#hate it even more that they’re going to be ‘’right’’

[goxjo]

! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER

+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.

so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?

+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.

+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI

+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab

♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!

He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.

“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.

“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.

They needed to restrain your arms and legs restrained to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”

“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.

Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 

Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.

Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.

“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”

“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.

They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.

What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.

The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.

“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.

“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”

“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”

“Herself?” Suguru teases.

Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”

“Not one bit.”

“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.

“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”

Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?

Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.

“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.

Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”

“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.

“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.

“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”

“Want her to want me.”

Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”

Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.

The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.

“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”

Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.

She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.

“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.

Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.

Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.

…

Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”

Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.

Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.

He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.

His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.

Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.

“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.

With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”

Fuck.

Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.

“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”

Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.

With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.

Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.

Fuck.

“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.

His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—

“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”

Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.

“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.

“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”

“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”

He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.

“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 

“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”

And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.

“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”

Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.

His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.

“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.

“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”

You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.

“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”

“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.

He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.

You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.

“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.

“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.

“I love you, Satoru.”

Satoru chuckles. More to himself.

“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.

...

"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."

"Shut up."

—

Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.

“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”

“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”

“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.

“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.

“A big one, too,” he adds.

“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”

Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."

“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

Jisung was always the one to make people laugh, to brighten the room with his energy and humor. His smile was contagious, his jokes quick, and his laughter a sound you cherished immensely. But what people didn’t see, what Jisung hid behind his laughter, was his fear - the constant nagging doubt that told him he wasn’t good enough. Sure people could tell he was an anxious mess. He talked about with Stays, opened up to many people about his anxiety. But few people truly understood what exactly was harbored within that.

You knew that information, of course. You’d been by his side long enough to see the cracks in his playful exterior; and even his anxious exterior. But even you hadn’t realized how deep those insecurities ran - you thought you did. But it wasn't until you accidentally hit a nerve you didn’t know was there that you understood the depth of it; maybe even deeper than anyone else did.

It was late at night, and you and Jisung were lying on the floor of his living room, watching music videos. It was something you often did when he needed to unwind after long studio sessions. He was particularly quiet tonight, though, his usual playfulness replaced by something more subdued.

“Are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently with your foot.

Jisung shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just tired.”

You weren’t convinced. “You sure? You’ve been kind of quiet all night. I miss hearing your voice, yeobo.”

He hesitated before finally sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling...off.”

You sat up, concerned. “Off how?” You paused the video you were watching and turned all of your attention to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up too, and running a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” you said softly, encouraging him to open up.

Jisung gave you a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling like...maybe I’m not doing enough? Like, no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough to be at the level I should be. I see the other guys, and sometimes it feels like they’re ahead of me in everything. Better rappers, better singers...even better at being funny.”

You frowned, surprised at the confession. “Jisung, that’s not true. You’re amazing at all those things.” You knew first hand. You got to see all of that up close while being held in his arms, while kissing him goodbye, or cuddling. You got to see him for him...yet he couldn't even see himself?

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You hated seeing him like this, so wrapped up in his doubts that he couldn’t see how talented he truly was. But you didn't know if anything you would say would make it better. So, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, at least you’ve got that cute quokka thing going for you, right? No one can beat you at that.”

It was meant to make him laugh, to break the tension. But instead, Jisung’s face fell, his expression crumbling in a way that made your heart stop.

"Bab-"

He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling you. “So, that’s it? I’m just the cute, funny guy? That’s all people see?” His boba eyes met yours in a frantic worry.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Jisung, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“But that’s what you said!” he snapped, his voice rising, something sharp and hurt laced in every word. “I’m just the guy people laugh at. The one who makes everyone else look better because I’m the ‘funny one.’ The one who is always anxious and pitied! I’m not taken seriously. Not by you, not by anyone.” He cried.

“That’s not true!” you protested, standing up and reaching out for him, but he pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracked, and you could see the vulnerability behind the anger. “You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a joke?Something to pity?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jisung, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean-”

“I can’t do this right now,” he interrupted, his tone flat, as if he was trying to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. “I need to be alone.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, speechless and devastated. The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and you were left with the echo of your words - the ones you hadn’t meant to say, the ones that had hurt him so deeply.

You sank down in front his door, wanting to be near him even in the slightest sense. The tears you held finally slipping down your cheeks. You had only wanted to make him smile, but instead, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurities. And now, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᖴEᒪI᙭

Felix was like the sun. His warmth radiated from every word, every smile, every laugh. Being around him was like basking in the glow of a never-ending summer day. But what people didn’t realize, what Felix kept hidden so well, was the fear that lingered just beneath the surface - the fear that, no matter how bright he tried to shine, the shadows would always be there.

You and Felix had been inseparable for months. It wasn’t just his warmth that drew you to him; it was the way he made everything feel lighter, easier. He was the light in your life, and you were sure you were the same for him. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

But that night, something shifted.

It had been a long day for both of you, and Felix had been uncharacteristically solemn. He’d barely said anything since you arrived at his apartment, his usual playfulness replaced with a strange tension that had settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, huddled up in a blanket due to the freezing living room; product of your broken heater, but his focus was elsewhere. He kept fidgeting, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Lix, are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched slightly at your touch, pulling his arm away before giving you a tight smile, and then in regret letting his arm rest into yours slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the Felix you knew. He'd never flinch at your touch or pull away; rather the opposite. Normally, he’d be snuggling up against you, cracking jokes, or commenting on the movie, but tonight he was distant, like he was somewhere far away.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, concern lacing your voice. “You’ve seemed off all day, love.”

Felix shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine, really.” His lips were turned downwards, his eyes not looking as bright as they usually did.

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t want to push too hard. So, you tried to lighten the mood instead, hoping to bring back the Felix you knew. “Maybe you’re just tired of hearing me talk. I mean, you’ve been so quiet tonight, maybe I’ve been boring you to death.” You took a breath and straightened your posture. "I'll stop yapping if you want some quiet. I wouldn't want to rain on the sunshine boy's day." You said patting his head, but he pulled away harshly this time.

It was meant as a joke, something playful to ease the tension. But the second the words left your mouth, Felix’s face changed. His expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, startling you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What? No, I was just joking, Lix-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not funny,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “Maybe I’m not in the mood to laugh right now.”

Your heart sank at the sight of him standing there, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. You hadn’t meant to upset him - you had just been trying to make things better, but it was clear now that you’d only made them worse.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, standing up and reaching for him, but Felix stepped back, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s about everything.”

“Everything?” you repeated, your voice small. “Felix, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong? Are we breaking up?”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so wrong coming from him. “It’s about how no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ or ‘sunshine,’ never anything else. Just that. Never enough.”

“Felix, you’re more than enough,” you said, your voice shaking as you stepped closer to him. “You’re amazing in every way-” You didn't know what he was talking about. What did he mean by "never enough"? What did he mean by "just that"?

“Am I?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m just here to make everyone else feel better. Like I’m only worth something because I’m the one always smiling, always making everyone laugh. But what happens when I’m not? What happens when I can’t be that ‘sunshine’ everyone expects me to be? Then what?”

His words hit you hard, and for the first time, you could see how much weight Felix had been carrying. He had always been the bright one, the happy one, the one who brought light into any room. But beneath that light was a darkness he’d kept hidden, a fear of never being seen for who he truly was.

“Felix, that’s not true,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took another step toward him. “You’re not just some...some image of sunshine to me. You’re so much more than that.” Your eyes were watery and you tried to stay strong and blink the tears away. You rubbed your face and sniffed, trying to wipe the beginning flow of a stream of snot. "I...love you for much more than that..."

But Felix didn’t seem to hear you. He was lost in his own thoughts, spiraling further into his insecurities, and you could see the hurt etched on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his eyes dark with frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you could become useless any second; to go from enough to not enough in an instant - to feel like the only thing you’re good at is pretending everything’s fine. And that that is the only reason people like you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you say to make him believe you? To make him see that he was more than enough, that his value didn’t depend on always being the happy one?

“I’m tired,” Felix finally whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m tired of pretending. I'm tired of everything, to be honest.”

The vulnerability in his words broke your heart, and you reached out for him again, this time gently taking his hand in yours. But Felix didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to face you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You didn't want to break up. Ever. “Please, Lixxie talk to me?" Your voice was hanging by a thread.

One that was instantly snapped as Felix didn’t respond, just pulling his hand away from yours, his body tense with a pain you couldn’t reach. And without even a final glance, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the cold room and a silence that rivaled it.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

Seungmin had always been known for his calm demeanor and quiet strength. He didn’t outwardly seek attention like others, but his presence was undeniable - a steadying force in any storm. He someone people could rely on, the one who would always be there, quietly doing his best.

But there were things Seungmin never said out loud, things he buried beneath his composed exterior.

Lately, you had noticed a shift in him. The small, easy moments you used to share had been replaced by a distance you couldn’t quite explain. His responses were shorter, his smiles less frequent, and though he never said it, something was clearly weighing on him.

You were worried about it. Your two-year anniversary around the corner, and it made you wonder if he was considering ending things. Maybe he was tired of you?

It had been another long day at the dorm, and you were hanging out with Seungmin in the living room, just trying to enjoy some downtime. But there was an unspoken tension between you, and every attempt at conversation seemed to hit a wall.

“Seungmin, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. He had been so quiet lately, and you were worried that something was wrong. "Did I do something to upset you?"

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but there was a slight edge to his voice, one you hadn’t heard from him before. "And no, you didn't."

You frowned, not convinced. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed really distant lately...like something’s bothering you. And- And I just wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally hurt your feelings or something...”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

But you knew it wasn’t nothing. There was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you hated feeling like you were being shut out. Seungmin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he had never been this distant before.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said gently, trying to reach him. “But I’m here if you need to talk. You don’t have to handle everything on your own, you know?”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then his walls came back up. He shrugged, giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m handling it.”

That was when the frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t angry at him, but the distance he was creating hurt, and you didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

In simplest terms: he was scaring you.

“Seungmin, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine all the time.”

Seungmin’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes - something like hurt, or maybe frustration. But it disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, but there was a coldness in his voice now.

You didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t just sit there and pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You couldn't let whatever was bothering him fester even more; because if that would result in the end of your relationship than you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for not trying to save it. “It feels like you’re shutting me out, Seungmin. And I don’t know why.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to respond, he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I am shutting you out.”

The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, but when they finally sank in, your heart dropped.

“What?” you whispered, standing up to face him. “Seungmin, why...why won't you just explain to me what I did?”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not who everyone thinks I am."

"Min what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing-"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Seungmin’s eyes were dark with frustration now, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually calm demeanor. “Because maybe I don't want to tell you!" He shouts.

The weight of his words hit you like a semi.

“Seungmin, whatever is wrong please- tell me,” you said quickly, taking a step closer to him. "We're supposed to rely on each other in times like these. You can rely on me just like I can rely on you-"

But before you could finish, Seungmin cut you off, his voice laced with bitterness. “Isn't that the problem?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. "I'm the reliable one? So much so that I'm known as the quiet one who is always there when people need him? Like need him need him?"

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump forming in your chest. You had no idea he felt this way, no idea he had been struggling with this sense of invisibility.

Was that what he was struggling with?

Because for some reason you felt as if it was much more than what you were assuming. But maybe your assumption was correct?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching for him, but Seungmin took a step back, shaking his head. "If you feel invisible-"

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I need...I just need some space right now. I don't think you could even understand if I tried to explain.”

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the suffocating silence, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

You’d always admired Jeongin for his youthful spirit and the way he managed to balance the pressures of his career with a bright, playful attitude. But beneath that light-hearted exterior, you knew there were layers to him - things he didn’t always reveal. His role as the youngest in Stray Kids often came with expectations that weighed heavily on him, but Jeongin rarely spoke about it unless he was feeling vulnerable.

Today had been one of those days where he seemed a bit quieter than usual. You had both decided to hang out at the dorm, hoping to unwind after his busy schedule. Everything was normal, at first. You were teasing him about his latest performance, laughing about something silly he did on stage. He had been smiling, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that made you pause.

"You're so lucky, Innie," you said without thinking, the words slipping out as you laughed. "Everyone always loves the maknae. You get all the attention without even trying." It was true.

He didn't even try catching your attention, but the minute you saw him you had an unmistakable attraction; an irrepressible pull to him.

Jeongin's smile faltered, his dimple disappearing, and his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual for him. You realized too late that what you’d said had hit a nerve. You had only meant it as a lighthearted comment, but there was an underlying truth to it that stung.

"Innie?" you asked cautiously, your laughter fading as you noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Jeongin stood up slowly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair. His movements were tense, his back rigid as he faced the wall.

"Jeongin...what's wrong?" you asked softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it’s lucky? Being the youngest, being the one everyone looks at like I’m some kind of...kid."

Your heart dropped. "No, I didn’t mean it like that baby I mean-"

"But that’s what you think, right?" Jeongin interrupted, his voice quiet, but hardening. He turned to face you, and you were taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. "You think because I’m the maknae, I don’t have to try? That everything’s just handed to me? Because thats what you make it seem like..."

The guilt washed over you in waves. You had never imagined that your words would trigger something so deep, but now you could see just how much he had been holding in. Jeongin had always laughed off his role as the youngest, but now you realized it had weighed on him far more than you knew.

"Jeongin, that’s not what I think at all," you said, your voice trembling with regret, and your bottom lip turning downwards. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like that."

He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard it is to be seen as a kid all the time? No matter what I do, people look at me like I’m just the cute, young one. Like I can’t be serious, like I don’t work as hard as everyone else."

You could feel the pain behind his words, and it broke your heart. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t know you felt this way."

Jeongin shook his head, stepping back as if he didn’t want you to get too close. "Of course you didn’t," he muttered bitterly. "Because I don’t talk about it. I don’t complain. I just...deal with it. And if it comes up I just laugh it off because I'm a kid. That's all my hyungs see and all the fans see and all you see."

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The silence between you felt heavy, and you didn’t know how to fix what you had unintentionally broken. You had hurt him, and you weren’t sure if he would let you in to make it right.

"Maybe I should go," Jeongin said suddenly, his voice cold and distant.

Panic rose in your chest- did you mess everything up? Did something you see as a small issue snowball into a major catalyst of your happiness? "No, wait-"

But before you could stop him, Jeongin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His retreating figure left you standing there, feeling helpless, your heart aching with guilt. You had never seen him like this - so vulnerable, so fragile. And it was your words that had caused those cracks to appear.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

[bluejutdae]

Perv!Roommate Jeongin | Jeongin x you

notes: sequel of this. I hate it, but eh. Might delete it in the future..

PervRoomate!Jeongin whose jealousy is slowly making him spiral out of control. Now that he has tasted you, the thought of anyone else getting too close drives him mad. When you go back home and talk about your day, he listens carefully for any male names that come up. Your coworkers, your friends, the guy at the coffee shop who paid for your drink… they’re all threats trying to take you away from him. So he starts to “accidentally” show up in places he knows you’ll be at. “Oh, you come here too?” and “was it tonight that you planned to come see a movie here?”

PervRoomate!Jeongin who, anytime he sees you talking a little too cozy with another guy, jokes saying you’re cheating on him, that you shouldn’t flirt with others. It’s an inconvenience for you, but you can’t deny the shiver that went through you from the possessiveness of his words. He starts manipulating you when you consider making plans. He looks at you like a puppy and convinces you to tell your friends you’re busy, guilt tripping you into staying home with him, because “I just miss spending time with you, jagi. Don’t you care about me?”

PervRoomate!Jeongin who has no remorse when he gaslights you, telling you agreed to watch that movie with him. And no remorse when he lies, pretending to be sick the moment  you’re about to go out with someone. How can you abandon your roommate-slash-fuck buddy when he feels like that? The same night, after he convinces you to sleep in his bed because he feels too cold, he smiles to himself. Once words about you being unavailable spread at work and among your friends, the competition will be destroyed. 

PervRoomate!Jeongin starts to leave marks on your body, where they’re most visible. Hickeys on your neck, a bite mark on your shoulder. It’s his way of marking you, another proof that you’re his and no one else’s. He gets a twisted satisfaction from seeing the marks he left on your skin. And the display of ownership doesn’t bother you too much. It’s just something silly, right? It’s not real ownership.

PervRoomate!Jeongin who plays the victim any time you two argue, and he makes you feel guilty. “I was only looking after you. That skirt was really short. You know how many perverts are on the train, right?” He’s pushy, yes, but he only wants you to be safe, right? Sometimes, after a fight, he seems so hurt by it. “I just care about you so much, can’t you see that?” Of course you can see it. And when he kisses you, you reassure him, you kiss him, and inevitably you spend the evening together in bed. 

PervRoomate!Jeongin always fucks you harder after a fight, more possessive, and more marks litter your body the day after that. A collar of bruises on your neck, a clear sign of STAY AWAY FROM HER, clear to everyone but you. When he has you on your knees, fucking you from behind, with you back pushed against his chest, he whispers “you’re mine. All mine. No one else can have you like I do.” But you never worry, people say all sorts of things while having sex, and you’ve always loved some dirty talk.

PervRoomate!Jeongin that, now that has access to your body, your attention and your underwear drawers, wants more. “If we’re both single by the time we’re thirty, we should get married”. But if things go his way, neither of you will be single…

[violettwrites]

the fence is white. the lawn is dead. 🏹 daryl dixon

a/n: hi guys !! sorry i haven’t been super active lately but this popped into my head tonight and i thought i’d post it for y’all !! i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment !!

this is my masterlist

and my ask box is currently open !

summary: as the greene farm falls, reader reminisces on her time growing up at the farm. a certain southern male comes along to make sure she gets away safely.

pairing: daryl dixon x greene!daughter (middle child)

warnings: angst !!?

word count: 670

— — —

there was nothing more you hated than the apocalypse. because all it did was take. it took the people you loved the most: your mother, step brother, friends, and now, the place you had grown up in, where you called home.

standing there in the distance as you watched the flames take over the barn, reflecting in your eyes. it could be seen for miles— and to you? it looked like the end of the world. you continued to watch, frozen in place as the place you grew up was overrun by walkers.

that’s all this world did now. it took, and took, and took. and it would continue to do so until everything was gone. until there was nothing left but the undead.

you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, just wishing that you could go down with your family home— but you knew you couldn’t. because you had to survive. keep the memory alive. because once you were all gone? there would be no one to remember the greene family farm.

pulled from your thoughts by a familiar rumble of a motorbike engine, you turned your head to see a headlight pointed at you; the familiar silhouette getting off his bike and making his way over to you. his pace was rushed, but still steady.

you had grown close with the southern male during his group’s stay at your family’s farm— he had taught you how to use his crossbow, and you had taught him how to ride a horse after he had admitted to you that he was scared of them.

”they’re just too big,” he huffed, arms leaning on the fence of the stables as you stood on the other side, hand brushing over the neck of chestnut, a smile on your face.

“they’re gentle giants,” you retorted, shaking your head as you continued to pat the brown gelding, fingers brushing through his mane.

“c’mon, we gotta go,” daryl called out to you as he neared you, arm immediately wrapping around your shoulders in an attempt to lead you back to his bike.

“it’s gone—“ your voice cracked as you spoke, looking over your shoulders as you let him lead you. you knew better than to put up a fight, especially with a horde that big, but it still split your heart in two. seeing the place you and your sisters grew up just taken away.

you could remember every single little detail about growing up there. the grass between your toes during the summer, how you and beth would take turns on the tire swing your father had put up in the tree, and the many, many arguments between all three of you girls, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“i know,” daryl spoke softly, his voice low as he moved to stand in front of you, fingers brushing your hair off your face. usually, you would blush. but right now you couldn’t even think straight. “‘m sorry, darlin’. but we really gotta go.”

daryl climbed onto his bike, hands on the handle bars as he looked at you. waiting. you took one more look at the place you called home before climbing onto the back of daryl’s bike, arms wrapping around your torso before he sped off down the dirt road— assuming towards the rest of the group.

you watched the barn in the side mirror of daryl’s bike, your heart crumbling in your chest as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder blade, tears slipping down your cheeks. you could feel him move his hand from the handles of the bike, gently placing it over your hands on his stomach, giving you a gentle squeeze. the gesture was small, but it made you feel less alone in the moment.

with his hand back on the handle, you closed your eyes as you let the wind whip around you, memories flooding your mind as you left your home behind, trying to keep every single memory locked in your mind forever.

[dullgecko]

I love a trans Riz moment and one of my headcanons is that goblin names are gendered by the number of syllables (Pok, Sprak, Riz all being one syllable, Sklonda being two).

And we all know that middle school Riz was Going Through It in terms of bullying so he was almost certainly also misgendered constantly by the other kids.

I think that’s part of why Sklonda is so against the other Bad Kids using nicknames for Riz because The Ball is two syllables and they’re accidentally misgendering Riz (according to goblin grammar) and she has had enough of other kids misgendering her son because they think it’s funny.

It’s also why Riz hates the multi-syllable nicknames like Rizbert and Rizwalda and keeps insisting it’s “just Riz”. But equally he also doesn’t want to come out. He’s sure it would be fine, but he doesn’t want to risk it just in case things go wrong. So he doesn’t know how to explain it so he doesn’t say anything, but it definitely hurts every time they do it.

(I think at some point he does deserve to snap at them though, as a treat).

(I’ve been trying to write a fic about this for ages but the words aren’t wording right, so I offer it up as a humble headcanon to be rotated in other peoples brains)

Goblin biology is different from humans or elves or even half-orcs. They're goblinoid not humanoid after all, their anatomy was different and their ancestors could be traced all the way back to the fae realms in eons past. Like with most creatures of the fae realms their relationship between their biological sex and gender is fairly loose, or more realistically practically non-existant. Hells, if you want to be a different biological sex the switch is incredibly quick and easy. Just go and talk to one of your hordes elders and with magic you'd be done within half and hour. Simple.

Riz grew up in Elmville though and Solesians tended to be weird about the whole thing. Sex and gender seemed to be intrinsically linked for some reason and, in order to naturalise better, goblins tended to stick with the gender that most-accurately reflected what was expected of their current biology.

Riz was six years old when he told his dad he didn't want to be a girl and that was that. A quick jaunt up to his families ancestral home, dinner and a minor name change and he was back in Elmville ready for school on Monday. It should have been as easy as that but even after explaining that he was a boy now the kids at his school just didn't seem to understand. They constantly kept calling him by his old name, some of the Helio kids even going so far as to corner him and preach at him about how what he'd done was evil. The bullying lasted for years and followed him all the way through middle school, only adding more ammunition to what he was already dealing with just by being a goblin in the first place.

He thought he'd managed to leave he worst of the bullying in the past when he finally made it to high-school. None of the kids who knew him in middle-school had come to Aguefort so no-one knew that he was a girl before. Just to make double sure though he made sure to dress the part. No one would call someone in a suit a girl, it was the most masculine outfit he could think of after all.

Honestly it was going better than expected. He did wince initially at the whole The Ball nickname but that was fine. His friends didn't know the multiple sylables were a thing in goblin, though his mom still drew her lips into a think line and glared whenever she heard Fabian call him that. They didn't even call him that in a teasing way anymore, it was more of a title so he felt like it didn't have the same kind of connotation.

At the moment though they were teasing him a little bit. It was all good-natured, someone having commented that the nickname Fabian still used for him was weird and they should really think of another one. They'd rotated through quite a few humerous titles but had somehow strayed dangerously into nicknames playing off his own name which he protested.

"Oh! What about Rizbert? Or Rizmothy." Fig waved her spoon towards the goblin, swallowing around mouth full of icecream even as Riz winced.

"Guys no. Just Riz is fine. Or The Ball. I dont mind The Ball. Plus you keep making my name longer aren't nicknames supposed to be short?" He clutched at the glass of his milkshake, claws tapping at the glass as he tried to get them to change the subject.

"Yeah but you cant go shorter than Riz so we need to think of something else." Kristen nudged her shoulder against their rogue, the height difference meaning she just bumpd him directly in the head which made him make a quiet 'ow' and rub his temple where she'd clocked him.

"What about Rizzy?"

"Guys seriously I don't-"

"Rizriz?"

"Please stop."

"Rizbian, no thats too close to Fabian."

"Kristen honestly I don't like-"

"Rizgug! No wait same issue as the Rizbian one. OH how about Rizik."

The goblins eyes narrowed down to thin slits as the last name was said, Riz baring his teeth and slamming his glass into the table with a loud bang that made his party members jump.

"It's just Riz." He spat, venom lacing the short sentence as he pulled his ears back and down. Kristen holding her hands up in front of her in a defensive posture even as the goblin grabbed his breifcase off the seat beside him and slid down under the table.

Riz duck between his party members legs, not able to hear them calling after him over the sudden roaring sound of his own blood in his ears, and stalking out of the diner without another word. Milkshake dripping onto the spot where he'd just been sitting because the glass had cracked when he slammed it down with too much force.

They'd tried to follow after him but it was basically impossible after he left their line of sight, the rogue was incredibly adept at not being seen when he didn't want to be and he really didn't want to be right now.

He managed to drive his party into a mild panic after only a few hours, the goblin marking himself as offline in their group chat and declining their calls after a few rings (including Fabians, which did not bode well considering how pissed off he'd been when he had stalked out). Adaine had even tried to skry on him, but his wisdom was high enough that he easily slapped down her attempt and sent her a single text message consisting of the word 'no' before turning his crystal off completely.

They'd ended up splitting up to search for him across the city, heading for any spots he might go and promising to fill eachother in if they spoted him. Fabian had been circling the town on the Hangman for a while by this point, squinting down alleyways as he passed just in case he could spot their sneaky party member down one of them.

He'd passed the Strongtower Appartments at least twice before he thought to check there as well. Sure, it was a far too obvious a spot but maybe The Ball HAD just gone home.

Fabian hopped off The Hangman outside the front of the apartments, patting its seat and telling it to continue circling and searching without him as he stepped inside. He knew where Riz's appartment was, hells he even had a key these days, so he head there directly and let himself in.

He probably should have knocked before just barging in though, given that there was a rather pissed off goblin woman currently sitting at the dining room table glaring daggers at him. "Ah. Apologies. I did not expect you to be home. Have you purchance seen The Ball recently?" He had paused, half-inside the apartment with his hand on the doornob and very nearly backed all the way out again when she somehow managed to look more annoyed when he spoke.

"I'm not going to confirm or deny if I've seen Riz recently." She put heavy emphasis on his name, ears flicking as she interwove her fingers on the table in front of her. "But, if you have come to apologise I may see fit to pass it along when I do see him."

"Pardon?" Fabians look of genuine confusion made Sklondas demeanour shift, ears flicking into a more curious position rather than the angry one they'd been settled in before.

"You're not here to apologise for deadnaming him?"

"Sorry I'm not following? We were having lunch and he got pissed off and stormed out. We were looking for him because well.... we were worried and he switched his crystal off." Fabian entered the apartment completely, letting the door swing shut behind him with a click as he stood awkwardly in the entrance area.

"You called him Rizik."

"Kristen called him Rizik." Fabian corrected her, noteing that the normally open door to Riz's bedroom was shut. "Fig mentioned that you didn't seem to like when we called him The Ball and was trying to find a new nickname. I recall that may have been among them."

Sklonda rubbed her hands over her face, heaving a sigh before tipping her head back to look towards the ceiling as if asking a higher power for help. "Don't use that name again. Didn't you know it would upset him?" "No?"

The goblin woman gave him a confused look, pushing back her chair and heading over to Riz's room to knock on the door. Cracking it open slightly and chattering at the person hidden inside in goblin before shutting it again.

"Goddamnit kid. How are they supposed to know if you don't tell them." She donked her forehead against the closed door before turning back to face the fighter.

"Look he's fine and home. Tell the others that but he doesn't want to see anyone at the moment. I think he's mostly feeling silly about getting so pissed at you all and storming off because you couldn't have known it would upset him." She pointed a finger at Fabian before waving for him to sit down at the table. The half-elf pulling out a chair and sitting down obediantly when directed to.

"The kids at his last school used to call him Rizik all the time and thats because it was his name. He shortened it when he told us he was a boy and I'm only telling you this because he said i could. Don't tell the others."

Fabians eye went a bit unfocused as he tried to process what he was being told, eyebrows shooting high on his forehead when he finally put it together. "TOLD you he was a boy.... So he wasn't before... Ah. Deadname. Understood. I'll.... inform the others that that particular nickname is completely off the table."

[cyberclouddream]

How to Spot: Water Signs Edition

Cancer Rising

- emotionally reactive and take everything personally; their sensitivity is off the charts so they approach new people cautiously

- appear maternal, caring, and empathetic but their mood swings are noticeable; if you make them feel disrespected or unsafe they withdraw and shut down

- expensive spenders, investing in flashy things to feel better about themselves; their need to appear wealthy can lead to financial stability, as their self-worth is tied to how much they have

- constantly worry that they’re being misunderstood or that they’re words are imperfect; their siblings or neighbors might feel like they’re overly analytical or nitpicky

- obsessed with creating the perfect home, and their need for balance can cause them to avoid confrontation at home, leading to passive-aggression there

- easily jealous and need to feel emotionally secure in romantic relationships, and tend to take their desires too far

- hate being tied down to schedules, craving flexibility so much in their day-to-day life that can lead to a chaotic lifestyle l

- tend to attract partners who are older or more established, drawn to those who are stable and dependable

- distant yet controlling, justifying it by saying they’re just being responsible

- intellectualize things too much when it comes to intimacy and deep emotional transformations, avoiding getting too emotional

- come off spacey or unrealistic when they discuss their beliefs or travel plans, rarely committing to concepts or places

- bold and assertive in their career but may rub people the wrong way; they push hard for the top but their impatience can sabotage them

- social life is usually built around people they’ve known for years, and they don’t adapt well to changes in social dynamics; they have a knack for getting in with the right people

- emotional escapist, intellectualizing their emotions in an almost clinical way but the emotional truth remains untouched

- fill their head with noise and distractions to avoid dealing with the raw emotional pain, which can cause them to be prisoners of their own mind; this can lead to insomnia and anxiety

Scorpio Rising

- magnetic and intimidating at the same time, drawing people in with an impenetrable boundary

- often go through major life upheavals, handling it with an icy resolve

- their moral compass is shaped by experience and their gut instincts rather than tradition

- aren’t afraid to task risks with their finances, usually because they believe they will always bounce back

- people may find them too intense or driven, but they’re on a mission to win, even in mundane areas of life

- they hate idle gossip or shallow talk and would rether have deep, meaningful conversations; they prefer to have control over thoughts and words, wanting to be understood on their own terms

- often feel alienated at home, even if it’s self-imposed; they prioritize mental freedom over family ties

- attract odd living situations or have an abnormal family dynamic

- get lost in their creative pursuits and when they fall in love with someone, it’s all-consuming

- at work they’re fiercely competitive, even if they don’t make it obvious; if you’re slacking at work they may call you out mercilessly

- often push themselves to the point of burnout, and may expect the same intensity from others

- can be possessive and overly demanding in love, preferring those who offers stability without making them feel vulnerable; jealousy is always lurking underneath the surface

- ask a lot of questions in sensitive topics, but don’t expect them to answer any in return

- retreat into their shell if their beliefs are challenged or if they feel insecure about their knowledge

- often obtain high positions or become well-known in their field; their career success is frequently linked to their ability to project confidence and control

- have a small, tight-knit group of friends who serve specific roles or purposes

- they want their inner world to be aesthetically-pleasing and orderly, which can cause them to face challenges with reconciling their idealistic and emotional needs with reality

Pisces Rising

- they have a vague, dreamy demeanor and a tendency to blend in rather than stand out; they’ll end up being whatever you want them to be without realizing it

- people either feel drawn to their seemingly compassionate nature or find them frustratingly inconsistent

- they act fast to make money but just as quickly blow through it; they may struggle with jobs that require any real focus or consistency

- they prefer slow, comfortable conversations that don’t rock the boat, withdrawing when things get too deep or challenging for their idealistic world

- they’re not the most articulate, preferring to convey emotions through art, music, or some indirect form of communication

- likely to live in several places over their lifetime, since they can’t settle one what an open and free home feels like

- they are sentimental and often romanticize the past, partners, or projects, which can lead to melodrama and disappointment

- prone to neglecting themselves until a dramatic situation forced them to pay attention; desire to be the center of attention without putting in real effort in their routines

- attract partners who want to “fix” them, which can feel patronizing or irritating; they may end up in codependent relationships where their partner micromanages them

- prefer to avoid responsibility in financial or intimate matters; they can feel dependent or even resentful in shared financial matters

- end up with complex, unspoken beliefs that are hard to share with anyone, and they can get lost in the quest for these hidden truths

- they may inspire others with their idealism but struggle with consistency and discipline; they just want their work to feel meaningful and expansive

- they carefully choose friendships that benefit them on the long-run, and may came off cold or distant when maintaining these relationships

- may idealize being a “lone wolf” but won’t admit it outright, even to themselves

- they’re chaotic and detached from emotional expectations, prone to sudden and erratic shifts in their mental state that makes them hard to understand

[demigod-shenanigans]

Long overdue Pipeyna posting:

It’s the way they balance each other out and mirror each other.

I think a lot about what Piper said in regard to love and hate being almost identical emotions, neither of which can be reasoned with, and that being why Ares and Aphrodite like each other.

It’s about how they start out resenting each other—Reyna sees Piper as the person who took away her best friend. Piper sees Reyna as a threat to her relationship with Jason. Except that’s not the whole story, is it? Because Piper thinks about Reyna much more than she should. Much more than Jason does, honestly. And the second Reyna lets herself trust Piper, she trusts her fully. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it startles her, because usually Reyna takes a long time to let people in. But the others join the fight and though Reyna’s eyes should be drawn to Jason, she finds them on Piper instead.

Reyna and Piper understand each other in a way only the child of a war goddess and the child of the goddess of love can. They’re two sides of the same coin.

Piper sometimes struggles with thinking she’s not especially useful in comparison to her friends who seem much more powerful, whose skills seem much more helpful in combat. Hell, she’s outright stated to be surprised Reyna and Annabeth find her diplomatic skills handy at the end of BoO.

A lot of Piper’s character centers around her feeling invisible—the first time we see this is with her dad, whose attention she keeps trying to gain with her stunts, except it doesn’t work. She stays invisible to him. And that can never change. Because once he sees her for who she really is, it breaks him, and she has to make the heartbreaking choice to ask him to look away again for his own good. Piper has a power that literally centers around her ability to make people look at her and listen to her, and yet she cannot keep the attention of her dad, and she doesn’t think it’s really enough to have earned a place among her friends.

But Reyna sees her, even without her charmspeak. Reyna looks at Piper and in her role as the child of a war goddess, what can she see except all the ways in which Piper is a warrior? All the ways in which Piper is capable and brave?

Reyna on the other hand struggles with her emotions and not being able to let other people in. She keeps her cards close to her chest because that’s the only way she knows to keep herself safe. Even when she loves, she loves in a way that’s subdued, because she was taught from a young age that love isn’t a thing that’s safe. Love locks you up at night because you’re a threat. Love is angry and dangerous and could get you killed if you slip up—if you say the wrong thing or move the wrong way or if it’s simply having a bad day. Love is a thing that at any given moment could explode in your face.

She doesn’t even share how her powers work because she’s afraid it might go wrong somehow if she does—that the others will feel like she’s somehow manipulating them instead of supporting them.

But Piper looks at Reyna and she sees right through her, sees all the ways she’s hurting and how exhausted she is, because with her powers, what can she see except Reyna’s emotions, no matter how tightly Reyna tries to keep them locked up?

Piper knew what Reyna’s power was without being told. She just sensed it and immediately understood how it worked and how it must drain Reyna. And Reyna feels briefly terrified when Piper brings it up because she always assumed people knowing would change their opinion on her. But Piper is only mentioning it because she’s worried about how those powers must affect Reyna. About whether she’s getting enough rest and has a shoulder to lean on about it all. And that’s never been anyone’s main priority before—especially not Reyna’s (something something Reyna being raised to protect New Rome. Her powers actively benefiting others while draining her. The way she’s never quite able to live for herself).

They instinctively see and feel drawn to the part of each other that other people struggle to see at all and it makes me a bit crazy actually.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 16) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Chapter 16

“We can’t stop here.”

“Why not? It’s out of the way. There are abandoned buildings. It’s perfect.” Dabi gestures down at the small village between the hills. “I don’t get what your problem is.”

Spinner crosses his arms over his chest. “Just trust me. It’s not a good place.”

“Why not?” Toga asks – whines, almost. “I’m tired. It’s dark. Can’t we just find somewhere and –”

“We’ll protect you if there are ghosts!” Twice chimes in. “Or you can sleep in a tree.”

Spinner’s shoulders stiffen. “Hey,” you warn. You turn your attention to Spinner. “If you know something we don’t that makes it not safe for everybody –”

“It’s safe for you all,” Spinner says. “Not for me. This is a sundown town. The CRC has a branch here.”

Your heart sinks. “The who?” Tomura says blankly. Everybody else looks just as confused.

“The Creature Rejection Clan,” you say, before anyone can prompt Spinner to explain. He shouldn’t have to explain. “They’re a hate group. Against people whose quirks visibly alter their bodies.”

“Mutants,” Spinner says shortly. “If they catch you with me we’ll all be in trouble. It’s safer to find somewhere else.”

“No,” Tomura says. You look askance at him, and you’re not the only one. “Fuck them. They don’t own this town. Why should you have to leave? Let’s just kill them and then we can all sleep.”

“Um –” You feel like you should say something about this turn of events. Like that murdering however many people are in this town’s CRC branch is a bad idea if you’re trying to keep a low profile. “Shouldn’t somebody scout and find out what we’re looking at as far as numbers go? I can do that.”

“Yes,” Compress agrees. “We should plan –”

“We don’t need a plan.” Tomura cuts him off. “We’ll tell them we’re there to steal their shit. When they attack us, we’ll kill them, and then we’ll steal their shit. Easy.”

“Like an item drop,” Spinner says, and cracks a weak, angry grin. “Fine with me. Let’s go.”

The CRC branch headquarters isn’t hard to spot. The League strategizes quietly on the walk there, trying to decide who will attack what, and you walk in the middle, unsure of what to do. They’ll tell you what to do, right? Somebody will. It’s not like you can fight. Sure enough, Tomura drops back from a conversation with Twice and falls into step beside you. “I want you to stay out front.”

“Still keeping your precious Saintess’s hands clean?” Dabi sneers. “She’s on the run. It’s too late.”

“We need a lookout,” Tomura says. “If it looks like backup’s coming, we need to know. And if anybody gets out –”

“Not likely!” Toga trills.

“Someone needs to stop them,” Tomura continues. “Can you do that?”

“Yes.” You answer before you’ve really thought about it, but you won’t be any use in the main fight, and if they’re doing this, you need to help. Besides, how hard could it be?

The answer to the question “how hard could it be” turns out to be “pretty hard”. The League is outnumbered, unable to use Dabi’s wide-range quirk without potentially burning themselves alive, and Toga and Spinner are the only ones who actually use weapons in hand-to-hand combat. The front door locks from the inside, and while you know Compress locked it on the League’s way in, it must not be very hard to unlock, because there are multiple people trying to open it and escape. You throw your weight back against it to keep it shut, but you’re not going to be able to forever. “Um –”

“Hey, where are you guys going?” Toga’s voice is syrupy sweet and all the more terrifying for it. You hear an agonized shriek. “Come back in! We were just starting to have fun!”

The pressure on the door lessens significantly, but a moment later, there’s a crash, followed by someone in a creepy mask diving through a window and sprawling out on the ground in front of you. This is your job to deal with, but you don’t have a weapon. A quick check of your surroundings reveals an umbrella stand by the door. You knock it over, spilling the umbrellas, then pick up the stand. The CRC member is on their hands and knees, struggling to rise, and you deliver a sharp strike to their kidneys with the base of the stand.

You knew what you were aiming at. You know it hurts. The CRC member shrieks, and your stomach turns. “Stay down.”

Toga vaults through the window and lands on the ground, graceful like a cat. “Thanks for grabbing him,” she says. She stabs one of her syringes into the man’s leg and his body jerks as the device on her back begins to suction blood at a rate that collapses his veins. “We’re almost done in there. It’s too bad you couldn’t see Tomura-kun fight. You’d like it when he gets angry.”

You don’t know that you would. You don’t feel very good about what you just did. You’re not sorry that you hit the guy who tried to escape, and you’re not sorry that the members of a hate group are getting what’s coming to them, but – you don’t really know why you feel weird. You just know it’s the kind of thing you should keep to yourself.

The front door opens just as Toga’s finished draining blood from the man you hit. Dabi sticks his head out. “Grab that guy and get in here. We’re searching the place.”

Toga grabs the dead man’s feet, leaving you to grab beneath his shoulders, and the two of you drag him up the front steps and into the house. You’re used to handling the injured. You’re not used to dead bodies. You’re more than a little relieved to set him down, and you don’t feel entirely better until Tomura’s touched him and turned the corpse to dust. “We’re searching in groups, in case anybody hid,” he informs you and Toga. “Toga, you’re with Compress. And you’re with me and Spinner.”

You nod and follow them deeper into the house – Tomura in front of you, Spinner behind. “Did either of you get hurt?” you ask. There’s an awkward silence. “I need to know.”

“I got clipped. It’s not that bad,” Spinner says. You glance back and see him grimacing, and you switch spots with him in line without another word. “It’s not that bad. Seriously.”

“I’ll look at it once we’re done,” you decide. You address Tomura next. “What about you?”

“They couldn’t touch me.” Tomura disintegrates the first door the three of you come to and peers inside. “Empty. Let’s search.”

There’s not much in the room. Some antiques, but those are easier to trace than regular stolen goods and would be harder to sell. There’s a bookshelf, and a case full of ancient bladed weapons, which Spinner promptly breaks and begins to sort through. “These are old but good,” he says. “They did a better job with steel back in the day. Here.”

He’s holding out a knife to you. “You should have a real weapon. I don’t know how you stopped the guy who got out –”

“Umbrella stand.”

Spinner looks honestly taken aback. “A knife’s faster,” he says. “Take it.”

“Thanks,” you say. You’ll have to think of somewhere to put it later. It won’t be much use in your backpack.

Out of everybody who’s searching the house, you and Toga come up with the items with the highest resale value – Toga has a good eye for clothing, and having recently hidden your own jewelry from Compress, you have a good idea of where to look for concealed objects. Rather than helping with the search, Dabi’s gone looking for food, but in spite of the fact that he’s found whatever the CRC was planning to eat at the conclusion of their meeting, he’s still in a mood. “Why are we doing this? Wasn’t the point of the supply caches so we wouldn’t have to?”

“This wasn’t just for food and a place to sleep. It was about taking out the trash, same as dealing with Overhaul was.” Tomura starts picking through the food. You sit Spinner down to check out his injury. “There’s no place for them in the new world.”

Dabi makes a derisive noise, and nobody else is paying attention – but you’re right up close with Spinner, and you see his eyes widen. “The new world?” he asks quietly. “I’ve never heard him say that before. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

You nod. “You should ask him.”

“No, you should tell me so I can decide if I want to know. I – ow.”

“Sorry,” you say. “Do you know what this is from?”

“It was a pitchfork. Classic, right?” Spinner scowls, grimaces, while you explore the wounds. They’re deep, but not deep enough to do real muscle or organ damage. Infection will be the biggest risk – like it usually is. “How’d you know about the CRC? Most people who have quirks like mine – don’t.”

“Most big cities have CRC offshoots. Yokohama’s no different.” You clean out the wounds one at a time, doing your best to be gentle. “They have neighborhoods they hang out in, and the clinic I worked in sat near the border of one. People they attack come to the clinic for treatment. Or hide in there to get away. The CRC are, um –”

“Top-flight assholes.”

“Yeah.” You pick up some bandages and a roll of medical tape. “I shouldn’t have talked over you earlier. I just didn’t want you to have to explain.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad somebody else knew what I was talking about.” Spinner gives you a curious look. “How are you doing with all this?”

“This?”

“Being on the run.”

“Oh,” you say. “It’s fine.”

It’s been three weeks since you took a leave of absence from work and ran for the hills, and since then, life’s been broken up into long periods of travel and short periods of stillness. Kurogiri was captured by the heroes sometime after the temporary alliance with Overhaul was made, which means that overland travel at night is the only way the seven of you can get anywhere without getting in trouble. You aren’t doing hardly any fighting, and your medical skills are only needed when somebody needs patching up, but you’re keeping busy in spite of that. You’re still the only person the police aren’t looking for.

Scouting, supply runs, running interference if the daytime hiding place is at risk of being found – all of it falls to you. You’re supposed to be a medic. On a day-to-day basis, you’re logistical support. It’s exhausting, but not particularly dangerous. It feels more like a hard day’s work than anything else, and at the end of it, you’re with Tomura, which is the important thing. You’re there to remind him that a new world can be built after the old one’s been destroyed, to convince him that the new world is something he wants to be a part of. That’s your job now, more than anything else.

Tomura comes over to check on you and Spinner. “How bad is it?”

“Painful, but they aren’t deep,” you report. “I’ll monitor them, but the infection risk is low so long as we all stay clean.”

“That’s the hard part,” Spinner mumbles. “It’s too cold to take baths outside.”

“Saintess said no more baths outside anyway,” Twice calls from the other side of the room. “Since some people can’t swim.”

“You can say Tomura-kun,” Toga says. “It’s okay.”

The realization that Tomura can’t swim was an unpleasant one for everybody, since it necessitated yanking him out of an icy pond while avoiding contact with his quirk. Twice and his clones came in handy, and nothing bad happened other than embarrassment on Tomura’s part, but it’s still not an experience you want anybody to repeat. “We’ll find ways. Worst comes to worst, I’ll rent us a motel room.”

“One motel room for all of us? You’d be doing the heroes’ work for them,” Dabi sneers. “If I have to sleep in a confined space with all of you, you’ll be dead by dawn.”

“Fine. The roof of the hypothetical motel room is all yours.”

Tomura looks irritated. “He’s this close to being more trouble than he’s worth,” he says in a low voice. “We could cut him loose without the risk he’d turn us in. He hates heroes as much as I do.”

“Yeah, but he’s our only ranged attack,” Spinner says practically. “I say stick it out.”

Tomura glances at you. You hate it when he does that on questions about strategy. “Keep him,” you agree. “He’s all talk.”

Tomura nods, still dissatisfied. Spinner looks a little nervous about it, but you aren’t – it’ll dissipate, like most of Tomura’s bad moods do sooner or later. He’s moody, but not volatile. “Do you want food?” he asks abruptly. You nod. After a second, so does Spinner, and Tomura gets up and walks away.

“Is he really getting food for us?” Spinner asks. You nod again. “And you’re sure about the new world thing. It’s not going to piss him off if I ask?”

You shake your head. Tomura mentioned Spinner specifically as someone you should talk about it with, but you think the idea itself should come from Tomura. The mission all of you are on is Tomura’s dream, really – you’re just trying to make sure it doesn’t kill him.

Tomura comes back with some of the food that Dabi scavenged, passes it out, and sits down next to you to eat. Spinner waits until Tomura’s mouth is full before he asks. “So, uh – you mentioned a new world. What’s that about?”

“Ask her.”

“No.” You glare at Tomura. “I’m your sidekick. It’s your idea. Tell him like you told me.”

“I’m not telling him like that,” Tomura says, and you elbow him, exasperated. He’s smirking slightly behind the hand as he addresses Spinner. “The old world has to be destroyed. Once it’s gone there’s a blank slate. And you –”

You elbow him again. “We get to decide what it should be like,” Tomura corrects himself. “Mainly her. And the two of you should talk about it, because you have ideas, too. Right?”

“Uh –”

“Anti-discrimination laws,” you suggest. Tomura snorts. “Come on. Anarchy isn’t sustainable long-term. A new world won’t automatically be better than the old one. If we don’t want it to be worse, we have to make sure it isn’t.”

“If you say so.” Tomura wolfs down his last few bites of food, then lies down, stretching out with his head in your lap. “I’m done planning for today.”

You can tell Spinner doesn’t like seeing Tomura call it quits when there are things to do. You make eye contact with him and try to bridge the gap. “You wouldn’t have checked out from the world if you thought it was a good place to be. Tell me what’s wrong with it.”

You and Spinner talk a bit while Tomura dozes, but things are winding down, and eventually the League barricades the front door, shuts the windows, and retreats into two of the back rooms to sleep. Tomura stirs when everyone else leaves, but when you try to get up, he won’t let you. “We can’t sleep out here,” you remind him.

Tenko kisses you. “Who said anything about sleeping?”

“Tenko –”

He cuts you off with another kiss, one hand sliding inside your jacket, the other dipping into the pocket where you keep his gloves. Tenko’s hair is getting long. You weave your fingers through it as he puts on the gloves, trying to ground yourself, to find a second of calm. You know there won’t be any once Tenko gets his gloves on.

In retrospect, having sex with Tenko for the first time the night before you went on the run might not have been the best idea, because Tenko’s been taking advantage of every second where the others are looking away ever since. In some ways it’s hot. You’ve never had a boyfriend who’s this handsy with you, this addicted to you, and the fact that Tenko barely cares about being caught in the middle of something makes it even better. But as hot as it is, you’re not sure about doing whatever Tenko’s got in mind in a place where at least two dozen people just died.

You don’t even know what he’s got in mind. “Tenko,” you mumble as his lips press against your neck. He bites down slightly and you shiver. “What are you doing?”

“Give me a second.” He’s leaving marks. One at the side of your mouth, one down against your shoulder, and you feel almost uncomfortably hot at the idea that it’ll all be visible without your veil. “Don’t rush me.”

You’re not going to rush him, but your discomfort is building, and if you don’t do something soon, it’ll be too late. You plant your hand on Tenko’s chest and push him back, crawling over him to press your lips against his. You know Tenko likes it when you show you want him, and it’s not hard for you to do. It’s not the idea of hooking up right now that bothers you – more the venue, and you find yourself caring less and less about it with every second that passes. Something is wrong with you.

Knowing that doesn’t stop you from straddling Tenko’s lap, grinding against him. There are multiple layers of clothing between you, but you know he’s getting hard, and you can pretend that the heat between your legs is the result of his touch rather than simple friction. Tenko’s kisses are eager and messy. His hands slide beneath your shirt, up from your waist to your breasts – but your bra is in the way. He taps it impatiently and speaks without pulling away. “I hate this thing.”

“I taught you how to unhook it.”

“Still.” In fairness to Tenko, you’re wearing a front-fastening bra. “I’m banning these in the new world.”

“You don’t get to ban stuff in the new world unless you’re planning to be in it,” you say, and your heart leaps when he doesn’t argue. Then you think about it. “Hate groups, heroes, and bras. That’s really what you want to get rid of?”

“I’ll think of other stuff,” Tenko says, unconcerned. He unfastens your bra, then runs his gloved fingers along the underside of your breasts. One of your nipples is captured between his thumb and forefinger, and he tugs and pinches lightly at it, making you squirm. “This is a good start.”

You hate it when he does this. You hate how much you like it. The friction between your legs provides the only relief, so you grind further into Tenko’s lap, looking for more. “Stop,” Tenko says, an edge to his voice. “Don’t do that if we can’t –”

“Who said we can’t?” You made one last addition to your med kit before you left, hidden in an inside pocket. You slide your backpack off your shoulders, reach inside, and produce one of several condoms. Tenko’s eyes widen. “What do you think?”

He slides his hands out from under your shirt to pull at your leggings and underwear. You decide that counts as a yes. Getting out of your clothes is a pain – your boots have to come off, followed by your leggings, followed by your underwear. Your boring underwear, according to Toga when she helped you pack. A thought crosses your mind, and like your thoughts usually do when you and Tenko are together, it comes out of your mouth. “Do you think my underwear is boring?”

“I think it’s in the way.”

You weren’t sure there was a right answer, but that counts. You kiss Tenko and work on unbuttoning his pants. It’s much less of a production for him, and once his cock is free, you can’t resist taking him in hand for a few strokes. Tenko’s body tenses in response, and you watch as his red eyes dilate. He picks up the condom on his own this time, putting it on with sharp, frantic movements, and as soon as it’s in place, you shift forward, lining up and sinking down onto his cock.

All the air leaves your lungs, and Tenko’s breath hisses out from between his teeth as you settle fully into his lap. “You didn’t give me a second,” he mumbles, his voice strained. A questioning sound is all you can manage in response. “I was going to eat you out.”

Your stomach ties itself in a knot instantly. You shift your weight, drawing your attention to the stretch and pressure of Tenko’s cock inside you instead of on what he just said – or maybe you’re trying to get him to stop talking. You’re not sure which. Either, way, it doesn’t work. “We haven’t done that yet,” he continues. Riding him isn’t shutting him up. You try kissing instead, but leaning forward to do it leads to an unsustainable change in pace, one that leaves you gasping. “I like how you taste.”

Tenko’s hands are on your hips, holding on with an iron grip. You were trying to set a faster pace, but his hold on you forces you to slow down, prolonging the slide of his cock against the most sensitive spots inside you and making you shudder. You wish you’d taken off more of your clothes. You feel hot and shaky all over and somehow even more out of control than you did when you were underneath him the first time. Tenko’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated so far that his irises are noting more than a thin red rim. His hips lift slowly beneath you as his hand leaves your hip to wrap around the back of your neck, pulling you down for a kiss.

Tenko’s pace is slow and intense, almost agonizing. Your legs are trembling so badly that you couldn’t maintain a rhythm of your own if you wanted to. Tenko holds on even as his control deteroiorates, while he twitches beneath you and moans into the kiss. When you draw back to breathe, you find his eyes squeezed shut. A tear leaks from beneath one of his eyelids, and you stare for a moment in shock before leaning in to kiss it away.

From there you kiss the scar over his right eye, the one you’ve never asked about, just like you’ve never asked about the one on his mouth – the location of your next kiss, once you’ve decided against kissing the birthmark on the other side. Tenko sucks down a breath, mumbles your name. Then: “I love you,” he says. Your stomach twists again, this time with anxiety. It doesn’t make a difference to Tenko – he moans and thrusts sharply upwards. Your body shifts independent of your mind, making sure his cock hits the right spot. “Fuck. I can’t – I love you –”

Whatever unspoken rule there is against saying I love you during sex, Tenko’s clearly never heard of it, and seeing and feeling him fall apart between your legs sends you over the edge in a few seconds more. For a moment, your mind goes totally blank, and in the absence of thought or restraint, the worlds almost slip out of your mouth, trailing after his name. “Tenko. Tenko –”

I love you. The weight of it keeps you silent. But only just.

Tenko doesn’t comment on the fact that you haven’t said it back. He never does, which is a relief. You’ve shown that you love him, and you’ll show it again, so it doesn’t need to be said. What does have to be said is the same thing you said last time. “We can’t sleep like this.”

“I know.” The sulky note in his voice almost makes you laugh.

By the time the two of you retreat to the back rooms, some of your anxiety’s worn off, and like always, you feel better once Tenko’s asleep next to you. You have him. All For One can’t take him away from you. He belongs to you, and you’ll keep him with you, through the end of the world and into the new one. The thought comforts you, but it’s not comforting enough to fall asleep on. You’re awake most of the night, like you have been for months.

The League of Villains is awake and in motion before dawn, heading towards Kurogiri’s last pre-capture coordinates. You’re not sure what’s waiting there. Tomura isn’t sure, either – just that it’s something his master left for him, some power that’s supposed to help him reach his goal. Dabi’s theory is that it’s some kind of super-Nomu, while Spinner thinks it’s a weapon. “What kind of weapon?” Twice asks. “Like a sword?”

“No, like a really big gun.”

The idea of Tomura with a really big gun is inexplicably entertaining to you. You struggle to muffle your laughter. “My quirk is better than a gun,” Tomura says. “If it’s a gun, Spinner, it’s yours.”

“Shouldn’t it be mine?” you ask. Tomura looks askance at you. “I don’t have a quirk or a real weapon. And I’m an okay shot.”

“In Call of Duty,” Tomura says. Spinner wheezes. “It’s a game.”

“We should get you a gun,” Toga decides. “Those creepy yakuza guys had one, and they had quirks. You should definitely have one, because you don’t.”

“A gun or a quirk?”

“Both,” Dabi says. He stops walking, and you walk directly into him. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Twice asks, and makes a fart joke that has Toga and Spinner groaning. “I gotta tell you, Dabi, if you can feel them –”

“There it is again,” Dabi says. He twists around to look at you. This time, you picked up on it, and so did Tomura. “What is that?”

“If I knew I’d say it,” Tomura snaps. “Sensei didn’t tell me.”

“You should have asked. If you had asked, then we wouldn’t be –” Dabi breaks off as the vibration strikes a third time, hard enough to make all of you stagger. A plume of dust rises from between the hills ahead of you. “What the hell is that?”

Not a hill. It’s not a hill. What you thought was a hill is the curved back of some giant thing, and now it’s straightening up, getting to its feet. It rears up, taller than you and everybody else by orders of magnitude, and you see that it’s human-shaped. Its features are craggy, like it’s been carved inexpertly from rough stone. Looking at it, it’s hard not to imagine that this is what Kurogiri was looking for, and it’s impossible for you to imagine that he was unable to find it – or that the heroes didn’t find it, too. All For One didn’t leave Tomura a weapon. He left him a mountain that walks.

The mountain-that-walks steps towards the group of you, rattling your bones on every step. “Master’s heir,” it says, in a voice that sounds like rocks shattering. “Where is he?”

Tomura steps forward. “Here.”

For a few moments they’re simply looking at each other, Tomura looking up and the mountain staring down. Then the mountain’s face distorts, an anguished howl issuing from a mouth filled with jagged teeth. “No! He’s too weak!”

“What?” Tomura snarls. The giant is clawing up dirt and stone from the ground, looking for something. For a weapon. Your blood turns to ice, but Tomura steps forward. “If you think you can just –”

“Die!”

The giant hurls a massive chunk of stone at Tomura, and you throw yourself forward, too, hitting Tomura in the back and knocking you both to the ground. You land hard, biting the inside of your cheek as the rock crashes down in the same spot as Tomura was standing a split second ago. The giant wails again, tears running down its face. “Weak,” it howls. “Too weak. Master, how could you do this to me?”

You’ve got seconds before it throws something else. It’s already looking around for another weapon. You drag Tomura to his feet and pull him away, ducking around the boulder and back to the League. “We need to get out of here.”

“Right now!” Spinner looks just as scared as you feel, which makes two of you who are reacting normally. “If we split up and run –”

“Outrun that thing? No way.” Dabi’s face splits into an eerie grin. “We’ll fight, right, Shigaraki? Or is that thing right about you?”

Tomura yanks his arm free of your grip and takes off toward the giant, throwing an order over his shoulder. “Get her out of here, Spinner!”

It makes sense. Spinner’s quirk doesn’t equip him well for a fight like this, just like your lack of a quirk doesn’t equip you at all. Spinner doesn’t look insulted at being stuck on girlfriend protection duty, and you’re not opposed to getting out of here – except you’ve got a job to do. “I’m the medic. I can’t leave!”

“If they get hit, there will be nothing to fix,” Compress says shortly. Your stomach turns at the thought of Tomura being struck by a flying boulder or getting crushed in the giant’s fist until he’s nothing more than a bloody smear in the dirt. “And he won’t be effective if he’s worried about your safety. Get clear.”

A wave of blue fire fills your vision, then dissipates. Toga’s voice is bordering on a shriek. “That didn’t work, Dabi!”

If Dabi’s flames aren’t having any effect, this opponent’s too dangerous for the League. Tomura’s the only one who could take the giant down, but he’d have to get close. There’s a horrible crash from somewhere ahead of you, and Spinner grabs your arm. “Let’s go!”

You balk again, agonized, but then you hear a voice – one that’s not the giant’s, not Tomura’s, not Dabi’s. Someone else. “How are you, Shigaraki? Are you well?”

“Sure,” Tomura says, tense and frustrated, “but I might be mincemeat in a second.”

“Then let’s have a chat, shall we? Stand by.”

Stand by for what? The giant’s coming. You can’t stand by. You all have to run. You try to say that, but suddenly a foul taste pervades your mouth, and it fills with something slimy, something that makes you cough and gag. Everyone else is doing the same. You hear Dabi curse, the words muffled and then choked off entirely. Your own body contorts in discomfort, and when you force your eyes open, you see black slime emerging from the others’ mouths, engulfing them entirely, engulfing you. It obscures your vision, and when you open your eyes, you’re somewhere else entirely.

It’s some kind of warp quirk, and overall, you much prefer Kurogiri’s. You glance around at your surroundings, just like the others are doing. They’re completely unfamiliar – an enormous room, high-ceilinged and dark. The only light comes from the tall capsules filled with bodies suspended in glowing liquid on either side of you, and from a bright screen up ahead. In front of the screen sits a man.

The location looks unfamiliar. But as you cough and struggle to clear the taste of the sludge from your mouth, you catch a familiar smell. Rot. Like a morgue, and suddenly you know exactly where you are. It was even darker last time, but the smell is unmistakable. This is where you met All For One.

All For One’s not here, and you have a feeling about who the man is, a feeling that’s confirmed a moment later when Tomura speaks. “Doctor,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed. I always intended to reach out, but I wanted to see how you would do on your own. It’s been –” the doctor makes a displeased sound. “Underwhelming.”

“What part of taking down the Shie Hassaikai is underwhelming?”

“The fact that it wasn’t your doing. The heroes did the lion’s share of the work,” the doctor says, “while the lot of you merely swooped in, crippled Overhaul after he had already been captured, and kidnapped a child – only to return her. If you’d held onto her, I would have reached out sooner. That was quite a quirk you let slip through your fingers.”

“That wasn’t him. That was me,” you say. You’re not about to let Tomura take the fall for something you did, particularly when you aren’t at all sorry you did it. “If you’d reached out and let us know you were interested, I might have held onto her.”

You wouldn’t have, but there’s no need for the doctor to know that. He rises from his chair and turns to face you. “And who were you to make the determination to let her go?”

“I’m the one who’d have wound up taking care of her,” you say. You already didn’t like the doctor – the fact that he refused to care for Tomura when he was hurt leaves a bad taste in your mouth – but you like him even less now. You keep yourself conciliatory with an effort. “We didn’t have the capability to contain her quirk long-term. It was too much of a risk.”

“And you allow your underlings to make those decisions, Shigaraki?”

“I trust my comrades’ judgement,” Tomura says. “The League of Villains is functional whether we’re working as a group or not.”

“It’s quite a group,” the doctor says. “Let’s see – one teenage girl, one societal reject, two petty criminals, a serial arsonist and murderer, and a civilian to round things out.”

“You went with ‘civilian’ for Saintess? Really?” Dabi never says your codename with anything less than scorn. “Try quirkless next time. Then you’d be eight for eight.”

Now that you think about it, it’s weird that he targeted your lack of a record, when anyone else would agree that your quirklessness is the larger problem. The doctor ignores Dabi. “Still, it’s a team worth paying attention to – and perhaps worth helping, depending on what you intend to use them for. What do you intend to do with them?”

“Destroy All Might.”

The doctor tsks. “Those are your master’s words, and you aren’t him. Try again.”

“Destroy hero society.”

Tomura sounds like he’s taking a test. Taking one, and failing it. The doctor tsks again. “Close, but not quite.”

“Destroy everything,” Tomura snaps, and the doctor smiles. That smile cements your dislike for him for good. “Everything I see, I hate. There’s nothing about this world that’s worth saving, so I’ll destroy it all at once.”

Toga makes a skeptical sound. “What about me, Tomura? Are you even going to destroy the things I like?”

“There’s always room for my comrades’ wishes,” Tomura says. Toga grins. Tomura glances sideways, meets your eyes, then faces the doctor again. “My comrades can’t live as they want in this world. I can’t live in it at all. So I’ll tear it down, brick by brick, atom by atom, until there’s nothing left in our way.”

“Anarchy, then?”

“Anarchy’s not sustainable,” Tomura says, and you find yourself hiding a smile under your veil. “What happens next isn’t my problem. My comrades can choose what to do.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” Twice asks. “I want to drink coffee and eat sushi.”

“Ugh,” Dabi mutters. “I don’t give a shit about any of it. As long as nobody stops me from doing what I need to do.”

Every so often, Dabi alludes to some mission of his, trying to lure one of you into asking so he can tell you to fuck off. You’ve all learned to ignore it by now. “As long as the things I like are here, I don’t care what happens,” Toga says. “Everybody else can choose.”

It’s quiet after that, other than Twice musing out loud about whether sushi and coffee go together even slightly. The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Three of you are awfully quiet. Compress, Spinner, Saintess – what plans do you have after you’ve helped Shigaraki destroy everything?”

“I’m keeping my options open,” Compress says. “A true performer waits for the right moment to claim the spotlight.”

The doctor lets that go, probably because Compress is a real adult and not somebody he feels like kicking around. He faces you and Spinner. “The shut-in and the civilian. What will you do?”

Spinner opens his mouth and you cut him off. “I’ll do what Shigaraki asks of me,” you say. It’s not a lie – he’s asked you to build the new world, and you’ll do it as long as he agrees to live in it with you. “I’m his sidekick. That’s my job.”

“I’m not a sidekick, but I’ll do what Shigaraki asks, too.” Spinner’s smart enough not to bring up Tomura’s instructions about the new world. “I don’t have my own vision. I’ll follow the person with the best one.”

“And you believe Shigaraki’s vision is the best one.”

“Yes.” Spinner doesn’t hesitate.

“Remarkable,” the doctor says, but he doesn’t follow up with Spinner. Instead he turns to you. “I have no need to question your loyalty to Shigaraki. You had more to lose in following him than the others.”

More to lose, sure – but losing him would have been worse. The doctor returns his attention to Tomura. “It seems you do have some degree of vision, as warped and simplistic as it may be. And you are capable of inspiring some degree of loyalty. The situation is not as dire as I originally thought.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s still rather dire,” the doctor says, like Tomura’s acceptance of the backhanded compliment wasn’t the most sarcastic thing you’ve ever heard him say. “Still, I’ll assist you on a limited basis for now.”

“How limited?”

“Some financial support. You’re still lacking in that department. That being said,” the doctor continues, “I can promise significantly more should you convince Gigantomachia to submit to you. He was your master’s most powerful servant. If he accepts your rule, I’ll throw my considerable resources behind you.”

“So we have to fight him until he quits?” Dabi sounds skeptical. “Fuck that. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

“Like what?” Spinner asks.

“There’s a potential ally I’m cultivating. If I’m right about him, it’ll be a coup for us. Way more than converting some random civilian.”

Tomura’s shoulders tense, and you pray he’ll let it slide – and he does. “I look forward to meeting them.”

“While you’re doing that, perhaps you can assist with the testing of a Nomu,” the doctor says. So he’s the one who makes them. You weren’t sure. “I’ve created a class of high-tiers, far more powerful than the Nomu Shigaraki deployed at USJ, and they’re ready to be tested against powerful heroes.”

Dabi looks like he’s about to tell the doctor to fuck off. Then he tilts his head, considering. “How powerful of a hero do you want?”

“As powerful as you can secure. If I’m correct about the strength of the high-tiers, lesser heroes will fall before them easily.”

Dabi cracks a nasty grin. “I’ve got somebody in mind.”

“Excellent. As for the rest of you –” the doctor snaps his fingers, and the smallest Nomu you’ve ever seen scurries forward. It’s carrying a box, and when you look closer, you see that it contains earpieces. “Take these. This is how I’ll contact you from now on.”

You each step forward to take them. “This is really it?” Twice asks, not all that quietly. “We just have to get the big guy to bow down?”

“It won’t be easy,” the doctor says. “His strength and stamina are unmatched. I’ll be very impressed if any of you survive.”

Spinner looks worried. You’re worried, too. Tomura isn’t. “Thanks for the tutorial,” he says to the doctor. You’re last in line to collect your earpiece, and you tuck it into your ear. “Send us back. I feel motivated all of a sudden.”

The doctor signals something – another tiny Nomu – and black sludge begins to erupt from the others’ mouths. The others’ mouths, but not yours. You look to Tomura, a surge of panic rising within you, and Tomura reaches out, his fingers closing on your sleeve for a split second before the warp tears him away. He’s gone. They’re all gone, and you’re alone in here. With the bodies floating in the glass capsules and the two tiny Nomus and the doctor.

You have the knife Spinner gave you strapped to your back, concealed with your backpack, but you don’t know the doctor’s quirk, and you still can’t fight. The only way out of here is if the doctor decides to let you go. “Sir, please –”

“Manners for me, too? I’m glad to see that someone in Shigaraki’s gang of misfits respects common courtesy.” The doctor smiles. It’s not quite a leer, but it’s enough to make your skin crawl. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll send you back to your master in short order. I just need to run some tests.”

“Tests?” you say uncertainly. “What kind of tests?”

“Nothing too painful, or too invasive.” The doctor beckons you closer, and you take a few hesitant steps. You don’t want him to get mad at you. This, whatever it is, will be worse if he’s angry. “All For One had a hunch when he met you, and I’d like to confirm it. You want to be as useful to your master as possible, don’t you?”

You don’t like that he keeps calling Tenko your master, but you do want to be as useful as possible. You nod. “Excellent. Hold out your hand,” the doctor says. You do, at which point he jabs a needle attached to an electrode into the meat of your palm. You yelp in pain. “Oh, hush. Has anyone explained the theory of quirk latency to you?”

Even with your palm stinging, even in fear for your life, you can’t help rolling your eyes. “Yes.”

“And you seem not to set much store by it.”

“It’s a lie,” you say. “Something they tell quirkless children so we’ll stay hopeful instead of recognizing how the world really sees us.”

“Explain it for me.”

The needle in your palm is buzzing. It feels like there are insects crawling beneath your skin. “Quirk latency theory suggests that the majority of people who appear to be quirkless are not. Instead, they possess latent quirks – quirks that don’t manifest for the first time unless certain conditions are met, and if those conditions are never met, the person in question appears to be quirkless for their entire life.”

The doctor yanks the sensor out of your palm. “Give an example.”

“If someone’s quirk is driving stick-shift perfectly,” you say. It’s the example you heard in school. It was stupid then and it’s stupid now. “It’ll never show up if they never get behind the wheel of a stick-shift car.”

“Sounds plausible, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” you say. The doctor wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm. At least, it looks like a blood pressure cuff – when it constricts, it jabs dozens of needles into your bicep, and you whimper in pain. You can slice into your skin without blinking, but it’s different when someone else is in control. “If it never manifests and you never know what it is, it’s the same as not having one at all.”

“Mm. I suppose.” The blood pressure cuff squeezes your arm agonizingly tight, then beeps and releases. The doctor peels it away. “Your decision to release the girl, while frustrating on a professional level, was the correct decision with regard to Shigaraki’s survival. Lift the veil.”

“Sir –”

“I know your face already. Lift it.”

You raise the edge and flip it back, at which point the doctor stuffs a thermometer into your mouth. That one doesn’t stab you, but he jabs a needle into your lower lip a second later. A mask lowers over your eyes, ringed in tiny needles just like the cuff, and all the needles deliver a low, buzzing shock. The thermometer in your mouth beeps, but the doctor doesn’t remove it. “It’s intriguing that Shigaraki selected you, of all people, to serve as his sidekick – but far more intriguing is the fact that you accepted the role. All For One had charisma. The strength of his character drew others to him, and his wealth and benevolence certainly didn’t hurt. Shigaraki Tomura possesses nothing of the kind. How on earth did he entice a civilian away from what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a relatively normal, happy life?”

Not by being Shigaraki Tomura – and not just by being Shimura Tenko. You call him different names depending on who you’re with, but he’s the same person, the same man, regardless of whether you use the name given to him by his master or his father. The thermometer in your mouth beeps sharply, and the doctor extracts it in a hurry, followed by the needle in your lip. Then he lifts the eye mask away. Next he slaps electrodes onto your temples, the sides of your neck, your forehead, your chest – the same microneedles, the same electric shocks. You clench your jaw against the pain. You’re not going to make another sound.

Why are you letting this happen? The same reason you let Overhaul touch you, the same reason you didn’t give in to panic when All For One’s hand descended over your face. You’re doing it for Tenko, so you can stay with Tenko, so no one will try to take you away from him or take him away from you. When you think of it like that, it’s – not easy to survive, exactly. But it’s easier. Easy enough that the chorus of stings and shocks from the last set of electrodes don’t visibly break your composure.

It’s only once you’re free of electrodes and needles that you remember you were asked a question – and that you don’t remember what it was. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your question. Would you mind repeating it?”

“Don’t worry. You’ve answered it,” the doctor says. “And All For One’s hunch about you was correct. You’re a victim of quirk latency. You are not quirkless.”

You look blankly at him. Your skin is stinging in a dozen places, and there’s an unpleasant buzz in your nerves. “The tests I just conducted were tests of the most common locations of quirk factors,” the doctor says. “The hands, the eyes, the mouth and nose – when receiving certain types of stimulation, quirk factors produce an abnormal response. I was unable to identify a discrete quirk factor for you, which indicates that your quirk is not vulnerable to external attack. Overhaul, Shigaraki, Compress – remove their hands, and they’re useless. Your quirk factor, however, can’t be separated from your body so easily.”

He's looking at you, clearly pleased with himself, clearly waiting for you to respond in kind. “I don’t have a quirk,” you say. Your instruments are wrong.”

“My instruments are never wrong,” the doctor says. “Neither is All For One. You have a quirk, my dear. It’s latent, and without a discrete quirk factor, we have few clues as to what it might be, but make no mistake, a quirk is present. You said you wish to be as useful to Shigaraki as possible. Imagine how much more useful you’d be with your quirk.”

“I don’t have a quirk.” You know you shouldn’t argue, that you should pretend to be happy or at least let it go, but you can’t. You’re quirkless. That’s it. That’s all you’ll ever be. “If I had an actual quirk factor, maybe I’d believe you. But those abnormal reactions – you jabbed needles into my face and shocked me. Of course my system acted up.”

“Your system reacted normally to the electric current. What indicated the presence of a quirk factor was something else. Don’t question me, my dear. This is my area of expertise.” The doctor’s smile is horrendously smug. “I’m tempted to keep you here, and send you back to Shigaraki once we’ve awakened your quirk –”

“No!”

You clamp your hands over your mouth too late to silence yourself, and the doctor continues speaking like you didn’t say a word. “But I’d prefer that Shigaraki stays focused on mastering Gigantomachia, rather than hunting me down to retrieve his favorite toy. I’ll send you back, but well away from the battlefield. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you before we’ve discovered your quirk.”

You know better by now than to argue about whether you have a quirk or not. You nod mutely, and since you have your mouth shut, the black sludge oozes from your nose instead. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the taste and the sensation to fade, and when you open y our eyes again, you’re on a wooded hillside somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There are clouds of dust rising in the distance, and in the midst of them, you can see Gigantomachia’s silhouette. Tenko’s already fighting him.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you take it out. Twice has been messaging you. A lot.

Twice: Saintess

Twice: hey Saintess

Twice: are y coming back or what

Twice: I k already had to make ten clones of Shigaraki to go get smashed because the real one can’t focus long enough to fight the big guy

Twice: sorry TWELVE clones

Twice: i won’t make any more fart jokes if you come back right now

Twice: WHERE R U HES GOING BERSERK

Damn it. You call Twice, praying he’s not up close and personal with Gigantomachia right now, and he picks up on the first ring. It’s colossally noisy on his end of the line and you find yourself having to shout. “Hey! Tell Tomura I’m fine and tell him to get his head back in the game!”

“Hey, you’re back! What took you so long? I – hey, boss, you might want to get back out there –”

“Make another clone,” Tomura snarls, and a moment later you hear his ragged breathing on the line. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. He just wanted to talk. I’ll tell you about it the next time we have a second.” You speak quickly, calmly, even though the sound of Tomura’s voice and the fact that he’s worried about you are this close to making you burst into tears. “He dropped me off away from the battle so I wouldn’t get trampled. I’ll make my way back. Just focus.”

“Drop a pin. Spinner and Toga will come get you.” Tomura swears into the phone a moment later. “It’s not fucking fine. He can’t just –”

“Just focus,” you say again. “We’ll talk. Be careful.”

“I love you.”

Your heart twists. “Be careful,” you say again, and you hang up the phone.

You drop the pin as requested, then use your phone camera to check out the damage the doctor’s tests did. It doesn’t look good. Your lower lip is swollen, and you’ve got a rash around your eyes and your forehead and your neck — everywhere a microneedle went in. Your eyes are puffy, maybe from the needles, maybe from wanting to cry this much and holding it in. But maybe you shouldn’t hold it in. You’ve got some time before Spinner and Toga get to you. Maybe you should just get it out of your system. You sit down on a rock, bury your face in your hands, and cry, but the longer you cry, the worse it gets. A quirk. The doctor says you have a stupid quirk, and your whole life –

You can’t think about it. You can’t stop. You have to stop right now before anybody sees, and with no one else to turn to, you find yourself turning to a coping mechanism you thought you gave up on. It was nice of Spinner to give you the knife. You know for a fact you weren’t supposed to use it for this.

But it works. You wouldn’t do it if it didn’t, and by the time Spinner and Toga come to get you, you’re neatly bandaged under your shirt and sitting behind your veil with dry eyes. “Where have you been?” Toga asks. “Tomura-kun was really upset.”

“The doctor and I needed to talk about something. It’s all okay now.” Your voice sounds perfectly steady, and you’re perfectly calm. The doctor is wrong. You don’t have a quirk. You’ve never had a quirk, and since you’ve never had a quirk, your entire life hasn’t been built around dealing with something that was never even true. “How’s Tomura?”

“If we didn’t have Twice, we’d be screwed,” Spinner says. He looks grim. “Let’s go. Somebody’s probably going to be hurt by the time we get there.”

“What did the doctor want to talk to you about?” Toga asks as the three of you hike through the woods. “Something fun?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “He just wanted to give me a hard time about letting Eri go.”

It’s a safe lie, you think. One the others will buy, if Toga’s reminiscing about how cute Eri is are anything to go by. The real question will be if you can sell that same lie to Tenko. You think you probably can. You’ve lied to him directly before. And you’ve lied by omission, every time he tells you he loves you and you don’t say it back.

[halfthebrain]

I don’t get this hate for Mike while he was an investment banker and fighting Harvey lmao. It was frankly really good TV.

TLDR: The stakes were much higher for Mike and he utilised every trick Harvey has taught him. He’s not the only one to blame just because some viewers can’t understand his motives. Harvey knew though and he forgave Mike, took him back, and even regretted fighting Mike in the first place.

First: obviously Mike would be more invested (pun intended) in winning than Harvey is. It was his first big case and his livelihood was on the line. In case anyone forgot, he never went to uni, he doesn’t have any degree. So this was his chance to get out of committing a felony every day. Sure, he still lied to Sidwell about his credentials but that’s still a lesser crime than pretending to be a lawyer. He left so he wouldn’t put the people he loved at risk.

For Harvey it was just another run of the mill client, a spoiled, entitled rich man child. Was there a lot of money on the table? Obviously. But those are the waters he swims in daily. Billion dollar deals as he said himself. Case in point: he also just drops Logan afterwards. Money be damned.

And Harvey knows this himself. He loves winning, yes, but he loves Mike more.

I actually blame Harvey for being a stubborn asshole and not going with Mike’s plan from the get go, not trusting Mike’s idea and plan, even tho he has consistently profited from them. But, again, this is TV drama so obviously they needed a reason to start a fight.

Second: have we not been watching the same show? It has always been personal to Mike. That’s his whole schtick. He cares. About absolutely, probably everything. He cares about why Walter Gillis started the company (because of his son). He cares about keeping that reason alive. He cares about keeping the workers employed. He empathises deeply, he tries to fight for what he thinks is the right thing. Does that make him a stuck up idealist at times? Yes, but that’s unavoidable. It was never just about winning for Mike, for Harvey it was. If you’re going to hate him for that then at least be a hater from the start.

He was still trying to keep Gillis Industries alive even though Harvey has smeared his name (personal attack) and Walter Gillis has shunned him because of that.

Third: it was all “fair game” despite whatever drama Donna procured in her head about the tapes to insert herself in Mike and Harvey’s fight. She can huff anf puff all she wants but the only person who has a reason to be pissed at Mike would be Harvey. And guess what? He forgave Mike anyway because he realises that Mike did a great job going for the jugular just as Harvey has taught him. He even defended Mike in front of Sidwell, asking him to take Mike back. They didn’t even go toe to toe. Harvey was backed by his entire firm (he’s a name partner), he even let Louis help (he fucked it up), Donna as usual, and lastly, Rachel who was “handling” Logan. Meanwhile Mike was fighting alone. Jonathan Sidwell only pressured him to win, Walter Gillis gave up on him and Amy could only help so much.

Just because Mike is on the other side now using the same methods Harvey taught him doesn’t mean that he’s the “bad guy”. Like I have said many times; they’re both the worst and deserve each other.

Bonus: while all of that was going on Rachel also thought it would be a wonderful idea to keep going back to Logan’s place and then to almost fuck him :).

Are you really, honestly hating on Mike right now?

[ringsreforged]

Season 2, Episode 6 - Nat's Rambles

Okay – SO – Paulina is still on holiday, and I’m obviously DYING OVER HERE (Natalie, in case you hadn’t guessed) so TUMBLR. I HAVE RETURNED.

Truly though, I don’t think I’ve done this since S4 of The 100 which probably aired 100 years ago at this point…what has this show done to me…

ANYWAY. My immediate thoughts on Season 2, Episode 6: WHERE IS HE???????

Paulina Voice: All opinions herein have nothing to do with me, so only judge Natalie for them.

Important Note: I have only watched once, in a haze of stress and emotion, so I reserve the right to delete all of this later if I change my mind on any of it.

Arondir – Hello! Nice to see you! Glad you’re joining us for the battle!

I did like the detail of confirming that not all the orcs are on board with Adar’s war, but I was mostly laughing that ‘running through the trees’ is how the show has reminded us a character exists for two weeks in a row.

Rhun – I think this was the first episode where I was like GO AWAY, RHUN, NOT NOW. Though, I want to stress that I am super excited to see the conclusion of this, probably in episode 8. The Dark Wizard, the Gaudrim, the fate of the Stoors (honestly, I’m assuming they’re all going to be massacred tbh…which…the optics…but we’ll worry about that later…). In today’s episode, it just felt a bit like ‘hey, these characters still exist.’

I did love the little snippet of Tom and the Stranger, though I felt like it could have just been included in their previous scenes. He is 1000% Gandalf, and I stand by my opinion that this isn’t supposed to be a twist or a surprise. It’s just the narrative telling the story. Destiny or friend is super intriguing to me. It’s very Luke and Yoda from Empire, but I do wonder if his destiny IS to choose his friend…and in so doing, THAT is how he finds his staff…

Nori talking with the Gund was very sweet, and her willingness to give herself up to protect everyone was super in character. Poppy and Merimac were cute (I pray to all the gods that THIS was the kiss Morfydd teased but I doubt it very much…), and Poppy wanting to fight for the Stranger made me pretty emotional. However, I have some bad news…

Guys…I think I’m adding Poppy to DEATH WATCH. And I HATE IT. BUT I CAN’T UNTHINK IT.

Moving on…

Numenor – This continues to be the choppiest of storylines this season, but I do think the broad elements are super on point. And, actually, where we end up makes the Eagle sequence make more sense in retrospect. Pharazon didn’t have things locked down, Miriel is very much still a player on the board, and Mr. Eyebrows is THE BIGGEST HYPOCRIT.

Then again, if you told me I’d see Halbrand in the Palantir I’d probably touch it too…

Ahem. Loved that detail by the way! Part of the reason I felt like Halbrand would be his Numenor form was the small scene he shared with Pharazon back in S1, while Galadriel was taking out the guards. A connection was formed then – perhaps his eyes even bored a hole – and if Halbrand rocks up as an enemy of the elves, that’ll only make him more appealing.

Everything with Miriel and Elendil was absolutely stunning. He was willing to give his life for her, she was willing to give hers for his. WHAT ABOUT MY HEART. Honestly, from the way Owen and Cynthia talked about this season, I felt like they weren’t going to get anything at all romance coded. But I’m just starting to think people in TV only see active kissing as romance, because HELLO?? THAT’S THE SCRIPT????? THAT IS ABSOLUTELY ROMANCE????

I’m very excited to watch the sequence with the sea worm again, and to really let it wash over me (heh), because I was starting to get time anxious at that point in the episode (my brain starts panicking ‘don’t end, don’t end.’ Honestly, my brain SUCKS). But it was incredible, the implications were wonderful, Elendil’s relief was beautiful, and so was Pharazon’s rage. Also, the whole sequence was UTTERLY STUNNING, WOW.

Note for the show overall, or maybe just for myself, though – PLEASE stop spoiling so much of the season through promotional material. My biggest gripe with this episode is that I felt like I’d already seen/put together 90% of it.

Anyway, I’ve left Earien until last because this was a MUCH better episode for her (though, not letting her have any reaction to Valandil’s death was CRIMINAL). To the point that I’m now reforging (heh) my thoughts on last week – who directed her to have such bratty energy last week? Weird.

Anyway, we saw much more of her conflict and fluidity in this episode. She isn’t Faithful, she believes the new order is the way to go, but she’s also struggling massively with it. Her desperate hug with her father broke my heart, I had instant tears in my eyes, but then I also cheered when she brought Miriel in! What a great surprise that was! I’m REALLY interested to see where she goes from here…I’m assuming in the finale? I was sure she was locked onto a super dark path, but she witnessed Miriel survive the Valar’s judgement…will that sway her back around?

I’m going to finish this section with something that’s maybe a bit controversial…Elendil sucks as Earien’s father!!! Now, I’m willing to put this on pacing/editing issues, because I don’t think the show really wants us to feel this way. But good god, man. HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. I really enjoyed their cell scene, but sweet lord baby jesus, these two needed a deep conversation in episode 3. Watching him turn to go when Miriel walked in, and just forget Earien was even there hurt me man…even though I enjoy the Miriel aspect VERY much…

Like, I know you’re mad at her, but you’re all she’s got left…and your pride might mean she watches you die…can you be a little kinder to her???

Dwarves being dwarves, AKA perfect – Flawless. No notes.

The initial sequence with the Durin’s and Annatar was PERFECT. Annatar being rejected (that Balrog glimpse was SO EVIL), and Baby Durin’s flicker of hope. But then the reveal that Daddy Durin is deep in the shit because he’s really just being greedy. My gooooodnesssssss. The show has done SUCH A GOOD JOB setting this up, because we know Daddy Durin isn’t this way! We feel Baby Durin’s pain!

Then Daddy Durin has his IT’S MINE moment with the ring and swats his son away. Anguish. And the anguish only anguished harder when we cut to Durin and Disa. Disa talking about her love for her father-in-law, and her own father, and then DURIN’S TEARS. UGH. UGH. UGH. I was weeping, honestly.

I feel like Durin being suss of the rings this early on is a pretty big change (don’t quote me on this) but I’m for it. Watching Disa turn back Narvi and the others (poor Narvi) was beautiful and then that I LOVE YOU. UGH. UGH. UGH. PERFECT, I SAY.

I doubt Disa has anymore bats to summon, though, so IDK how the heck they stop what’s coming next. Is Durin going to get drawn away by his desire to help Elrond, leaving Disa alone and vulnerable?

I REFUSE TO PUT DISA ON DEATH WATCH, SHOW. I REFUSE. DON’T YOU DARE.

Adar and Galadriel – I wish we’d gotten more, especially because they released a clip yesterday that I obviously couldn’t resist watching, but what we got was JUICY.

I felt that Adar knew Halbrand was Sauron back in the premiere, or at least suspected it. Getting that confirmation paints their scene with the talk of the wine, the tears, and the kneeling in such a different light. TASTY.

I’ve seen people question this, because why did Adar not try and kill him there and then? To my mind, that’s pretty straightforward. He killed him once and it didn’t stick. And last time he had the element of surprise. He knows that Sauron is powerful enough to get out of his chains/to not get caught by orcs, which means he’s here for a reason. If Adar tries to kill him, best case scenario Sauron is off the board for another few centuries, but he’ll likely take down some orcs with him on the way out. And for what? For him to just come back again?

I think Adar decided to play the long game. I think talk of Eregion and Galadriel let him know that something more was going on, and he was biding his time to act.

So, Sauron promised Adar children. Honestly, the Adar/Sauron/Galadriel dynamic that played across this episode was the stuff of my dreams. Adar is holding his own relationship with the fella up against hers, and there’s so much subtext for both dynamics. Was there romance between both? Was it solely manipulation for both? Is Adar what Galadriel might become if she succumbs?

Galadriel definitely wasn’t being entirely truthful with Adar when she mentioned that Sauron promised an army, because that was more what she thought she could get out of Halbrand. And yes, sure, Sauron might have nudged her that way. But Sauron’s true offer came later on the raft, after the army had been delivered. Adar even acknowledges that she’s not being truthful, that she needs to let go of her pride. I feel like we’ll see that play out over the last two episodes for sure…

The line that really stuck with me from a Hal&Gal perspective was Galadriel finishing Adar’s line about the world with Sauron being full of colour, and without him it’s a dull grey. It fits with how Galadriel has come across to me this season. Since Elrond shut her out, she hadn’t had anybody to open up to, and she’s certainly not being fully honest with herself yet. That dull grey speaks to how she’s mostly been…quite contained? The only moments where she’s truly come alive were with Nenya, and when she was fighting.

Later in the episode, she DOES put aside her pride. She calls Adar Uruk!!! She opens up and sees the possibility of an alliance. And I think this goes back to Sauron too. She’s had a taste of darkness and the temptation of it, she knows she’s not secure from succumbing, and so her perspective of Adar – who was once an elf – has massively shifted. However, when he asks if he and his children will be able to return to their home…we all know the answer to that.

I actually never stopped to consider that Adar would be the one manipulating/tricking Galadriel, which is silly in retrospect. Because this much better explains how she ends up in a cage facing the elves (sorry guys, I don’t think she’s bait for Sauron…she’s facing the wrong way…). I’m looking forward to watching this bit again, as I feel it was a bit rushed on first watch. I would have liked to see these two chat for a good two scenes more, honestly.

Adar is falling into the trap, which is pretty devastating, and Galadriel is the one seeing through it. Honestly, I really don’t know how things roll out in the finale. I flip from it making no sense for it to be a S1 rehash, to being sure she’ll defiantly resist, to being sure the show is setting her up to not be able to. I JUST DON’T KNOW. I wish I’d never seen those stupid leak spoilers…the promo makes me think they are real, but then we MUST be missing full context.

Adar is still on DEATH WATCH but like…a little bit less than before, honestly? Mostly because I don’t see how we have time to get ALL the confrontations into the last two episodes. When Adar goes out – and he will – he deserves the biggest death.

Random aside: I am pondering sharing something of a Haladriel ramble/rant but I’m also like…IDK if I want the hassle, so we’ll see.

Celebrimbor and Annatar

Oh, Brimby. My heart aches. The sequence with him forgetting Mirdania’s name was so heartbreaking and watching Annatar isolate him so completely was chilling. First, by taking away the other smiths, then with the illusion.

I actually don’t think I have a lot to say on this section, because it’s been rumbling along all season and we’re just about to reach the climax. Sauron is Sauron’ing his hardest in this episode.

I am now quite convinced that Mirdania is not Celebrian (I already didn’t really believe it, but it’s firmer now) and I do think she’ll die. I think she’ll either be killed by Sauron himself, or she’ll be caught in the crossfire of the siege, and as she dies she’ll make eye contact with him and he’ll just coldly leave her. I feel like there has to be some sort of climax to the whole…you look like Galadriel thing, but I’m not really sure what that could be?? I don’t think there’s going to be a lot of time next episode, so maybe that really was a one and done so the viewer understood he’s thinking about her…

Celebrimbor trying to snap on Annatar, and that flash of true rage in Annatar’s face…oh god, next week is going to be soul destroying. I honestly can’t wait and dread it at the same time. Celebrimbor has fought so hard but then comes the illusion, then comes the lure – more talk of the Valar, of his work, of Feanor and the Silmarils. CELEBRIMBOR. GET OUT, PLEASE. GET OUT.

Sauron was then absolutely buzzing at the end there, as war came, and I wonder if there are more twists to come or if things play out fairly straightforward from here. We know the elves will charge the orcs. Does that happen straight away? Is there any communication? Because it’s complicated, isn’t it? On one hand, let Adar and the orcs try to take our Sauron…but then, you know innocents are being killed. You have to save them, surely?

And that’s that, I think? PHEW.

I must say, it’s harder to get through this season being in fandom because I KNOW SO MUCH MORE and I WANT SO MUCH MORE and people STRESS ME OUT. But, at the same time, it feels nice to love something this hard again?

Let’s get episode 7 and [redacted] out of the way fast, though, yeah?

[aheathen-conceivably]

sorry for my absence 😔 college started back up again last month so I've been busy (I'm taking a math course and good god that's beating my ass). and I would have more faith in Gio and Jo if they gave me any! but alas I have no reason to believe that the most toxic couple in your sims world wouldn't continue to be toxic! and you're so right that one doesn't need to be fighting to get involved in the military. I just realized you said military not go to war so 👀👀👀👀 I'm thinking more Thoughts about your characters - lgl

Ahhh omg that is so not on you, hun! My “small” break has now stretched on for over a month, so there hasn’t been any new content to yell about together in quite a while. (And also I hate math with a fiery passion. It ruined my GPA so I feel you so hard on that one. Good luck and Godspeed my dear 🫡)

But…but…look at them. They’ve got some love and hope. That’s the last time we saw them, right? So I’m just saying, Gio has absolutely owned up to his lies and essentially rolled over to let Jo take what he thinks will make her feel secure and in some ways make them “even.” Now I ain’t saying they’re the healthiest by a literal mile, BUT I do think the ball is in Jo’s court in some ways right now.

Imma leave you with your thoughts for now though, otherwise we might get too close to finding the lie 😉

[tame-the-lion-writes]

anything but worthy [pt.2]

This is reposted from my ao3!

[SFW Arthur Morgan] tags: omegaverse

Ever since you were a teenager, you've loved romance books. First you pretended to hate them, and still occasionally do, but for all the tropes that you’ve scorned, there’s something inherently addicting about them, too.

You shared this little obsession with Mary-Beth, and as such, occasionally shared each other’s novels. She was an aspiring writer, you knew, and as an avid consumer, she’d appreciate your tips and critiques. But if there was one thing you couldn’t share, it was how much more you fantasized compared to her.

Pride and Prejudice was lovely, really – a testament to the change people will go through because they love someone. Romeo and Juliet was more of a tragedy, and while you understood the political metaphor, as a story, it felt a little too juvenile. There were the non-romances, too – Robinson Crusoe, Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn. Hell, you’d even read Charles C. Chestnutt, since you were so invested in the politics of the time. Equality for everyone, past the bare minimums of the Civil War! 

But, on some level, you didn’t want the sensical. You didn’t want things that made sense – you craved suspension of disbelief. You craved something more primal, something that could be set aside from the sociopolitics of everyday life – something private, and personal, and perhaps a little… perverted.

Ugh. Putting it like that made you sound like you needed church.

(And perhaps you did.)

– but that wasn’t the point!

The point was – that for the past year, you’d been miraculously saved by a big strong mountain man, and now, in a time when women only had the options of marriage, elementary schooling, or prostitution, you had been swept into the wild drama of a gang of outlaws. This in itself was perfect romance material!-- if not perfect – ugh – Victorian erotica material.

(Because yes, those existed – though you certainly wanted something better than a couple dozen pages written from the perspective of a fucking flea.)

Now Arthur Morgan, in particular, was perfect romance material. You and Mary-Beth – and even Tilly – yes, Tilly! – had agreed as such. John was taken, Sean and Bill both idiots – though Karen would probably settle for the former. Javier was a romantic with a lovely voice, but you didn’t know him all too well, and Charles was almost too quiet. (Again, almost – he was handsome and kind and patient.) Dutch was taken, Hosea was more of a father, but Arthur – Arthur – he was a perfect mix of rough and sentimental. A perfect mix of rugged and gentle.

Though you might have underestimated just exactly how rough he could be.

Not to mention that he was an alpha – the greatest one in the pack, even above Dutch, you’d decided.

Admittedly, you didn’t notice at first – notice how often he looked at you, at least. You noticed his strength right away of course, and how much of a leader he could be when necessary, but it took Mary-Beth and Tilly and Karen – all of them – to make you realize he had taken a liking to you.

“God, you’re oblivious as hell, ain’tcha?” Karen had said one evening, throwing her hands up in the air. “The man’s been eyeing you like a piece of meat!”

“Now, I wouldn’t say a piece of meat–” Mary-Beth countered with a nervous chuckle, shaking her head. “More like a… a male lead!”

“A male– a fuckin’ what now?”

Tilly giggled in the background, covering her smile with her hand. “You know, Karen, like the main love interests in Mary-Beth’s books.”

The blonde made a face, scrunching up her nose. “You know I don’t read that shit. Too sappy for me.”

“It’s not… ‘shit,’” you defended with a smile, albeit an understanding one, but seeing Mary-Beth pout, you had to say something. “They’re pretty good in my opinion.”

“Oh, don’t you dare change topics with me, girly,” Karen scolded, rolling her eyes. “Either way, you know what we mean!”

 Actually, you didn’t – not until then. It was hard to believe a man like that could like you. But ever since that conversation, you found yourself looking over your shoulder more, darting your eyes in Arthur’s direction to try and catch him in the act. For the longest time, however, he seemed normal – busy with something else, not even close to facing you. You had nearly given up when, one night, when the gang was celebrating a successful job with drinks, that you looked up to see blue eyes staring you down, laced with a certain expression halfway between affection and lust.

That day, you looked away, red face hidden in the darkness. But from then on, with his whatever toward you confirmed, a returned interest had started to grow. And boy, did you try to hook him.

It started with simpler gestures, really – an odd form of courtship since you were shy and he just felt so big compared to life. You’d do all his laundry, hand him coffee or stew, or leave him a newly repaired shirt on the table by his bedside. One time, you even managed to scourge together enough money to buy him a new ink pen. Your excuse?-- that if he kept writing in his journal with pencil, the graphite would rub the letters clean off one day. And you knew how much his writing and drawing meant to him, even if he denied any form of intelligence.

But it took another few months before you’d finally gathered the courage. The courage to ask him to stay with you, through the heat – during your heat. But–

“I am anythin’ but worthy of that honor, little girl.”

The response made your heart sink, and for a moment, you thought that was that.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky. “I just thought it would be nice – me and you.”

You felt like a little girl, trembling quietly in the night.  All that staring and time wasted – but it was just staring, not him actually planning to act on you. Well, now you just felt a little silly, too. Silly little omega. What kind of omega chases an alpha – not the other way around?

“I guess I’ll just ask Sadie or Miss Grimshaw to go with me again. Or maybe Karen, ‘cause she can handle a gun, too.”

But before you can disappear into the darkness, escape the vicinity and curl up – cry yourself to sleep – he speaks up again, explaining himself.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, omega. I don’t wanna hurt you. That’s all.”

“Oh, Arthur. I’d be okay if it were you.”

Something shifted that evening. And you parted ways with a better understanding.

The following day, the girls helped you pack – Miss Grimshaw being helpful in particular. She’d made sure some herbs for soothing tea was going with you, and had the others wrap up enough blankets for comfort. There was a tower, the older woman explained, back up north in the Grizzlies – nice and cool to keep your fever from being unbearable, yet not quite buried in layers of snow. Compared to the humid mists of Lemoyne, it sounded like sheer paradise. Arthur himself had scouted it out while on one of his trips, and after tidying up the place a bit, deemed it a safehouse for omegas like you, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. (And Kieren, too, but the boy didn’t like to admit it.) 

But when you expected Miss Grimshaw herself to hop onto the wagon with you, instead of a woman with makeup too gaudy for her features, you heard a rough groan as a man clad in brown leather pulled himself up to sit at your side.

“Er, Arthur, this is my wagon,” you said, dumbfounded, brain not quite working.

“Yup, I know.”

He cracked the reins, getting the horses to start their little trotting.

“It’s– it’s my wagon. I’m not going to town, you– you know that, right?”

“Yup. I know.”

You stare a few more seconds, stare hard, then sink into your seat, facing forward.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

You hear faint laughter from behind you and raise your head to look over your shoulder, where you see the girls waving – grinning – and Karen hooting and hollering, knowing how things were likely to go. 

“Why– why did you change your mind?” you ask, breathless, gripping your hands tight in your lap. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Just thought about it last night. Thought– hell– once thought no one would have me. Then some pretty girl shows up an’-- well– guess your words hit a chord last time we talked.”

“Arthur, nobody in their right mind wouldn’t have you.”

The rest of the trip is spent in relative quiet, your mind busy processing the fact that Arthur would be staying. The stop at Rhodes for food was brief, the pass through Emerald Ranch even briefer. Then it was up to O’Creagh’s Run, where Arthur stopped by an old man’s cabin. The man had spared you a knowing smile, clapped Arthur on the back, offered to take you both fishing later, then sent you your way.

After that, it was just a little roundabout trip to avoid the steep parts of the mountain range, and soon, you two were passing into a clearing where a log tower came into view. It was a sturdy, impossibly pristine place, likely recently abandoned. A nearby campfire was still smoldering, but Arthur noted that people rarely passed through. Ambarino was a scarce place after all, with few homesteads and little reason to visit. And – on the off chance some other alpha was too nosy for their own good – the top of the tower provided ample range for Arthur to threaten them off with a gun.

Settling in, you were starting to feel the haze of your heat, but luckily, Arthur had given you some privacy to prepare. He waited outside, by the campfire, scavenging through the leftovers of the former occupants to see if they’d abandoned any cans of food. In the meantime, you’d bundled up your extra blankets and pillows, 

Once overcome by the sweltering heat of Lemoyne, now the cold of the Grizzlies has drifted through the opening at the top of the tower, allowing the cool air to sink and settle around you, and paired with the blankets still lightly scented with the smell of fellow omegas, it begins to slowly you into a sense of security. The stove can be turned on later if needed, to warm both some food and you – but for now, the temperature is satisfactory, and in your chemise, the urge to sleep is instant. You don’t even fight it. Within minutes, you’re drifting off into peaceful nothingness.

And that’s when the sound of a gunshot awakens you.

“Arthur?”

You call out his name in the dead quiet, clutching the blankets close. Your heat is on the edge of full force, and you’re just barely lucid enough to stand. Which you do.

“Arthur?” you repeat, bare feet falling in succession on the wooden floor.

Then it hits you – the swarm of what felt like dozens of other scents. The disgusting mixture of chalk and rotten food, pungent chemicals, and more. But somewhere in the middle, there’s the familiar smell of leather – the warmth of whiskey, and the freshness of rain.

And you notice – it’s raining.

There’s no more gunshots, not that you can hear, but now there’s the sound of a struggle outside. Gasps and coughs and grunts, among the sound of fists landing hard on flesh and bone. You flinch repeatedly at each blow and finally decide to peek through the window, where in the dark of night, you can barely make out the silhouettes of several people.

Two bodies lie still in the grass, water gathering in the wrinkles of their shirts. Three more are standing – one, you make out to be Arthur, while the other two are clearly trying to beat him to a pulp.

Emphasis on trying.

With a well placed kick to the gut, Arthur sends another one flying, and now it’s just him and the seemingly equally large man left.

You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make a good guess. Why else would a group of alphas swarm to one spot when an omega’s in heat? The thought makes you sick, and you cover your mouth, slumping against the wall by the window and forcing the bile down. 

It takes seemingly forever, but after a while, the sound dies down. One more glance out the window confirms that Arthur is the only one left standing – because of course he is – and the sight of his outline, standing against the bright of far-off lightning strikes, shoulders rising and falling with every labored breath – it makes you want to crawl right into his arms.

But as you open the door and the full strength of your scent floods down the path towards him, his body goes rigid. There’s something wrong.

“Arthur?” you call out a third time. Then a pause.

“... Arthur?”

He turns, and you see the spots of red splattered across his face. There’s this wild look in his eye – not the mix of affection and lust that you’d seen so long ago, but the pure animalistic drive of alpha pheromones. In the rain, the scent hits you. Yes – leather. Whiskey. The smell of dust after rain.

The heat pools in your blood, but so, too, does your body call you to run.

And you do.

_

Oh, you want the third part? The lovely, lovely smut? Check out my ao3

[laniidae-passerine]

don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man

[zehl0w]

Zenitsu agatsuma has got to be the biggest egg I have ever seen in my entire life

[stardust-sunset]

hot take but maybe people should stop harassing/stalking the outsiders cast.