save others for the sake of saving others would be honestly a culture shock to Stain. (Or he may go further into denial, it’s actually hard to say. Guy had a few screws loose.)

But it HONESTLY would have been interesting seeing these two interact! And not to replace anyone the Hosu trio! It honestly would have been cool seeing her trying to use her new Gunhead Martial Arts (though she probably would have been focused on saving Iida as Izuku and Shoto took on the role of the main fighters, but Stain could have also tried to go after them and Uraraka would attempt to hold her own against him.) And we would have had MOST of the Dekusquad there! (Asui had her own internship.) Hiw great would it have been seeing the Dekusquad fighting together! And Ochako going feral protecting Iida!

Yeah, she happened to be more focused only about her crush with Izuku as time went on, which made a lot of her early traits and accomplishments kinda fade away and be forgotten. But for the record, and I still stand by this. A girl having a crush on someone DOESN’T cheapen her in my opinion. It’s something that happens to many teenagers. And some of their interactions I think are handled well, like them talking about wanting to save their respective villains. But other times, yeah, it felt a bit excessive that Horikoshi had to stop and say, “Hey! Hey! Do you remember Ochako has a crush on Izuku?!?” I honestly was looking forward to seeing how she acted after she vowed to put her feelings aside during the provisional license exam. But…Hori just continued to drill it into our faces.

As for the biggest perpetrator of making Ochako only about Izuku, I lay on Toga’s feet. Mina, yeah, she brings up the crush as well, but it’s done more in good fun I feel. And I think Aoyama has done that once. (Now that I think about it, it’s kind of random how he suddenly knew about her crush. He never does it again.)

But Toga? Horikoshi could have used her for something else to make her relevant, but the ONLY thing she had connected to Ochako is their shared crush on Izuku. Others say theirs other themes between them, but I’m sorry. I don’t see it, or believe that it was handled effectively. Ochako had more than just a crush. Like you mentioned, her want to provide for her family. Her fighting spirit and prowess that she showed against Bakugou. She had things that could have been fleshed out more.

Toga was a wha-wha girl that embraced being a remorseless villain and happened to be crushing on the same guy Ochako was crushing on. That’s it. There’s nothing else really about Toga. And she became to Ochako what Bakugou became to Izuku: a detriment to her character and preventing her from becoming something MORE. (Sorry but not really if I sound cynical about Toga. I just got REALLY tired being demanded to care about her. Like some OTHER blonde.)

Speaking of which, your last question? I also never understood this. I get it for a quick joke and stuff like that. Hahaha. But when people were SERIOUS about holding that over Ochako’s head? I was like, “Did you not hear her entire motivation?!?” I was dumbfounded how people could possibly come to that conclusion.

I find it ESPECIALLY interesting NO ONE brings up that BAKUGOU also had the desire to be a hero for money,JUST TO BE RICH AND FAMOUS! But no, shit on Ochako for wanting to take care of her family! Filthy hypocrites. I honestly wish Horikoshi did a better job balancing both her looking out for heroes as well as wanting to have a good paying job for her family. I think both are completely character of her.

Anyways, you gave me a long post, I gave a long response. 😜 But honestly, thanks! I don’t honestly get these and I hope my answers or thoughts are interesting or understandable! Have a good one and thanks again!

@theuntamedangel

[daughterofgaston]

I Came Back

Requested: No; I just wanted to give you guys an example of my current writing style

Warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol use

Words: 800

Pairing: Ben x Child of Gaston!Reader

Prompt: “I came back for you. I promised I would, and I did.”

A/N: Alright everyone! I had some spare time today since I’m off work for Memorial Day and I had a bit of motivation so here is an example of my current writing style! I found the prompt on Pinterest so I’m not sure who to credit. Let me know what you all think! I’m tweaking D3 a bit since I’m not a huge fan of that particular movie so I’m keeping the general plot but instead of all villains and VK’s being freed, I’m having them had cracked down on the barrier.

After the events with Audrey turning evil, the people of Auradon had decided it was too much risk to allow more children of villains into Auradon- it was corrupting their children. Their precious children.

[Y/N] Legume stood just inside the barrier, looking longingly at the shore of Auradon as they remembered their first, and last, day in Auradon- one that they hadn’t even been able to enjoy because they had been fighting to save a place they would never see again.

After learning that the plans to free all the VK’s off of the Isle had been a lie, [Y/N] fought back the tears that threatened to spill over, looking at the ground as they took deep breaths, fighting back the rage that threatened to spill over. Papa had been right all along- the Beasts didn’t care about any of them after all.

Ben looked over at the child of Gaston, someone who was supposed to be his enemy but instead he just felt sad for them. Ben could see the disappointment clearly on their face, despite their efforts to hide it. Ben’s heart ached, hating the fact that the dream he had been working so hard for was all coming to an end.

Ben just couldn’t stand to stand back and do nothing, that wasn’t in his nature. He approached the child of Gaston, apprehensively placing a hand on their shoulder. “I’ll come back for you, I promise...” Ben promised, frowning when Gaston’s child shrugged his hand off their shoulder.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Beasty. It’s clear you’ve already made up your mind.” They snapped, not even looking at the young king as they began to storm off after Uma and Harry, shoving their hands in their pockets as they jogged to go meet up with their brother, Gil.

Even though [Y/N] genuinely hadn’t believed Ben when he had said he would come back for them, a part of them couldn’t help but feel hopeful that maybe... just maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he would actually come back for them and they would be able to escape the overbearing weight of their fathers expectations once and for all.

Once a day ever since they returned to the Isle, [Y/N] would make a trip back to the entrance of the Isle just in case there was a royal limo coming their way, but with each passing day the hope they felt dwindled more and more, until finally they honestly didn’t even know why they still went there, day after day.

They sighed as they looked over the water, lingering for a few heart-wrenching moments as they remembered all the things they would never be able to experience again, a sigh escaping their lips as they turned to make their way back to the tavern that their father owned, needing to prepare for their shift.

A few hours later, the sun was setting and the tavern was as lively as ever- Gaston was singing along drunkenly as the entire tavern reenacted the song ‘Gaston’ from his failed proposal to Belle like they did every hour on the hour as an homage to how great Gaston was. The door to the tavern opened, and the tavern went eerily silent in the middle of the song, causing [Y/N] to look over to see what had been so important that even their father would stop singing about how great he was.

In the doorway stood a small handful of Auradonian Royal Guards, and King Ben standing front and center.

“The hell are you doing here, Beast-Boy?” Gaston growled, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the son of his sworn enemy, his grip tightening on the glass in his hand so hard it shattered, glass going everywhere and beer spilling down his front and onto the floor.

Ben stood his ground, standing tall as he looked past Gaston and towards [Y/N]. “Gather your things, it’s time for you to come back to Auradon.” Ben said, smiling as he looked at them. [Y/N]’s face immediately brightened, ecstatic that Ben actually kept his word.

[Y/N] didn’t have a lot in the way of personal belongings, so they just undid the apron they wore for their shift at the tavern and made their way to Ben and the guards, ignoring their father’s angry shouts for them to turn around and come back. “Let’s get out of here.” [Y/N] said, barely even stopping to acknowledge Ben’s presence.

Ben had to jog to catch up with [Y/N], smiling at them once he managed to be walking by their side. “I came back for you. I promised I would, and I did.”

“I see that... do you want a cookie or something for not being an ass?”

[writingsbychlo]

i agree that nesta needed to actually apologise to the IC, but what about them? dont they have some apologising to do to her too? its not like they were all saints who never provoked her or said/did something when she was quiet. feyre was the only one completely innocent when it comes to nesta. but amren, mor, rhys, and cassian??

I never said they didn’t have apologising to do too 😅 they definitely do. they shouldn’t have forced her to do anything, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t have. I get why she was forced to go and train with cassian for the plot, but let’s be honest about how things would have been realistically:

feyre and elain reach out constantly to nesta, invite her to events, which she barely attends if ever if she’s not being bribed over her rent money.

cassian reaches out, constantly, only to be hurt and upset and shut out every single time.

nesta takes dealing with her trauma into her own hands by sitting in tubs of freezing waters and enduring the sound of fires, and lets nobody in about what’s bothering her.

she continues to spend a lot of the courts money on alcohol, and for whatever reason, this is not unacceptable to rhys and feyre.

if she wasn’t cassian’s mate and there didn’t need to be a plot for a book, it would have been one page over and done like this:

“you’re going to train with cassian.”

“I don’t want to.”

“fine, then get a job on your own and pay for your own unhealthy habits. because we’re cutting you off. you never come and see us, you’re ungrateful, you’re mean, and you don’t act like family so why should we treat you like family? you’ve made it very clear you want nothing to do with us, so off you go. stay in this court, go to another court, you do you. bye.”

“fine, about time you got off my back.”

and the book would have ended.

so, they all definitely owe her some apologies. they forced her to deal with her trauma in a way that suited them when she was handling it how she wanted to. she has an immortal life span, she would’ve cracked under the weight of knowing everyone was starting to hate her; she would have eventually processed it all.

they just wanted her to heal on their timeline, not her own, and I think that is unacceptable too. it’s one of the things that just ruins the cass and nes dynamic for me in ACOSF.

so yes, they definitely owe her apologies too. they’re not innocent and she’s not the one bad guy, it’s just that I don’t condone the way she treats them. they went about it all wrong, but in the end, they did just want to help her. in the end, they used the wrong methods trying to show their love. she actively set out to hurt and upset people at every possible chance she got to validate her own hurt and upset. I get that you’re in pain nesta, but that doesn’t give you the right to put everyone else in pain too. it ruined nesta’s character for me, who I was pretty fond of up until then.

I think ACOSF should have gone more like this:

feyre and rhys tell nesta she has to go and train, or she’s cut off. nesta gets mad, tells them fine, she’ll make it on her own, she doesn’t need any of them, matter of fact it’ll be a relief to be left alone because she never wanted this happy little fae life anyway.

nesta attempts to make it on her own, but she struggles a lot. she gets a crappy job that leaves her no time to drink her troubles away or meet anyone, she’s barely making ends meet. this sucks. plus, all she hears is gossip about the happy little high lord and lady and their baby on the way, cassian and azriel and the inner circle, and rolls her eyes when her coworkers can’t see, they don’t know who she is.

she wants her free rent money back so she can go back to drinking all night sleeping all day. she hits rock bottom after having a panic attack one night after a nightmare etc, and gets the grand idea. the idea that all she has to do is pretend to show a little effort at training but ultimately make it seem like “oh no, it’s not working, well at least we tried!” and everything goes back to normal.

when she goes to talk to feyre and rhys, rhys tells her hell she can climb the stairs to the HoW and ask cassian if he’s still willing herself, it’s not their call to make.

“fine I will.” moment.

crawling her way up 10,000 stairs, she’s a mess, she’s sick, it takes so fucking long and she’s literally crawling when she makes it to the top. cassian heard her coming and is standing there with his arms crossed.

they argue a bit but he agrees to train her. however, he sees right through her and know what she’s aiming for. an easy ride or drinking here and half-assing training before giving up. so, he lays down rules.

no drinking.

you work too, in the library.

you cant leave with me or az.

you want to leave, there’s the stairs. but it took you twenty hours to drag yourself up then this time, so if you want to go out, fine, but if you’re not back in time for training the next morning, deals off.

she is NOT facing those stairs again, so fine. and now we can start into ACOSF events where she meets gwyn and emerie and they train and etc etc. nesta would find herself more and more wanting to actually stay, to be here and be a part of this. cassian and azriel knew her plan all along, as did rhys and feyre. they all saw the state she was in, desperate for a drink and completely broken. if she came to them herself at rock bottom and healed herself, it would’ve been so much better. no need for that moment where she ruins it all for feyre because she’s feeling like being horrid. her and cassian could’ve had a moment hiking in other ways.

hugely less toxic way to do it, where nobody needs to hurt anybody. idk.