#it was from a friend which obviously made it sting less

[weaver-z]

I just received an insult so funny I don't even think I can be mad about it

[dreamlessimp]

— poster

itoshi rin x reader | 0.9k

you go to his game, and he gets mad

your notifications for football games had gone from a necessity, to a minor inconvenience. at first, they allowed you to watch many of rin’s games. it was a way to get closer, and worked well enough.

when he left though, the alerts began to sting in a way that was ever so dull.

still, eventually, you were the fortunate receiver of a welcome surprise—rin would be playing near your house.

disappointing as it was that he hadn’t told you, you were already used to it. you’d begun to speak less and less as time quickly passed, so it served no surprise. still, you tried to cling to the hope that you’d grow closer yet again.

not long after receiving the game notice, you decided to make a sign, a poster of sorts. something to cheer his name, and remind him of yours.

after acquiring poster paper, you pulled open a marker and began the meticulous job of outlining his given name.

resisting the urge to add heats, stars, anything to take up space, you elected to simply adorn the still-white paper with words of wished luck and victory.

though, you quickly fell to the urges and the once crisp white paper was turned into a rainbow you weren’t exactly proud of, but were happy to look at.

the day of his game, you happily grabbed your poster and made your way into the stadium. your seat was close enough to the field that you hoped your probably-just-friend would be able to spare you a glance.

the minutes after his game proved a bigger surprise than you could have possibly considered. not only did rin exclusively seek you out—but he was mad. at you.

you blinked back your shock. “what?”

rin’s eyes widened and he scowled. “i asked why the hell you came.” his voice was far too cold for comfort.

“i’ve come to so many of your games rin.” you choked out. 

“so? i’m asking you why.” he spat.

you were dejected. there was no sense or reason in his anger. it was so nonsensical that there was truly no point in clapping back.

“dammit rin.” you spoke quietly before turning around to leave, eyes as blank as rin’s were cold.

on the way back to your home, you throw away the sign. it’s just a coincidence that you chose the garbage bin outside of the home of itoshi rin.

hours later, rin texts you. ‘i’m sorry.’ he says. you’d have been shocked to find how much he meant it.

he hated his performance in the game. sure, he had scored, but it wasn’t the kind of goal that he wanted to score, the conditions were all wrong and it wasn’t right.

though, he despised his stupid anger at you even more. you had attended his game—which he’d never even told you about—with a sign. one that was obviously homemade no less, so clearly made by you and you alone unlike the so many printed signs he’d seen even that game alone.

he was, horribly stupid.

‘i’m sorry.’ you read from your phone. scoffing, you shut off the phone to sit on your bed, once again staring at the ceiling as you’d been doing for who knows how long.

whether you blamed yourself or rin, whether he had the right to be mad or you did, your mind was too thick to determine. what you knew though, was that you missed the rin you used to know so well.

soon, rin had a vague thought that he needed to stop his lonely pity party, and gathered up his garbage to throw away.

he absolutely did not expect to see that damned sign you made inside of his own garbage bin.

at the sight, the outside of his eyes filled with an unexpected liquid prompting him to instinctively reach up to scratch the pointless sensation.

in a haze, he threw in his trash and carefully picked up the largely undamaged sign. with it held carefully in his undeserving hands, he took it home.

rin took it into his room, where he propped it up on his dresser. from his position at his desk, he could just see it fall from the corner of his eye.

he walked back to once again prop it up, and stood as it wavered, and then fell once again. 

realizing it would not stand on his own, with a glance at your large writing proclaiming his own name, he walked over to the side of his bed and propped up your colorful sign with the soft plushie of a character he did not recognize, that you had once given to him.

it truly made sense that the few sources of color in his room came from you. 

allowing himself to dramatically fall back onto his bed, he gazed at his boring ceiling and waited for the minutes to tick by and for the dread to dissipate from his tired body.

you were wondering for possibly the thousandth time whether or not to respond to rin, when, yet again, you received another call.

letting it ring out, you finally decided to turn off your phone.

with your phone off, you missed the text he instantly regretted sending, but was entirely set on carrying out; ‘i’m coming over.’

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Trouble: cbf!soap x reader

Johnny always got into trouble, though mostly because he was doing the right thing but in a way that was less conventional.

You’d lost count of how many fights he had gotten into because someone was being picked on or someone had been acting so rude he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He always had a problem with speaking out against injustice whenever he saw it. He just couldn’t help but advocate against it.

He had more detentions on his record than anyone you knew but his high grades kept him from being suspended or expelled.

But besides his willingness to get into altercations when necessary, he also tended to get himself hurt often.

In the eighth grade he had a wonderful idea involving his bike.

“You have to wear a helmet!” You forced it onto his head.

“You’re worse than me mam.” He rolled his eyes but complied. “I don’t need the helmet because I’m not going to crash.”

You shook your head, eyeing the strange set up he had made.

A makeshift ramp to make it over a ditch that was pretty wide and steep. Johnny was your best friend but you had little faith that he would be able to jump across it without either hurting himself or breaking his bike.

You could only think about the million different ways this could end, and he could probably die.

“Johnny, I don’t know about this.”

“Don’t worry, bonnie. I’m an expert.”

Johnny was not an expert.

He ended up with a cast for the rest of the summer, which had put him in a bad mood. Once he got out of the ER, you were right by his side ready to remedy his grumpiness.

“Casts are cool.” You tried but he pouted.

“Cannae do anything with it on.” He grumbled as the two of you got into his mom’s car.

Once you were back home the two of you decided to stay away from any bikes and ramps.

“Can I sign it?”

“Obviously…did I look cool?”

You laughed as you signed his cast, oblivious to the slight blush on his features.

“Very cool.”

Junior year he made a promise.

It was a promise to himself, a wish that you’d always be by his side even when he was gone. He’d hold on to something of yours or maybe he’d send letters, something of you he could have when he was in basic training.

He was at the lake when it happened. It was just after you spoke to him about why he wanted to go and he felt…empty.

The damage of him forgetting you had sunk deep within you, and you basically told him that you expected to happen the moment he went away.

He didn’t want to believe that was true. He’d never forget you, in fact, he was sure you were the only thing that was going to keep him going when he left.

His mind had been too busy, too full of thoughts and he needed to clear them.

He was going to take a dip back in the water one last time before you both left. He dove back in but failed to notice a log and busted his chin against it.

“Jesus, you could’ve drowned.” You scolded him as you frantically grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

“I wasn’t gonna drown.” He dismissed you and held the towel firmly against the stinging wound.

Johnny watched the worry on your face and frowned before wincing when pain surged through his face.

He gave you a gentle squeeze on your waist to reassure you and you looked him the eyes.

For a split second he thought about kissing you. He thought about how if he kissed you hard enough you’d understand everything that was going on in his mind. You’d understand he wasn’t trying to push you away, he just needed to get out.

He needed to prove to himself he was worth something. He needed to prove to you he was worth something.

“You might need stitches.” Your words cut off his thoughts and he realized he had been leaning close to you.

“Give it a couple washes and I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes. “Get a new scar probably.”

“You and your scars.”

“Makes me look tough!”

“Yeah and this one will show you’ve got a thick skull.”

“Hey!”

A/n: back to our regularly scheduled program of angst

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce

[jarofstyles]

Oh Baby, Baby! 4

It’s been a very long time but 🤭🤭🤭 here we go! Oh baby, part 4!

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Warnings: pregnancy

WC: 3.6k

—-

Harry was absolutely insane.

Y/N was positive about that. She sat on the couch as she watched him bob about the kitchen, installing baby locks. Baby locks- and her bump was still little. Despite all of this, though, she found it stupidly attractive. His desire to be a dad, his dedication to the baby that was just a tiny little seed inside of her stomach, his already overprotective soul, it made her fall just a bit deeper.

The shift had been evident and obvious and neither of them had any awkwardness about it. It was no longer two best friends making a child- they were in it together. Harry was just as dedicated to Y/N as he was to their child. She had found that out relatively quickly. When they’d gone to the bar to meet up with their friends, Y/N and Harry both sipping on plain sodas as they caught up with people. He had gone to the bar to get her a bowl of cherries that she had been obviously craving since he had caught her looking at longingly in Sarah’s drink. He’d been approached by a very pretty girl that had her stomach twisting, seeing her place her hand on his arm which she had wanted to rip off violently. He had taken the slip of paper from her and nodded before heading back with the cherries he had paid a stupid amount for.

She had been quiet with his return, his heavy arm sloping around her shoulder like nothing had happened. He sunk back into his comfortable space, kissing the side of her head as she took one of the cherries to pop in her mouth. It felt bit hard to swallow when she did, the burning in her gut outweighing the sweetness of the cherry. Y/N hadn’t been able to hold back, turning to him after staying quiet for a bit.

“Are y’gonna go for it?” She asked,, trying to feign nonchalance. She had done a very poor job of it, though. Y/N was never one with believable poker faces. Harry could read her like a book.

“Who? Girl at the bar?” He asked with a quirked brow, shaking his head at her irritation when she nodded. Her slight pout and her irritated brows made him want to coo at her. She was so cute. “Why the hell would I do that when you’re right next to me? You’re the mother of my child. I dont need to look elsewhere. I adore you.” He turned her face, pinching her chin and pressing his lips to hers firmly for a chaste but loaded kiss. “Threw it in the trash on the way back. Told her I was an expecting father. Don’t need to go searching anywhere else.”

And that was that.

Now, doting dad and committed… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever their label was, he was exceedingly good at it. Phenomenal, really. He kept the fridge stocked with jars of the sweetened cherries and switched his cologne to a less spicy one because as much as she liked the other one, her pregnancy hormones absolutely could not stand it. He made sure to set up tea for her and get coffee if out because mournfully she was also sick whenever she smelled it. She was just hormonal and unhappy that someone else had hit on him.

Y/N had been grumpy lately. She didn’t mean to be, but with bouts of morning sickness and her breasts feeling a bit tender, a weird craving for fried chicken tenders with peanut butter, she felt irritated all the time. There wasn’t much anyone could do for that. That didn’t mean Harry deserved to be on the receiving end of her grumpiness, though. She felt a bit bad as she watched him walk back over to test out the locks, not seeming to be bothered by it visibly but… she knew he valued her a lot and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was being mean in purpose.

Tears grew in her eyes, the sting making her even more upset. She kept fucking crying and she had been lucky to keep it from him this far, but it had only been a matter of time. A quiet sniffle was accompanied by rubbing over her eyes, not wanting tears to fall before she spoke. “I’m sorry, H.” She said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. Harry had quickly turned to look at her, concern etching over his features as he returned back to her side. “I shouldn’t have tried to start a fight. It’s not fair and you’re s-so lovely to me and I get scared you’re going to find someone who isn’t pregnant and whiny and eats weird things-“ she hiccuped, glassy eyes looking at his beautiful hands. It was hard to face him.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Y/N was full of emotion lately but Harry had thought he made it clear that he wasn’t ever going to leave. “Sweet girl… hey.” He grabbed her chin with his thumb, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I’m not upset. I didn’t even know you had seen that. I’d never do that. I don’t want to. What I want is right here.” He moved to cup her cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Her stuttered breathing had him squatting in front of her, getting them eye level. This needed to be cleared up.

As much as he had been thorough in telling her that she was his, he hadn’t been proper in his declaration of need for her. “Look at me.” His instruction got her to look right at his eyes, a harsh swallow taken as she held her breath. “There is no one else. Maybe it’s my fault for not being clear, but I’m yours. Your partner in all of this, if you’ll have me.” Gentle strokes of the damp skin and the shaky breath exhaled as she took another second to absorb his words. “We made a sweet little baby inside of you, we’ve bonded but… m’not just here for the baby. I’m here for you. You’re what I want, and I’m sorry that I haven’t outright said it yet. I thought you knew how much I utterly adore you.” He got on his knees between her legs, still able to look at her face on as he brought her face towards him.

Delicately, he kissed over her skin. Feather light, soft and breezy, he kissed her forehead, her nose, her eyelids as she closed them to feel his affection. He was so serious about her that it grounded her a bit. Finally letting her body unclench, leaning her face into the pecks when he finished off with her lips. “I adore you too.” She mumbled back, holding on to his wrists. “I’m sorry. I- I kind of knew but we never spoke about it and when I saw you talking to her my mind panicked a little bit.” It was silly of her. Harry was right in saying he had made it clear she was his- her still slightly over sensitive cunt was proof of that alone- but the lack of clarification had gotten to her.

“Don’t need an apology from you. I know that if I saw a man talking to you, flirting… handing you his number? I’d be very annoyed. Not at you, but.. the idea. It pisses me off and probably wasn’t fun for you to watch.” He sighed, pulling back slightly to stare at her. “M’here for you and little baby inside of you. You both are my world. And I don’t want you questioning it again. Alright?” He squeezed her cheeks slightly with his hands, making her laugh through the last of her emotional tears.

“Got it.” She sniffed, welcoming the kiss he paired it with. “I- I still don’t think we need baby locks yet.”

“S’called being proactive, my darling.” He chuckled against her mouth. “Keep up.”

—————

Harry’s hand was threaded through hers as they left the appointment. Y/N was happy that as she was in her second trimester, but even more so, she was amused at her boyfriends antics.

He was diligent and doting on her, more than he had ever been before. The friend she had before had erupted from his cocoon, showing her a new side to him that she hadn’t anticipated. Protective, present, and so damn affectionate. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. It wasn’t just sexually, either. The man always had his hand on her, lips pressing against some part of her body, fingers tangled with hers. It was very new, but very welcomed.

“So… soon they’ll be able to hear.” Harry mumbled as they walked towards the car. “So we’re going to have to play them some good music. Got to be careful what my child consumes because I will not have a kid with bad music taste.” He gave Y/N a look. “No radio for right now. I’ve got playlists, going to get the family plan for Spotify or something and then y’can use that.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, approaching his black SUV with a shake of the head. “Harry, I adore you, but please.” She gave him a look. “They’re going to be perfect. With a father like you, there’s no damn way our child isn’t going to know the ups and downs of rock n’ roll history.” Harry was quick to open up the passenger side door, holding on to her hand as he helped her get into the seat. “Besides, it’s mainly my heartbeat they’ll hear. They won’t start hearing a lot of external noise until the end of this trimester.” He had been on the baby websites.

“I know that. But we have to be safe, don’t we?” He was deadly serious, too. “We don’t know the exact time they’ll be able to hear it so…” he shrugged, making sure she was buckled before closing the door. Harry was already an active parent and Y/N couldn't fault him for that.

When he was in his seat and buckled, his hand moved the car into gear before finding its new favorite spot on her thigh. It still gave her little butterflies to feel him touch her so intimately, so casually. These adjustments had made her exceptionally happier in the last few weeks.

“What did you want for lunch, petal?” He asked softly, the music playing lowly after Harry adjusted the playlist. “Is it still chicken tenders? Or are you wanting something else?” The cravings had varied lately. Harry was never sure what exactly to get her so he waited for explicit instructions so they didn’t waste time or money.

“Can I have Taco Bell?” She asked, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Want one of the freeze things and.. maybe we get the taco box? With all the tacos so we can have it for later too?” Her stomach was growling, in desperate need of some food. “Want some of the chips and cheese too. Maybe 2. Your child is making me stupidly hungry.” The grumble made him laugh. It was very much his fault, and he wouldn’t change it.

“Course we can. Tomorrow I’m going to the grocery so I can get us some good food at home. Strawberries and greens for your smoothies.” While Harry was never one to dictate how she ate, he did encourage her to eat healthy when possible. He would cook for them since they’d basically moved in together, but Y/N was feeling too lazy to cook most of the time.

“Hm. Yeah, I think that’s good. I’d like some crisps and stuff to make dip… maybe some rice. I’ve been craving baby carrots with ranch a few times but we didn’t have it.” It hadn’t been so much that she would ask him to go out and get it. She was still able to go but Harry did like to take care of her so far. It had been a bit of an adjustment but she was learning to love it. “Y’know, you’re spoiling me. Going to make a monster out of me. I’m liking this ‘having Harry go to the shops’ thing.” Her grin was wide as she looked over to him in time to see him fondly roll his eyes.

“Well… I’m going to take care of you. You’re my girl, you’re carrying my baby. I’ve always liked spoiling you. Just didn’t do it as much because it would have been a bit weird.” He admitted. The sun was high in the sky and the clouds fluffy and white. The air was warm enough for them to have the windows down a bit as they drove, and Harry really felt like his heart was full. Just getting to experience this and spoil Y/N the way he had always had a weird itch to do? It was fulfilling a spot in his chest that had been vacant for a while.

“That’s good then. I like being spoiled so I think this could work out.”

—-

“Harry!”

The call of his name from across the house had him jolting, running from the kitchen where he had been preparing their meal, up the steps and down the hall to their bedroom. You never yelled for him like that. His brain had been on auto pilot, running over as fast as he could in his socks- dangerous- to find Y/N standing with wide eyes as their folded laundry sat in sorted piles on the bed.

Her hands were over her bump, visible in the cornflower blue dress that hung over her form. Her eyes were wide as she turned to look at him, mouth open as he approached. His hands immediately grabbed her face, looking her over. “What? What’s wrong?” He pressed. “Baby- y’cant yell for me like that and not tell me. Is there something wrong?”

“No! I don’t- I don’t think so?” She squeaked. “I felt them move! Like… s’not a kick or anything but it felt real this time! Not just the flutters. It’s like… squirming?” Her eyes were wide as she looked down at her belly, the shock of truly feeling their baby moving around inside of her taking her for a ride. “I didn’t mean to worry you but I just- I panicked and was excited. I’m sorry.” The woman hadn’t meant to worry him too much.

Harry felt himself melt in both relief and happiness at the clarification. His heart rate could finally slow down. Perching himself on the end of the bed, he was mindful of the laundry piles as he pulled her body in between his legs. “I’m not angry, Angel. Not in the slightest. You just scared me. Thought something was wrong. M’much happier with this result.” Hands moved from her hips to over her forming bump, stroking over it tenderly.

She had told him about flutters recently, how they’d made her excited- but this was a very new and exciting development. “I didn’t want you to miss out.” She peeped, looking down at him. “In case you could feel something. I know you love them a lot already and I didn’t want to keep the first couple times.”

Harry was in love. He knew that before, but her little moment now had solidified it even more. His lips pressed over the clothed belly, tilting his head up to look at her with his eyes full of fondness. “Thank you. I researched it and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel much until the end of this trimester, but I love that you wanted to tell me.” The moment had been more than enough for him. “What did it feel like to you, though? Tell me.” Holding her body to him and his chin against the bump, he listened intently.

“It was like… I don’t know exactly. They were squirming and bumped into the side of the wall? It’s hard to explain. It freaked me out at first.” A breathy left slightly moved his face as it rested on the belly. “Because I sometimes forget that there’s a real human in there growing. It’s incredible, isn’t it?” She placed her hands over his. “Like a little flower. Planted the seed and now the sprout is growing a flower.”

“Hm. Little sprout? I like that.” He turned to whisper into her belly. “Do you like that, Sprout? S’a cute little name your Mumma and I can call you. We’re going to find out if you’re a girl or boy later on but… it’s better than calling you ‘baby’, hm?” Harry more than liked that. “Can choose to be whatever you’d like, but think you’re going to be stuck with the Sprout nickname forever. S’already stuck. You’re going to be married with children and I’ll be calling you it.” He joked, rubbing her hips as he looked back up at Y/N.

She was so beautiful. Sometimes it struck him in the chest, like right now, how lucky he was to have been given her by chance. She had suggested this and they hadn’t anticipated this sort of thing happening, but it was the best thing to ever happen to him. She had that pregnancy glow, the beam of her smile. No more morning sickness and instead getting to enjoy her bump for a while. The leg cramps hurt a bit, but she and Harry worked on it with the massagers and vitamins. She was truly thriving, and he was elated.

“You’re so lucky, Sprout. Me and you. We get your Mumma, and she’s the most perfect woman. You will be grateful when you come out to meet her.” He felt her gentle hands stroke through his messy hair as he continued to speak. “Hope you’re nice to her the rest of the time you’re sprouting. She’s giving you some good genetics to work with here. M’gonna have the prettiest babies with her.”

“Babies?” Y/N rose a brow. “Who said we are having more than this one?” Her heart beat a bit faster as it did sink in. He meant it. He wanted the long haul. It was so exciting, so comforting to know. Harry reminded her often how how much he adored her, how he was proud to be hers, but that confirmation made it feel way more real.

“Well.. s’your body, so you. But I’d like to be the one who gives you more babies if you decide that I can.” He blinked up at her. “I’m more than okay with one, if that’s all you’d like. But… I would definitely like some more if that’s something you’d offer.” Obviously he would never pressure her into anything she didn’t want, but it was something he had been envisioning.

A full house. A dog or two. A set dining room table and sports practices, plays, dance recitals. Siblings spats and groans when Harry would kiss her. Picnics and beach days where he would remind the children to walk, do not run to the water. Applying sunscreen to grumbling kids and holding Y/N’s hand through all of their firsts. Perhaps it was a big dream to ask to follow through, but it was something he desperately wanted.

“You’d really want that? We haven’t even had this one yet.” She asked softly, surprise evident in her tone. “You like them that much?”

“Love them. And you.” He looked up at her again, pulling his lips from her stomach, letting the words sit in the silence for a second. “Love you a lot, Y/N. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Want to build a family with you, a home. Not just a house or a flat. Want to do it all with you. You’ve been my best friend for a long time but I love you a lot more than that. You’re the person I’ve always wanted to be with but didn’t particularly know it. Didn’t allow myself to think of it. Now that I have a chance, I’m taking it. Keeping it.” And her.

Eventually he would propose, but he didn’t want her to think it was just from the baby fever. He loved her wholly before this but it had grown and changed shape and color. She felt like gold. Bright, shiny, priceless. Better than anything else he had ever seen and she had him wrapped around her finger.

“I’d like that.” She caressed the tops of his cheeks with her knuckles. “You’re my best friend too… and- and I think that there’s no one better suited for the job as the father of my children than you. I’ve loved you for a long time and it’s changed the meaning, like you said but.. I like that idea.” Building a home and family with him. Something so perfect to them. It wouldn’t always be, but they’d love it despite the imperfections and hiccups. She knew his heart, and it was pure.

“But to be honest? To me, you’ve always felt like home.”

[bambisnc]

the leaving someone at the airport trope is so so crazy to me because what do you mean we know we love each other so, so dearly that it actually feels like how a thread would when it's stretched too far apart. what do you mean we have to say goodbye because we both know it's better for you to leave. we know you'll get better opportunities there, we know your reason to leave is totally valid and this is not a fucking movie with the trope that “oh love <3 love is all i need i'll leave everything to be with you <3” and even if that is, in fact, what they feel they should do you won't let them because you want what's best for them, even if it completely destroys you - one painfully beautiful memory at a time.

and oh my god the actual moment when they have to leave. you're there at the airport, they say goodbye to all their friends, family, whoever there is with them but you just can't bring yourself to say it. obviously it goes unspoken that you both want the other to wait for you but how could either of you say that? how could either of you ask the one you love to suffer, to be in pain, to be without that one constant in their life and not seek other companionship? so in the end you just end up not saying anything. there's too many people, there's not enough words, you can't express all the feelings you have unless they physically become one with your skin and even then you doubt it'll be enough, how could it ever be enough? but of course you can't let this show for fear that the other who seems to be oh so calm and cool about this would start to question their decision. 

the worst feeling though, is when the doubts start to creep in. what if.. the reason they seem so unaffected is because you simply just don't mean that much to them? you know it's logical to leave, hell you more or less forced them to make that decision but it stings so, so much to think that they may have, subconsciously or not wanted to get.. away from you?

but hey what can you even do now the plane's already left; they're gone. maybe forever. they’ll never be yours again but what if they weren’t ever yours to begin with? maybe they'll move on, maybe you'll move on, maybe you'll both be reduced to nothing but a nostalgic memory, to old playlists, to borrowed clothes, to photos in that special folder named after the other; none of which you can bear to part with. the dazed, out of sorts state you're thrust into exists like an omnipresent cloud but you can't, no you must not let it affect your daily life.

so you go about everything just as usual even if for no other reason than to satisfy that little spirit of spite and yeah you hear about them every now and then; it's not like everyone around you has a lingering grudge (or a crush? to be fair, in a way they are both rather fitting, aren't they?) against them, you can't help but wonder if they hear about you, think about you as well? if they feel all the feelings that torment you every second of every day till you're not even sure what exactly it is that you're feeling anymore and if all of what you're feeling is still for them or is it somehow, for some reason targeted towards yourself? for falling for them in the first place

wc : 614 dang 2 away from 616 /pensive notes : man. last ep of friends s1 really got me in my feels huh. anyw trying out a new font?? (made some more edits bc the font was not working out + grammar rarely ever grammars like how it's supposed to grammar) (edit #69420 WHY DOES THE FONT KEEP UN-SMOLIFYING??) also -> rb's + feedback appreciated!! ^_^

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[imaginedisish]

I Want You To Love Me (Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello friends!!! Here is the Bruce Wayne fic I promised!! This is a combination of the last two Bruce x Reader requests I got (reader finding his journal/a big fight with Bruce), so I hope you guys enjoy!! I based this on “I Want You To Love Me,” by Fiona Apple. It felt like it fit. Next post will most likely be chapter two of “Two Weeks,” (my Din Djarin chaptered fic). Also, lmk if you want a part 2 of this with smut. See you guys soon!

Summary: You and Bruce get into your biggest fight yet, which leads you to find something you shouldn’t have seen. 

Warnings: Major mutual pining, lots of angst but eventual fluff. Cursing most likely, mentions of gun shots/wounds/blood/typical cannon violence. Probably some grammatical errors I didn’t catch. 

Word Count: 3,095

The rain violently tapped against the window, threatening to break through the glass and flood the room. You almost wish it would. At least that would stop Bruce’s unwavering tirade on your supposedly irresponsible and dangerous behavior. 

You had gotten a bit too close to one of the Penguin’s bodyguards during a bust at the Iceberg Lounge. You thought you were helping Bruce, keeping the guards off him as he went in for the Penguin. You underestimated their strength and overestimated yours. 

And then, suddenly, as if out of nothing, you were dripping blood. You hadn’t even felt the stinging pain stemming from your waist until a few minutes after the shot had rung out.

You didn’t mean to get shot. That obviously was not a part of your plan. But, it happened. Luckily, the wound was completely external, and only just barely brushed up against you. Alfred was able to patch you up in seconds. It had cost you the mission, but you were simply thankful to be alive. 

Bruce, on the other hand, was unfathomably mad. This was easily the angriest you had ever seen him. Once Alfred closed your wound, Bruce began his assault on your decision-making skills.

“What made you think that was gonna work?” He spits, his brows furrowing as he walks towards you. You watch Alfred back out of the bedroom out of the corner of your eye. You push yourself to sit up against the headboard of Bruce’s bed, grabbing at your side as the wound continues to sting. 

You inhale deeply, shutting your eyes, mincing your words in a way to avoid further persecution from Bruce. “I thought I could take them,” You explain, your voice shaky in a mixture of pain and fear. “I guess I was wrong.” 

Bruce shakes his head as he reaches the foot of the bed. “You guess you were wrong?” He scoffs, his fingers gripping tightly around the footboard, his hands forming fists as his knuckles turn white. “That’s the understatement of the year.” His eyes refuse to break away from yours, ripping into your soul, judging you for the crimes you seemingly committed. 

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as Bruce’s relentless words fill your brain. He was right. He was forced to stop what he was doing to save you. The Penguin got away, and you were left with less leverage and strength than you had started the day with. You had completely ruined the mission. It was all your fault. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You choke. You pull your knees into your chest, clutching them tightly inside your arms. “I didn’t mean to-,” 

He cuts you off immediately. “But you did, and it cost us everything,” He shouts. He finally breaks his eye contact with you, his head hanging in between his shoulders. You knew this was serious, but not this serious. This was about something else, and you weren’t going to allow him to project his stresses and fears onto you. 

“It happened, and it’s over. We’re going to be fine,” You say, letting go of your legs to swing them around to the side of the bed. You place your feet on the wooden floors below, standing up and walking to Bruce’s side. “We’ll keep moving for-,”

He cuts you off again, his eyes opening as his head turns towards you to meet your gaze. “We?” His voice is harsh and heavy. “There’s no we anymore.”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. His words repeat over and over again in your head. This was far too overwhelming for you to handle, especially at a time like this. You blink just once and an army of tears storm down your cheeks. 

“There stopped being an us when…” He trails off, as if he’s gauging whether he should say what’s on his mind. “When your brother died.” 

You’re immediately brought back to election night. Your brother had just been elected mayor of Gotham. You had convinced Bruce to take the night off, despite his pleas to attend the celebration as Batman, lurking in the shadows. He gave into you, as he so often did, and you both spent the night as civilians. 

And then, all hell broke loose. You watched your brother get shot, and from the wings of the stage, you were unable to do anything. 

What Bruce didn’t realize was that you blamed yourself. Bruce had been right, and had you listened to him, your brother wouldn’t be dead. 

That was the last straw, the thing that set you off. Bruce could attack your abilities, criticize your intelligence, but he could not blame the death of your brother on you. You figured the man who had been your best friend for your entire life would never say something so rude, so aggressive. He took it a step too far, and you weren’t going to let him win now. 

You turn away from him and walk towards the door. You pause, turning to face him, hoping he could redeem himself. “So you’re really blaming all this on me?” You ask, your voice cold, laden with anger. 

Bruce is silent. He doesn’t look at you. He keeps his hands pressed against the footboard of his bed, his back facing you. His silence is deafening. It says more than enough. 

“Wow,” You mutter, forcing your legs to move back towards Bruce. You wanted him to hear you, to see how upset he made you. You stumble as you walk, having forgotten about your injury, and as if by instinct, Bruce rushes over to you. He grabs a hold of your wrist, and you try your best to wiggle out of his grasp, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Why are you helping me?” You question, resentment bursting in each word that falls from your lips. “Aren’t I your problem?”

“No,” He barely whispers, as if he didn’t want you to hear him. His words shock you. If it wasn’t you, then what was it? What was making him act this way towards you?

He guides you through the dark, wooden door of his room and out to the hallway. After a few steps, Bruce stops, and twists the knob of a closed door. The room inside is massive, but not as large as Bruce’s. There’s a canopy bed in the center, dawned in white sheets. Most of the walls are covered in wooden bookshelves, and the ones that aren’t reveal the room to be a pale green. 

It was beautiful, as if it was made for you. 

Once he’s sure you’ve got your footing, he lets go of your wrist. You hate to admit it, but you instantly miss the contact of his skin on yours. It’s a feeling you’ve done your best to fight, a feeling that you’ve pushed down over the years. 

You shove the thoughts to the back of your head and wobble over to the bed. You sit down on the plush mattress. It’s far more comfortable than you had anticipated, and you feel like you’re practically melting into the sheets.

But still, despite the room that’s clearly been made to match your tastes, the warm comforter, and Bruce’s denial that you’re to blame, his words continued to plague you. 

There stopped being an us when your brother died…

You couldn’t hold back anymore. “If I’m not your problem,” You start, immediately regretting saying anything at all. But there’s no backing down now, you have to commit to the role you’ve given yourself. “Then what is? What’s going on?” 

Bruce is silent again. His hands press down into the pockets of his sweatpants as he stares down at his feet. He isn’t going to tell you. He isn’t going to say a single word. You watch him take shallow breaths, one right after another. He finally looks up at you, running a hand through the bangs that lined his forehead. 

But again, he doesn’t say a word. 

He turns towards the door and grabs the knob. His steps are heavy, as if his mind is struggling to control his body. He’s unsure of himself. It’s clear that part of him wants to stay, to apologize, to make things right, while the other part of him is forever trapped in the revolving door of making Gotham a better place. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, forcing him to stop for just a split second. But you already know the answer. There’s a brief moment of silence, where all you can hear is the faint sound of the central air whirling in the hidden vents of the tower. You wonder what else is hiding in this place.

“Out,” He says curtly. You could’ve guessed that. 

And then he was gone. 

——————————————————————————————————————

You’re starting to get restless sitting in the room by yourself. You aren’t tired, especially not when Bruce is out by himself. Sure, you messed up every now and again, but most of the time you were an asset to Bruce. You remember him saying once that he was shocked that he had ever done the Gotham Project without you. All of that was over now, though. 

You decided you’d wait for him in the cave. You needed to finish the discussion. There was no way that this was how things were going to end. And so, you push yourself out of bed, clutching your wound in the process. You were surprised at the lack of pain as you walked towards the door and out into the hallway. The stairs weren’t too much of a problem either. 

“You should really be in bed,” Alfred mutters. You turn your head to face him and smile softly. “Master Bruce asked me to make sure you don’t move a muscle. He’s quite worried about your condition.” 

“I’m fine, really,” You ensure, turning towards the stairs down to the cave. “I’m just gonna head down for a bit.” Alfred nods in response, and you carefully start down the stairs. 

You immediately notice that Bruce’s suit and bike are gone. You knew that it was Batman and not Bruce that had left, but this confirmed it. You had silently hoped that he had just gone for a ride to blow off some steam, but you knew that wasn’t the case. That would never be the case for him. You took a deep breath, hoping that he’d be alright by himself. 

You shuffle against the cold ground, and you make a mental note to wear shoes next time you’re down here. You wondered how Bruce spent so much time in the cave. It was uncomfortable, freezing, and rather unwelcoming. 

Bruce had left his music on. I Want You To Love Me by Fiona Apple reverberates against the uninsulated walls of the room. 

I've waited many years

Every print I left upon the track

Has led me here

And next year it'll be clear

This was only leading me to that

And by that time

I hope that you love me

You Love me

After a few moments of walking around the cave, you finally sit down in a swivel chair in front of a desk. You look down to see a notebook, and you open it up. You start to read through the pages, each filled with data and logs regarding the missions you and Bruce have gone on. It doesn’t seem to be a personal journal, so you continue on. 

But you were completely wrong. 

You hit a less statistical entry. It started normal, discussing this last night out, but then quickly turned into something else entirely. 

It was about you. You know you shouldn’t read it, but you can’t help it. If he won’t tell you what’s going on, you needed to find out for yourself. And so, you started to read the page:

I don’t know what to do. I have to keep her safe. She’s all I have left. If she ends up like her brother, I won’t be able to live with myself. 

She got shot tonight, and it was my fault. I didn’t have her back, and if I just stayed a little closer to her the whole thing could have been avoided. I was so angry with myself that I took it out on her…I made her think it was her fault.  But it wasn’t, none of this ever has been. This, and all of it, is on me. 

I need to get her away from all this. I should’ve never let her join the project. She’s going to be another casualty, another thing I can’t control. The second her brother died, I should have told her to leave me, to leave Gotham. Keeping her here would be selfish. It doesn’t matter that I want her to stay with me, or that she thinks she wants to stay. She deserves to be happy, to live a life that means something. 

I didn’t even know how to speak to her tonight. Her sitting in my bed, bleeding out, it was too much to handle. This is it, this is the last straw.

I can’t tell her how I feel, especially not now. It’s too late for that. And this hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt before.

But I love her, more than words can say. 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and they roll down your cheeks. You were shocked, but it all made sense now. His cold and callous attitude, his silence, the comment about your brother.  None of it was rooted in hating you or blaming you. It was rooted in loving you. 

Your breaths are shallow and uncontrollable. You feel like you’ve just ran a mile, like you hiked up a mountain and then proceeded to fall down the other side of it. Those were the words you had been waiting to hear for years. Your tears drip softly down your cheeks, dropping to the pages of the journal below. 

The sound of a motorcycle screeching off in the distance, followed by the sound of the garage being pulled up, rips you from your thoughts. Your head whips over towards the noise, and you watch as Bruce enters the cave. 

He notices you and your tears immediately, quickly parking his bike and taking off his helmet. He rushes over to you, kneeling down to your level, his hands firmly grasping your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. 

“Hey,” He whispers, his demeanor completely different from before. “I’m so sorry,” He says, repeating the words as if he’s afraid you can’t hear them. 

Bruce turns his head towards the desk and sees the journal. You watch him carefully, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows harshly. He studies the journal a bit more closely, and his eyes widen as he realizes what page you’ve landed on. 

You take a deep breath, ready to apologize as firmly and intensely as you possibly can. You wipe your tears away. “Listen, I didn’t mean-,”

“I love you,” He cuts you off. Your heart beats rapidly against your chest. You’re shocked at his kindness. His hands grip your thighs a bit tighter. “You deserve to hear it from me.” 

“Bruce, I-,”

He cuts you off again, “But you need to leave. I can’t lose you too.” You can see the tears welling up in his eyes. There’s a soft, bittersweet smile playing upon his lips as his fights back his tears. “I love you so much, you have no idea…” He trails off, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. He sniffles a bit, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. 

“I love you too, Bruce,” You whisper. “But I’m not leaving,” You say firmly, bringing a hand up to his cheek to swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. 

His hands leave your thighs and he stands up. You shiver at the lack of contact, instantly being reminded of the frigid temperature of the cave. You stand up and follow him as he walks over towards the other side of the room. He’s pacing nervously, unsure of what to do or say next. 

“You’re not supposed to love me,” He says, his back to you as he rests his hands against an open spot on a table. 

You shake your head. “I’ve loved you since we first met, Bruce,” You say, apprehensively taking a step closer to him. “And you aren’t going to lose me, I promise.”

He whips around to face you, his eyes red from exhaustion and crying. “You can’t promise that, you know you can’t.” He takes a step towards you, his hand coming up to rest on the nape of your neck. The touch sends chills down your spine. It was something you had wanted to feel for so long. “If I can’t protect you, then-,”

You cut him off this time, “I can protect myself,” You say, shivering as Bruce’s other hand snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. You were just inches away from his face, from his lips. The tension was palpable. “I’m staying. It’s not up for debate.” Your words are final, unwavering, firm. You’re not quite sure how you were able to get them out, given how Bruce continues to close the space between you and him. 

“Why do you want this?” He questions, his breath brushing against your cheek. He looks at you in disbelief. “You could live wherever you want, I’d make sure of that.”

You smile softly. “Because it wouldn’t be living without you.” 

And with that, his lips come crashing down onto yours. The tension resolves itself, melting away as he pushes himself closer to you, as if being flush against you just wasn’t enough. Bruce’s hand makes its way under your shirt, his fingers trailing across the skin of your back. 

His lips part from yours, but his arms keep you pressed against his chest. He pulls you in tighter as his head burrows into the crook of your neck. He’s savoring you, cherishing you, as if in seconds you’ll turn to dust, disappear into nothing. 

His lips brush against your ears. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” He whispers. 

“Me too.”

And now you had it.

And I know none of this'll matter in the long run

But I know a sound is still a sound around no-one

And while I'm in this body I want somebody to want

And I want what I want

And I want you to love me

[lovecore-fics]

The Frenemy

C!sapnap x AFAB!reader

smut

warnings: pet names, degrading, breeding

a/n: this doesn’t go with lore characters but had the nations/kingdoms in it! (mentions of las Nevadas) 

You and dream had been “enemies” ONLY because dream is a sore loser.

For context: you and dream were gambling at las nevadas after hours because quackity let you guys occasionally. Dream ran out of diamonds so instead of diamonds he offered his sword. Nightmare. Obviously like every other round won and took his sword home. 

Ever since then he wouldn't let sapnap or george talk to you and he himself wouldn't talk to you.

Which is why you're sitting here looking at the text from sapnap.

Sapnap: y/n please come over. I need a favor

Why was this man texting YOU behind his bestfriends back for one little favor- 

You were thinking of so many things he would ask you to do for him you zoned out.

Apparently you're not allowed to think for a moment because a couple seconds later you got another notification.

Sapnap: y/n hurry tf up- its important!

While you were walking to the best friend's shared house you started wondering if it was a trap.

your mind was racing with the possibilities of what's gonna happen when you arrive, some possibilities were even dirty…

When you got to the house you noticed only sapnaps horse was there which made you less terrified.

You walked in the house since it was just sapnap but when you looked up nobody was there.

“Sapnap?” you called out. 

The minute you yelled his name you heard a thud come from his room. 

Sapnap suddenly appeared in front of you; he seemed to be in some sort of pain.

“y/n i really trust you please promise me you wont judge what i'm about to say.” the texan said it surprised you that he let his guard down for a favor- he's usually “tough” and “masculine” but he's here right now asking, no. begging you not to judge him for a favor. 

“I won't sapnap what was so urgent?” you said hoping it was important enough to interrupt your time off from being security at quackity’s casino. 

 “I can't…undo something” he said looking down which made you look down but you didn't make it to the floor, you found something more interesting in sapnaps shorts.

“Sapnap-” you didn't mean to come off as scared but the look on sapnaps face made you realize that you looked scared- 

Sapnap looked like he had just seen a ghost. He looked more scared than i could possibly look-

“Im sorry” he kept repeating after the 3rd one i cut him off.

“It's ok sap- Calm down-” you said, getting closer to the man freaking out in front of you. 

He looked at you, also taking a step closer, looking down at you. you guys were now close enough you could feel his breath against your cheeks. 

“y/n can i-” he was cut off by you pressing your lips against his.

He put his hands on your hips pulling you closer to the point you could feel his boner through his pants and your skirt. 

“You look like such a whore” he said after pulling away from the kiss

“Says the one who texted me bc he didnt wanna jerk himself off” you said rolling your eyes and looking up at the taller man. 

The man caught you by surprise when he went after your neck. You could feel the heat from the blaze hybrids lips. 

Getting lost in the feeling of his lips on your neck made you let out a moan immediately covering your mouth right after. 

“No sweetheart i wanna hear you scream my name” he said dragging you over to the kitchen and bending you over the counter pulling up your skirt.

You heard the hybrid's pants drop to the floor and you arched your back to tease the man behind  you.

Your lighthearted teasing was interrupted when you felt a sting on your ass. He just SPANKED you. You didn't mind tho it felt good. Too good, you accidentally let out another moan. 

“Yeah i bet you like that you fucking slut.” his dick entered your pussy without any prep or warning. 

“Fuck! Sapnap-” you moaned and continued making lewd sounds while the male fucked you. 

“That's right scream my name baby” his thrusts got faster and deeper making more lewd sounds come out of you. 

“f-f-f-!” you couldn't ask him to go faster you could only moan, you were unable to talk. 

“Words darling” he slowed down his pace letting you speak.

“Faster please sir.” you finally were able to say.

“Anything for my pretty little slut” the man sped up his pace again going faster than before. 

You were lost in pleasure until you felt the male pull your hair making your back hit his chest. 

“Open your mouth darling” he looked into your eyes with nothing but lust. 

You did as you were told in fear of being denied an orgasm later on. So you opened your mouth and he spit in your mouth. 

“Swallow.” he told you and you did so smiling after. 

“breed me please” you mumbled not meaning to. 

“What was that sweetheart?” he cooed knowing exactly what you said. 

“Breed me!” you screamed out, the entire smp could probably hear. 

Sapnap went feral after those 2 words left your mouth. 

He fucked you faster and deeper than you could’ve imagined then you felt it. A knot in yout stomach ready to come undone. 

“C-cum” you moaned, closing your eyes. 

“Do it princess” he whispered in your ear

You came undone on his cock babbling random things even you didn't understand.

Quickly after sapnap came inside of you with one last thrust he pulled out. 

All of you and sapnaps thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened and there dream stood. 

[plushii-gutz]

Part 3, the finale of the Spooktacle special. The decrease in quality is noticeable, don't comment on that - I didn't plan on finishing this.

The walk back to the park was short. Glaishur was yet to learn his new friends name, as it seemed more interested in pulling at the ears of his mask than talking. He didn't mind this, however. Whatever made them more comfortable, even at the cost of his own comfort.

The party seemed to be coming to the beginning of the end, the final act starting as the cold celestial walked into the crowd. However, it seems the monster on stage - DJ Epic - is looking for her partner in music. Where had he run off to? She had to start any second now!

Attmoz found Glaishur rather quickly, glad to have him back by his side. His costume had held up well, though the mask had obviously been tinkered with. It must have annoyed him to the point where he painted over the goofy smile and made it nearly unrecognizable, now styled with streaks of red and darkened eyes. It was less silly, more cheesey. Glaishur found it funny, at least.

"Where's Smokey at?" He asked loudly, barely audible over the music.

"I think 'Noss is talkin' with Viola - we found her and some of her friends earlier! Where's Syncopite?"

"He's talking with some other monsters. Never thought I would see the day he'd socialized!"

His words were true. Syncopite seemed to be chatting with a group of Furcorns, most of them donning a similar costume as they had: a simple white cloth covering their appearance. He fit in rather well, really, a bit humorous.

"By the way, what's that thing on your head? Do I need to pluck it off or..?"

"No, that's - uh, I don't know, but they're cool! It's nice, don't worry."

The monster raised their head for a moment, giving Attmoz a quick look over. They couldn't see past his costume and just assumed him to be any other trick-or-treater. It trusted Glaishur's judgment enough to stay calm, now giving a glance to other attendees. They gave their friend a quick pat on the face to grab his attention, pointing to the distant streets. Punkleton stumbled on the sidewalk, seemingly befuddled and overwhelmed. The younger celestials circled him with joyous laughs and snacked on the candies they earned with the nights hunt. They seemed a bit rough, though. What happened?

"Punkleton!" Glaishur called, motioning in the Spooktacle monsters direction in an attempt to grab his attention. He perked up to the sound of his name, waving in reply. Before the tired monster was able to get a single word out, he was pulled away from the crowd and up onto the stage. Hoola seemed relieved at last!

"Where have you been?" She hissed. "We were supposed to start 30 minutes ago!"

"Hoola, I need a second.. ugh, remind me never to babysit again - I'm fallin' apart here!"

"You always are! You're a smunkin!"

The monsterlings jumped back, now being assisted by what appears to be another werdo. Her fur was purple, medium-length green hair hanging over her eyes and sprouting around her wrists with matching mint feathers and gemstones. She donned the same horns the other werdos had, confirming her species.

"Alright, come on," she grumbled, leading the group to a nearby area next to the party and trying to scoop them up before they ran off. They were unattended, which meant they were now her problem.

The area had been sectioned off and fenced in from the majority, acting as a sort of drop-off for little monsters to play around and remain safe until the night was over. Parlsona was there, too, drawing with some of the other monsterlings and having colorful chalk stains in her fur. Scaratar fought back against their removal by jabbing her limbs at the new werdo and leaving a painful stinging in her arm, which only furthered her annoyance with them. Luckily, the other monster stepped in, and they were set into safety.

"Be careful with them, Maggpi," she scolded. "I know this Spooktacle hasn't been the nicest to us, but it isn't their fault."

"Is it?"

"Not them in particular. The biter - yeah, that one is to blame."

Parlsona recognized the kids by their costumes, glad to see them out and about with plenty of well-earned treats. She asked where their guardian had gone, remembering to have seen an adult with them earlier. Punkleton had taken up that job seemingly. The kid dressed as a dark queen confirmed this. The werdo sighed, saying that she isn't allowed to let them out until an adult came - it seemed they'll have to wait until the celebration was over.

"When are Stoowarb and Tawkerr taking over?" Maggpi asked, an obvious tone of frustration building. "We're supposed to swap every hour! You know - like we agreed."

"Great question! How about you go ask them yourself?"

The werdos bickered back and forth, giving the others time to look for another way out.

Torrt had already begun trying to dig their way out from the imprisonment, only to be met with concrete blocking any further attempts. Scaratar kept everyone from taking their costumes off - They shouldn't risk getting caught! The anxiety of it was slowly seeping back in as they were reminded of how careless they had been the night. They didn't fully understand what would happen, but Furnoss made it clear that the results wouldn't be pretty.

Attmoz, Glaishur, and Syncopite were able to squeeze out of the party, poor Punkleton having a hard time holding up his own head. The monster on Glaishur's shoulder stood tall, pulling its eyes out to scan the area in search of the taken monsterlings.

"Oh ew," Attmoz gagged. "Does it always do that?"

"Sometimes," Glaishur shrugged.

"You know Furnoss isn't gonna let us keep it, right?" Syncopite commented, still a little upset at being removed from their new pals.

"I'll keep 'em in th' garden out back."

"What about Blasoom and Scaratar? That's their garden."

"Uhh.. sharing is caring."

"What if they don't care?"

"Synco, I'm gon' kick you."

Attmoz snorted at the statement. The cold celestial felt a quick tug on his hair, guiding him forward and around the blasting speakers and chanting monsters. A recognizable voice spoke up, only referring to the three as 'you guys' and calling for their attention. Syncopite went for the entrance, only to be blocked off by a purple paw.

"And who are you?" Maggpi asked, crossing her arms. Attmoz pushed himself forward.

"We're here to pick up, uh.." He began to count the heads. "About seven of those guys in there."

"Are you their parent or guardian?"

"What does that mean?"

Maggpi and Parlsona shared a look, the latter speaking up her own questions.

"How old are you three?"

"Uhh.. eighteen by now," Glaishur answered, motioning at the other celestials. They gave a shrug and a nod. The two werdos looked to one another.

"Right. How about you three take a step inside?"

"What'dya mean?"

Attmoz, Syncopite, and Glaishur were lifted from the grass and dropped into the same playpen as the others, even as they kicked or fought back. Maggpi guarded the door as the rest of the Celestials tumbled over with a mixture of relief and a new worry.

"Sorry, kid. Can't let you out unless you have a real adult with you."

"Did we just get put in baby jail?" The crystal monster asked, partially just making a statement. Scaratar couldn't help but giggle, causing the rest to have a good laugh. Glaishur fell onto his back with a huff.

"What's that?" Torrt questioned, reaching a hand out to the monster that resided by the cold celestials side. It slapped at his claws and jumped off into the grass, easily squeezing through the fence and off into the night.

Glaishur's disappointment wasn't all too bad; he still helped them out. He just wished they could have stood a little longer.

"Well, at least we have everyone in one place," Attmoz sighed, reaching into the pockets of his costume in search of his phone. He wasn't sure if he wanted to call Furnoss or not. He knew well the fire monster would poke fun at him for this. Maybe he could put it off for a bit? There doesn't seem to be a rush. Syncopite didn't particularly agree with the wait, but he wasn't up to protesting while he looked like.. this.

Glaishur had sat up now, listening to Torrts rambling of their Spooktacle. Their night had begun as casual trick-or-treating, but as they walked along the houses, they came across a split in paths. They could either go left or right - but why not both? Covering more ground while earning more treats was quite appealing! Scaratar took charge of Galvana, Torrt, and Hornacle, leading them to the left. Vhamp, Plixie, and Blasoom ran to the right, expecting Punkleton to run behind.

"Wait - wait!" he had yelled. "Where are ya goin' off to? Get back here!"

He had followed the group to the right, hoping Scaratar was smart enough to keep the rest in one piece until he caught up. Punkleton likely looks back on Furnoss's words now with more enlightened eyes.

"It was easy for a while," the poison monster interrupted Torrts telling of the story, "But someone had to throw a tantrum."

Scaratar motioned to a familiar little sheep. Galvana had moved with Hornacle to the blonde furred werdo, seemingly drawing with other monsterlings using chalk. Galvana lost interest, though, once Hornacle's attention was more on another artist than themselves.

"Galvana bit someone," Torrt said with a chuckle.

"Galvana bit someone," Attmoz echoed. Sounds familiar. He didn't plan on trying to throw them away this time, though. "Why, exactly?"

The earth monster shrugged, looking to Scaratar.

"What else did ya do?" Glaishur asked, giving her the opportunity to continue.

"We swapped streets with Plixie, Vhamp, and Blasoom! They took ours, we took theirs. Punkleton found us, too! But then we lost them.."

"You lost 'em?"

"A little."

She could recall finding Punkleton without the rest. They mistook other monsters for them due to donning similar costumes, soon feeling their presence slip from their grasps. As it turns out, they had followed an impersonator of Punkleton rather than the real monster, sending them far off their track. Unsure of where to go next, the monsterlings hid away within one of the many booths that had been set up, hoping that remaining in one place would higher the chances of being found.

Plixie had wanted to fly above the crowd to get a better view of who was where, though she had been talked out of it by Vhamp. Vhamp had wanted to run off on its own to find help, this time being steered away by Blasoom. They went back and forth for a while before finalizing the decision to find the others on their own. Apparently, the other half of the group had since parted from Punkleton once more in search of them, only causing more confusion. Galvana had actually come across Furnoss at some point, though they probably hadn't recognized him past his costume.

The story has a somewhat happy ending, though, as they reunited once more at the end of the night. Punkleton, as tired as could be, decided to call it a day and return them to the older celestials. Unfortunately, it seemed he was needed elsewhere, leaving them in their current situation. Galvana and Hornacle had joined the group again and were listening to the retelling of the Spooktacle adventure, the latter fidgeting with the visor of his spacesuit costume. What a night it was.

Syncopite hopped over to the edge of the fenced-in area, looking through the wooden panels and spotting a distant monster approaching.

"Well, would you look at that," he said with a hint of surprise. Glaishur's little friend from before had returned! It seemed to be accompanied by G'joob, who is dressed in a cozy black sweater with embroidery of spider webs and ghostly figures.

"You're still in lots'a trouble, Knurv," he mumbled to the monster next to him. The newly named Knurv rolled their eyes and sped up, squeezing through the fence and running back to Glaishur. They seemed glad to be reunited.

Maggpi moved aside to let the Mythical in, who notified her that he planned on taking just about everyone. Parlsona seemed a tad bit saddened but gave the many monsterlings plastic light-up jewelry as a souvenir, hoping that they enjoyed the long holiday. Attmoz was just glad he wouldn't have to call for help.

"What is Knurv? I mean, are they also a Mythical?" Glaishur asked. He pulled his mask down more, knowing they would likely pull on it once more.

"Knurv is a Dreamythical," G'joob answered tiredly, likely as worn down as the rest were after this night. "It isn't supposed to ever leave Mythical Island. Far too dangerous."

"Oh. Wait, huh?"

"Okay, so Dreamythicals are dreamt up by their Mythical counterparts. Mythical Island has a sort'a magic to it or somethin' that makes it where they become physical monsters and can roam around and stuff, but only on that island. The Mythicals dreaming is what gives life to these fellas. Knurv here was dreamt up by Honeycomb. She's also called Buzzinga, but she hated th' name. Honey is asleep right now, which is why Knurv is still around, but if she wakes up, this little brat will turned to dust!"

"What - what does that mean?"

"Dreamythicals aren't s'pposed to exist outside of Mythical Island. That dreaming energy Honey is giving off is keeping Knurv alive right now. If she wakes up, they'll fade, and Honey can't dream 'em up again. I ought to get yall home - Knurv needs to get back to the right island quickly."

That.. was a lot to take in at once. Glaishur will just pretend he understood any of it.

They came across Viola, who seemed to be wiping some red and black markings off of her cheek and neck. Perhaps makeup? Maybe it was part of the whole witch costume. She wasn't sure where Furnoss had run off to, but pointed in the general direction in which he went; The woods. It was strange to think he would venture far into the twisted trees and foggy paths - the fire celestial commented on its eerie atmosphere often, especially on nights like this.

"How about you guys head home? I can try and find Smokey myself," Attmoz offered. The kids liked the idea, primarily due to being rather sleepy after the antics. Glaishur carried a few up the hill along the stone path, G'joob gathering the rest. With a quick share of goodnights they parted ways.

The air Celestial saw this as a good opportunity to practice flight. Although he used the ability all that time ago, he was still in the process of properly soaring without bumping into a tree or even flying critters. A quick jump is all it took to get him hovering, and he took a slow glide through the night sky and below the branches. The ground seemed empty, smothered by a thick white blanket of fog with occasional rocks standing tall from below. Finally, through the jagged unearthed roots, Attmoz spotted a deep orange glow.

He landed overhead on a thick branch, having to cling onto the bark to prevent himself from falling. The warm light, as he correctly guessed, belonged to Furnoss. Why had he traveled alone? Especially so deep into the night. His costume was missing, seemingly tossed aside upon a withered bush and entangled with dead twigs. The hat was flattened in the dirt, the fake beard nowhere to be seen. What had happened? Furnoss, despite all of this, seemed alright.

"Hey, 'Noss!" Attmoz called out. One wrong step was all it took to send him tumbling from limb to limb and face first into the soil.

"Attmoz!" Furnoss gasped, spinning around quickly to help the air monster back onto his feet. "Are you ok? What are you doing out here?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing, man. Why the hell are you walking alone?"

The fire celestial looked over his shoulder, almost as if he expected someone to be there. He was met with nothing but a cold breeze. Attmoz tilted his head.

"I.. must have gotten lost. These eyes aren't as clear as they once were."

"The castle is at the top of a hill. You just go up!" Attmoz teased. Furnoss seemed a bit annoyed, but he pushed it aside - he already knew of Attmoz's imprisonment thanks to a certain purple monster.

"Let's just get home before others begin to realize we aren't in costumes."

"Alright. Remember, go up this time!"

"Attmoz."

"Sorry, sorry."

Spooktacle began to peel away from the island, the distant music fading into mere chatter amongst friends and bright lights beginning to dull. Another successful celebration was wrapped up with the perfect bow, tattered by newcomers who may not be as new as thought. Furnoss looked back one more time to be sure he hadn't mistaken himself. Whatever it was, he could hear it bid farewell.

[all-my-writings-and-musings]

For those of you who are new to this, I have predone writing prompts and you can request which character to see in them next, and I'll write a short story for it following your specifications! I've done another one like this for Sun Wukong. I have another prompt that involves the reader falling and needing rescue,which so far I've done for Ne Zha, Yin, and Macaque. If you like either of those and want to see a specific character next, or have an idea of your own, you can request stories or headcanons in my inbox! I already have a few in there I cannot wait to get to!!

Sleepy Prompt

After pushing themselves too hard for too long, the reader still refuses to sleep, resulting in the character who's crushing on them stepping in to force them to get some rest.

Macaque x Reader

"The reader has been struggling with a myriad of demands including their job, and simply can't say no to any of their many obligations, resulting in Macaque enforcing a self care day when they meet nearby his Dojo."

It had been silly of you to expect anything to turn out in your favor, but you still felt the sting of disappointment when your boss's notification popped up on your phone, demanding your immediate arrival on what was supposed to be a day off.

Shoulders slumping from more than just weariness, you tried not to think about how hard it would be to stay awake for a solid eight hours as you changed course on the empty sidewalk. The impromptu visit you'd been hoping for was shot; you just had to wait for next week and hope that day wouldn't be stolen too. The sun rising over the roof of the Dojo at your back made your heart sink with painful want. There was so little in your world that made you happy, it seemed almost purposefully cruel of fate to deny you time with your only friend.

Getting a move on so as not to be weighed down by your sadness or exhaustion, you tried to walk quickly to wake yourself up. Between the overtime and the total lack of breaks, your body was suffering just as much as your social life, making every step that much harder. It would be a miracle if you didn't doze off before your shift was over. Knowing your boss, he'd probably kick up a fuss over you looking less than enthused to be working on three hours of sleep…

A most unexpected rush of wind tousled your hair, and before you could fix it another breeze sent it whooshing in the other direction, followed by another after that in an unnatural whiplash. Your sleep deprived brain briefly panicked about losing its grip on reality before a magical and familiar glow caught your eye.

"You know, when I saw my favorite human outside my front door, I was expecting a visit." Macaque teased as he materialized from the thin shadow of a streetlight, walking as if he'd merely stepped in from another room. The portal he'd summoned to surprise you faded into nothingness as he leveled his playful gaze on you. Even if he was obviously playing around, your heart twisted with guilt to think he'd seen you and been anticipating your visit, unannounced as it had been. It was bad enough you'd had to cancel, now you had to share that disappointment.

Still smirking but losing some of the playfulness as he beheld your absolutely miserable expression, he righted your tousled hair with a tiny and almost apologetic breeze, but continued to be far from serious. "I'm crushed! What's the matter, can't spare a minute for your favorite monkey?"

"Oh, I didn't realize-!" you began in an apology, not wanting him to think you'd ever pass up the chance to spend time with him. Goodness, looking forward to the small amount of time you got to spend with him was what kept you going… Realizing that every minute counted, you changed the topic and started to walk and talk, encouraging him to follow for the brief explanation you hoped would be sufficient. "Sorry! My boss needs me to pull another shift. I've got to hurry or else I'll be late."

Macaque tilted his head and lost a fraction of his smirk, but was genuinely perplexed as opposed to displeased, walking at your side with his arms folded behind his back. "Late on your day off?"

"It's not my day off anymore…" you sighed, the weight of it all hitting you anew. Being awake for this long was already pushing it, you had no idea how you were going to make it through your shift, but you also had no choice. You were struggling to make ends meet and money was, unfortunately, not something you could afford to turn down.

"Hmm." Macaque hummed in apparent thought. An apologetic goodbye was set to leave your lips before he unexpectedly kept the conversation going, stepping in front of you to stop you in your tracks. Golden eyes looked you over from top to bottom as he arched a brow incredulously. You wilted a little under his gaze, fully convinced he'd be disappointed in your lack of time for him. A hand under your chin tilted your downturned gaze up to meet his. Those same eyes held something you didn't have the energy to decipher. "When did you last get a day off? Or a night off, for that matter?"

"I don't have the time." you replied automatically, not wanting him to worry even if it was hard to resist dozing off in his palm. While his concern was appreciated, you didn't want him wasting energy on such trivial mortal things, especially when they didn't involve him. Being a burden was a fantastic way to lose friends. All you could do was get to work and endure the shift, there was no arguing your way out of all the bills you had due. Looking up at him with your exhausted eyes, you tried to convey some small measure of reassurance. "Besides, it's nothing I can't handle."

Releasing your chin, he appeared to concede before chuckling softly. A snap of his fingers summoned a portal in the time it took for you to blink, and before you even had a chance to step back he was pushing you inside. "What a coincidence! I can handle it too, and here's how!"

A mattress met your face after a short fall, leaving you sputtering and knocking aside a tangle of pillows and blankets that ensnared you like a spider's web. Able to recognize the inside of the Dojo, you looked about in total bewilderment before realizing he'd dropped you on his mess of a bed. Anxiety only poverty could bring made the experience far from enjoyable. Good gracious, you didn't have time for this! 

"Macaque, hey!" you shouted as he followed you and dropped smoothly to the floor, closing the portal with a calm smirk that stretched from ear to ear. Motivated by fears of late rent and your boss's fury, you wrestled yourself free from his messy nest of a bed, stopping only to catch your breath when the little bit of exercise proved too much. Desperately trying to ignore how tempted you were to just go limp and sleep, you swung your shaking legs about to settle them on the floor. There was simply no time for games, or rest, or fun of any kind in your life, no matter how much you wanted it. There had to be a way to make him understand without pushing him away. "I don't have time for this, I need-"

A hand gripped your shoulder firmly but gently, refusing to let you stand. Caught off guard by how serious he became in what felt like the blink of an eye, you offered no resistance as his golden eyes looked deep into yours, his voice more level and genuine than most would have known he was capable of as he finished your sentence. 

"Sleep."

You almost crumpled into him, wanting so badly to comply it brought tears to your eyes. A million worries buzzed about your mind like a swarm of bees, needling you with all of the terrible things that might happen if you lost your job. You had worked so hard just to make it this far on your own, and failing would destroy more than your progress. Your heart couldn't endure another setback on this journey to some kind of stability. "Not as much as I need to pay rent…"

Macaque didn't release your shoulder, and his expression didn't relent in the slightest. If anything, he appeared more intent than ever upon beholding your obvious desperation, though he was as gentle as could be as he pushed you down onto the mattress. You almost shed a few tears as your back met the nest of plush blankets and pillows, your body crying out for the rest you knew deep down it needed but couldn't have. Before you could find the words to argue, he broke the silence.

"You just lay your head down and let someone else do some worrying for a change." he encouraged, your resistance crumbling despite the consequences. This was what you wanted more than anything in the world right now, but even with the weight of absolute exhaustion on your shoulders your fears were too strong to simply ignore. Beholding your despondent expression, he huffed and grabbed one of many spare blankets to toss over you. "Seriously, I'll take care of your boss, alright? You focus on getting some sleep. I can see how bad you need it."

Were you more awake and coherent, you might have had an easier time following along with what he was trying to convey without words, but you were far too twisted up in worry and exhaustion to understand. Not even the blanket over your body or the throbbing of your head could cut through the fog.

"But if I don't-"

"That sounds an awful lot like worrying, Y/N." Macaque retorted, final attempt at being playful fading when he saw the total dejection on your face. Looking aside, he frowned and seemed to battle with something inside himself before huffing and giving in. Dropping the act he wore around almost everyone, he gingerly adjusted the blanket over you to be more comfortable and leaned in, speaking privately as if the two of you might be overhead. "Do you remember what I told you? That as long as I'm here, you don't need to worry? I meant that."

It finally clicked in your mind, like a key turning a formerly jammed lock; you didn't have to worry because he would be there. In his own impossibly repressed way, the Six-Eared Macaque was telling you he'd take care of you. Even if you lost your job, your apartment, all the little things you'd clawed for and thought you needed… he would be there to support you. 

"Thank you…" was all you could say, a few hot tears soaking the pillow beneath your head before he wiped them away with a blanket. Clearing his throat, he jumped back into the persona you knew so well, smiling as he ensured you were set up to his satisfaction. 

"Don't thank me yet, I'm a terrible roommate." he joked, cementing that you had a place with him. Considering how you'd more than likely be fired either for missing this shift or whatever Macaque was about to do to your manager, that would undoubtedly be happening sooner rather than later. The idea didn't frighten you in the least. If anything, he'd just removed a burden so great all your body cared to do was rest. You went absolutely limp on the bed, its comfort seeping into you like a warm embrace as sleep took you more rapidly than you knew it was capable of. 

Just before unconsciousness took you, the lights were switched off, and a gentle hand seemed to brush your temple as a careful voice whispered with some uncertainty. "If you need me, you, uh, know where I'll be."

[lo-fi-charming]

Jondaisy Playlist Deep Dive

So!! For the last day of @jondaisy-week, I wanted to talk about the playlist I have for them. I'll be sharing each song, talking about why I associate it with the pairing, and then spotlighting some of the lyrics I think apply to them most accurately.

Here's the playlist on spotify, so you can check it out for yourself! But for the actual list below, I'll put YT links on each song so they're more accessible to everyone.

About the Playlist:

This was originally constructed by borrowing inspiration/songs from another jondaisy playlist by an old fandom buddy. You can find their playlist here! My playlist is in a custom order, and one I'm pretty satisfied with. It's meant to somewhat mirror Jon and Daisy's relationship arc throughout the show. It starts aggressive, intense, and tumultuous, slowly twisting into complicated and messy (or even toxic) love, before balancing out near the middle to symbolize how these two become unlikely allies and friends. And then, a bittersweet, solemn end...

Daisy by Ashnikko

This is a fun starter, mostly because I think it both does and doesn't suit Daisy. Obviously there's the title, which might make this song seem like a shallow choice just for that, but I do think there are quite a few lyrics in the song that are perfect for Daisy. Plus, I love the sound, which I do think suits her pretty well - strong and steady beat, a little dirty, with a nasty vibe. That's Daisy!

Spotlighted Lyrics:

Fuck a princess, I'm a king Bow down and kiss on my ring Being a bitch is my kink What the fuck else did you think? Fuck a princess, I'm a king Bow down and kiss on my ring It's gonna hurt, it'll sting Spittin' your blood in the sink I'm crazy, but you like that, I bite back Daisies on your nightstand, never forget it I blossom in the moonlight, screw eyes Glacial with the blue ice, I'm terrifying

Psycho by Lauren Aquilina

I like this one as a representation of Daisy's developing obsession with Jon, once she decides to Hunt him. It's got the good stalker vibes that are well suited to Daisy's pursuit, especially since the voice of the song is very much blaming the object of obsession for her fixation. Also, on a personal note, I do like applying it to AUs where Daisy does just fall into a sick sort of love with Jon and is unable to be normal about it! Uh oh, Jon!

Spotlighted Lyrics:

Maybe I'm a psycho just like you said I was You got me right, but baby, it's not my fault Oh, and I know, and I know, and I know That I've been acting so strange But you should know that you're the one who made me this way Yeah, I'm a psycho just like you said I'd be Not gonna fight the way I am naturally

Choke by Royal & the Serpent

Here, we get to the first song that's more about Jon/from his perspective. Super appropriate title, and basically every lyric is perfect for them <3 I think this one is a great song to capture The Woods Scene, given its subject matter, as well as the tone - conveying desperation and fear, the feeling of being unable to escape, but still begging to be released before it's too late...!

Spotlighted Lyrics:

You are a shadow Following me where I go I'd be better without you What are you doing to me?

Loosen your grip before I choke Can't catch my breath, I'm gonna choke I wish that you'd just let me go I don't want this, I promise, just leave me alone Loosen your grip before I...

Hellbent by Mystery Skulls

Here we enter the sort of toxic/twisted love era. Less representative of canon, more exemplifying how Jon and Daisy are great choices for such a dynamic. I'd say this song is more of a Daisy POV. All in all, great vibe and energy, capturing the intensity that I think this ship can bring out in both parties.

Spotlighted Lyrics:

I've been hellbent, baby Hellbent on makin' you love me, too Even though not what I'm supposed to do I don't give a damn, mmm

Fear & Delight by The Correspondents

This song is perfect for 'Jon diving head-first into an inadvisable relationship with the woman who tried to kill him that one time', or any other sort of scenario wherein Jon thinks he should know better than to mess with Daisy after their history, but, well... Especially in canon, it's possible he's got some wires crossed after all his weird traumas. Sometimes it's simply impossible to resist the allure of a Scary Woman...

Spotlighted Lyrics:

I don't show it but I quiver whenever you come near And I cannot decipher between the thrill and the fear I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here It's wrong but I want you tonight It's not my own volition but I fell in deep By running the distance I've been advised to keep I trot to the wolf as a doting sheep It's wrong but I want you tonight

Addiction pulling me to a grave end You're an enemy who I'm keen to defend Down the black hole of my lust I descend It's wrong but I want you tonight

Love Me Dead by Ludo

Jon POV, of course. Who doesn't love a man out of his mind for some terrible, awful girl? This song might represent the height of the toxic love narrative (yknow, before getting to any metaphorical OR literal cannibalism, as we'll soon see.)

Spotlighted Lyrics:

She moves through moonbeams slowly She knows just how to hold me And when her edges soften Her body is my coffin I know she drains me slowly She wears me down to bones in bed Must be the sign on my head That says, oh Love me dead! Love me dead!

You suck so passionately You're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature Finger-bangin' my heart You call me up drunk Does the fun ever start? You're hideous and sexy!

You've got the mark of the beast You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful!

Hot Venom by Miniature Tigers

This one is a little odd, hard to explain... I think it carries along sentiments from the previous two songs, where something that seems dangerous or inadvisable becomes a little addictive, something you feel like you begin to need. There's also an element here that makes me think of their dynamic in s4, just briefly; perhaps it can be seen as a sly hint of what's to come. Especially in the lyrics I chose, which make me think very much of Jon becoming aware of how much he's come to depend on Daisy in s4, as well as how inevitable it is that this brief respite together will soon come to an end...

Spotlighted Lyrics:

Her venom makes me strong Stronger than I am on my own Before too long I'll wake up to it gone Wondering how I ever was happy

Cannibal Queen by Miniature Tigers

A bit more lovey-dovey, both in tone and lyrics, but my favorite thing about this song is that at first glance you might think it's a Jon POV, but I actually imagine it applying most to Daisy (so Jon is the cannibal queen in the scenario, lol.) It makes more sense once you get a good look at the lyrics~

Spotlighted Lyrics:

I'm so lucky this one lets dogs hang around It's good having somebody good for a change

Comin' for your heart like a cannibal Oh, she lets me right in and I fed 'til I'm full If something goes wrong, I'm accountable Oh, a life without her is no life at all I la la la la la la la la love you, cannibal queen

Cannibal by Tally Hall

This ended up becoming a direct companion to the previous song, for probably obvious reasons. We switch to Jon's POV, to a song chipper and lighthearted in tone despite the subject matter. Here we have a Jon who is content to let Daisy take her fill of him...

Spotlighted Lyrics:

Looking for a cavern A place where she can stay Waiting for the darkness When she leaves obsessed to make her way to me Because it's getting to the time when she will need to feed, and I am The willing victim of a cannibal She rips out my bones just like I'm an animal And right when I'm feeling like my blood is drained She calls it a game But the wound that she leaves is unmistakable

Misery Meat by Sodikken

I like this one after the previous songs because it sort of brings us back down to a less idealistic and romantic energy. Devoured by a cannibal, and now you're just miserable meat, a body to be picked at. At the same time, I think this is well suited for Jon because it has an air of dark humor, of begrudging acceptance of horrible circumstances. We settle down and find some strange equilibrium in the midst of misery right before transitioning into a new era...

Spotlighted Lyrics:

As you open up my ribs, the blood flows out like a river You strip my bones away as you indulge in my liver And the more that I am in pain The more that you'll gain And to me, that seems like a pretty fair trade You bite my nervous system ignites The tormenting spite Sacrifices must be made

Spit It Out by IAMX

I love this one, because it sounds dirty and dark and dour to me, with the vocals coming in to evoke a sense of rawness. This is very much the start of 's4 era jon and daisy' to me. They're both crumbling, lost and in pain, and as they weaken, they fall into each other. Here, they begin to really speak to each other and recognize one another as real and the same.

Spotlighted Lyrics:

And if you're hurting I will replace the noise With silence instead Flushing out your head

When you're in pieces Just follow the echo of my voice It's okay Tune into that frequency

'Cause it breaks my heart That we live this way

The past is weakness Don't beg the question When the answer is war There are moments when I'm overcome

Monster by dodie

This one feels quintessential for jondaisy. More than any other song on this list, this one feels like it carries their spirit, the thesis statement of Jon and Daisy within the show. To me it's a song they are both singing, not only to themselves or each other, but to everyone, the world. Gnashing teeth as they settle into the reality of their mutual monsterhood.

Spotlighted Lyrics:

A meter apart You blankly stare We shout in our heads Are you still in there? Well this ends bad, then We knew it would So we won't eat our words 'Cause they don't taste good I'm guessing that I've grown horns I guess I'm human no more

Look, I know that I've seen this before High and mighty, at the top of your list Adoring every move, now my rank is sinking But we're both guilty of black or white thinking And through my red eyes, you look pale All of your scars now looking more like scales Two ugly creatures, two sinister preachers Blind to the past, like a couple of monsters Just a couple of monsters

Hunger by Of Monsters and Men

To me, this one carries the idea of them both being determined not to feed. It's the beginning of the end for Daisy, given her choice to separate herself from the Hunt. For me this makes me think most of Daisy explaining why she's made her choice to Jon, how she refuses to ignore her own agency in the matter; it's an echo of the sentiment, and them reminding each other to keep it in mind, to keep each other in check.

Spotlighted Lyrics:

But for the longest time I knew There was nothing left for us to do But I tried, oh, I try And in this quiet company There is nothing staring back at me I'm in need of the sound Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you Voices disappear when you are speaking, in sombre tunes I will be the wolf and when you're starving, you'll need it too Hungry for the kill, but this hunger, it isn't you It isn't you, it isn't

I'm Tired by Labrinth & Zendaya

I see this and the next two songs as closers to the playlist. Strength waning, Jon and Daisy find themselves tired of their struggles, and coming to peace with the idea of approaching their ends. It's hard to describe exactly, but I think this song is a good representation of what they both regret: the people they hurt, the things they did, just... the way things turned out, in the end. Quiet, reflective, and sad.

Hey, Lord, you know I'm fighting Hey, Lord, you know I'm fighting I'm sure this world is done with me Hey Lord, you know it's true Now the tide is rolling in I don't wanna win Let it take me, let it take me I'll be on my way How long can I stay? In a place that can't contain me

Sorry by dodie

This one is so... ahh... Okay so, the way I apply this song is very much like... I imagine these are Daisy's thoughts and feelings in the moments right after she is shot and killed by Basira in s5. Her spirit, freed from her body, finally severed wholly from the Hunt. I think about Daisy standing over the scene and saying sorry, an apology no one can hear, and feeling all her life's regrets before she is gone for good. I also think, given how things end up with Jon, the voice could very much be coming from him, too. Maybe it's both of them...

Spotlighted Lyrics:

It happened fast Like a fired gun Bleeding out Then it was done There was the end I couldn't find, found too late

And oh, didn't want to believe such a monster in me And I know, I've always known, in the end, I'd be sorry And that's all I am now, it's all I can be Is sorry

In a Week by Hozier

For the end of the playlist, the only way I can think to explain my feelings are, like... There was a moment where I realized, if we are trying to stick to canon, there is only one 'good end' for Jon and Daisy. Only one way they would both get what they truly wanted, which was to be free, to not do further harm to others, to escape the ugliness inside them and become inert. Only one way for things to end well, for them to be content. This song. For Jon and Daisy, the best ending they could have gotten was both of them choosing to starve to death rather than hurt anyone else, slipping away together in secret so they can die someplace quiet, but not alone.

Spotlighted Lyrics:

I have never known peace Like the damp grass that yields to me I have never known hunger Like these insects that feast on me A thousand teeth And yours among them, I know Our hungers appeased Our heartbeats becoming slow

We lay here for years or for hours Your hand in my hand So still and discreet So long we become the flowers We'd feed well the land And worry the sheep

And they'd find us in a week When the buzzards get loud After the insects have made their claim After the foxes have known our taste After the raven has had its say I'd be home with you

[redflagromance]

Short Story Release: An Unexpected Party (Aster Black Story: 4,914 words)

Aster grunted with effort, readjusting their grip on the brown paper bags of groceries that were going to get them through the weekend with panache. Their arms trembled. They could feel the cold where the glass bottle of milk was pressed up against their stomach. Aster huffed visible clouds into the air and swung their head to try to dislodge the streams of sweat on their forehead.

As always, there was a line snaking around the club on the other side of the street. Distant conversations and shrieking laughter blended into background sound. Music with a thumping baseline spilled out as Aster came onto the home stretch, crumbling brownstone apartment stairs in sight. A gust of wind carried the stink of cigarettes directly into their face from across the street.

Aster tried to blink away the sting, wishing that they had a hand free. The watering in their eyes made what was waiting in front of their apartment even more disorienting than it had to be.

The disco ball-like reflection of mylar balloons bobbing gently under the streetlight drew Aster’s attention. They squinted to read the print on a balloon but it spun in the air to reveal only silver backing. The warm light from the streetlight bounced off of the tiny wrinkles and reflective polyester to create a moving silver and gold kaleidoscope in the air.

They were tied to the side mirror of an orange van parked on the street. Three men were waiting there, a driver and two men leaning against the van.  One of them was holding an explosive bouquet of yellow and red flowers in his right hand. The other man was holding what looked like a box against his chest with one arm. The driver’s face was hidden in shadows, but Aster could see the outline of their jaw.

‘It looks like someone is having a great night. Good for them.’

They stole another glance up at the balloons, fighting the childish urge to touch them. Aside from the three mylar balloons, there was a positive riot of yellow, red, and blue latex balloons. Aster had the phantom taste of birthday cake in their mouth when the party guests seemed to notice them.

“Hello!” The man with the cheerful flowers waved with their free hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been doing?” They kicked up off of the van to stand straight. He had a memorable voice, scratchy and low.

Aster couldn’t tell if they knew them in the dark. Which was awkward. “Hello,” they greeted the men, “I’m doing well! Having a party?” Aster coughed again and tried to wave away the cigarette smoke from the club.

Flower Man beamed a smile back and moved a little closer. Their braces glinted. “A surprise party! We’re just lying in wait for the guest.”

“It’s going to be a great time,” added Box Guy, a little less enthusiastically. His eyes were obviously tracking Aster as they walked closer. He pulled a party popper out of the box and gave Aster a conspiratorial look, before dropping it back into the box.

Neither of their voices was familiar, at least.

“Wow, that’s exciting!” Aster peered at the balloons, contorting their left elbow up to their face to block their coughing. One of the paper bags shifted and nearly fell. Their eyes were starting to tear up a bit, but Aster could see that most of them didn’t have any print. “What’s the occasion?” They were starting to feel a little awkward. They wished that they hadn’t stopped to talk.

“New job.” The Box Guy still leaning against the van laughed. His companion looked back with a stern face. The man just smirked. His face still didn’t look familiar. Why had he greeted Aster that way, so loudly?

‘Maybe they’re friends with that new neighbor? I did meet quite a few people at their housewarming party last month.’ Aster rationalized.

“Wonderful, hope you both have a great night!” Aster awkwardly dug out their building key without dropping the bags clutched to their chest. They turned right to take the steps up to their apartment. They were on the top step when the club music paused for a second and Aster heard footsteps.

A chill ran up their neck. That was-

“Surprise,” a man’s voice murmured from right behind Aster.

The strangest thing was pressed up against their back. Aster felt a cold, metal circle surrounded by the straight lines of… the box that the man had been holding?

Aster froze.

‘Is someone shoving a gun in my back? He had a gun in that box of party supplies?’

They waited for a breathless moment for the other person to say something- hopefully ‘whoops’, and to carry on.

Instead, there was the heat of someone breathing on their neck.

‘Why does he have a gun?’

“Let’s go for a drive,” he said in a calm, reasonable tone.

Aster did not want to get into their party van. “My wallet and keys are in my pockets.” Aster said quickly, hoping against hope that that was all they wanted. Maybe whoever it was would go away if they got money. “I don’t have any jewelry on me.”

The gunman sighed, low and disappointed. “Party plan it is.”

Flower Man laughed out cheerfully and shouted, “Surprise!” He grabbed them from behind and lifted Aster straight off of the ground. Aster shrieked in surprise and tried to claw away the bouquet, which was now scratching up against their face. The grocery bags were so heavy that Aster couldn’t push the flowers away. They were just about to drop the bags when someone wrenched the paper bags out of their hands.

“My eggs!” Aster cried, watching as the carton threatened to fall. Box Guy caught the eggs with a grunt and shoved his way past them up the stairs. He turned to wait expectantly.

The heat of a large hand slipped into their back pocket. Aster tried to wrench around to see but the arm snaked around Aster’s waist was tight. There was a tinkling of metal as Aster’s keys were lifted out of their jeans pocket.

“Stop it!” Aster scrambled desperately to get their feet on the ground, but it was no use. The world turned around them as Flower Guy turned and jogged down the steps toward the van. Their stomach swooped nauseatingly with each bounce.

The van engine started up. There was the click of a lock. They were headed toward the back door of the van.

They swung their head around- the club was just down the block, surely someone would have seen. “Help!” Aster screamed. They struggled, kicking at the man holding them prisoner.

“It’s my friend Zair’s engagement party!” someone shouted at the clubbers. It must have been the driver. “Take a balloon! They’re getting married!”

The people outside smoking and talking stopped, and a chorus of whooping began to fill the evening air. A girl sprinted across the street to the front of the van for her balloon. After a moment a few cheering partygoers joined her.

‘The fuck?’

Aster was taken aback as they were being taken back towards the street. It took a few precious seconds for them to comprehend what was happening, by which time they were probably almost at the curb.

The double doors at the back creaked as they swung open.

Aster shrieked. “No! Let me go! Let me GO!” The people outside of the club continued to whoop and whistle.

“Good luck!” A drunk girl slurred, hoisting her balloon high. “Have good party!”

“Don’t let them take me!” Aster pleaded, kicking into the air like that might make the ground closer. “I don’t know these people! Call the police!” They craned to see the driver as he gave Aster a shitty look, laughed loudly, and threw up a fist. “Police, police, police!” He chanted.

And it worked. The drunks around the car started joining in, calling for the police cheerfully.

Why.

The driver winked at Aster and untied a balloon to give away.

“What is happening?” Aster sobbed.

Flower Guy shoved them into the back of the van, chanting cheerfully for the police. Aster caught themselves with their hands and pushed back up, scrabbling to get out before the doors closed.

It happened too fast. The door slammed shut. Aster was in the dark.

Aster stood, staring dumbly at the pitch black space where they knew the door was. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. A minute ago, Aster had been walking home.

The van honked the horn. “Party bus is leaving, say bye bye!” the driver’s muffled voice called out. Partygoer voices chimed in with a chorus of farewells to Aster, off to god knows what grim fate.

The situation didn’t feel real.

The van started moving. Without any ability to see or brace for the movement, Aster slammed face forward into the metal with a thunk and an explosion of pain.

They struggled to a seated position, clutching their forehead with one hand and using the other to brace against the corrugated floor.

The sounds of the cheerful drunks faded away. Aster heard their own shallow breaths. Aster heard the engine. After a minute, faint conversation started up from the front seat.

Bang.

Aster startled, letting out a shout.

The men in the front laughed.

‘One of them hit the back of the cab,’ Aster realized. They swallowed. ‘That’s all.’

The air was stifling. It pressed in on Aster from all directions, stale and warm. They ought to have been a little hot, but they felt cold and disgusting. Their clothes and hair were still a little damp with sweat from their walk home.

Slowly, Aster drew their feet up into a protective posture. It took a while of gingerly scooting to place their back against the wall. Then Aster carefully wrapped their shaking arms around their knees and tried to think of a way out of this.

Realistically, the situation could be better. Getting taken into a vehicle was the worst case scenario because it was impossible to guess how far away they would wind up. But this was hardly Aster’s first time being kidnapped. They’d learned about this. They knew how to survive a kidnapping, Aster reminded themself. They drew in a shuddering breath and pressed their forehead to their knees.

The van turned to the right. Aster’s stomach swooped unpleasantly along with the motion.

It was hard, but they forced their breathing to slow down.

‘That felt like a couple of minutes before the turn. We’re probably on the next major road,’ Aster guessed. They licked their lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were.

No more fighting and no more yelling. Now that they had actually been overpowered and taken away, the best chance for survival was to be compliant and make the kidnappers empathize with them. That meant no anger, no hysterics, no behavior that would be annoying.

Tears welled up. Aster blinked them away furiously and sniffled, trying to reach a physical state of calm.

This was bad. It was really fucking bad. But it probably wasn’t personal. It was probably about money.

‘No one who knew about my professional connections would risk kidnapping me,’ Aster thought, a little ruefully. They’d felt so safe. The risk-reward calculation just wouldn’t balance. Barry wasn’t a villain, by any means, but anyone who was anyone knew that he wasn’t someone to mess with. And Aster, without their family name, was just a small business owner and artist. They liked their life and their job. It was fulfilling. But there was no real material benefit to kidnapping a florist.

Therefore, this was the same old problem. Someone wanted money from their family, and Aster was the easiest person to grab.

‘It figures,’ they thought wearily. ‘No security team, no gated community, no dorm cameras.’

They’d been foolish. They’d made it too easy, been complacent.

The party theme of the kidnapping, though… It didn’t sit right with them. Aster shifted uncomfortably against the bare wall of the van’s siding.

It was awfully whimsical for a bog-standard kidnapping. They could admit that it was even pretty clever. The assault had probably looked like friends playing around. How many times had Aster seen someone lift up a protesting friend and haul them around? You’d see that at least once an hour at a public pool.

But it had to be a financially motivated kidnapping. It had to be. They’d ignored Aster when they offered money, but that was probably because they were too cautious to get dragged into negotiations on a doorstep when anyone could walk by.

Aster really wanted to believe that theory. But the doubt grew as the van took a turn to the left, as it stopped, as it started up again and went around what seemed to be a sharp turn and climbed up.

The van turned, what felt like a loop. It went and went and went until finally it stopped, reversed, and came to a stop. The engine shut off.

Aster swallowed. This might be showtime. They sat up a little straighter and unwound their arms from around their legs.

Gravel crunched outside as someone walked around the van.

Their heart rate picked up. Aster dug their fingertips into the floor a little bit for stability.

The doors were yanked open. Flower Guy and Box Man stood there, backlit by the faint glow of cheap overhead lights across what seemed to be a deserted parking lot. Flower Guy had a party kazoo in his mouth.

Aster forced a trembling smile onto their face.

“You’re the guest of honor,” Box Man explained. He seemed proud of their ruse. He shifted his weight as he grinned down at Aster.

“That was funny,” Aster agreed.

“Very funny,” Box Man said decisively. He cracked his neck. “You’re going to stay here for the night, but you do have to come with us to work in the morning. So you’ll need a coat. We got one from your place.”

Aster watched in confusion as the sweatshirt they’d worn to the gym yesterday was tossed into the back of the van. “Thanks,” they said, a bit delayed.

Box Man shot them a thumbs up. “No problem, what are friends for. Anyway, any food allergies or dietary restrictions?”

That was good news. The smile that Aster gave them was a lot more genuine now. Feeding Aster strongly implied that they didn’t intend to kill Aster. Not yet, at least. “I can eat anything but… maybe not dairy,” they said weakly, thinking about how unpleasant that might be in an enclosed space with no bathroom. “Uh. Is there a restroom I can use?”

“Yeah.” Box Guy pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Port a potty. I’ll take you over in a minute, and he’ll get you some Mediterranean chicken along with a nice wild rice salad, and this beautiful little apple tart.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I think that’s all. Happy kidnapping!”

Flower Guy blew the kazoo.

The goons bustled in and out making a weird little nest for Aster from a few blankets, a pillow, and a folded mattress. Really? They were going to leave Aster in here? No. They couldn’t. Wouldn’t Aster overheat, run out of air? Aster waited to be moved to a building, to be told something. But the doors closed and they were left alone in the parked van.

The van didn’t get hot. It didn’t feel stifled, either. Eventually even anxiety ran out. Aster found it harder and harder to stay awake.

There was no way to gauge the time. It had been late when they were taken, so it made sense that Aster was getting tired.

Aster roused when the engine of another car approached. Aster leaned towards the source of the noise, straining to hear anything that might be useful.

The car turned off and a door opened and closed. There was a conversation, but Aster couldn’t make out much for words. Then another door opened and closed.

A few moments later, there was a muffled voice. Low.

The voice that answered, on the other hand, was higher pitched and much clearer. Something about it instantly prickled at Aster’s subconscious as relevant.

‘That voice sounds familiar.’

Some car doors slammed shut, and a louder car started up and pulled away. Footsteps approached the van, but no one said anything. Aster braced for the door to open. This was it. They were going to have their chance to talk their way out of this mess. Aster swallowed hard, heart somehow racing all the way up in their throat.

There was the electronic buzz of someone’s phone, and then footsteps away.

"Just get here. What?" There was a pause. The voice became incredulous. "Take a bus."

Aster strained to hear their kidnapper outside. The thud of their heartbeat made it hard to hear.

‘This person sounds so familiar. Where do I know them? It’s not Harmes. Definitely not Barry. Obviously this isn’t my Mom. So why do I know their voice, and why can’t I place it?’

"Don't you have your company issued laser?" the voice scoffed.

‘What kind of company issues lasers?’ Aster panicked. ‘A security company? Are they professionals?’

"City bus-" There was a flurry of annoyed finger snapping. "You have a gun! The bus route is wherever you tell the driver to go!" Heels clicked against cement.

The finger snapping startled Aster to attention, and their hindbrain perked up. That was a distinctive tic. They knew who did that.

Aster leaned against the wall, reeling in surprise.

No wonder the voice outside the darkened van was familiar. Aster had heard it on the phone only yesterday, requesting that their floral shop provide cold proofed roses for the Vice President’s birthday party. She knew damn well Aster was locked into a contract.

Sunny Aviichen’s pitch rose. “What do you mean a little old lady needs to get off in Newark?”

Aster swallowed an inappropriate giggle. Their heart rate was up through the roof and sweat was starting to form in their hair. It prickled uncomfortably.

'I guess that call was my last chance to break my exclusivity contract,' Aster thought, shock isolating them from the situation. How was this real? They let out a long, slow breath, trying to force their heart rate to slow. Being panicked wasn’t likely to help them right now. They’d just start to hyperventilate in a parked van.  ‘I didn’t realize that the situation was that serious. I know other good florists, I could have introduced her.’

In their gut, they knew that wouldn’t have satisfied Sunny. She wanted Aster- not because Aster was a great florist, which they were!- but because they worked with Harmes.

Whatever beef they had with Harmes ran deep, strong, and was solely one directional. Harmes never even seemed to remember Sunny’s name.

“She can't walk?- you'renot killing the driver. He can just go back and drop her off when you're done.” Footsteps clacked angrily outside.

The fact that Sunny didn’t seem to expect her employee to gun down a bus driver was reassuring. It wasn’t a perfect guarantee of Aster’s safety, but it did imply that Sunny wasn’t overly violent.

‘That could change if she realizes that I can hear and recognize her,’ Aster thought. They shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a better position and distract from the queasy feeling in their stomach. It was easy to resolve to play dumb. They wanted to go home with all the phalanges they started with.

‘Please let that work.’

Aster wouldn’t complain at all if Sunny Aviichen thought Aster’s head was empty.

It sounded like Ms. Aviichen was finishing her phone call. Her voice got even louder as she snarled, “I’m starting to think you don’t want to be here. All you present are problems. Bring me some solutions!”

Aster held their breath and waited, heart pounding. But no one seemed to be interested in coming back to them. There were conversations and the sounds of feet scuffling on the ground, but they didn’t come in.

Eventually even the adrenaline ran out. Aster fell asleep in their little nest of blankets. They woke up to the sound of the door unlatching.

“Good morning,” sang Box Guy. He flipped a switch as he entered the back of the van. Something started humming. “It’s going to be a busy day today, so you’ll have to excuse our poor hospitality. I thought we’d get you started off with a fruit salad, cheesy scrambled eggs, and a nice rye bread with butter and jelly. Would you like coffee, tea, or juice?”

“...Coffee and juice?” Aster asked. They eyed the space between the man and the door. They probably couldn’t make it. But what if they could?

“Coming right up.” Box Guy had a hairnet on. “Just a moment.” He pulled out his phone and texted with one hand, not letting Aster out of his sight. “Would you like to use the facilities before or after breakfast?”

“Before, please.” Aster tossed aside their blankets and stood gingerly. They were so sore from sleeping on the hard floor.

Box Guy swept an arm theatrically. “Your Port a Potty awaits. I’ve got face wipes and dry shampoo as well.”

‘I want a real shower.’

Aster felt their lips thin. “Thank you,” they said, as genuinely as they could muster. They took advantage of the generous facilities. The offered breakfast was waiting by the time Box Guy took them back to the van, which had gotten a lot colder since Aster left it. Box Guy lingered while Aster ate and made casual conversation.

When Aster finished, Boy Guy fished something out of his back pocket. Something fabric. Aster eyed it with trepidation. “Alright, we are going to work today,” he said cheerfully. “I’m afraid that for professional reasons we really can’t have non-employees involved in food preparation, which includes overseeing it. So I will be covering your eyes today.” He unfolded and brandished what Aster now realized was a cotton pillowcase.

“Okay,” Aster said slowly. These people were really weird. They managed a smile. “I understand completely. Clients pay a premium for professional service.”

“You get it,” Box Guy said happily. “Here we go.” He pulled the pillowcase over Aster’s head. That was fine, it was not good but it wasn’t a surprise.

There was a metallic click. A hand grabbed Aster’s wrist.

“Wait, what-”

A handcuff snapped shut. “Can’t have you totally loose,” Box Guy said. “Here we go.” Aster didn’t fight the hand that pushed them back against the side of the van. “Careful, your balance isn’t going to be very good when you can’t see.”

‘It won’t be very good with one hand secured against the wall, either,’ Aster thought, a little hysterical.

“All set,” Box called out. “What time is it?”

“Shit, we have to go.” Aster craned to see the last bits of sunlight through tightly woven fabric before the caterers slammed the van door shut.

The drive that followed was massively unpleasant. The turns jerked Aster around, unable to brace well because their right hand was secured behind their back. At least their left was free.

‘Did they realize I could take this off?’ Aster wondered. Most of their body was cold, but it was hot and damp from their breath inside the pillowcase.

At least it wasn’t a long drive.

The van stopped. The doors opened. “Hold on, don’t mind us,” said Flower Guy.

Aster didn’t say a thing. They just breathed. And they listened to the sounds of the van being loaded up. Eventually the noises stop, the doors shut, and they go for another drive. The repetition starts lulling Aster to sleep. Numb, they don’t really react when the van stops again.

At least, not until there’s a new voice outside. Aster snaps their head up before they register the words.

“Hey!” There’s a pause. “Do you have a hostage in there?”

Aster felt their eyes go wide. ‘Someone came for me? Who is that? I don’t know that voice.’ They struggled to sit up straighter. It didn’t really work.

It sounds like there’s a fight outside. Aster cranes to hear. There’s a thump against the outside of the van and some scuffling noises. If they’re talking, it’s too quiet for Aster to hear. Someone makes a sound of pain.

It feels like hours. It was probably seconds.

Someone tries to open the van. The lock jiggles.

“Give me the keys, nerds.” The same voice as before calls out. “If I have to break in, Sunny’s gonna be pissed at you.”

‘It’s gotta be a vigilante,’ Aster realizes. The relief is incredible. ‘Who is this? Are they new? Do I know of them at all?’

A few seconds later there is a familiar voice.

“Let’s go.”

Aster blinks back tears. That’s Harmes. Holy shit, the event planners did it. The event planning firm found them.

Something jingles as someone picks up the keys and unlocks the van. Aster stares in the direction of those doors. The cotton pillowcase was sticking to the stress sweat on their face. It was something even more stifling than before.

“Hello, Aster.” Harmes says, sounding casually unsure.

‘I was right. It’s Harmes. Harmes is here and I’m getting out of this van. Sunny can eat dirt.’

“Hey!” Aster tries to say, but the sweaty pillowcase clings to their mouths. They try to spit it out, but it just keeps kinda sticking to their tongue and lips.

Then the pillowcase is mercifully removed. Aster looks up at Harmes, glorious Harmes. Mildly terrifying Harmes.

“Hey.” They say breathlessly, and smile. “Wasn’t sure I was ever gonna see you again, Harmes.”

Then the door swings open again, as an Asian woman with a spiked bat athletically jumps up into the van. She doesn’t pause for a second and kneels down in front of Aster to look at the cuffs around their wrist. There’s a metallic sliding sound and then your hand is free. “That was… not well planned.” Aster turns to look at it, lifting their hand in disbelief. The whole handcuff is still attached. Was the other end just hooked onto something?

‘That’s so embarrassing. I wasn’t actually restrained. Maybe I could have gotten away.’

“Can you get this off?” Aster asks pitifully. “Or do we just need to go and figure it out later?”

The vigilante nods, cocksure. “I can. It’s not a very good lock,” she snarks, pulling out some little metal tools and jamming them around inside the keyhole. After a few seconds, the lock opens. Aster leans into Harmes’ side, accepting the help out of the van into sunshine. It’s a little painful after so long in the darkness.

There’s no sign of Box Guy and Flower Guy. There are some grimy looking cummerbunds on the cement, though, and an empty silver tray.

There’s a jingle. Aster looks over in time to see Harmes casually throw the keys onto the driver’s seat.

Aster climbs in and collapses gladly next to a serious looking woman in a suit, while Harmes and their vigilante friend pile in the car. But try as they might, Aster just can’t stop shaking. Their entire torso is vibrating with adrenaline and exhaustion. The woman in the suit is right up against Aster’s body, and the human warmth is nice.

“Glad to see you made it, Aster!” a person Aster vaguely recognizes as a social media thembo turns around and waves. “Nice to meet you.”

Aster is too tired to really think about any of that. Harmes is a weird person. They have weird friends. The serious woman pulls a small bag out of her briefcase and puts it on Aster’s lap without looking away from her papers, while the person Aster can only remember as “that hottie with the villain hotpants line” drives out of the parking lot and back in the direction of town. Aster peels one eye open politely when the woman next to them begins to speak.

“Apple juice, a sandwich, and a banana. You need to hydrate and eat.” Then she turns back to her papers.

That gets Aster up like a shot, and they eat it with a frenzy. Honestly, it isn’t as nice as the catering leftovers, but a sandwich and juice does wonders for Aster’s nerves.

Eventually the driver switches on music. It’s dark, and the streetlamps pass by slowly. They get brighter and newer as they approach the city center, halos of warm light bathing the inside of the car.

Time passes slowly now that the adrenaline is fading. Harmes’ friends keep glancing at you. Harmes is busy on their phone.

Harmes turns towards you and raises their phone. “Aster, proof of life.” Aster extends a weak smile and a peace sign for the picture.

‘I’m out. I’m safe. It’s done.’

Finally, Aster’s heart rate starts to go down. Everything is going to be okay.

The car ride is quiet. The vigilante polishes her bat with a grin that is concerning, but Aster can’t really bring themself to focus on that. The methodical folding of papers over the rumble of the engine. No one speaks. Aster’s eyes begin to feel tired, and they decide not to fight it. They lean back into the seat of the car, and relax into the tranquility of newfound safety.

They fall asleep almost immediately.

NOTE:

This was originally posted on my Patreon, where I am continually writing other character stories for Deplorably Devoted. Check it out here!

[lattekatte]

Survivor’s Guilt AU, Chapter 1

i’m really nervous to post this but fuck it here we go. i wrote this back in july and never posted it until literally right now but kept thinking about it and i am going to write a chapter from adam’s perspective of what happens with him after this cause the story isn’t finished obviously. also this was before volume 4 when we found out that adam was an alternate all along so this was going off of the assumptions about adam’s nature that were kind of prevalent at the time. anyway here we go

Winter Break, 2009. 

Jonah’s head hurt. He felt the throbbing at his temples along with a red-hot sensation in his swollen eyelids as acrid tears irritated his eyes and dripped into his open mouth through gritted teeth. Wordlessly screaming internally against the incessant whispering in his mind, he pulled the car over with a jolt of the brakes and grasped at the door handle, half-falling out of the open car door onto the pavement. 

The road smelled freshly paved with pungent asphalt, reflecting an unwelcome white light into Jonah’s stinging eyes: the headlights of an approaching truck. Jonah felt a spike of terror as he rolled himself underneath his parked car, narrowly avoiding the front wheels of the large pickup truck as it crushed sticks and pebbles of asphalt inches from Jonah’s soft hands pushing his body out of the lane. Scrambling out from under the mechanics of the car onto the side of the road, his hands clawed into coarse dirt and grass, digging rough particles of cold sand into his nail beds as he pulled himself out and away from the street. 

Dehydrated from crying and dizzy from the adrenaline, he allowed himself to crumple onto the ground. The blood rushing through his ears raced through his head with an audible hissing noise, like static, putting a loud pressure on the inside of his head, like he’d just sprinted a mile with no water. Louder still was the rapid echoing and amplification of thoughts ricocheting off of the sides of his brain: you left him behind, you left him to die, you’re going to hell. He let out a strangled sob at the thought of Adam still in that house with no way out. If Adam hadn’t already been killed, the only other option was that his death was happening right now, at this very moment, with his only means of escape collapsed on the side of the road miles away. The worst best friend in the world.

Jonah lay face down in the cold grass, heaving sobs past the lump in his throat. He felt like throwing up, tasting bile that wasn’t there. After a long time, he was too exhausted for the frantic racing thoughts to continue, explosive whispering transitioning to morose silence and a painful kind of brain fog. A split second later, through this despondent haze in Jonah’s mind, the voices cut sharply from inside his head to outside. Outside, and right in front of him; emitting like radio static from a figure that came into focus as Jonah lifted his head. 

The figure was tall, and proportioned in a way that made Jonah go cross eyed trying to piece it together. Dressed almost angelically, with starkly pale skin and long blond waves of hair, it seemed to shudder in and out of focus. Its eyes looked drawn onto its face; the shapes of eyelid, iris and pupil geometrically aligned with each other. It was staring at Jonah, and emitting the same whispers that had haunted Jonah since he left Adam less than half an hour ago. It arranged its teeth in a smile, and spoke to Jonah without moving its mouth. 

“You left him to die.” 

Coming from the unmoving lips of this alternate, the phrase sounded less like an accusation and more like a sentence from some terrifying holy court. You cannot un-abandon a friend. 

Jonah stood up sharply, only to fall once again on his knees before the angelic alternate. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out, at first just a guttural scream, which made the figure take a few steps back. Slowly at first, Jonah’s wails changed into something more recognizable as “Is he alive? Is Adam dead? Is he dead?” 

The angel said nothing. 

Jonah had never been religious, but out of something analogous to complete desperation, he clasped his hands together so tightly that his nails drew blood, and he prayed in front of this mockery of an angel, and his prayer was a scream that tore its way through the raw tissue of his voice box: “Please, fucking please, bring him back! Let him come back alive!” 

The angel took a step, barefoot in the sparse grass, towards Jonah. 

“I’ll do anything! Anything you want me to do! I don’t fucking care! Kill me if you want, but bring Adam back!” 

The angel tilted its head to one side, like a curious nocturnal predator. It took another step toward Jonah, and then suddenly, like it was ambushing a small animal, it made a swift motion downwards. Jonah closed his eyes and flinched away, preparing for the worst. 

Nothing. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to see the angel kneeling on the ground inches from Jonah’s own kneeling position, grass staining its white robe where it touched the soil beside the road. Jonah’s dizzy gaze met the angel’s, and as his vision evened out to match the angel’s unwavering stare, the eyes looking into his own melted from pure black irises and uncannily wide eyelids to the same dark shade of umber as Jonah’s, sparkling with the same swollen redness of tears. Jonah gasped sharply, the cold air hitting the back of his throat like ice water, and fell back, hands against the rough soil. He tried to wrench his eyes away from the gaze that now matched his own, but found the eye contact impossible to break, as if it were a physically locked bond between them. 

The angel spoke again, and it spoke with Jonah’s voice and its own, two voices merged into one: “Do you blame yourself?” and, simultaneously, “You should blame yourself.”

Jonah tried to push himself backwards again and broke the eye contact, tears crashing back in a tidal wave to the corners of his eyes, but the angel reached out to him out of the darkness with a birch-white arm and grasped his face with a pale platinum hand that felt strangely warm against Jonah’s skin, the way metal gets warm after immense friction. The angel guided Jonah back towards it, tilting his head with its hand and holding his jawline in a way that was almost comforting. 

Jonah wanted to scream, but his voice broke with a sob as his eyes were fixed into the angel’s eye contact once again. Completely exhausted both mentally and physically, he gave in to the angel’s control. 

“It should have been me,” he whispered. 

Softly, almost kindly, the angel concurred, “It should have been you.” 

The guilt that Jonah felt was strong, but stronger than the acidity of guilt was the gravitational pull of acceptance. Jonah’s body went slack, and the angel took him into its arms and laid him down in its lap as it sat cross-legged on the short grass. 

“Do you wish to take his place, Jonah?” 

Jonah, for reasons unbeknownst to even himself, nodded. 

The angel sat silent for a while, then held out a closed hand to Jonah, who opened it. Inside was Jonah’s pocket knife, the small one with the faux pearl handle that he kept in his glove compartment for emergencies. Adam had bought it for him at a flea market in Mandela County several months ago. 

Jonah took the knife from the angel’s palm, and regarded it for a long moment through bleary eyes. Finally, he raised his head to meet the angel’s eyes, and this time it was him holding the eye contact. 

“Give me your word,” Jonah said, “that you’ll bring Adam back. The real Adam. Alive.” He pointed the knife forwards towards the angel’s chest in a final attempt at a threatening gesture, knowing full well he could do nothing, that he was harmless. 

The angel, holding the eye contact, melted its eyes from the velvet brown that matched Jonah’s irises to the slate blue-gray of Adam’s shining eyes. “I give you my word.”

Jonah sat up, slowly. There was a strong flavor of dread in his mouth and an even stronger conviction of what he was doing solidifying itself in his mind, like iron filings clinging onto a magnet. The rest of the world started to fade from his view into mist, matching the gray-dark of the night and the road. He felt a sense of clarity, seeing himself from the outside, silver-blonde hair soaked with tears trailing over soft mahogany skin, a trembling hand deliberately being raised as if by a crane operated in Jonah’s conscious mind, bearing the bright silver blade as cargo to its intended target, and he didn’t want to do it but at the same time he did. He owed it to himself and to Adam, of course to Adam. 

For Adam’s sake, he pushed his train of thought away from the memories of little Jonah eating raspberry lime popsicles in the backyard, hugging his parents at his fifth grade graduation, holding on tight to his favorite stuffed tiger and running around in the grass. For Adam’s sake, he refused to give himself the time to let his life flash before his eyes and to regret what he was about to do. For Adam’s sake, he ignored the mental image of little Jonah crying and afraid as an older version of himself taught him to fear the end of his life, blade pressed against little Jonah’s neck. 

With a lump in his throat, Jonah turned away from his childhood self, and he looked into Adam’s blue eyes. They looked back at him, kindly, from the porcelain face of the angel. 

“I’m coming back for you, Adam,” he choked out, and pushed the knife into his neck. 

Jonah woke up – wait, woke up? – on the grass, with a warm hand on his forehead. It felt like the only source of warmth in the world, pouring heat into his freezing body. Save for this feeling of heat on his forehead, he was completely numb head to toe, his lips and fingers blue and his face bloodless. As the warmth spread from his forehead to the back of his head, he felt that his hair was cold and wet, sticking to his scalp like red metallic mud. As he regained his sense of smell, the stench of iron and dirt gradually registered in his brain as the smell of blood, lots of it. He knew that this blood had to have come out of a living thing, and before it could dawn on him that he had been that living thing, the warmth spread to his neck. 

It intensified in a split second, becoming a white-hot scalding, burning heat, and Jonah screamed. The scream broke the fragile flesh that had already been split open, letting loose a flood of choking hot liquid into the boiling agony of his throat. He took a sharp inhale, a million tiny swords and knives embedding themselves into his vocal cords, and as he tried to restrain himself from screaming again, another hand clamped itself over his mouth. In total shock, Jonah froze, eyes widening in a stunned and agonized state of suspended animation. The hand that had been on his forehead moved quickly down to his neck, applying pressure from its palm onto Jonah’s throat, and the pain vanished, like a candle being blown out. He felt the sensation of his skin shifting and reattaching to itself, closing the wound that had been inflicted there. 

The hand returned to Jonah’s forehead, and he fell into a black anesthesia. 

Jonah woke up again, still on the grass, entirely paralyzed. Not even his eyelids would move, completely still across his eyes like two heavy weighted blankets. He tried to sit up, to open his eyes, to open his mouth, but it was as if the cord between his mind and body had been cut, like trying to flick on a lightswitch when the power is out. 

The angel– the alternate– was standing over him. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel its presence there, an obelisk of radiant horror. Acknowledging its presence formed a pit in his stomach, but he also felt an unfamiliar draw towards it that he couldn’t rationalize. He fought against this pull, struggling to breathe with the stiffened muscles around his lungs. A pained sound escaped him as his ribs cramped, sending a spike of discomfort through his chest. The angel reacted frighteningly quickly, stooping down to place a hand on Jonah’s upper torso and releasing the paralysis in his lungs, allowing him to intake a sharp mouthful of air. As Jonah’s breathing stabilized, he scanned his body for feelings of any injuries. He focused his attention onto his chest, trying to gauge how fast his heart was beating. It wasn’t. 

Before Jonah could even register this, he felt the angel settle down next to him, the hem of its robe rustling his hair as it folded around the side of Jonah’s head. It placed two fingertips, still strangely warm, on each of Jonah’s eyelids, and opened them. 

Jonah felt the sensation of being pulled through thick cloth, like he was being forced through the very fabric of spacetime. 

When his eyes opened, he found he could move again, and he dug his fingers into warm, dry carpet. Confused, he sat up, feeling the solid surface of a floor where a moment before there had been dirt and grass and frost. Breathing heavily, he scanned the space– small, with gray walls and a beige carpet– for the angel, for any other sign of life, alternate or otherwise. Although he still felt the imprints of the angel’s fingertips on his eyelids, there was nothing and no one to be seen. 

There were no windows in the room. The air was stifling, with no circulation, dry and warm, and Jonah got the distinct feeling of being enclosed by the earth. Sitting up on his knees, he struggled to hear a sound in the cloying silence of the room. The quiet was deafening, like white noise. Like static. 

The silence was suddenly broken by a wail that made Jonah’s stomach drop. Though distorted beyond its previous quality, it was all too familiar to him. It repeated again, a few seconds later, and again, and again: the warped sound of a cat’s cry. He was in the basement. 

“Oh no, no no no no,” Jonah’s voice quavered. He spun wildly, standing up too quickly. “Adam? ADAM!!” 

The recording of the cat resonated like a foghorn in Jonah’s brain, only causing him to panic further. It wailed again and again, like a broken alarm, low and threatening and pervasive. Jonah stumbled and fell, his body hitting the carpet with a thud, flinching as the wind was knocked out of him. He opened his eyes to a staticky white light, directly in front of his face, emanating from a box in the darkness ahead of him. With a startled gasp, he scrambled backwards, away from the TV. As he watched in horror, the cat sound lowered in pitch and stretched out, one continuous droning of absolute terror. And suddenly, the TV shut off, plunging Jonah into darkness, the tenor siren of the cat remaining, dropping sharply in pitch and quality once again, one long screaming sound in the dark basement. 

The panic in Jonah’s lungs drained the air from every part of his body, grasping hands of vacuum pressure forcing their way through his torso and out through his mouth in a sharp spasm of air. The pressure of his fear was palpable and all-consuming, painfully crushing his body into the carpet and digging nails into the crevices of his subconscious mind. The atmosphere itself had him pinned to the ground, rendering him absolutely helpless against the sentient, ambient terror enveloping him. He struggled in the gravitational restraints of his own form, a last desperate effort to escape the feeling that was overcoming him. Hot tears streamed down his cold face, flowing over the surface of his skin like warm water from a tap, generating a sharp tingling sensation like pins and needles that spread over him entirely. Nothing hurt anymore, but Jonah screamed for his life, writhing against the visceral shifting feeling spreading throughout his body, fighting the strange comforting lull that had started to seep into his consciousness. 

For as long as he could, Jonah resisted the change, but finally, all at once, he felt the last bit of his strength slip away. The pressure pulled him under and covered him completely, and it dissolved him until he was unrecognizable. 

.

.

[author’s note: fuck] 

[biggiedraws]

Have you looked into QPRs/Queerplatonic Relationships? It’s kind of like that!!!!!

yes i know all about them! i actually have a lot of thoughts about this so strap in bc we're in for a long one.

for me personally, i dont think its really necessary to distinguish a platonic relationship where you live together or do other "marriage things" from any other kind of friendship. some friendships are closer or last longer than others and thats fine, so i just dont see why i would need a different word for it? like, every description of a qpr ive seen is different from a regular platonic relationship in up to 2 ways: 1. its "deeper" or "more meaningful" than regular friendships (implies that friendships cannot be as deep or meaningful as a marriage, which i reject) and 2. you do things together that regular friends dont do (but who says we cant do those with all of our friends? why can you only break these rules with one special person? when does it go from a slightly unconventional friendship to a qpr? idk doesnt really make sense to me). im sure those distinctions matter to some people, but i just dont really find them useful

and the deeper issue here is that society has drilled into us that we need to have one person that is The Most Important, that we rely on to fulfill all of our relationship needs. this is the concept of "amatonormativity": the idea that everyone needs to settle down with someone into a traditional monogamous relationship, and that no other relationship is as important or fulfilling as that one. and i just dont subscribe to that kind of hierarchy (for me personally! obviously not telling anyone how to live their life. your relationship boundaries and labels are your business). like im already throwing out the idea of a traditional marriage by not wanting a sexual relationship, so may as well throw out everything else i dont like while im at it. i dont think the person youre having sex with has to be the person youre closest with in the world, i dont think the person you share finances with has to be the person you primarily rely on emotionally, i think physical and emotional intimacy should not be reserved for sexual relationships, and i think every relationship fulfills a different role and combining them all into one Ultimate Most Important Relationship- FOR LIFE- isnt always a good idea. whether its a marriage or a qpr or whatever else.

and honestly i think the main reason this viewpoint is so uncommon (well, aside from the fact that most people dont really examine what theyre taught about marriage and monogamy and the way things "should" be) is because of jealousy. i totally understand the desire to be The Most Important Person in someone elses life, to feel wanted and needed by someone that you love. and finding out that someone youre very close to also relies on someone else definitely stings a bit! but just because something makes you a little upset doesnt mean that its actually bad. i think everyone should have lots of people to rely on outside of their partner, and people they trust just as much or more than their partner, and i think we would all be a lot healthier and happier if we accepted that and got rid of the traditional hierarchy of "everyone must come second to your spouse, because your spouse should fulfill all of your relationship needs, and if they dont then theyre a bad spouse"

like. sometimes people who are very good for each other are not compatible sexually. why shouldnt they fulfill those needs elsewhere? (IF theyre both okay with it. im not condoning cheating, im talking about unconventional relationship boundaries that are mutually agreed upon.) sometimes people who love each other do not agree on how a household should be run. why should they move in together just because their relationship has reached a certain stage? why should someones long-term friendships suddenly become less important to them once they get into a romantic relationship?? all these rules are made up! i reject them all! relationship anarchy!!

and just to be clear- im not saying that traditional monogamous relationships are bad. if you want those kinds of relationship boundaries, where one person is the most important to you and your relationship is very exclusive, more power to you! but that isnt the only option, and its frustrating how much our society devalues friendship in favour of marriage. i mean, even people who dont want a romantic relationship needed to define something thats MORE than "just friends". because friends dont get married. friends dont sleep together. friends dont raise children together. those things go beyond "just friends". but i say screw that! friends can do whatever they want together! i love my friends a lot and i refuse to be confined by what friends are and arent "supposed" to do together. and its a shame that you really only see these kinds of unconventional relationship dynamics in the polyamorous and aro/ace communities. everyone should question what they know about relationships and how theyre supposed to function, and decide for themselves what kind of boundaries work for their specific relationships. at least thats what i think

[schraubd]

A Thread on the Bluesky Meta

Within the past few days, I've signed up for both Threads and Bluesky. Both also are letting me slowly wean off my Twitter addiction (I'm basically only posting blog links to Twitter these days). At the moment, all three apps have advantages and disadvantages.

(One things that falls into the "disadvantage" column for all three is that none of them right now appear to support letting me automatically cross-post links to my blog entries onto their site. Twitter used to allow for this but eliminated the feature as part of its overall crusade against its own usability. Threads and Bluesky don't seem to have been integrated yet into IFTTT or other similar sites. First site to offer that feature will get a huge leg up in the David sweepstakes).

Threads

Pros

Instagram tie means it has a pre-existing userbase that can scale quickly. This makes it easier to at least initially fill out a follower list. And while nobody is thrilled to jump from an evil billionaire to a somewhat-less evil billionaire, if we're bloodless about it the Meta backing makes Threads the most likely to actually slay the giant. It's no accident that its launch has yielded a visible dent in Twitter's daily traffic.

Cons

Very clearly launched ahead of schedule to take advantage of Twitter's latest disaster (the "metered" tweet fiasco), and so a bunch of really basic features don't exist. No desktop app is virtually a dealbreaker for users like me, and that's just one example. Once you get past your Instagram network, it's actually quite difficult to find your friends, and the app is absolutely obsessed with pushing random "influencer" types into my timeline that I absolutely do not care about and which only serve to gum up the conversations I'm actually interested in following. This may be intentional -- Threads people have suggested that they self-consciously are trying to avoid centering their business around news/commentary -- but that makes it less attractive for me.

Bluesky

Pros

Definitely has the most "Twitter-like" feel without the baggage. That it has both a functioning mobile and desktop version automatically gives it a huge leg up for me. While obviously still in progress, it has most of the features I'd want in a site, and my feed at least looks mostly populated by the types of conversations I want to see. Likewise, when I search for new accounts, it seems to make a modicum of effort at recommending folks I'd want to engage with. Is as of now probably the site I most want to succeed of the three.

Cons

Still growing very slowly via the invite-only model, and the smaller userbase means it's inherently less active. I finally got an invite to Bluesky upon telling a friend I had joined Threads, and in the course of him fulminating about all the ways Bluesky was superior I guilted him into giving me an access code. That doesn't seem scalable, and microblogging social media sites depend on scaling.

Twitter

Pros

Even now it still probably has the greatest range of users and commentary, and of course I already have a pre-existing base of followers which I'm loathe to leave behind. I don't consider myself a major audience chaser, but even I feel a bit of a sting going from 4,000 followers to several dozen, and I don't relish building it back up from scratch. As more than one person has noted, the basic structure of Twitter circa 2021 is what a ton of people want to see replicated, and even as Musk has made it his mission to regularly lop off useful and helpful features and practices, everything that has for now escaped his cullings is comfortingly familiar.

Cons

All the Nazis, obviously. And the crypto scams. And the push to promote far-right conspiracies and bigotry via "verified" promoted accounts (if a blue checkmark no longer means "you are who you say you are", and does mean "you have paid Twitter a fee so it will boost your content", that is the very definition of a "promoted account"). And the searing hatred Musk has for his own customers, regularly intervening to make the user experience worse for no discernable reason other than pique.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/45nY6vm

[miraculouswolf99]

Why I Love Miraculous Season Five

Contains spoilers for Miraculous Ladybug season five. So, if you have not seen any of the episodes or only just a few, please do not read if you do not want any spoilers.

Now, I am the first to admit that I did not have a lot of hope for season five. Especially after the disasters that both seasons three and four turned out to be. But, the season is actually starting to be one of my favorites along with season 2.

One of the first things that I probably loved was seeing both Marinette and Adrien be human in their hero identities. There is Marinette getting stressed, overwhelmed, and sad just as she had when she was first made the guardian, but the way that this season does it actually shows her being more healthy with how she is dealing with the loss of the kwami and the other miraculous.

Last season, she dealt with the stress by revealing to Alya her identity as Ladybug. Which turned out to be a big mistake given how quickly Alya told Nino about her new identity as Rena Furative while still not believing Marinette about Lila being a liar even when she now had full proof about Lila not being best friends with Ladybug. But in season five, Marinette took up jogging to release pent-up energy, she planned ahead to keep Monarch from finding out her identity as Ladybug, and she also started trusting Cat Noir more during fights. Such as allowing him to be the one to fuse the cat and rabbit miraculous together in the first episode, Evolution.

With Adrien, he is also getting more of a spotlight this season as well. And not just as a tool being used as an object for Marinette's affection or as a tool for people to hate against. He is actually being used as a real character. Such as showing how panicked he got when Monarch forced him to use his Cataclysm on him in order to escape before the heroes could reclaim the miraculous. He shows genuine worry for the villain, showing empathy even toward the villain of the show.

He is also shown to finally get some character development that I have been waiting five seasons for! He stood up to his dad about no longer wanting to be a model. And while Gabriel only agreed because of being able to make a digital model of Adrien for the Alliance Rings, Adrien had still done it. He also stood up to his father about how he did not like that after he told him he no longer wanted to be a model his image was still being used.

One of Adrien's best moments had actually been in the episode Passion. Natalie had voluntarily gotten akumatized after she learned about Gabriel being cataclysmed and became Safari that used the power of the goat miraculous to make herself the perfect hunting equipment. After Ladybug got stung by an arrow with the power of the bee miraculous, Venom, it was Cat Noir that came up with the idea of using Plagg and Tikki to swap their miraculous. That way, the bee's sting would wear off and it would also prevent the arrows from finding them because the arrows were searching for Ladybug and Cat Noir, not Mister Bug and Lady Noir.

Natalia's character development was also really great to see. While she still lived in Agreste Mansion, she had also admitted that she was only sticking around in order to stay close to Adrien in order to take care of him. She did not want to leave him alone with Gabriel, really taking on a role as a mother figure. Especially when Adrien came to her for advice when he gained his crush on Marinette. Natalie also gained a goal of her own. She wants the ladybug and black cat miraculous now as well, but she wants them in order to keep them out of Gabriel's hands as well as free Adrien from his controlling ways.

Also, speaking of Adrien's crush on Marinette, the development of the love square is also something I liked about the seasons. As much as I still dislike Marinette in general, I loved how the love square was handled. It was developed so that it looked more natural and less about the two of them being a couple simply because they were obviously the show's endgame.

Both Marinette and Adrien reversed the love square by Adrien falling for Marinette on top of Marinette falling for Cat Noir. Plus, Marinette falling for Cat Noir gave a great moment for Marinette to be almost akumatized over both people continuously trying to get her back to falling for Adrien/control her love life. She did not fall for Monarch's words, obviously, but it was another great moment of vulnerability and human behavior from the "strong and positive" Ladybug. Also, that episode also did have Marinette rethinking her love life given that she knew she could not be with Cat Noir as Marinette because it would put her at risk.

Her and Adrien finally getting together also brought moments for other characters to shine. And not in ways like those like Luka and Kagami simply being okay with the two of them being together.

Kagami got great moments in both Perfection and Protection. Perfection showed just how much Kagami wanted to escape the lonely feeling that came from how she was raised on top of being forced to be "perfect" all the time. Protection also showed how there was still a part of Kagami that liked Adrien even when she was happy for him and Marinette. But, it was the protective side of her that allowed Lila to take advantage of her by lying about Marinette being a fake friend and only taking advantage of Adrien in order to get ahead in the fashion world. The episode also showed that Kagami, while aware that Lila is a liar, still wants to be her friend and try to help her improve, just like Adrien's approach to Lila.

Lila and Felix both are great parts of the season. One of the main things that I disliked about Lila in seasons three and four would be mostly the lack of use of her character. Like, for someone that supposedly had sworn vengeance against Marinette and Ladybug, she was not really used that much other than in Chameleon, Ladybug, and a little bit in Penalteam and the season four finale.

But season five is finally getting some good use out of her character. She had been the one to lie and manipulate Kagami into being akumatized both times in Perfection and Protection. As well as revealing that she is aware that Gabriel is Monarch even if it does not appear that he knows that. It was also revealed how big her lies are on top of just how little about her life is actually true, or even if anything about her is true. As it was revealed that Lila has multiple identities and multiple families that she lies to all the time. There is the one we saw briefly, Mrs.Rossi, that Lila lives with, an unknown mother that thinks Lila is doing charity work in Africa, and a deaf-mute mother whom Lila communicates with through sign language that believes her "daughter" is an actress that needs to travel a lot. It was also revealed that she wears a wig with her real hair being very short. Another group of "friends" was also shown using the name "Cerise" for her. It is definitely showing that she is becoming a bigger villain, which is character development in its own way.

Felix also has been getting some much-needed screentime as well. Such as it was revealed why he wanted the peacock miraculous and why he was willing to go so far as to trade all the other miraculous for it. As much as he was originally being treated as a villain, he wanted the peacock miraculous in order to create a sentimonster to free himself and others like him from anyone that would hold them back or try to control them.

When he appeared in Emotion, he temporarily pretended to be Adrien in order to get into the Diamond Dance. That way, he could use his Red Moon sentimonster in order to basically "Thanos snap" everyone else away that was caught in Red Moon's light. He especially wanted to get rid of Chloe, Gabriel, and Kagami's mother. He wanted to free himself, Adrien, and Kagami from those that wanted to control them. It showed that despite his methods and the road he took to get to that point, he did have a noble goal and also those he cared about. It was even revealed that he had started to develop a crush on Kagami.

Felix definitely still fits into the "villain" category because of his methods to achieve his goal on top of being the one to trade away all the other miraculous. But, at least he has a better reason for what he does than Lila or Gabriel do. And unlike the other two, Felix does actually have people he cares about. As soon as he saw how upset Adrien was at Marinette being snapped away, Felix brought back everyone when he was unable to bring her back specifically.

Character development has always been something that would make a series really good. It had been why the previous two seasons did not do so well given that Marinette had always been the main focus while leaving literally everyone else in the dust. But now that other characters are getting into the spotlight, I have high hopes for the rest of the season.

[7ban-sama]

@rapidfur

This chapter was sooo weird to me for various reasons. 1. Sakura appointed him to his position (allegedly) but he either doesnt know or doesnt seem to care that his brother is his boss's boss?! This is so minor truly but it kinda drives me crazy. THIS ON TOP OF WHAT YOU POINTED OUT… but there's something so sincere about him here, still, that pisses me off. I underestimate amane a lot but sometimes i think hes just actually, literally, stupid. I think his apology was definitely scraping the bar, he somehow clunked his head on the bar while it was underground, its like a "SORRY I GOT CAUGHT" as opposed to a genuine apology. Which is typical for him. Or like hes barely understood the consequences, and is very tentatively accepting new morals into his head (doing things you think are good without permission… bad!?!?! *frantically gauging other party's expression*… yes, yes, bad!!!! Got it…)

The more I comb over events, the more I'm convinced Hanako is not feeling any remorse or guilt for the Severance in reality, like omg I think it's less than conferring with your party members for morality, actually, and more like. Trying to dupe your party members into thinking you apologized when you did not and do not intend to. so yes more like a "sorry i got caught" kind of mindset, or, maybe more like "sorry YOU feel bad" rghh

Tabbing through raws of the conversation and, I swear the flow of it is that he's like aheeehhe... 👉👈I, might, do it, again ❤️ & then he gets shaken by Kou and yields like, ugh okay okay... & says he didn't confer with either of them before making all the decisions himself, and he knows that was bad. He must be using a gentler tone along with his expression to convince Kou/Nene this is him being sorry, but nothing he said actually refers to his own thoughts/feelings, it's almost a very factual recitation of events? Not even referring to it as unforgivable (just kinda like, "oh you know, warui! lol" fdsghs)

I'm of course not actually of the belief that anyone in this manga really is a cold unfeeling monster (as fun as it is to rib Amane...) so, i DO think it's all a medley of sincerity/insincerity here. but tactically so. I think there are some bad feelings, but it's more so the sting of embarrassment and residual sadness to have made Yashiro specifically upset at him. Never like to incur her sobbing/yelling at him, haruu... *sad dog noises* ....... but taking initiative to overwrite autonomy & disregarding other's input... and uh, trying to kill her best friend. That's like *shrug* "I did what I had to :/ and you guys weren't doing anything about it all..." Perhaps Hanako is feeling the kind of sadness one gets when getting a scratch from their kitty while trying to take it to the vet — you feel "sorry" for it but you don't feel sorry for having done it... I was doing it for you!!!

but of course, it makes life easier to have assumptions from everyone around you that you're sorrier, sadder than you are. If Kou/Nene aren't going to really twist his arm and grill him about anything, then it's just convenient. Play along with their little games... don't mention the nitty-gritty. eurr, I mean it just reminds me of how relatively normal and back to the status-quo Hanako was able to act after PP... Obviously the encounter with Nene in the clouds in PP didn't actually make him feel ashamed of the actions he took, because he just went and did the Severance anyhow! He's good at what he does kfdkgdh

as for the Sakura thing though, I'd again just refer to the prior logic above ⬆️ ; Hanako is playing a lot close to the chest and isn't actually surprised by events. Resulting in fairly subdued, underwhelming results to info. at least, it's the only way i can rationaize it all, www