#like i think if you continue to be mean to me after i explicitly tell you i'm disabled and need help understanding you

[celepeace]

Service workers and nurses deserve a million times more respect than they're given and deserve better conditions and pay but also service workers and nurses be nicer to disabled people challenge

[inkskinned]

my father told me he read it, but he hasn't read it. that's okay. my friends keep picking the words out of my throat.

someone once told me that the more trigger warnings that go on a book, the better it is. i didn't mean to write something with so many conditional phrases - i was writing about what i felt while being a human. sometimes you are a person and sometimes you are a statistic. sometimes it is falling upwards and sometimes it's sliding back down again.

my father tells me that it will be difficult to get people to read it. i didn't like the idea of a singular genre. i'm not going to lie to you - it is actually a difficult book to get through. i change the rules in it. it's not poetry or prose explicitly. it's neither false nor reality. i give you the tools to "solve" the book, but i let you do the thinking. my father says people don't care to think. i don't know about that - i think we just, like, enjoy reading.

the thing is - i was tired of stories about survival where someone with depression goes to therapy and wakes up okay. i didn't live like that. i was tired of books about violence, where the gore of what i experience was splashed in glitter to lick off the page. like, i was a person, you know? i had a life and a job and a family. and in books, i watched my story get ripped up so people could explore the viscera of my body. so they could feel good. my brother once called it inspiration pornography. we had walked out of a suicide-prevention seminar, both of us disgusted while the increasingly-elated presenter kept listing methods-of. i remember the look on my brother's face. like i would tear that man apart given the right time and place.

my father says that kids these days. he warns me against writing about things that are too-serious. he says that they don't want it. i don't listen. he does make me take out a scene from the book where i go to church after having sex with a woman. it used to be the 7th scene in the book. i don't think he's read further than that, it rocked him too hard to continue.

it's a book about being queer. it's a book about being raised catholic. it doesn't have monsterfucking, i'm sorry. it's just about, like.

at some point you have to choose to stay here. and then you do have to stay here, which takes practice. this is about forming the habit. this is about what happens after you've already started doing the work. because, like. you keep going. you have to. and it's like. very imperfect.

i should make a post on instagram. i should make this announcement less bittersweet. but like -- i'm giving it you, specifically, because i think you know why i had to write it. you and me. this little community.

body's a bad monster. here's the link if you're interested in ordering.

[linopls]

kinktober day two

titfucking seungmin x fem!reader summary: seungmin's biggest pet peeve is when you forget plans warnings: warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, humiliation, manhandling, use of color system 0.9k words

“seungmin, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean-”

“ground,” he commands.  you comply, not wanting to piss him off more than he already is.

“i’ll make it up to you! i promise! whatever you want-” tears are streaming down your face and your grabbing at his legs, begging him to forgive you.

he grabs your chin in one of his big hands to cut you off. “i want you to shut the fuck up. since you want to act like such a slut, i’ll fucking treat you like one.” he forcefully releases his grip on your face, in a throw-like motion. “take your shirt off to match your fucking cunt.”

you quickly take your shirt off and throw it god knows where. you sit on your knees, hands in your lap, waiting for seungmin to make his next move. you had forgotten that seungmin said he would come over after his schedule today and he caught you playing with yourself. he had previously said that this event would probably stress him out so he wanted to come to your apartment and make love to you before falling asleep. 

“i’m already fucking exhausted from today,” he says, walking over to your nightstand and opening one of your drawers. “and i expected to come home to my beautiful lover that i could make sweet, romantic love to. but no.” he turns around, a small bottle of lube in one hand and he’s unbuckling his belt with the other. “i came home to a slut, who couldn’t even wait for me to come home to make her feel good.”

he grabs you by the chin again and lowers himself to eye level with you. “i was going to be so sweet and gentle with you today, i was thinking about it the whole way home. but now i don’t think you deserve it.”

you gulp, too scared to respond, seungmin picks up on this. normally you would have a snarky remark or would continue to beg for forgiveness, but today you’re too disappointed in yourself to do so. 

“color?” seungmin whispers, lightening the grip on your jaw. 

“g-green,” you whisper back, lowering your head.

“good,” he says, as he stands up fully.

“c-can i say one thing?” you ask meekly.

“yes,” he answers, standing above you looking down at your solemn figure.

“i’m very sorry, i-i had mixed up what days y-you said y-you’d be o-over and i,uh, thought it was ‘morrow.”

“shouldn’t be so forgetful,” he laughs, pulling his belt off and throwing it onto your bed. 

“i know. you can do whatever you need to me tonight and i’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

“i intend to,” he spits. he pulls his slacks down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the sight makes your mouth water. “sit up,” he commands. 

you do as he asks and sit up on your knees, you’re face to face with his stomach and you look up to him. he looks so handsome like this, telling you want to do and holding this power above you.

“push ‘em together,” he says, removing the cap from the bottle of lube. he doesn’t have to explicitly say it, you know exactly what he’s talking about.

you knew that seungmin was a tit guy, the way he always groped at them or stared at them no matter what you were doing. a couple months ago, you were having a similar scene but you were allowing him to face fuck you. he stopped suddenly and asked if it would be okay to use your tits to get off. ever since then he had become addicted to it and would do it any time you misbehaved.

you pushed your breasts together and he prepared his cock and placed it between your tits. 

“good?” he asks. everytime he checks in, it makes your heart swell. you nod in response.

he slowly begins to move back and forth between your soft breasts. “fuck,” he groans. 

you nod. you feel yourself dripping all over your hardwood floors and you adjust yourself to close your legs and stop any further leaking. 

“sitting nice and still while i use you is the least you could do right now.” he says through gritted teeth.

you try to move again but seungmin grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to look at him.

“why the fuck are you moving?” seungmin yells.

“d-don’t want to make a mess on my floor,” you whisper.

“speak up slut. you were so loud earlier begging for my forgiveness. where is that now?” he taunts, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“i’m making a mess on my floor, d-don’t want to leave a puddle.”

“oh my god,” seungmin erupts into laughter. “you are such a fucking slut aren’t you? i can just use your tits for my own pleasure and it has you gushing all over the place, hmm?”

your face turns red and tears threaten to spill over.

“gonna cry, hmm? save it.” seungmin grabs both of your shoulders and begins to fuck your tits faster.

“push ‘em together further, slut.”

you push your breasts together as hard as you can and seungmin moans loudly in response. 

“gonna come all fucking over you,” he spits before releasing his load. he paints your breasts, neck, and jaw white and you sigh in relief. he takes one of his fingers and slides it over a pile of is cum and holds it to your mouth,

“suck,” he commands and you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth. 

once you wipe them clean, he ponders for a moment. “push ‘em back together,” he says, stroking his cock back to its full length. “i’m not finished yet.”

seungmin simps please rise !!

taglist:

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp a @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees c @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher z @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine

[dyaz-stories]

say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.

(He fucks you on your desk)

word count: 2.6k

genre: canon compliant, smut

cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers

a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!

more gojo x reader here

Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.

“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”

“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”

“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”

“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”

“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”

You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.

It just so happens that you are very paranoid.

Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.

“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”

It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.

“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.

“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”

It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.

You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.

“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”

You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.

“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”

“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”

He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—

“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”

You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—

Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.

“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.

You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.

It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.

You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.

But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.

Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.

“Wait, wait, Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.

“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”

“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”

He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.

“Yaga— Yaga could—”

“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”

He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.

You always laugh for him.

“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.

“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”

You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.

He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.

“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.

Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.

Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.

“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”

You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.

“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”

He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.

“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.

“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”

Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.

“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”

That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!

You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.

He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.

“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.

“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.

“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”

Cute.

“Done. Now, about that round two…”

“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.

He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.

“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.

“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”

There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.

“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.

Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.

Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.

Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.

You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.

You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.

With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.

“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.

“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.

“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”

“No.”

“Yaga’s office is probably—”

“Absolutely not.”

“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.

“…Sure.”

He only savors his victory for a second.

“What about the couch?”

“Don’t push it.”

But he does, and you let him.

How could you not, when you finally have him back?

still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~

if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here

[sunny44]

The exes club

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex!reader, ex wags x fem!reader

Warnings: ex wags.

Summary: Where all the ex wags are best friends.

Yourusername instagram post

Liked by @maxverstappen, @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna and other 174829

Yourusername the exes club is reunited again

Ps: for sure the best part of ours relationship

Tagged: @isahernáez, @charlottesiine, @luisinhaoliveira, @elenaberri, @katerinaberezhna

Isahernáez I miss this so much

Yourusername and I missed you

Luisinhaoliveira love you babes

Yourusername love you more girlfriend

Maxverstappen I can see you’re having fun

Liked by Yourusername

Love4wags I love that the best wags are bestfriends

Mv33fan I miss y/n and Max together

User81 I hate the fact that y/n explicitly say that she doesn’t like the current wag

F1lovelywags

Model Y/n Y/L/N talking about the comments of her not liking the new wags.

Y/n was Max Verstappen's girlfriend until a few months ago when they decided to end their relationship.

She and the other ex-WAGs were often seen together in the paddock during race weekends, emphasizing that they were and still are best friends.

Fans are now commenting on her latest post, suggesting that she dislikes the new WAGs just because she shared that she and the other exes were out having fun.

Yourusername instagram stories

“It’s race weekend”

I was invited to attend the weekend in Monza.

It had been a while since I attended any races; it lost its appeal after Max and I broke up. We decided it was for the best, as my modeling career consumed all my time, just like his racing career did to him.

We no longer had time for each other, and it was driving us apart. So, the best decision for both of us was to take a break, which ultimately led to the end.

But here I was again, at a race, hoping everything would go well without any stress.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N." I turned around to see someone from SKY Sports. "Could you give a brief interview?"

"Of course," I agreed, controlling to not roll my eyes as giving interviews was the last thing I wanted to do today.

"We saw your statement in your latest YouTube video regarding the comments on your posts. Do you have anything to declare?"

"As I said in the video, I'm not obligated to like anyone, even if that's what fans think. I don't personally know any of the girls, so the comments are unfounded, defamatory, and malicious," I said, looking into the camera. "I've always been friends with the other girls, and our friendship might have started here due to our ex-boyfriends working in the same field. But our friendship goes beyond that, so the fact that these so-called fans are bothered by something so trivial truly amazes me. Once again, I have nothing against anyone, so I ask you to stop trying to portray me as the villain just because you don't like me."

"Very well, thank you Y/n, for your words," I agreed and left.

I continued walking, stopped for a coffee, and on my way back, Daniel waved at me.

"Y/n, long time no see."

"Hi, Dani," I hugged him. "How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Good too, just the usual dramas."

"I saw; people don't have much sense.”

"Don't even talk about it. I don't know where people get this rivalry. It's not like I said anything about them in the post."

"Don't worry about it. Fans are just jealous because all of you dated who they wanted. The girls are getting hate now for dating them."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I sighed. "It's terrible for all of us. Max and I aren't even dating anymore, and people still hassle me."

"I can imagine. Heidi sometimes shows me some comments, and they're pretty nasty."

"Well, I need to go, but good luck in the race," I waved. Passing in front of the Red Bull garage, I was pulled inside, and when I saw, I was in Max's driver's room. "What the hell is this?"

"I wanted to see you," he said simply.

"And did you need to pull me in like you were kidnapping me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you and I wanted as few people as possible to see."

"Why? Are you ashamed?"

"Of course not." He stared at me. "How are you?"

"Look, you didn't pull me in here to ask how I am, and I know it was your idea to invite me, even though you tried really hard to make it seem like it wasn't," I said, and he looked at the floor. "So tell me, why so much effort to bring me here?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you."

"You could have called me or sent a message."

"I know, but I needed to say this in person," I agreed and sat on his bed.

"All right, I'm listening."

"I wanted to apologize for my fans. I heard about what happened with your last post, and I didn’t wanted you to go through all this because of me."

"It's not your fault."

"Are you sure? The fans are mine."

"It doesn't matter; they're not your real fans if they're such nasty people," he agreed. "It's okay."

Max sighed, briefly averting his gaze before fixing it back on mine.

"Y/n, I need to be honest about the other reason I brought you here," I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I still love you, more than I can admit. Seeing you dealing with all this pressure and drama made me realize that, even with everything that happened between us, I can't just let you go. Not again."

My heart raced, and a smile formed on my face.

"Max, I feel the same way. I think, deep down, we never stopped loving each other. Maybe it's time to give what we had a second chance."

He smiled back, sincerity reflected in his eyes.

"Y/n, I just want to do this the right way, without rushing, and make sure we're both ready." I nodded, feeling a profound sense of relief.

"I'm willing to give it a try, Max. After all, what do we have to lose?"

And in the end, I guess I put an end to the exes club.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“Ops, I guess the exes club is over for me”

[vbecker10]

Hellooo, hope u r doing good , I rly like ur work like it's all amazing ♡

Can I request Loki having a friend who is a mortal -female reader- but she is a mutant who can take up body energy -like Rogue in X-Men- and that's why she was always alone till her and Loki met and she defends him infront of the avengers, and he falls for her slowly ig 😅 -smut or fluff as u want-

Ik it's kinda lame, if u can't write it's alright

In all cases, thanks for the amazing writings ♥️

You Can't Hurt Me

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are finally going on a solo mission as an Avenger, or at least you were supposed to. At the last minute, the team decides to send Loki with you which is something neither of you are happy about. After an accident in the field, you come in contact with Loki and the two of you realize your ability to absorb someone's life force, memories and powers doesn't work on him.

Warnings: arguing, swearing, feeling alone, pushing others away, minor injuries, plane crash, Loki being an ass to everyone including you - fluff in the end of course

A/N: I'm so sorry it took me forever to get to this ask. I'm finally going through my requests and I thought this idea was awesome! I tweaked it just a little cause my brain kept going in different directions but I really hope that's okay. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

"Are you freaking kidding me?" you ask in an annoyed tone as you get up from your seat in Steve's office.

Before Steve can reply Loki stands and adds, "I have never agreed with a mortal before but I am afraid I must in this case."

You glare at him and cross your arms. He could agree with you without being an ass about it, you think angrily.

Steve sighs and rubs his temples. "Look Y/N, I know you were supposed to go on this mission alone," he says and you nod dramatically, "But Fury, Tony and I decided Loki's skills would be useful on this mission."

"Then let me borrow his powers," you look at Loki and begin to pull off one of your gloves.

"If you touch me-" he threatens as a dagger appears in his hand with a green flourish. You put your glove back on slowly but you smile to yourself knowing you made the god nervous.

"Stop it, both of you!" Steve says loudly, slamming his hand on the desk. You and Loki both sit immediately on the chairs opposite Steve, you suddenly feel as if you are at the principal's office. He clears his throat and calms himself before he continues, "So far teamwork is not something either of you have excelled at. If you both want to remain on this team," he emphasizes the word, "you will go on this mission together."

"This is absurd," Loki argues and you roll your eyes but agree with him.

"What's absurd is the fact that neither of you are willing to work with anyone," Steve counters. "You are here because you have both been written up for splitting off from the team when we have explicitly ordered you not to."

"You know I'm better off alone," you tell him holding up a gloved hand. "The X-Men never had an issue with me going on solo missions or handling things on my own."

"You are welcome to return to the mutants," Loki offers with a smirk.

"Loki, seriously?" Steve says with an exasperated sigh but the god just shrugs.

"Y/N, just because you can't physically touch anyone doesn't mean you can use it as an excuse to avoid being near people or working with them forever," Steve says turning his attention to you.

"Yes it does," you mumble and sulk down in your chair with your arms crossed.

"And you," he ignores your comment and turns to Loki, "you are still on probation. If you want to remain here, and not be sent back to Asgard, you need to act like a member of this team."

Before either of you can say anything else, he gets up and says, "If you can't work with each other, neither of you will last much longer here. You're dismissed."

You snap your gum and click to the next page of the book you are reading on your tablet. Loki sits across from you with his nose in a book as the autopilot guides the jet towards your destination. You pop your gum again and Loki groans in annoyance. A smirk spreads across your lips, you would feel guilty about bothering him but he spent the morning calling you 'human' so you pop it loudly a third time.

"Will you stop that," he hisses, looking up from his book.

"It's an old habit," you make an excuse and shrug.

"It is an exceptionally annoying habit," he corrects you.

You hold eye contact with the God of Mischief and pop your gum in response. He practically growls as he closes his book but his words are cut off by a warning alarm blaring throughout the jet.

"What the hell is that?" you ask, getting up from your seat.

"I have no idea," he admits as he follows you to the cockpit of the jet.

The plane shakes violently and you almost lose your footing, Loki instinctively reaches out to steady you, his hand grabbing your clothed arm. You nod quickly to acknowledge the gesture and the two of you reach the control panel. A series of red lights blink frantically and your heart races as you try to decipher what is wrong but neither of you knows how to operate the jet.

You flip the switch to contact the base, "Tony what the hell is going on up here?" You know the panic is evident in your voice.

The only response you and Loki get is the crackle of static then suddenly one of the two engines goes terrifyingly silent.

You blink your eyes open slowly, your head pounds and your whole body aches. The smell of smoke and fire fill the air and your eyes sting. You try to sit up and hear someone talking but you can barely make out their words over the ringing in your ears.

"Y/N," Loki says again, shaking your shoulder lightly to get your attention. "Are you alright?" His lip is split and he is covered in dirt. His eyes are full of concern as he kneels over you, not something you are used to from the God of Mischief.

"Yea," you answer him quietly as he leans back a bit so you can sit up straighter, "I think so." You look around in awe at the torn and broken remains of the jet scattered throughout the field, unsure how you are both alive.

"I've radioed the team, they should be here in less than an hour," he informs you in a calm voice.

He rubs your shoulder in a soothing manner and you close your eyes as a breeze blows dust around you both. You shiver a bit and realize your jacket was torn during the crash, panic floods through you when you notice how much of your skin is exposed. Loki's hand gently rests on the bare skin on your shoulder and you pull away from him quickly.

"Don't touch me," you warn him and he backs away from you, his hands up in front of him. "You can't touch me, I'll hurt you," you remind him, trying to cover your skin with as much of left over material as you can. You try to get up to put distance between you and the god but you can't put weight on your left leg, it buckles under you and you fall back to the ground. You look down and see clean gauze wrapped tightly around your calf, your pant leg torn open from whatever caused your injury.

You look down in shock then look up at Loki. "How did you do this?" you ask, noticing the blood on his hands.

He shakes his head, "I don't know. I wasn't thinking, I just needed to stop the bleeding."

"I need to talk to you," he says unphased by your attitude which makes you nervous. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what happened after the crash." He rubs his hands nervously as if your blood is still on them.

That night you lay in bed staring at the ceiling unable to sleep. When you first climbed into bed, you worried the memories of the crash would prevent you from sleeping but it was the moments after that kept replaying in your mind. Closing your eyes, you can almost still feel Loki's warm hand resting gently on your skin. You roll over, pulling the sheets tightly around yourself when to hear a knock at your door. You sit up and check the clock next to your bed, it's just after midnight.

You limp carefully to the door and open it, unsure who you expect to see. "What do you want?" you ask Loki, easily returning to how you typically treat each other.

You take a step back to let him into your room. You feel anxious knowing he is the first member of the team you've ever invited into your private space. Loki takes a seat on your couch as you pick up your hoodie that is hanging by the door.

"I think I know why I could touch you without your powers affecting me," he says and you look up at him, pausing as you zip your hoodie.

You shake your head and take your gloves out of the pockets. "Strange said it was most likely because I was unconscious," you remind him.

"I don't think your powers work on me," he says after a few moments of silence pass between you both.

"You and I both know that's not true," he keeps his eyes on you as you slip on one glove then the other.

You sit at the far end of the couch, afraid that he is wrong about whatever his theory is. He is right about one thing though, Strange's reasoning didn't explain why Loki was able to touch the skin on your shoulder after you woke up. You had done everything you could since you arrived back home to not think about how that was possible, you were terrified that it was some sort of fluke and would never happen again.

"They work on your brother," you remind him. You had grabbed the older prince by the wrist for only a few seconds during a training session two months ago. You were unable to contain his lightning abilities and fried all the computers in the lab. Thor spent the next four hours unconscious in the med bay. "Being a god doesn't make you special," you tell him in a harsher tone then you mean to.

"Thor and I are not..." he sighs. "We are not the same. You know we are not true brothers?" he asks and you shake your head. "Thor is an Asgardian and although I look like one, I am not."

"So whatever you are is why you think I can touch you?" you ask.

"It is hard to explain," he tells you. "I am from Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants. This is not my true form. I use an illusion to alter my appearance as Odin did before I knew the truth." You can tell by his tone that this is not a story he is used to sharing with others.

You take off your gloves and look at your own hand, remembering the pain and heartache even a light touch has caused to others around you. "Are you sure you want to risk this for me Loki?" you ask. "If you're wrong... I could seriously hurt you."

You listen quietly as he explains how he was taken as a baby and brought up on a series of lies. He rubs his hands nervously as he talks and never makes eye contact with you, staring at the ground as he speaks. When he finishes he lifts his hand and looks at it as he wiggles his fingers slowly, a green glow emanates from his fingertips and flows down his hand. As his magic travels, his skin slowly turns a deep shade a blue, thin ridges form intricate spirals on the back of his hand.

"This is just a well crafted illusion," he says as the glow retracts and the blue fades away.

"If I'm right... you might not need to be so alone," he counters gently.

"I... I don't believe this," you smile. Tears of joy and relief gather as you slowly look up at Loki.

He holds his hand towards you, palm up waiting patiently for you to move. Slowly, you reach you hand out, your heart pounding in your chest. Your fingertips lightly touch his fingertips and you hold your breath as you wait for the pain to spread through both of you but nothing happens. Your eyes lock on your hands as you slide your fingers towards his open palm. You still don't feel anything as you rest your palm on his, your fingers settling on his wrist.

He closes his fingers around your hand and you let out a laugh in shock and disbelief. There is no pain, no burning on your skin or in his veins as his memories are pulled from him or his powers are absorbed. Just his warm, soft skin against yours, a feeling you had almost forgotten.

"You can't hurt me," he says when your eyes met.

"I can't hurt you," you repeat. He raises his other hand to wipe away one of your tears as it travels down your cheek. The simple gesture draws even more tears. It has been so many years since you have been able to feel another person, you can barely hold yourself together. You get up suddenly and walk away from him.

"I'm sorry," he says as he stands.

"It's not... you didn't do anything wrong," you assure him as you wipe your face then wrap your arms around yourself. "It's been almost ten years since I've touched someone I wasn't trying to harm. When I gained my powers, I severed my connection to everyone I've ever loved or cared about. My family, my friends, my coworkers. I left all of them."

He listens to you quietly, not moving closer.

"I'm terrified of hurting the people I care about, that's why I left the X-Men. I was there for eight years and I was becoming too close to everyone. I was constantly afraid someone would try to hug me or give me a high five or just bump into me in the hall. I had to leave and when I came here..." you look down, ashamed of how you acted. "I avoided everyone and antagonized you on purpose so no one would want to be friends with me. I thought it would be easier, safer if no one ever wanted to be near me."

"I understand," he says and you look up as he takes a few steps towards you. "I have my own experience building walls to keep everyone out, even my brother. My reason for keeping the others away is far less noble than yours. You push people away to keep them safe while I push them away to keep myself safe."

"I have been lied to and betrayed by my family my whole life," he reminds you of your conversation only minutes ago. "If I never let anyone in, if I never care about anyone, then they can never hurt me. It's why I've been so rude and condescending to everyone on the team, including you," he admits.

You are quiet for a moment, you know exactly what you want but you are afraid he will turn down your request. "Can I..." you pause and he gives you an encouraging smile. "Can I have a hug?"

"I'm sorry for how I treated you," he tells you honestly. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"I'm afraid I am not very good at hugs," he says and when you look at the ground he adds, "But I can give it a try, for you."

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face as you move towards him. He puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around him, your hands settle on his back and your cheek rests against his chest. He is stiff in your arms but after a second, he seems to relax and lowers his cheek to rest on the top of your head.

You close your eyes and listen to his heartbeat, his breathing slows and you feel as if all the tension is leaving your body. After a moment you mumble something against his chest and he chuckles.

"I have no idea what you said," he tells you.

You lift your head and look up at him. "This is the first hug I've had in close to ten years," you repeat.

He touches your cheek gently and says, "That is truly a shame because you give wonderful hugs." You giggle and blush then he adds, "This is the best hug I have had in a very, very long time and I do not plan on letting go any time soon."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[saerins]

𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 2.5k | content: fluff, pining, mentions of fake dating, jealousy, reader is kind of an idiot, sae loves to tease, best friend otoya, cussing

notes: hello hello i’m on board the sae love train once more , are you guys still with me ^_^

summary: what do you do when your best friend kind of sort of forces you to confess your two-year long crush when you’re not ready to? pray and hope for the best.

“i could just tell him for you.”

“eita, fuck no,” you throw him a warning glare as you chop the vegetables up with scary precision despite not having an eye on them. only because you know if you don’t explicitly tell him not to, that he’d think it’s no big deal and do it anyway.

and let’s say, you’d rather die than let that happen.

sure, you and sae had been closer back in high school; he sat behind you and entertained the secret notes you passed to him, he used to ruffle the top of your head whenever you pouted, he used to buy food for you during breaks.

but that’s all in the past and somehow, the both of you had drifted since then.

otoya deadpans, an unamused pair of eyes looking back at you from their spot across the island. “it’s been what, four fucking years since you graduated? grow a pair,” he retorts, attempting to steal a carrot but getting a slap on the back of his hand instead.

“bold of you to say that to a girl with a knife,” you snap at him, pointing the blade at his face.

to which he merely rolls his eyes, using two fingers to push it aside. “not like you’re that good at using it.” but he sighs when you silently turn your attention back to chopping vegetables. “does that mean i have to put up with your miserable face even longer?”

you and otoya continue to bicker, and you’re beginning to wonder how you’ve tolerated being best friends with him for the past four years. he’s a real piece of work.

“fine, fine,” otoya grumbles after you’re done with lunch, bangs over his eyes. “i promise i won’t tell sae anything, okay?”

that’s after you threatened not to let him hijack your house anymore for food. for someone who’s earning big bucks being a famous soccer player, you can’t make sense of why he won’t just get food delivered. maybe he just likes to annoy you.

“good. or else i’ll kill you.”

your crush on itoshi sae has been somewhat dormant for the past few years. and by dormant you mean that you haven’t tried making any moves because you’re too scared.

itoshi sae. one of the most famous international breakout stars in soccer. one of the most talented playmakers the world has ever seen. that comes with its own sets of pros and cons.

pros? he definitely doesn’t seem like he has much trouble doing anything he wants. he gets paid for every game. he gets paid for gigs. he gets sponsorships all over the place. which basically means that financially, he doesn’t need to give a shit.

cons? the media can be brutal. sae does something that’s remotely questionable and they’re all over it. he doesn’t thank a waiter that one time? automatically labeled as a rude brat by the paparazzi. and not to mention—the amount of girls he’s forced to fake date just for the sake of publicity.

you’re mostly pressed on that last part though, because they’re all supermodels or olympic stars or rich socialites. and compared to them, well, you’re just someone who happens to be in the same friend group and hang out together every once in a while when he’s back in japan. sae doesn’t even hang out much with the group, to your dismay.

it’s a pain, or so he says.

you wonder how you drifted in the first place. maybe it’s just the fame. you wonder if he thinks of you too sometimes.

must be your wishful thinking.

kind of makes you wonder whether he does have a secret girlfriend that he’s keeping from everyone. you wouldn’t really put it past him. it’s not like he has any super deep emotional bonds with any of you (that you know of). eita says he’s definitely single, but you think he’s just saying that to appease you. he already has his hands full having to watch you mope whenever you see news of sae and another girl and yet another dating rumor.

just as well. you think sae could do better than you, spending your friday nights at home, washing dishes at the sink and looking out at the tokyo skyline instead of out partying and living life with countless friends.

you don’t think you’re too shabby though. you’re a fresh graduate with a job at one of the most prestigious companies in tokyo you can think of. it’s not bad. but you can’t help but feel it’s worlds away from the one sae lives in.

the doorbell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts, nearly dropping the white marble plate you’re washing. your eyes snap to the clock in the living room. it’s almost 9pm—right about the time when eita usually comes knocking and asking you for supper.

groaning, you wash whatever’s left of the dish soap away from your hands and sloppily dry them against the bottom of your shirt, grumbling out loud about how you really should stop coming here whenever the fuck you want, eita while you stomp over to the front door.

you open the door, messy hair and bare face and baggy clothes, fully expecting to smack some sense into otoya eita when you feel yourself freeze up at the pair of eyes looking back at you.

they’re teal and framed by pretty long lashes and definitely don’t belong to your best friend.

what the fuck is he doing here?

this is one of the rare times that you’d actually prefer to see eita at your front door instead.

sae raises a brow, giving you a once-over. of course, he’s never seen you in this state—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, not a trace of makeup on your face. you’d made sure that whenever there was a possibility that sae would see you that you dressed yourself up as nice as possible. if you’d known he was coming over, you’d have at least dressed decently. definitely not baggy shirt and pants that you can barely see.

“uh… w-what are you doing here?” stupid, but the best you can manage.

he has his hands in his gray sweat pockets, and fuck him for wearing a black compression top. you can just make out the outline of his abs under there, the muscles on his arms already much too obvious with those short sleeves.

“dunno, eita said there was an emergency and i needed to get here,” sae says, wholly unbothered, monotonous as usual. he lets himself in, toeing his shoes off at the entryway, positioning them neatly beside your everyday sneakers.

fucking eita.

judging by what you know, sae was probably on his way for an evening jog when otoya called him. he still has his wireless earbuds in. you wonder if anything’s even playing.

sae takes it off once he catches you staring.

he’s not carrying anything. it’s just him. you wonder if anyone managed to catch him coming over. is his most recent pr stunt already over? won’t do either of you any good if he’s labeled as a cheater.

“so? what is it?” sae asks you, again, while he walks himself inside, curious eyes looking around your apartment, and suddenly you’re hyper aware. you hope to god you didn’t leave any of your inner wear lying around at random places.

in a panic, you rush over to him, blocking his path inside, both hands on his chest as you attempt to push him back to the front door. unfortunately for you, sae’s much stronger than you are, his body not budging an inch.

“it’s nothing, he made a mistake,” you sigh, giving up when you figure that sae’s only going to move of his own accord. “he’s probably just playing a prank on you, that’s all.”

you’re hoping, praying, wishing that sae will just take your word for it and go. because that’s what he does; he doesn’t hover much, doesn’t care about anything much at all. you don’t even know the last time he’s asked about how any of your lives are doing.

the world must hate you though, because sae only offers a grunt in response before looking towards your kitchen (you’re internally sighing in relief, glad that you cleaned your kitchen up before this). “i’m thirsty, you have anything to drink?”

you blink at him, stumped that sae is wasting his precious time in your apartment, but who are you to say no to sae, of all people?

“yeah, sure, juice?”

sae shrugs, “whatever.”

you turn your back on him, slowly taking your carton of apple juice and finding the nicest glass that exists in your cupboard, cursing yourself internally for not preparing for unexpected guests enough. you do this slowly partly because you’re trying to calm your stupid heart down, still not fathoming why on earth sae’s wasting his time with you.

carefully, you rehearse yourself in your head, where you’re going to step, how you’re going to walk over to him—you really are just hopeless. count it your bad luck that the moment you turn around, you nearly drop the glass because you’re forgetting a really fundamental issue here: your merch.

“no no no, uh—” you leave the glass on the countertop, scurrying over to where sae’s staring and thumbing at something on your coffee table.

sae looks at your flustered reaction, giving you way to grab your things off the table and stuff them in the drawer where they’re out of sight. he blinks at you, a slight amusement bubbling inside him.

“wow, big fan, huh?”

you don’t know what’s worse: you being your most unpresentable self right now or that sae just caught you having some of his merch.

“so you have some of eita’s merch lying around too or is it just mine?”

you could die of embarrassment right now.

back still turned to sae, you desperately search your brain for answers. thinking on the spot doesn’t seem like your strong suit right now.

“it… was a gift.” believable, right?

sae hums, as though he’s contemplating. “why just mine then? why not oliver’s or my brother’s?”

fuck.

“i don’t know, maybe yours was the only one that wasn’t sold out.”

“ouch.”

you didn’t mean to indirectly insult him but what’s a drowning girl to do?

sae sighs when you keep quiet, still staying out where you are, trembling too much to move. “didn’t know you were in love with me.”

this time, you whip your head around to face him—that same stoic expression of his unchanging on his face. “am not!”

his brows shoot up. “but you bought some of my merch.”

“i told you, it was a gift.”

you need to get paid for still standing up on your own two feet right now. your head’s way too giddy from the interaction, considering.

“even that figurine over there?” sae’s finger points to a small toy just barely visible behind the nooks of the bookshelf. it’s a small figurine; something sold a few years back when sae was just first starting out. you’d bought it because, well, you’d thought chibi sae looked cuter than actual sae. (especially now when he’s just staring blankly at you.)

“that was…”

“a gift?”

you think he’s making fun of you now at this point.

“anyway, we’ve established that there’s no emergency here so why don’t you just go?” you’re pretty sure sae won’t ever talk to you again—not after coming across what he did tonight. he probably thinks you’re a freak, probably questions why he even considers you his friend (to which you’re now wondering if that’s even true at all).

you make a mental reminder to yourself to kill otoya eita tomorrow.

sae lets you push him towards the entryway, apple juice long forgotten on the countertop, collecting condensation with water pooling below the glass.

“you must like me a lot, huh?” he ponders out loud as you continue pushing him towards the door. you see a hint of cockiness in his stare now, the slightest tug of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

“i do n—”

“be careful what you say,” sae cuts you off, toeing his shoes back on, looking glamorous as ever and you nearly forget that he looks straight out of a magazine even in his sportswear. “‘cause i’ll believe you.”

part of you wants him to just go already so your knees can buckle under, but part of you wants to ask him what he means. what’s he insinuating? isn’t the answer clear enough.

but now it’s way past nine and he’s all ready to go yet he’s still standing at your doorway, waiting for your answer. you want to scream no, you want to keep your secret safe, you don’t want him to know about the crush you’d been harbouring. but he told you to be careful what you say because he’ll believe you.

“s-so what if i do?” you stutter, failing to look him in the eyes, your stare focused on the air in between you.

sae’s features soften ever so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to give in so quickly, but it isn’t one of disgust. it’s more like one of pleasant surprise.

after what seems like an eternity, sae finally opens his mouth.

“you must’ve gotten jealous a lot with all those girls i’d gone out with.”

your fist instinctively connect with his arm, his stoic finally giving way to a grimace, palm rubbing his triceps in pain. out of all the things to say, he chooses to say that? you think he deserves it.

“you know what, sae? you can go back to your fake girlfriends, i could care less,” you snap at him, pouting. you hate that despite how ignorant his words are that you can’t find it in yourself to hate him.

sae exhales sharply, chuckling softly when he sees your pout, and you feel as though it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this even though it’s not. his hand comes up to ruffle the top of your head gently, and you’re reminded of when he did this to you back in high school.

“can’t do that, can i?” he tells you, that soft disposition gone and the stoic mischief coming right back. “not when i’m in front of who could be my real girlfriend.”

your heart might’ve forgotten how to beat.

sae leaves you standing there, left to your own devices as he exits your apartment, fully aware of his effect on you.

not long after he leaves (while you’re still standing in the doorway), your phone buzzes in your pocket. you fish it out and see his name there for the first time in a long time.

you smile to yourself as you read his message. okay, so maybe you’ll spare eita’s life for now.

[i-am-shitpost]

I went back and watched the scene where Fearne and Ashton discuss what to do with the shard and there’s some things I want us all to remind ourselves of:

Fearne explicitly says “if I do have any say in it, I think it should go to you. I don’t know if I want it.” And goes on to say that she feels Ashton is meant to hold both pieces.

Ashton says they know that Fearne would miss them if something happened to them (this is NOT in the context of the shard, but the mission overall) and thanks her for it

Then they say “it’s nice to feel love for people. I love having you…here”

When Ashton does float the idea of them taking the shard they say “I need you to promise me that we’re going to find a way to make it happen if we’re going to do it”

When discussing the plan, Ashton continually uses ‘we’, showing that he has always considered this their plan. Together. With equal say. And she can easily say no, Ashton would have accepted that answer. It’s specifically an “IF” question.

Ashton asks Fearne explicitly that if it goes wrong to “Please try and save my life. I’m not lookin’ to die”

This is explicitly not a martyr attempt

Ashton says he trusts Fearne more than they trust the others.

In regards to the plan, they word for word ask “Are you okay with that?”

Fearne responds “Yes I’m okay with that.”

There is no pressuring that goes along with this question whatsoever. Ashton outlines their idea for the plan, and then asks point blank.

He then apologizes for putting this on her.

Ashton also tells her “if it’s not okay it’s not your fault”

Ashton expresses that it’s nice having something to lose again, “So hopefully I won’t fucking lose it…again”

Other moments worth noting:

in the scene in Percy’s laboratory, Ashton says that “[they]’d like to feel safe…for once” when discussing how they’d like it to just be them and Fearne.

After getting kicked in the face and yelled at, Ashton immediately tells Fearne “that’s probably fair” holding no anger or resentment and validating her feelings as much as they could in their current state.

It was not manipulation. Fearne was not coerced. There were no double meanings. Ashton was straightforward as always. It wasn’t a recklessly planned or naive decision, they both felt this was the right call. It was not a martyr attempt either, Ashton did not want to die. But they felt this was the right call for the mission, so they stepped up and put their own neck on the line.

Ashton was being himself in a very stressful and gut-wrenching way, but it was not malicious or twisted. It was just terrifying.

Edit: I have removed a note about a comment made when Ashton kissed Fearne, I had misremembered the timing and delivery and hadn’t seen a clip of that scene circulating to rewatch yet, only the clocktower. Other than that, everything is accurate.

[chrysalis-the-butterfly]

What I Mean When I Say, "I Ship Huskerdust"

When I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean that I think it would be a perfect example of a healthy relationship. Because it wouldn't be.

They've both got issues that they would need to work through if they wanted their relationship to succeed.

On Angel's side, there's the fact that his prior interactions with Husk basically consisted of him flirting with Husk, and Husk making it clear that he wasn't interested, and Angel ignoring that and doing it again. That's harassment.

Yes, Angel stops doing it after Episode 4, but he never explicitly apologises for it. That was a missed opportunity, in my opinion. It was a change for the show to say loudly and clearly, "Hey, trauma sucks, we get that, but it's not an excuse to treat people badly yourself. You grow by owning up to your mistakes and trying to be better than the person who hurt you."

Speaking of trauma...

Angel is being abused by Valentino and exploited in the porn industry. That's not a personal failing. It's not Angel's fault. But it has affected him deeply, and it's something that he and Husk would need to work through.

It's not going to be all sunshine and rainbows. Angel will cry, Angel will get angry, Angel will lash out. He will behave inappropriately, and he will keep being hypersexual because he knows how to do it and sometimes it feels like the safest option. And he will have no idea how to just rest with a loved one and trust them. So Husk will need to be the bigger person and take all the ups and downs and keep loving Angel through the dark days.

But I don't know if Husk has what it takes to do that.

That leads me nicely onto the issues on Husk's side. For starters, there's his judgemental attitude. He's a gambler, and therefore believes he can read people and know everything about them. Angel's "It's not an act!" outburst shakes Husk and makes him realise that he didn't really know what was going on.

But even after that, Husk is still judging Angel. It happens in Episode 6, when Angel is offered drugs by Cherri Bomb and Husk says, "Look, you wanna fuck up all your progress, be my guest. I just ... I just thought you were better than that."

Addicts can relapse if they go back to their old environments and old relationships. It happens. And it's probably not a good idea to be so condemnatory about it.

Can you imagine what Husk's reaction would be if Angel really did relapse? Would Angel feel safe opening up to Husk again if he knew how badly Husk could take it?

Sometimes, it seems as though Husk puts Angel on a pedestal. In Episode 8, when he tells Angel, "I guess you have changed," Angel doesn't look convinced, instead changing the subject. Husk sees Angel as better than Angel thinks he is.

And that goes hand-in-hand with when he was judging Angel more harshly in earlier episodes. Husk applies higher standards to Angel.

I think part of the reason why Husk is so hard on Angel is because Husk sees something in Angel that he doesn't see in himself - youth and potential. Husk has made it clear that he isn't trying to get into Heaven. He probably doesn't think he deserves it. That's why he told Angel not to look for answers to problems at the bottom of a bottle, but continued to drink himself.

My theory is that Husk is working on Angel because he finds it easier than working on himself.

It's much easier to judge and boss around others than to acknowledge and rectify your own flaws. To borrow a metaphor from Jesus Christ himself, Husk is trying to take specks of sawdust out of Angel's eye while he's still got plenty of planks in his own eye.

One of those planks being his complicity in the Overlord system.

Yes, I should probably mention that Husk used to be an Overlord. He used to participate in the very system that is now trapping and torturing Angel.

And he gambled with the souls that he owned! He put their afterlives at stake! Can you imagine being owned by Husk, thinking you knew where you stood, and then waking up one day to be told that you were now owned by someone else? Potentially someone as bad as Valentino?

(Now, I don't think Husk ever actually played a game with Valentino, given that he can't seem to remember Val's name in Episode 6, but still, the implications are horrifying.)

Angel didn't have too big a reaction when Husk opened up about his past. But that's probably because he was still reeling a bit from his own outburst. Once it had sunk in, how did he feel?

How can Angel feel safe and loved around someone who used to own souls and gamble with them carelessly? Someone who apparently still has his Overlord powers? Someone who could turn into yet another Valentino in the wrong circumstances?

How can a romance work?

Can a romance work?

Despite all of that?!

No, when I say, "I ship Huskerdust," I don't mean, "I think they're fluffy and adorable and 100% unproblematic." I mean, "Huskerdust contains interesting dynamics that are fun to explore." There's something about their interactions that I enjoy.

And Huskerdust could be a good way for the cartoon to dive into its themes of redemption and second changes.

Husk could change Angel for the better. We can see that, after Episode 4, Angel is willing to be more honest about what he's going through. He actually tells Niffty about the gruelling 16-hour shift Valentino put him through, instead of trying to pretend he's been all right.

If they became an official couple, Husk could show Angel what it's like to have someone genuinely care for him and his wellbeing, not just use him for money-making or self-gratification. Since Husk isn't interested in Angel's hypersexual porn star persona, it would be a chance for Angel to take the time to figure out who he (Anthony?) really is.

Angel could change Husk for the better, too. Other Tumblr bloggers have pointed out that Husk seemed to be drinking a little less after Episode 4. Perhaps watching Angel attempting self-improvement encouraged Husk to give it a go as well, albeit in a more low-key way.

And if Husk was the one who got Angel out of his contract with Valentino, that would be a great culmination of his character arc. It would be his own personal redemption for participating in the cruel Overlord system, because he'd be freeing someone from an Overlord's control. He'd be correcting his past mistakes. I for one would love to see that in a future season.

That is what I mean when I say "I ship Huskerdust."

TL;DR Angel and Husk are not perfect people, not by a long shot - but they could be perfect for each other.

[chelseeebe]

stevie doesn’t know.

sorry stevie boy.. it had to happen at some point. obviously based on scotty doesn’t know which i have listened to repeatedly while writing this

18+. smut. cheating. eddie is rlly quite mean to poor stevie. no use of y/n!

‎♡‧₊˚

what steve doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?

that’s what eddie thinks anyway.

it wasn’t ever supposed to continue after you and steve actually became official, you’d made that explicitly clear.

until you’d broken the no-contact rule one night, it must’ve been gone two by the time you had called. not that he’d been sleeping or bothered by that fact. actually, he was impressed you’d held out so long.

‘why’re you calling me?’ he’d asked innocently down the phone, guitar still poised in his lap.

you had just sighed. eddie could picture your face, irritated but standing tall on your stupid, made up rules. he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction. not yet, anyway.

‘you know..’

‘ah, but i don’t,’ positive you could hear his smirk on the other end.

then came another sigh, ‘please don’t make me beg,’ sounding utterly pathetic, just the way he liked it.

‘but what if i want you to beg?’

‘can i come over?’

‘are you gonna answer my question?’ joint balanced between his lips, not bothered to raise his hand to smoke properly.

there was silence from your end until you huffed in frustration, kissing your teeth before finally giving up, ‘i need to see you.’

‘need to? or want to?’ he liked the tease, liked to mess with you until you had no choice but to crawl right back into his bed, begging for another chance.

‘need to.’

and there you were, stood solemnly outside of his door still in the dress you’d obviously worn on whatever disappointing date steve had dragged you on.

‘come in,’ he simply smirked, holding the door open as you slinked into the trailer, head down in defeat.

the two of you stood staring for a moment, eddie waiting expectantly for an apology or for some half-assed grovelling but it doesn’t come.

he holds his finger to his ear, jutting his bottom lip out, ‘did you wanna..’

‘eddie,’ you warn, your tone giving away how desperate you really are.

‘i just wanna hear you say it,’ he’s not prepared to keep this going much longer, not with his dick twitching in his pants at the mere sight of you.

‘i’m sorry,’ your shoulders slump, tossing your bag onto the couch as inch your way over, ‘is that what you wanna hear? i’m sorry for telling you not to call me, i’m sorry for being a bitch, okay? but i need you eddie.. now,’ fingers walking the length of his upper arms until they rest on his shoulders.

christ, you’re practically panting. and he knows what’s waiting once he gets that dress off. can see the way your thighs are clamped together, eyeing his lips and his neck and his chest. you’re starving.

‘is that right?’ he taunts, hands ghost above your waist, not quite touching but almost.

‘yes,’ you begrudge, spitting the words at him, fingers skirting around his collar, messing with the soft cotton. ‘please eddie.’

it doesn’t take much for him to cave, hands meeting your waist after much teasing. his eyes are hooded, staring at your lips rather than your eyes, ‘i’ve been waiting for you to come crawlin’ back,’ there’s a hint of satisfaction in his voice but he’s adamant on not ruining this again so keeps it to a minimum.

‘shut up, you knew i would,’ pressing your chest to his.

eddie hadn’t exactly been celibate since your last rendezvous last month but god, no one had felt quite as good as you. he’d dreamt about it, this very moment to be precise. it hadn’t played out like this in his head though.

his idealised version included a hell of a lot more begging, you might’ve even gotten on your knees at one point. but there’s no time for that now, not after you’d made him wait so long.

‘don’t do it again,’ he breathes, lips brushing against yours.

‘i won’t,’ you gasp out, ‘i promise,’ finally locking lips with a haste.

it’s a hungry kiss, teeth and tongues clashing with pure animalistic want for one another. you taste like mint and a vague hint of wine, so you were getting wined and dined but he’d have to provide the sixty nine.

normally he wouldn’t bother to find his way to his room, the couch would suffice however he’s well aware that this won’t likely be a one and done. perhaps an all night affair.

his fingers fumble for the door knob, reaching behind you all the while trying to keep his tongue in your mouth and successfully guide you backwards. you fall into the room, his weight pressing against your chest had sent you flying, finding the bed through sheer muscle memory.

you break away just long enough to land on the springy mattress, eddie climbing above shortly after, eager to continue the kiss. too much time had been wasted already.

his fingers creep lower, slipping between your thighs and up underneath the satin dress. he was right, ‘this all f’me sweetheart?’ teasing his fingers into your sodden underwear, suckling along the length of your jaw.

he’s not stupid enough to mark you how he wanted but he is tempted. would love to watch you squirm as you explain the violet markings to pretty boy.

his fingers slip inside, groaning against the skin of your neck, he’d missed this just as much as you had. made evident by the growing tent rousing in his sweat pants.

you pant softly beneath him, digging into his biceps with an iron-clad grip, not that he was going anywhere. everything about you is so sweet, the way you unravel the second he touches you, eyes barely staying open as his fingers slide in and out.

you’re a picture. something to behold, to think about on the nights you don’t come around. this is what keeps him going.

he slides out slowly, removing his hand from your underwear and haphazardly sliding down his own pants. he’s trying to savour it but you’re too much, writhing around, sending his head into a frenzy.

the fact that neither of you could be bothered to undress, the straps of your dress sliding down, revealing the lacy number eddie hoped you’d worn for him and not steve.

he lines himself up with your entrance, huffing when he slides in, knees almost collapsing when you whine into his ear. his tongue glides over his bottom lip, wetting the skin as he tries to focus on not coming immediately.

‘oh,’ he exhales, ‘you hear that? you missed me, huh?’ driven wild by the sounds of your pussy enveloping him, the way your skin collided with such velocity. it’s music to his ears and completely indistinguishable to anyone else.

‘yeah,’ you breathe, loosely attaching your lips to his jaw, ‘so much.. missed you so much,’ garbling over the creaking mattress.

jesus christ, if you kept speaking like that, he wasn’t going to last long.

his fingers tilt your chin upward, forcing your eyes to meet his before travelling down between your sweaty bodies, finding your neglected clit quickly. your legs snap shut, releasing a shuddered breath into his ear as you clamp him between your thighs.

‘oh my god,’ you whine, grabbing at his arms as he quickens his pace. the room full of lewd noises, he’s sure the trailer was probably rocking. he’s just grateful that wayne was back on nights or else you’d be somewhere dark in the back of his van.

your cunt clenches around him, bodies moving as one as your hips jut upward, chasing his cock when he cruelly slows down. he just wants to savour the moment, if only for a second, gazing down at you through blurred vision.

steve didn’t deserve to see this. not that he’s sure he was ever capable of that. lipstick smeared around your chin, looking up at him through hooded eyelids and the delirious babbling that fell from your lips. this was stuff most people only dreamt of.

your palm pulls him from his head, cradling his cheek as you plead with him to just fuck you.

he obliges, happily. thumb still working wonders on your sensitive bud, sending the pair of you hurtling towards your looming orgasm.

you repeat his name like some sort of mantra, breathless and pathetic. ‘shit..’ eyes rolling to the back of your head. eddie knows you, knows your body, knows you’re in that sweet spot where you’re completely malleable and incoherent.

he’s not far off, especially not when your thighs begin to quiver, tightening around him as you go quiet. incapable of thinking or doing anything as you unravel beneath his body. jaw slack with your lips curling into the perfect ‘o’.

if he were some eighteenth century painter, he’d probably have hundreds of canvases full of this exact image.

eddie’s forehead drops, pressed against yours as he tumbles over the edge. ‘baby.. oh shit you’re- fuck,’ spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt because he’s too wrecked to think about the implications of that right now.

the world goes soft around the edges for a moment, his head spinning as he pulls out, collapsing into a heap on his bed, a mess of limbs and clammy skin, both panting as he reels.

he reaches over, wiping his thumb over your chin and clearing off the mess he’d made. but really, he’s proud. admiring the beauty in your disheveled hair and bleary eyes.

‘i’ve missed you,’ he whispers, watching intently as you readjust your disregarded panties. give him a minute and he’d be raring for round two.

you tut, turning to face him proudly, ‘i missed you too,’ lying back against the pillow. the fact that you hadn’t immediately left was a good sign.

‘you staying?’ he asks cautiously, one brow raised, not wanting to push it too far.

‘mhm,’ you nod, playing coy although eddie can spot that grin starting a mile away.

that’s enough for him to throw his arm over your waist, pulling your body to his as he mentally prepares for the night you were about to have.

-

eddie leans over the counter, chin resting in his hand. tuesdays were never a particularly exciting day, the residents of hawkins weren’t looking for records during the week apparently.

the door chimes and his gaze flies towards the door, gobsmacked to find one steve harrington and you stood in the doorway. you’re whispering angrily at him, tugging on his arm, trying to get him to budge.

oh this was about to be so fun.

steve’s ignoring everything you’re saying, too preoccupied with marvelling the place. the dinghy old record store was hardly somewhere he frequented.

your eyes meet eddie’s with a serious please shut the fuck up message that he’s choosing to ignore. instead, he straightens up, waiting for steve to reach the counter before starting his attack.

‘stevie boy,’ he roars, ‘long time no see, how’ve you been man?’ wilfully ignoring your pleading eyes.

‘oh munson, i didn’t know you worked here,’ steve smiles, still eyeing the various yellowed posters that hung around the store. ‘i’m great, you working hard or hardly working?’

god he’s so smug. he doesn’t even mean to be but eddie just can’t stand it. though he does get some slight satisfaction with knowing that not even twenty four hours ago he had had you dripping from his chin.

‘oh i’m always working hard,’ his eyes flitting to you, ‘what can i do for ya’ today?’

steve looks over towards you, arm resting around your shoulder which eddie detests. it’s such a flimsy claim and if steve knew anything, he’d realise how stupid he looked.

‘well this one wants some new record.. told her we’d stop by and see if you had it.’

you keep your jaw clenched, antsy and irritated as you wait for eddie to inevitably make some wise crack. ‘what is it?’ asking you, rather than steve. his eyes threatening to slip down to your chest.

‘madonna,’ steve grins, completely unaware of how much he really wasn’t a part of the conversation.

‘hmm,’ eddie hums, ‘i didn’t know you were a madonna fan,’ poking and prodding just a little more. seeing how much he could irritate you before you cracked and said something.

‘why would you know that?’ you bite, regretting it almost immediately.

‘well i know lots of things about you,’ he smiles, slipping from behind the counter and over to where they kept the shitty pop you apparently liked.

it’s no surprise you don’t reply. eddie had the upper hand here and you seriously didn’t want to give him a reason to open his mouth again.

he hands the record to you, lips twitching as you scowl at him. steve is completely oblivious, watching the exchange with a grin so cheesy, it knocks eddie sick.

ever the joker, eddie twists round, fiddling with the other tapes until he finds the right one. if he hadn’t pissed you off before, he’d definitely get you riled up now.

‘i think you’d like this one stevie,’ holding the tape out to his face, ‘jessie’s girl.. right up your street.’

steve nods, graciously taking the plastic case from his hand. you look less than impressed, the scowl on your face sends shivers down his spine but it’s so worth it.

‘sweet man, thanks,’ steve nods, looking over to you with that same stupid expression on his face. he’s so naive and it would make eddie feel bad if steve hadn’t been such an asshole in school.

you don’t say a word for the rest of the transaction, hanging onto steve’s arm with a sour frown. he’d pay for his antics later but now he waves you off cheerily, ‘enjoy it man!’ he calls out as you leave, relishing the chaos he’d caused.

-

when you inevitably turn up at his door the following night, you’re miserable as sin, pouting with your arms crossed over your chest.

‘you think you’re a comedian or something?’ jabbing his shoulder with your carefully manicured nail. ‘he thinks you’re friends,’ expelling the pent up anger on his poor shoulder.

‘we are friends,’ eddie laughs, using the belt loops on your jeans to pull you closer, ‘i’m just closer to his girlfriend,’ despite your face screwing up, you don’t pull away. obviously.

‘it’s not funny,’ expression softening when his hands find your ass, relaxing into his touch, ‘if you want this to continue you’re gonna have to learn how to shut up,’ your palms sliding down his chest, tugging at his shirt as you go.

his head dips, pressing his forehead to yours, ‘you want me to make it up to you?’

you nod carefully and finally, that smile he loves peeks through.

you’re a different person around steve, more timid and sweet. not a patch on the girl now laid underneath him with her shirt pulled up to her chin, joint hanging lazily between her lips as eddie’s lips attach themselves to your bare nipple.

no, this was only something he got to see. if he says so himself, it’s the best version of you.

your mouth parts slightly, smoke and soft sighs filling the trailer alike. he’s insatiable, wanting to swallow you whole like some snake he’d seen on the discovery channel. his tongue flicks around the stiff bud while his other hand becomes friends with your other breast.

on his knees between your spread legs, just the way god intended him to be.

there’s a knock at the front door, pulling him from the bliss of your boob in his mouth. he groans, waiting for whichever rude asshole to leave.

‘hey munson,’ steve’s voice sounds from the other side. both of your heads fly to the door, sitting up from the compromising position you had found yourselves in. ‘you there man?’ he hollers, knocking again.

‘shitshitshit,’ you hush, rushing to pull your shirt back down. launching yourself from the couch as eddie sits up, trying to think of something, anything that would explain your presence in his trailer.

now you weren’t amateurs to this game; your car wasn’t outside, you had a solid alibi for your whereabouts.. so what the hell did he want?

and as much as eddie liked to goad and tempt fate, he wasn’t stupid. if steve found you in his trailer, he’d most certainly beat eddie’s ass. no doubt with the help of his yappy little lap dog tommy.

‘bedroom,’ he hurries, taking the joint from your fingers and stubbing it out into the ashtray. fuck. why now? why when he’s sporting a solid half-chub does your meathead boyfriend have to ruin it all?

you scurry off, a concerned look overtaking your features. keeping the door open a crack just in case things really got out of hand.

eddie’s obviously flustered, his cheeks burn and his hair is unruly but he doesn’t exactly have the time to do anything about it. he swings the door open just as steve is about to turn back to his fucking shiny beemer.

‘oh hey dude.. sorry i was-,’ eddie’s fumbling with his words, too caught up in concealing his stiffy to speak coherently, ‘doing something,’ now he definitely looked as if he was jerking off.

steve spins back round, ‘oh shit man! i was just..’ he slinks back over to the door, now speaking in hushed tones, ‘someone told me you sold weed.. i was wondering if i could get some?’

god he’s such a dweeb. simultaneously, eddie hates him and wants to coddle him. he’s so nauseating.

‘oh..’ trying to hide the instant feeling of relief that washes over his body, he could finally fucking breathe. ‘sure.. come in,’ now this was a risky game but he couldn’t exactly start dishing out drugs on his front porch, could he?

steve walks in with his hands tucked into his pockets, trying not to stare at the peeling wallpaper and various drug paraphernalia that littered the table. he doesn’t reckon your boyfriend is that observant otherwise he’d notice the collection of stubbed out joints with your lipstick stains on them.

eddie watches him for a moment, wondering how this man who reminds him of a labrador could reign such terror over everyone in high school. he doesn’t dwell on it too much because truly, eddie got the last laugh. steve just didn’t know it yet.

‘how much you want?’ he asks, thanking the stars above that he’d bought his box out into the living room before your boyfriend had decided to gatecrash.

‘uh.. two?’ steve replies cluelessly.

‘two what?’

he shakes his head, not understanding how that wasn’t incredibly clear, as if eddie was the stupid one, ‘joints?’

‘you want pre-rolls?’ eddie asks, quirking his eyebrow at the dumbass in front of him.

‘yeah, those,’ steve nods, now smiling at eddie like this whole conversation wasn’t unhinged and completely unnecessary.

‘oh.. right,’ he holds off on rolling his eyes, deciding he’d get his revenge in the form of ripping him off.

he roots through his box, grateful to have rolled a couple earlier with the intention of not having to roll up while you were here. oh well. anything to get steve the fuck out of his living room and your tits back in his mouth, as soon as he can.

‘here ya’ go man..’ he debates whether asking for a hundred would get him his ass beat or not. ‘thirty bucks,’ passing the joints to steve with a small smile.

he digs around in his abnormally-tight jean pocket for his wallet, handing eddie three tens with absolutely no complaints. fucking sucker.

‘thanks man!’ he continues, heading for the door at long last. ‘oh.. i know you two are friends so i just wanna ask..’ speaking in hushed tones as if anyone but you could hear them, ‘if we could keep this between us? my girl doesn’t know i smoke anymore.’

wow.

what a fucking idiot.

he won’t mention the use of my girl and how much he wants to strangle the dumbass stood before him. eddie bites back an added our, decided he values his life over a quick-witted quip.

eddie closes the non-existent zip on his lips, fighting the smirk that wanted to break through, ‘my lips are sealed.’

they certainly were.

‘thanks man,’ disappearing off into the night.

eddie rushes over, locking the door once again as he peaks through the tiny window, watching as the headlights leave the trailer park at long, long last.

‘he’s gone,’ he calls out, watching the bedroom door you’re waiting behind, bottom lip between your teeth as you creep out.

‘thirty dollars?’ is all you can say. cheeks twitching when you start giggling, thumping eddie on his arm rather hard.

he just shrugs, ‘stevie boy had it coming for interrupting,’ hands already finding the hem of your shirt, eager to continue what had been rudely ruined.

‘you’re an assh-,’ you begin only to be cut off by eddie’s lips pressing to yours.

yeah yeah maybe he was an asshole but he’d just endured an entire conversation with your fucking boyfriend sporting a fucking boner, you could bicker about it later.

[graceraindrops-blog]

How much of a terrible mom was Cordelia? A full explanation.

It's a shame that the first post of my blog is dedicated to a rather ''interesting'' take @yuikomorii showed me, but taking into account that I've done my research involving the mothers, I find it a perfect opportunity to make a full explanation of Cordelia's abusive behavior.

Before I start, I would like to talk about why Cordelia acted the way she did (I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HER ACTIONS).

We know that Cordelia's father was neglectful towards her after the death of her mother which made her lack the ability to understand love.

Karlheinz manipulated Cordelia into marrying him and giving him children FORCEFULLY (because Cordelia did not want to have children). He also convinced Cordelia that it was okay for her to have many lovers and to have sexual relationships with FAMILY members

Cordelia's abusive behavior towards the triplets also comes over the fact of her jealousy and obsession with Karlheinz and surpassing Beatrix and Christa.

Getting this out of the way I will now start explaining why Cordelia was NOT a good mother despite her traumas.

It's not strange to view Cordelia negatively if she's one of the antagonists of the franchise. NEVER did Diabolik lovers ever paint Cordelia as a good person and constantly tell us about how shitty she was towards her children and how much it affected them.

2. I'm not denying the fact that around those times parenting was more strict, however, you're forgetting that Cordelia didn't just slap, ground, or yell at her children, she put intense waves of pressure on Ayato, and drowned him, she sexually abused Laito, manipulated him and groomed him when he was a KID, forced Kanato to sing until he bled and made him watch her have intercourse with other men. This was the abuse the triplets went through until they finally had enough and attempted to kill Cordelia, which they succeeded.

3. Yes, it's true that Beatrix wouldn't give the triplets much attention or love, she would probably neglect them due to not being her biological children and belonging to her rival, however, Beatrix WOULD NEVER do the messed up stuff Cordelia did. Yes, she was a terrible mother to Shu and Reiji, yet she would've never stepped down at Cordelia's level.

4. A normal mother doesn't drown and threaten her child due to personal issues, A normal mother doesn't sexually abuse her child and grooms him to make him depend on her, and a normal mother doesn't force her child to watch her have sex with men and doesn't use his singing voice to get horny. If she was an affectionate mother ayato wouldn't have found the need to HIDE himself from her and the triplets wouldn't have considered killing her.

5. I would also like to add, that no matter how badly influenced Cordelia was, and no matter how much childhood trauma she went through, that would never be a justification for the way she treated her children. This does not only apply to Cordelia, this applies to every character and to real people as well. It's a reason why they behave that way, but never a justification. Also, Cordelia doing the bare minimum and behaving like an actual mother for a few moments does not mean she cares about her children. I don't think this is explicitly told, but I believe in those particular scenes she's grooming Kanato to become dependent on her like she did with Laito and Ayato.

6. ''She never spoke that way to her children'' I'm sorry but I have to laugh?? I would've understood if you were an anime only (not really) but taking into account that you do know about the games this is really really wrong lol. I don't why it's difficult to understand that Cordelia didn't love her children. Cordelia is such a bad mother that when she was resurrected in Ayato's DF route, she didn't even apologize to him or to his siblings, and yet he still forgave her! She even told Ayato to APOLOGIZE to her and continued to insult him

(Credits to @dialovers-translations)

I understand (I think everyone in the fandom does) that Cordelia had her reasons to behave this way (childhood trauma and manipulation) but that doesn't excuse her actions. I don't agree with people hating on Cordelia and loving Karlheinz but I also don't agree with people defending Cordelia and saying she did nothing wrong when she did.

Cordelia isn't a black-and-white character and she's not a bad character either, she's very well-written for her purpose (an antagonist) but she's not a good person or mother. She never regretted what she did and if she was still alive during HDB she would've still been abusive to the triplets.

This is my problem with morally grey characters/Evil characters. They can't exist in media if people ignore their wrongdoings and actions and try to justify said actions. I'm not saying that they shouldn't exist but I'm tired of people painting them as good people or justifying their actions when their whole purpose as a character is to show that they're not good people and their actions are/were wrong.

To finish off the post I would like to say that I love Cordelia's character and I consider her to be one of the best-written characters in Diabolik Lovers. In my opinion, I would've liked to know more about her in further games but even if I feel this way about her I don't justify her actions and that's something we should all do. I'm glad the fandom no longer justifies the actions of the characters (with some obvious exceptions). And even if I like Cordelia as a character I don't shame others for not liking her, at the end of the day she was a horrible person lol.

[markiecake]

Haiii :3!! I was wondering if you could write something like your Jaehyun x bimbo reader, but with Ten maybe?? It's fine ofc if you don't wanna!!🫶

pairing: ten lee x bimbo! fem! reader

tags/ warnings: smut (minors pls dni !!!), soft(ish) dom tennie !!! (he's still very mean lets not get it twisted), dumbification, slapping, breeding (who's shocked), name calling (dummy, cum dump), pet names (baby, good girl), dubcon ?? (consent is never explicitly stated), reader is v naive

tennie is always so booked and busy, of course he needs a ditzy airhead to keep his dick wet for him !!

dare i say he takes advantage of your dumbness a little bit ...

"it hurts so bad, baby," he says with a pout, holding your chin so you look up at him, "you're gonna help me, right? you don't want me to be in pain, do you?"

of course you don't want that ! so you nod up at him dumbly :((

and in the span of a few seconds, you're on your back, your legs being pressed up against your chest in a mating press as he pounds into you at a brain numbing pace !

any squirming or wriggling away from him is instantly noticed, pausing his thrusts for a few seconds so he can slap you around a little bit 😵‍💫

"don't fucking run from it," he says after landing a slap on your cheek, "just take it. for me, yeah? you can at least do that right, can't you?"

belittles you so much omg :,( when drool is running down your chin, your eyes rolled back to the back of your head, he doesn't stop at all ! just calls you his dumb girl and continues on like nothing `(*>﹏<*)′

TEN AND BREEDING !!!!!!!!!!! if you don't end up limping out of his room stuffed with his cum, best believe he isn't finished with you.

even though he's such a meanie, he disguises it as praise ! "pretty cum dump for me, hm?" "such a messy girl" :3333

pumps load after load into your used cunt, making tears stream down your face, your whole body shaking with overstimulation.

"t- tennie.." you whimper out, to which he just shakes his head at you.

"good girls don't speak." he says while looking down at you with a cold expression, then slowly beginning his thrusts again, making you hold back a loud whine.

you're sure he's been fucking you for HOURS at this point, yet you still don't want him to stop !

keep in mind, he literally does not care if you cum or not, you're here for him, not the other way around ! even so, you always end up creaming his cock either way ≧ ﹏ ≦

he finally pulls out, the squelch noise when he did was a little humiliating, especially when he laughs down at you :(((

you can feel his cum dripping out of your abused hole, but of course you want to keep ten happy, so you take matters into your own hands (literally) and scoop up what's dripped out, putting your fingers in your mouth to clean them !

tennie thinks you're prettiest like this :,) looking up at him with glossy eyes, your own fingers stuffed in your mouth, just so fucked out for him ... of course he has to take a photo !

tells you to stay still while he grabs his phone and takes a few pictures, the flash making you squint a little bit. he laughs, puts his phone to the side and places a kiss on your cheek.

"such a pretty dummy."

[gavisuntiedboot]

Whenever you have the time could you write about Gavi with a gf that is a bit reserved and touch starved, her love language is physical touch but she doesn't initiate it with Gavi because her ex always told her she is clingy and annoying so she's insecure about it, so Gavi tries to show her it's okay by always cuddling her, or touching her in any way. And then over time she starts to initiate the cuddling/touching and Gavi is so proud and happy because she finally feels comfortable with him

Your writing is amazing btw, I've decided to wait for you to finish Just Pretend completely to continue reading it because whenever I finish the last chapter you post I get so sad because the next one isn't out yet and I can't live in the agony of not knowing what happens next

Pls hold my hand

"Princess, why do you have a sweatshirt that says ‘clingy’ on it?”

You looked over to Gavi, who plopped himself down on the couch next to you, grabbing the remote to cue the Netflix show the two of you had been watching for the last several weeks, eager to finally watch another episode, as the two of you held your shared series’ to a sacred standard. With only two episodes left of the latest “Drive to Survive”, you didn’t want to delay the experience with too much conversation.

"Just and inside joke between me and my friends.” You said, avoiding eye contact and focusing on the bag of m&m’s in front of you.

“Your friends think you’re clingy?” He asked, turning to face you as his hoodie slipped from his head, messy brown locks on full display. One of the things you adored about Pablo was how much he was always trying to protect you and look out for you. You weren’t really be confrontational, and this lead to some mistreatment and being pushed over at times by those close to you. Well, you used to. Since you and Pablo started dating about 8 months ago, he had been there to defend you against people who wanted to take advantage, and often was the voice reminding you to stick up for yourself.

“No no, it’s not them. It’s … something to do with my ex boyfriend. Do you still want to know?”

Gavi tensed at this. Despite you never saying anything explicitly negative about your boyfriend, all the stories Gavi heard made him hate the man with a burning passion. He had slowly but surely messed you up in so many ways, and now as Pablo worked to slowly unravel the knots tightened around your heart, he couldn’t help but curse the man that tied them to begin with.

“Yeah. You can tell me.”

You shifted in your seat, rather uncomfortable with the topic, but not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

“Well, remember that little love languages quiz I made you do? Well I did mine like years ago, and I got physical touch. Which makes sense right because that’s one of yours and we seem to be getting along pretty well.” Gavi giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and causing you to tense.

“Well, my last boyfriend wasn’t super into like… touching? Fuck that sounds sexual. I mean he didn’t really like being touched or cuddling or all that couple stuff. Didn’t like holding hands either. And like this one time, he was watching something on his computer and I was feeling bold or whatever and tried to sit on his lap — he hated that though. He liked pushed me onto the floor and told me to stop being clingy.” You forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood and soften the look of horror that had occupied Gavi’s face.

“That was actually why I broke up with him. Anyways I didn’t hug any of my friends for a month after that, and when they finally confronted me and I told them why, they got this made me for me. See, look at the sleeve,” you said, stretching out your arm to show him the ‘pls hold my hand’ embroidered on the sleeve. “So now whenever I’m in my clingy sweatshirt, my friends give me a ton of hugs and stuff. It’s funny. I think.” You say, winching slightly by the fact that Pablo’s eyebrows are still pushed together in anger.

He muttered his grievances about your boyfriend while cuddling closer to you, pulling you into his chest. Your cheeks warmed as they were pressed against Gavi’s beating heart. Despite the long time you had been dating Pablo, you still were shy when it came to initiating any sort of affection. You were too scared of annoying him and pushing him further away. So you remained shy and reserved, only responding to the touches he initiated.

“Give me your hand, silly. Never been with a girl who came with instructions before. Maybe I should get you a pair of panties that say-“ his sentence abruptly ended with a pillow to the face. You giggled, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he just pulled you closer, wrapping both arms around you now.

“Oh no no princesa. You’re not going anywhere. Now hush and make mean comments about Verstappen with me.”

~

Over the next few weeks, Pablo had made an active effort to make you more comfortable with being physical with him. Whenever the two of you were out, he held your hand or had you two link arms. He hugged you and kissed you on the cheek or forehead, asking, “you don’t want to give me a kiss back, Amor?” Puppy dog eyes and adorable pout on display, you coyly returned the peck to his jutted out lip. He smiled widely, teeth almost blinding you. He returned with an attack, kissing you across both cheeks, and ending with a searing kiss to the lips.

His favorite time was when you two watched shows together. He would always pull you in close, cuddling with you next to him on the couch. He would lean close and whisper his comments about the show into your ear, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as his breath famed over. He would press kisses into your temples, breathing in the sweet smell of your hair, and reminding you how much he loved being around you.

“You’re so warm amor - my personal furnace. I love it.”

“Your skin is so soft, feels so nice.”

“I wish I never had to get up from beside you.”

After three weeks of hand holding, kisses, and encouragement, you finally found the confidence to approach Gavi to heal your touch starvation. You put on your clingy hoodie again, laying out snacks on the coffee table and firing up her Netflix.

“Princesa I’m here! Where are you?”

Running to the door, you wrapped both arms around Gavi’s neck, pulling him into you and greeting him with a firm kiss. As he recovered from the unexpected greeting, you informed him that you would be in the living room pulling up a new series. He followed closely after kicking off his shoes, and peeling off his Barca jacket, picking up the hoodie you had laid out for him.

“Did you change shampoos? Used to be peach and now it’s strawberry.”

“How could you tell?” You asked, grabbing some drinks as Pablo got comfy on the couch. He crossed his arms across his chest, legs spread and back slumped.

“My clothes smell different around the shoulders. That’s usually where your wet hair sits.” He looked over at you, watching your eyes go wide. “Amor, you know I love you, stop being surprised when I actually act like it. Now what are we watching?”

Taking a deep breath, you walked back over. You grabbed the remote, pressing play.

“The new season of Black Mirror is out and I’m dying to see it. Heard this one is creepier than normal.” As you explained, you walked over to Gavi. Before he could move to make space for you on the sofa, you draped yourself over his lap. Your legs were to his side, back pressed to his chest. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you laid your head on his shoulder. ‘Deep breaths it’s okay he’s not going to push you off.’

Pablo was stunned for a moment, so much so that he remained motionless. Once the shock wore off and he felt your slight tremble, he brought his muscled arms around you, pulling you tightly against him, soft lips pressing to your pulse point and freeing a soft gasp from your throat. He rested his head atop yours, the pressure and warmth comforting and familiar.

“Look at you being bold cariño. If I knew it would get you to sit in my lap we would’ve done this months ago.” You giggled softly in response, turning to face him. You rested your forehead against his, gazing deeply into the deep brown pools of his eyes. Leaning in, his lips eagerly met yours, refusing to release you. When you finally pulled away, you resumed your comfortable position in Pablo’s embrace. “I’m so proud of you, princesa.” The two of you fell into s comfortable silence, enjoying the show, squeezing each other tighter whenever things got intense.

“Can I get a matching clingy hoodie for whenever I want cuddles?” Pablo asked, smiling at you from above.

“I don’t think so, Pablito. You would never take it off.”

~~~

Guys I have the worst headacheeeeee but yay I posted!

[somehow-a-human]

The angels don't have to ask to enter the bookshop.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

We've been operating under the assumption that BOTH the angels and demons have to ask to enter the bookshop, but I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure it's one of our red herrings for season 2.

Continued under the cut.

When Gabriel shows up to the bookshop nude and oblivious, the doors are closed and (i believe) locked, Gabriel doesn't even know who or where he is, so he does what the default is... he knocks, and asks "Can I come in?" Aziraphale is frightened at first and tells him he can't come in but eventually our angels empathy wins and he says "Alright! Just... just get in!"

>> We're never told Gabriel wouldn't have been able to come in otherwise.

When the Archangels show up Aziraphale literally cuts them off before they reach the door of the bookshop. Saraqael suggests, "Shall we discuss this inside?", and Aziraphale continues, "By all means. Would you like to come in?"

>> If Aziraphale hadn't rushed out to meet the angels, why wouldn't they have just walked into the bookshop like they did numerous times in season 1?

When Muriel arrives to surveil Aziraphale they ask, "Great! Well, could I come in and do it inside please? Only cause it's really noisy out here and I can't hear anything." Aziraphale replies, "By all means."

>> Muriel is a plucky angel who doesn't know much about life on earth but had the shop been open and unlocked they might've just wandered in as well.

We're never told the angels *can't* enter the bookshop explicitly like we are for the demons. We've always just assumed the same rules apply to all of the ethereal and occult beings.

But then, might I ask, why does Aziraphale tell us "Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy"?

If the bookshop is still an embassy, the angels wouldn't need permission to enter, they would still have jurisdiction, and would still be able to monitor what's going on there... yes?

Let's compare this to the demons attempts to enter the bookshop, because Shax states clearly that she can't enter without permission. We see this again when she tries to get into the Bentley after it's canonically 'our car', and therefore at least partially owned by an angel.

I'm pretty sure John and Neil make a point of having the angels all ask in some way to enter, and Aziraphale seem to grant them permission as a red herring. They don't need to, but they want us to assume a false sense of security, to think that the bookshop is a safe space for our duo, outside of the reaches of both Heaven and Hell.

Technicalities are big in season 2 and I definitely think they're a huge underlying string running through all of Good Omens. In season 1, Crowley and Aziraphale stop Heaven and Hell from trying to restart Armageddon on a technicality. Gabriel and Beelzebub don't technically know if the great plan *is* the ineffable plan! It's definitely a favorite trope of Terry and Neil's to mock unfair, broken, bureaucratic systems, and Heaven and Hell are a PERFECT example of this.

**Somebody has written a meta on technicalities, I know I've seen it but I cannot for the life of me find it so if anyone could tag me so I could link it that would be brills! (Yeah that's right I'm adopting that from Charles from Dead Boy Detectives, 80's british slang ftw, I'm obsessed; please watch it please I need a second season.)

Neil has mentioned that the plot for season 3 might've had to be changed from he and Terry's original vision a bit, based on the political climate of the current day, and I'm sure that means we'll see some technicalities being the downfall of Heaven and Hells systems in Season 3 as well. I don't think the metatron is a villain, nor any of the other angels or demons. They're just fulfilling their function, following a set of rules, very much to a fault. This is all just God's big experiment after all, freewill, choice, eating the apple, and the angels and demons aren't exempt.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of technicality about the angels and demons themselves in season 3. We've seen that they're of the same stock, and we know Crowley at least is technically still the same person he was when he was an angel... more or less. Could the book of life end up revealing something like that the demons still exist perpetually as their angelsonas? A technicality, if you will?

Given the bookshop is still technically an embassy, is everything that happens inside observable by Heaven? Can they access the bookshop in their Earth Observation Files? There is some questionable blocking surrounding the bust in Aziraphale's bookshop, coupled with a curious record cover from Maggie's bookshop pointed out by @noneorother

One more thing to add, when Crowley and Aziraphale do the Gabriel hiding miracle, and the first large time discontinuity happens, something that still draws my attention in that moment is Aziraphale's expression after Jim emerges upstairs.

Just after Crowley has suggested the miracle, and just before Jim emerges from upstairs, Aziraphale is looking off toward the bookshop entrance, and after we cut away to Gabriel and then back...

Aziraphale looks momentarily terrified, he knows Gabriel is upstairs, and he's the one who wanted to hide him in the first place why would he be so scared? And he clearly isn't looking at Gabriel. Crowley is looking up at the archangel but Aziraphales eyeline is lower, possibly looking toward a certain... statue???

Anyway... Let me know your thoughts. I haven't been posting as much, I have been mega busy and I'm trying to be thankful for it. Love you all, hope you have something nice happen for you today! <3

[rivkae-winters]

You Will Rot

I adore this entire scene and their entire exchange and there are plenty of other posts out there on it but I’ve never come across the points I wanted to make hence why I'm writing this. Specifically on the implications of exactly what rots since that latched into my brain and would not let me go.

As always: this is only my interpretation of canon, there is no one true analysis to take as gospel. In fact please interact with your thoughts if you have any! I enjoy talking to other people about this sort of thing, fandom is all about discussion after all!

My stance on this line is one of nuance. I tend to think Sephiroth chose the worst words he could think of without fully considering the full implications.  He said the thing he knew that would hurt Genesis the most after the entire conversation beforehand.

What does it mean to be told to rot? Or even so told you will rot. 

In the FF7 universe, most explicitly displayed in CC, bodies dissolve. Corpses, both monster and human, are depicted as dissolving to return to the Lifestream. This is re-confirmed in the remake. 

Rot is not a term for humans, it’s not a cultural concept the same way it is for us in the real world. To decay and decompose are not processes that sentient beings undergo.

Rot is something for objects- things that live but aren’t alive enough or connected enough quote-un-quote to return to the Lifestream in the same dramatic manner. Rot is for things like food and flowers and things that are below the level of humans or animals or anything with general sentience. 

Sephiroth is telling Genesis here, he is not just a monster: he is insignificant. He is telling Genesis that he is not enough of a sentient being to return to the Lifestream and he’ll continue falling apart in real time just like a piece of fruit left forgotten and rotting on the kitchen counter. He is telling Genesis that at the end of the day he’s already dead in every way that matters and is no longer a person. Sephiroth is telling Genesis that he will have no mercy given to him at the end of the day: he will rot and waste like an object lacking sentience and then he will be left there.

Sephiroth is digging into Genesis’s own deepest insecurities here. Genesis fears not just being irrelevant but being rendered a non-entity, to be kept or out of control. Genesis has defined his entire life as a journey to be someone to be enough to be someone worthy of love and praise and being seen. Objects aren’t people, and Genesis is an object to Sephiroth with that statement. 

The only person who could help him no longer considers him a person- nor a thing with sentience. 

Obviously this is all over analyzing Sephiroth’s dialogue. This line was said with calculation, yes, but it was also somewhat reflexive. Sephiroth is under a lot of stress in this scene and Genesis has been slinging everything he never wanted to be told at him in a single conversation. Genesis then has the audacity to try to act as if he did something good. While Sephiroth’s world is collapsing around him and his other defected friend acts like he did him a favor. Sephiroth is angry, who wouldn’t be angry. Sephiroth thought the world of Genesis prior to his defection, he thought the world of both of them and those illusions have been crashing down around him.

So he uses Genesis’s own grief over his former friend’s tattered life that manifests as self deprecation and self dehumanization against him. He confirms the de-humanizing rhetoric that Genesis has been attaching to his own existence. Sephiroth in his pain and anger pushes past the fears that Genesis has been externalizing to what he knows Genesis is truly afraid of. 

If Genesis considers himself a monster than by the standards of the person Sephiroth thought he knew he is already living out his worst fears. He is nothing, he is nothing without his mind. If Genesis wants to be what he once considered a non-entity: wants to wallow in the rot and non-personhood so much then he can. 

Sephiroth turns his back on, in his mind, the moving corpse of the long dead Genesis Rhapsodos and walks away. 

You will Rot You are Nothing

There is also something to be said here for the Kanji used in the original!

I’m not touching on this as much as I would have liked to but it would be criminal if I didn’t at least pull out a Kanji dictionary.

I pulled Sephiroth’s line from here; warning the website is not in English at all but easy enough to navigate via context/knowledge of story events and the characters' Japanese names. 

Sephiroth’s line is: 朽ち果てろ kuchihatero

This is translated in the official English release as “You will rot” and in a pre-US release fan translation from May of 2007 roughly the same way as “Go decay”

朽  Decay; Rot; Remain in Seclusion

果  Fruit; Reward; carry out; achieve; complete; end; finish; succeed

[1][2] [3 specifically for 朽][4 specifically for 果]

Thanks for reading!

[autistichalsin]

Even if Halsin have not felt suited to the role of the First Druid, I have never agreed with this statement. Although he may have been hesitant, he truly went above and beyond his duties. I hold this belief strongly and will continue to encourage Halsin to see this through my Tav.

If he doesn't wish to assume the mantle of Archdruid, that's completely acceptable. He gave his all, demonstrated exemplary skill, and ensured peace within the Grove before departing. If I were his mentor, I would have felt an immense sense of pride in my heart because of his dedication.

Honestly, thinking about what happens during the game and after, I think the problem is this:

Halsin is a great leader, but he's bad at Druidic leadership, specifically. When you're in a leadership position, your values and goals need to align with the group's. While Halsin, of course, lives and breaths Druidic doctrine, he isn't so good at balancing the needs of his group members with his own goals; he looks at things outside the Grove, like the Shadow Curse, and prioritizes what he sees as the most important thing without necessarily explaining this to the group. He doesn't communicate clearly enough; Kagha talks about him "stumbling after the past", obviously not understanding the importance of curing the Shadow Curse. Everyone else, except Halsin, was willing to let the Shadow Curse continue. And of course it's a morally good act to cure the Shadow Curse, but his focus on it made him oblivious to some of the needs of the Druids.

Then you add in his avoidance of his responsibilities due to his tremendous amounts of trauma arising from his first day as Archdruid, and his own admitted inability to persuade the way Francesca could. Unfortunately, persuasiveness is a vital quality of a leader, and Halsin, while wise, isn't always so good at making his case.

It's very telling, to me, that Kagha was so willing to badmouth Halsin to outsiders. The Emerald Enclave (it's not explicitly stated that the Grove is under their authority, IIRC, but very heavily hinted that they're at LEAST allied, because Halsin mentions them refusing to help with the Shadow Curse in a note) has a very strict rule that while, in a meeting, Druids are free to air complaints, outside of it, they are to always act as a unified front, because open airing of grievances weakens the perception of the group to outsiders. Kagha, and many of the other Druids under Halsin's command, were willing to abandon this rule to trash talk Halsin to complete strangers, which means that he never properly instilled that rule in them, either.

Yet at the commune, where his leadership role is less strict and formal, everyone thrives; he enjoys his role. The key difference is that the leadership expected of an Archdruid was more structured and authoritarian; they were expected to be the firm decision makers, the ones In Charge, the ones to make plans of action and to manage problems. On the other hand, he indicates in tone and with a few lines (and a devnote that refers to him as an "informal elder") that his commune is a group effort; he's a guide, he gives advice and takes initiative to fix things, but everyone has a say in things.

In other words, he's suited for the gentler type of leadership where he's guiding others and everyone has a role, and not so well suited for the type of leadership where he is meant to be The Authority, What He Says Goes.

That said, he did, of course, do amazingly under the circumstances- he really did the best anyone could be expected to, and if he was TERRIBLE at it instead of simply not GREAT, he would have been ousted at some point over the past 100 years. Clearly no one else felt like they could do better.

But I think it's telling that when Halsin talks to you about his letter from the Grove in act 3, that there's only one response that he truly responds happily to (and gives approval to). He will give vague answers about leaving the Grove if the player reassures him that he was good, or that it's okay to leave (saying that this is true but he has a lot of knowledge and wants to find a way to pass that on). But the response that makes him happiest is:

"Grove aside, I'm glad you stayed with me."

Because what he wants isn't to be Archdruid, or to be reassured of his skills as such. What he wants is to belong, and be needed, somewhere else- somewhere where he is happy. Because he says, multiple times in multiple scenarios, that traveling with Tav is among his happiest memories. With a world-ending threat in front of him, he's the happiest he's been because he's being shown kindness, and consideration as a person, he never got at the Grove. He wants to belong with you because you're the first one to show him it doesn't matter if he is a good leader, he still has a place at your side, he's welcome as he is. And that's what he wants, more than anything- even being reassured of his leadership skills is, to him, almost a confirmation that he has to be a good leader to be Good and Worthy. But saying "look, good leader or not, I'm glad you're with me" tells him that he finally has somewhere he is treasured for himself, and that is huge for him.