#or rather do bother so i can block you without reply

[macro-microcosm]

Look, I'm sorry, but you cannot say "there is no antisemitism in the Free Palestine movement" and also say that you think Israeli youth should be put into Viet Cong-style reeducation camps.

And no, it's not a more vindicated or less bigoted opinion just because nobody comes to you with a better single-sentence solution to hate crimes.

[namism]

Hi! Can I request a Zoro x reader who's mihawks daughter, I think it would be a funny scenario bc he would have to get his approval first lol

with wine, zoro | roronoa zoro

➳ categories: canonverse, female reader

➳ word count: 1.9k

➳ summary: Who knew that the mysterious Dracule Mihawk had a daughter? Zoro certainly didn't, but now that he's fallen head over heels for her, he supposes he has to do something quickly.

➳ notes: i adore this request! this is by far the one fic of mine that i would proudly reread without cringing because it's funny 😭

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"Psst!"

Zoro looks to his left. Slowly, Perona floats past him with her stuffed animal Kumashi in one hand, the other holding her parasol.

"Where were you last night?" she asks.

Zoro ignores her and goes back to whatever he was working on.

"Were you outside again?" Persistent as ever, Perona floats in front of him and blocks his line of sight. "You must have visited that girl from the tower!"

"How do you know her?" Zoro snaps. Perona smiles to herself smugly.

"A-ha! I knew it! You and that girl are together, aren't you? You disappear so often, I can't believe I hadn't caught on until yesterday!"

Zoro grumbles under his breath. Walking past her, he asks Perona what she's bothering him for, to which she replies with her uniquely annoying laugh, one that Zoro has heard too many times over the course of the eight months they've been together on Kuraigana Island. Her Hollows fly around her as she bursts into a fit, bearing an expression of mockery on their translucent faces.

"Just bothering you," she answers. Zoro picks up the weights he was lifting moments ago and proceeds to ignore her again, but she continues to pester him. "What is she to you? A friend? A girlfriend?"

Zoro huffs in annoyance. "Why do you bother?"

"Because this island is boooring!"

"Find something to work on," he suggests.

It's Perona's turn to show her annoyance. Hovering over Zoro, she extends her arms and spreads out her fingers toward him.

"Negative Ho—!"

"She's a friend!" Zoro yells in panic. Perona stops her Hollow attack with a flick of a finger. "She's... special... can you get those stupid ghosts away from my face?"

"Wow. You aren't as unemotional as I thought." Blinking rapidly, Perona's hands fall to her waist. Zoro always seemed withdrawn like Mihawk, so she never pictured him as the type of guy to hold any romantic feelings for anyone.

A light blush coats Zoro's cheeks. He looks away shyly but composes himself apace. He can't be vulnerable in front of Perona—she would tease him for ages.

Perona has different plans, though. She would tease him if it were about anything else, but she's smack dab in the middle of nowhere, and her boredom convinces her to be more considerate than pesky. Besides, she's been annoying toward Zoro enough. It's time to compensate.

Using her powers, she conjures a Special Hollow and orders it to pick the swordsman in its mouth. Zoro drops his sword and flails his arms around helplessly. With a manic laugh, Perona flies to the castle with the Hollow trailing after her.

"Let's get you a girlfriend!"

Zoro didn't know what to expect when Perona dragged him back to Mihawk's shady castle, but the events that transpired were definitely not in his top 5 guesses.

Perona held him at gunpoint—just her Negative Hollows, really—and told him to list all the things he likes about you. When that didn't work because Zoro was too flustered to speak, she concocted the perfect plan that is guaranteed to win your heart over, should he execute it properly.

Right now, Zoro stands in front of you with his hands crossed over his chest. It's the morning of the plan's execution, but facing you brings him back to the first time he stepped foot in your dwelling.

Ever since he and Perona were teleported to Kuraigana Island eight months ago, he found himself exploring (or rather, getting lost around) the island that apparently housed Dracule Mihawk's residence. He lives in the abandoned castle of the now fallen Muggy Kingdom that stands in the middle of the dense forests, just a few kilometers away from a lone tower nestled in between the trees.

When Zoro explored (got lost) too far, he scouted the tower and found you there, sleeping peacefully. You shot up from your bed in panic and used your swords to attack, but Zoro had backed you into a corner. Afraid, you begged him for your life and proved your innocence.

Zoro had no business with a random girl he met on a random Tuesday, who was stuck in a random tower on a random island he was magicked into. Yet you eventually charmed him with your abilities, earning his trust and respect to a degree close to acquaintances. As time went by, you started getting flirtatious that crossed the line of "just friends," leading Zoro to feel a mutual fondness for you that he couldn't quite communicate.

That leads him to his current predicament. As he waits for your reply to his quiet confession, he prepares himself for what's to come.

"It doesn't take one to figure out that I'm fond of you, too," you tell him with a soft smile. "However, you have to ask someone first."

Zoro isn't surprised by your reciprocity, but he's surprised by the latter. Whose consent does he have to ask for?

"Who is it?"

"My father."

Zoro furrows his brows.

"You live alone."

"Well, yes! I live alone in the tower."

Suddenly, the front door of your home is kicked open. You turn on your heel to greet the visitor, while Zoro watches intently.

Mihawk appears at the doorway.

"Good morning, love. Sorry for my entrance. Are you in the middle of something?"

You run over to the man and help him with the bags of groceries in his arms. Hauling them over to the kitchen counter, you invite him inside the building.

"We were, but it's just Zoro. No big deal."

Mihawk looks at the swordsman, one eyebrow raising in curiosity at his presence.

Meanwhile, Zoro tries to understand what's happening. The fact that you know Mihawk isn't shocking since you've lived on the island your whole life, but being called 'love'? Zoro doesn't mean to be possessive, but he has a problem with that.

"I guess my student has become acquainted with my daughter," says Mihawk nonchalantly before helping you unpack your groceries.

At that moment, Zoro wishes to be eaten alive by the island mandrills.

What. The. Fuck. He thinks. Daughter?!

"Daughter?!" he repeats aloud.

"Mm-hmm! I don't live in the castle. This tower is far better than that ominous place." You hum to yourself. Looking at Mihawk, you grin sheepishly. "Sorry, Father."

"Doesn't matter. Your absence gave the ghost girl a room to her liking."

Nearby, Zoro hears a faint gasp.

Clasping your hands together, you approach Zoro slowly. You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, a look that has Zoro going crazy.

"Well, my father is here. Would you like to ask him now?"

But the admission of your relationship to Mihawk, his master, is far crazier. Zoro doesn't have the time to be wooed in by your cuteness because he feels like an idiot for not having caught on to this fact much earlier.

Your swordsmanship, your demeanor, your aptitude for many other things—Zoro understands it now. There is no questioning your abilities when you had genetically inherited them from someone. You're Mihawk's daughter, and you had always been.

"Is something the matter?" you ask softly.

Zoro loses the color on his face. He feels dizzy.

Floating right outside the tower's open window, Perona makes a face of surprise as she eavesdrops on the conversation.

"Shoot," she cusses quietly before flying away.

"I can't remember the last time I've witnessed anything more devastating than falling for your master's daughter," Perona ponders aloud, causing Zoro to glare at her as he nearly hyperventilates. "Calm down! We can do something about it!"

Zoro grits his teeth at Perona's poor attempt to cheer him up. Coming from the ghost girl who knows nothing but to attack people with her depressive powers, her optimism is anything but helpful.

"You said you spied on her a few times in the past. Did you not know this?!" Zoro shouts.

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't intrude enough!" Perona yells back. "You didn't even bother asking your girlfriend what her full name was! Ugh, you tire me out—you're unbelievable!"

After Perona fled the scene, Zoro followed in horror. He looked too disturbed that you offered to escort him back to the castle so that he could take a deep breath and process the situation. However, Zoro excused himself and instead ran down the spiral steps of your tower, disappearing into the forest that led him back to the castle.

Having reunited with Perona in her bedroom (that was apparently yours before she teleported to the island), Zoro admits that she has the right to insult him. Zoro never asked for your family name, and you never told him about it either. He thought you were an orphan since you had always lived alone, and it wasn't rare for people in the Grand Line to be secretive of their family.

Still, he feels like an idiot. Despite looking different from your father (you must have taken after your mother in appearance), you're incredibly trained with a sword, and you have a familiar aura around you. Zoro should have connected the dots together and theorized that you're Mihawk's daughter, but it's too late for that now.

He isn't mad by all means, but he curses the old man for not even telling him. He's been living under his roof for the past eight months, for goodness' sake!

Perona floats in front of him, twirling her hair.

"What are you going to do now?" she asks.

Zoro doesn't respond. He's clueless.

"Me either," she says. She flies around the room, thinking to herself. "Well, only a coward would accept defeat in courting a woman. Get back there and ask for her father's blessing!"

Zoro clenches his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands.

"Help me with something."

Many hours later, Mihawk comes back from his day visit at your tower. Tired from today's events, he decides to lock himself in his bedroom and take some time reading the newspaper over a glass of wine. To his dismay, he seems to have run out.

Thus, he immerses himself in the newspaper, wine-less, thinking it's good to cut down on the liquor for a while. In the middle of it, a knock sounds on his door, followed by a soft clink of glass. Mihawk waits for a minute to pass before standing up from his seat and peeking out the door to investigate the sound.

Whoever had knocked is now long gone. Instead, there sits by his foot a bottle of unopened wine and a piece of parchment. Mihawk collects the items and retreats to his bedroom.

He opens the bottle and pours himself a drink. Then, he settles back in his armchair and finishes the newspaper before picking up the parchment.

"A letter," he says to himself. He reads.

Thank you for taking me under your wing.

I'm sorry for running out earlier. I like her, and I stand by that.

Have this for now.

With wine, Zoro

Mihawk drops the letter on his lap and takes another sip. He laughs to himself.

The next day, he calls Zoro to his room as he reads the daily newspaper with careful sips of the gifted wine. As Zoro speaks, having swallowed his pride another time in front of the man, Mihawk leans back into his chair, seemingly pleased.

With wine or not, he was going to give his permission anyway.

[imagineweasley]

Hellooo could you possibly do Fred Weasley x reader who has bad anxiety and as a result is always picking at her skin or biting her nails :)

author's note: as a skin picker and a fred lover, i absolutely love this!! thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy! :) (also sorry this took so long, my writer's block has really been acting up but i think i'm baaaaack people!)

--

Fred Weasley's Remedy to Nail Biting

Fred Weasley x reader

summary: when you are anxious, you always bite your nails and pick at your skin. your latest worry is about meeting mr and mrs weasley, and fred notices and is able to reassure you.

y/n: your name

word count: 1.1k

submit requests here! | masterlist

"Knut for your thoughts?" Fred's low voice brought y/n back to breakfast, where she was sitting staring at a full plate of eggs, sausage, a pile of potatoes, and toast, but she hadn't touched anything. Fred had made up this plate for y/n, noticing she was sitting absolutely still and staring at the wall ahead with a faraway look in her eyes. The only movement was her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"Hm?" There was some slight movement as Fred's voice broke her trance and she turned and inch towards him, the look in her eyes not quite gone.

"What's on your mind?" He said, raising his eyebrows.

Y/n was quick to wave his question off and said, "I don't know what you mean, love. I'm perfectly fine. See?" She hastily grabbed her toast, now soggy from the eggs, and took a large bite. She winced as she swallowed a bit too quickly and the lump of bread slid agonizingly down her throat.

Fred chuckled and took her hand by her wrist. He held it up for her to see: her cuticles were raw and her nails ragged, even some blood pooled at the crevice along the side of her nails.

She'd been caught and she knew it. Leave it up to Fred to catch her every mood and movement. It was no surprise though, Fred was already quite observant person -- you had to be in order to charm all the pies at dinner to dance on the Slytherins' heads after a particularly bad Quidditch match and not get caught. Not to mention the fact that y/n and Fred had known each other for years now, dating for almost two.

Y/n sighed and said, "Fine, you caught me. Can we... can we talk somewhere more quiet?"

Fred was quick to nod, and immediately got up with his plate full of food, or rather, his plate piled with fatty bacon and one piece of melon. "Mr. Weasley, allow me to remind you that no food items are allowed to be taken out of the Great Hall." Nearly Headless Nick floated in front of the two blocking their way, but Fred simply blew him a kiss and replied, "Nick, my girlfriend is in crisis, respectfully piss off." They walked past the gasping ghost out of the hall.

On the way out, y/n caught Hermione shooting you a worried look and she gave her a small reassuring smile -- fake, but convincing. George was too busy to notice, plotting god-knows-what with Lee Jordan, and Ron was off in his own world stuffing his face with pastries and slipping some into his bag. Harry was picking at his food, his usual moody morning self, and everyone knew not to disturb him until at least 9:00 am.

The two made it into a small classroom just outside the Great Hall, and Fred pulled up a chair for y/n. After planting a kiss on top of her head, he sat down himself and leaned forward. "Now, what is daring to bother m'lady?"

Y/n sighed and without her even knowing, her hand found their way to her mouth and she started chewing at the raw skin again. Fred gently held her hand in his to stop her.

"Well," She paused and took a deep breath, "Iknowit'sstupidandIfeelridiculousevensayingoutloudbutI'vebeenreallynervousaboutmeetingyourparentseventhoughIknowtheyareperfectlynicepeopleandyoutellmetheyalreadylovemebutwhatiftheyseemeandtheydecidetheyhatemeandthenyoubreakupwithme."

Fred was silent, processing the jumble of words that had just tumbled out of y/n's mouth, but mostly stifling a laugh. His silence was making y/n nervous though, and she whined, "Fred, please say something!"

Fred coughed, a poor attempt to cover his laugh, before squeezing y/n's hand.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were feeling this way." He tried to make eye contact with y/n but she looked down at the floor. He gently lifted her chin and fixed his eyes on hers. He said, "I know it's nerve-wracking to meet parents. Trust me, when I was meeting yours over the holidays, I was this close--" He held his index finger and thumb a millimeter apart from each other, "-- to soiling my pants." This earned a chuckle from y/n, and Fred's heart lifted at seeing her relax a little.

"I didn't know that you were nervous." Y/n said, genuinely surprised that her boyfriend, always so confident in social situations, had been nervous to meet her parents. It had gone swimmingly of course, and now her father was impatiently waiting for Fred to ask for his blessing and her mother was simply bursting for grandchildren (a bit premature, she thought).

"Of course I was, y/n. Meeting the love of my life's parents was a big deal to me. But look at me! I'm just a very handsome, very hilarious, very smart git and they love me!" He grinned at her and continued, "And blimey, imagine how much my parents are going to love you when you are all of that and more. My mother is going to be yelling at me to put a ring on it already and my father is going to keep you up all night blabbering on about, I don't know, car engines or something."

Y/n finally laughed her normal laugh, and he couldn't help but lean forward and kiss her. She giggled against his lips and grabbed his shirt to pull him deeper. He then enveloped her in a tight hug, his right arm wrapping around her waist and the other slung over her shoulder and cradling her head to bring her even closer. He hugged her like this because he always hoped that they could melt into one if he hugged her tight enough. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume, and warmth ran through his body.

He finally pulled away and took her hands in his. He quickly checked y/n and she was finally back to normal, shoulders relaxed and jaw unclenched. Y/n was relieved that she had told her boyfriend and only wished she had said something earlier, but was just glad that she had been able to share her burden.

With a loving smile, Fred said, "Hey, and thank you for telling me. I'm glad you didn't hold that in to yourself. I know you like doing things on your own, but you shouldn't have to carry this sort of stuff alone." He kissed her forehead, his left cheek, her right cheek, and her nose, then leaned his forehead on hers for a moment. "And merlin, am I excited to spend the summer with you."

Y/n closed her eyes and they rested on each other for a minute before Fred broke the silence.

"I need you to save those hands for me too," he said, winking, "I tend to like what they do for me."

Y/n, always quick-witted, said cooly, "Since you were so sweet to me, maybe you'll even get some of my hands later today." She winked right back at him and laughing, dragged a now-drooling Fred out of the classroom as the rest of the students spilled out of the Great Hall to begin the day.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 10

Summary: Y/n struggles to hide her concern for Azriel while Cassian and Rhys tease her. As the final battle against Hybern approaches, Y/n and Azriel spend their last night together sharing a quiet moment before the fight.

WC: 4.2 K.

You can read previous chapter here Fictober Challenge

Waking up, Y/n found a blanket draped over her, courtesy of Feyre before she left. It took her a few minutes to gather herself before heading directly to Azriel’s tent. On the way, Cassian intercepted her.

“You look like hell” he remarked with a smirk, giving her a once-over.

She walked past him without replying, her attention fixed elsewhere- or rather, on someone else.

“No biting back today?” He fell into step beside her, walking backward to meet her eyes, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

“I don’t have time for you today, General” She replied flatly, giving him a brief, dismissive glance.

“When do you ever?” He tilted his head, still keeping pace with her.

“What do you want?” She sighed, her irritation growing as she stopped.

“Where are you headed?” His curiosity sharpened his tone.

“None of your business” She tried to sidestep him, but he quickly moved to block her path. She shifted to the left, but he anticipated her move, stepping in front of her again.

“Move!” She snapped, her frustration evident as she clenched her jaw.

“Hmm, I don’t feel like it” He responded, folding his arms over his chest, his smirk deeping as if daring her to try something.

“Don’t you have a war to prepare for? Soldiers to command?” She glared up at him, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“I do, but not at the moment.” He shrugged, his tone casual, as though they were discussing the weather.

“Get out of my way” She demanded, her voice lowering with a dangerous edge.

“Or what? You’re going to take me on? I’m fully healed now, so you have no excuse. I’d like to see you try” he taunted, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he leaned forward slightly, his stance loose and ready.

“Grow up” she muttered, rolling her eyes. 

“The offer still stands, you know” he continued, undeterred. “I could train you. It’s not too late. I mean, we are in the middle of a war, but even a few lessons could help.”

“For the millionth time, piss off. I’m not training with you. Now, Let. Me. Go” she retorted, punctuating each word with a deliberate pause as she took a deep breath, visibly trying to keep her temper in check.

“Cassian! Why are you tormenting our poor Y/n?” Rhys called out as he strolled toward them, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

“I would never” Cassian replied, pressing a hand to his chest as he feigned hurt, his expression exaggeratedly solemn.

“Is he bothering you?” Rhys asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her. 

“Yes, but I can handle him” With a Swift motion, Y/n punched Cassian in the groin. He let out a low growl, doubling over with a pained grimace.

“See?” she shrugged, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she watched him struggle to catch his breath.

“Son of a-“ Cassian hissed, his jaw tightening as he clutched his lower abdomen.

“I told you to move, asshole. Lesson one: never underestimate your opponent. Lesson two: don’t get cocky” Y/n stated, crossing her arms. There was triumphant gleam in her eyes as she watched him slowly straighten up, his face still twisted in discomfort.

Rhys laughed, shaking his head. “Damn, you’ve got some courage, attacking the commander of my army like that.”

“He’ll get over it. It was just a little punch from an ‘untrained’ girl, as he’d put it” She replied, her smirk widening.

“You call that a little punch?” Cassian grumbled, glaring at her.

“Know your opponent, your strengths, your weaknesses, and aim for where it’ll hurt the most.” Y/n said, holding his stare. “Honestly, I thought you’d be able to block my punch.”

“I was distracted and didn’t anticipate you doing something so vile” he straightened, his tone laced with both annoyance and reluctant amusement.

“Duly noted for next time. Thank you for the tip.” She retorted, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

“If you two are done, Amren is waiting for you” Rhys interjected, his expression one of mild impatience as he glanced between them.

“Me? What for?” Y/n frowned.

“To tap into your powers, or have you already forgotten? It’s been less than a day.” Rhys teased.

“If she’s gonna keep asking about my feelings, you can tell her to forget about it.” Y/n muttered, crossing her arms defensively.

“Ah, so talking about your feelings is your weakness. Thank you for the tip” Cassian quipped, a smirk forming on his lips as Y/n shot him with a withering glare before turning away, heading toward Azriel’s tent.

“You know that’s not where Amren is” Cassian called after her, his voice dripping with amusement. Without turning around, she raised a hand and gave him a vulgar gesture, earning a chuckle from him as she pivoted and walked alongside Rhys. 

After a moment of walking in silence, Y/n finally spoke up, her voice quieter than usual “How’s your Shadowsinger?” 

“Alive” Rhys replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a faint smile. “His back is healing quickly, but his wings… it’s slow, Thesan hasn’t healed many Illyrian wings. But I’ve sent word to Madja, she should be here tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Will… will he fly again?” Y/n’s voice was hesitant, her brows knitting together in concern.

“I’d say yes, but not anytime soon” he admitted, his tone shifting to something more serious.

“So he won’t be flying on the battlefield?” she pressed, a hint of relief mixed with unease in her expression.

“Unfortunately not” he confirmed, his gaze flicking to her curiously. “Is that worry I sense. ? For our Shadowsinger?” Cassian clicked his tongue as he caught up to them.

“He saved Elain and brought both my sisters back to me in one piece. It’s only natural I inquire about his… state” Y/n tried to explain, attempting to keep her tone neutral as she avoided meeting their eyes.

“I’m sure.” Cassian murmured, glancing over at her with a knowing look. “I heard you helped bandage him up yesterday. It’s also because he saved your sisters, right?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

Y/n’s glare could have burned a hole through him. She turned away from the males and strode determinedly toward Azriel’s tent, unwilling to entertain any more questions. The two exchanged a look before turning back to discuss war plans.

Y/n entered the tent slowly, more hesitant now. “Hey, I came to see how you’re doing. I heard from your High Lord. I’m sorry” She began, her voice softer than usual.

Azriel adjusted his position, shifting slightly on the bed to face her “What do you have to be sorry about?” His brow furrowed slightly, his expression a blend of confusion and curiosity.

“Your wings. I heard you won’t be able to fly any time soon” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Perhaps,” he replied with a small shrug. “Nothing is for certain, I’ll try my best to heal as fast as I can.”

“I hope you don’t” the words slipped out before she could stop them, and she immediately froze, her eyes widening in horror. “I- it’s not what I meant.”

Azriel’s brow arched, his gaze sharpening with interest. “Oh? Then what did you mean?” He tilted his head, studying her intently.

“Nothing, just… forget I said anything” she mumbled, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as she avoided his eyes.

“It’s not easy to forget when someone says ‘I hope you don’t heal’” he remarked, a teasing lilt entering his voice.

“That’s not what I-” she stammered, then took a deep breath. “Of course, I want you to heal, and I owe you for my sisters. I just… you’re gonna hate me for this, but I want you to heal-  just not fast enough to fly into battle” Her voice dropped to a near whisper as she admitted the truth, still not daring to meet his gaze.

“You’d rather I stay back while everyone else fights?” His tone was gentle, but there was a trace of incredulity in his voice as he leaned forward slightly.

“I’d rather see you alive resting than watch you die on the battlefield” she replied, her voice tight with emotion as she finally looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of frustration and fear.

“So, you have no faith in me?” he asked, his expression softening, though his voice remained firm.

“It’s not that.” She insisted, her tone growing more earnest. “You are a very skilled warrior, and you have an incredible pain tolerance, but in war, there are no certainties. How many great warriors have fallen on the battlefield, despite their skills?… I owe you, so you cannot die yet.”

“You owe me nothing” His voice was firm, his gaze unwavering as it held hers.

“Your wings are wounded because I told to-“ she began, her voice filled with guilt.

“Even if you hadn’t asked me, I would’ve still gone to get your sister back” He interrupted. “And I would’ve gladly sacrificed my life to save Feyre’s. She is my High Lady” There was a quiet intensity in his eyes as he spoke, as if daring her to challenge his conviction.

Y/n sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Still, you brought them back as you promised…. So, back to the subject- How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. My back is almost completely healed, and my wings, as you can see, still need some time” Azriel replied, stretching his wings slightly. He winced just for a moment, the flicker of pain unmistakable before he concealed it.

“Are you… in pain?” she asked, concern drawing her brow together as she watched him closely.

“Nothing I can’t handle” His expression remained calm, though his jaw tightened slightly.

“That wasn’t my question, but I got it….” She murmured, glancing around the tent as if searching for something. “Where are your shadows? I don’t see them around.”

Azriel’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “They’re hiding from you.”

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, perplexed.

“Last time you threatened them, and quite honestly that was the first time I’ve seen anyone threaten shadows” he chuckled softly, the sound deep and low. “They’re scared of you” he joked, his eyes sparkling with a teasing light.

“I was angry.” She admitted, a reluctant smile forming on her lips. “You can tell them to come out, I don’t bite…hard.” 

Both of them let out a quiet laugh, and as their laughter faded, their eyes met again. For a moment, Y/n found herself lost in the depth of his gaze, the warmth and intensity pulling her in. The silence stretched between them, charged with an unspoken connection, until she realized they were just staring into each other's eyes. She cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “I should go. Your High Lord’s second-in-command is waiting for me.”

“Amren?” Azriel’s features tightened with confusion, his brow furrowing. 

“Ah, right, you weren’t here.” She explained. “Yesterday, when you went to retrieve my sister, she offered to help me with whatever powers everyone thinks I possess.”

“And? Did it work?” he asked, curiosity overtaking the confusion in his expression.

“No” she replied, shaking her head. “And I don’t think she’ll be able to help.”

“Why not?” The question came out quietly, a trace of concern flickering across his features.

“Let’s just say her methods  are… well, not for me.” She sighed, her hand absently rubbing the back of her neck. “But I’ll give it another shot, and if it doesn’t work, then it’s probably for the best.”

“I believe in you” he said simply, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable.

Her breath hitched at the unexpected words. “Thank you” She whispered, her eyes glancing back to meet his. He was the first person to say those words to her, and something in her chest tightened in response.

—-

“So, what are we doing today?” Y/n asked as she stepped into the tent, casting a wary glance at Amren. “And if you ask about my feelings, I’m walking right back out.”

Amren rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Relax. We’re taking a different approach today.” Her tone was dry as usual. 

“Now, close your eyes and imagine yourself standing on that cliff with Nesta. Feyre isn’t there. Everyone else is on the battlefield. Blood is everywhere as soldiers fall one by one. And now you see what you saw that day. You’re afraid, helpless. We’re losing….. anything?”.

“Nope” Y/n opened one eye, eyeing Amren skeptically. “I don’t feel anything. It won’t work”.

Amren’s lips pressed into a thin line. “How do you know?”.

“Even if we try to recreate that moment, it won’t feel the same. My brain knows it’s not real” Y/n replied, crossing her arms as if to shield herself.

“You haven’t even tried yet” Amren retorted, her gaze piercing.

“I just did,” Y/n snapped, frustration edging her voice. “And I told you, I didn’t feel anything. Whatever powers you all think I possess, I don’t sense them. There’s no bone in my body that can feel it.”

Amren’s eyes narrowed as she studied her. “You don’t believe you can do it” she surmised. “You don’t believe you have it in you. You don’t believe in yourself.”

“Congratulations, you’ve solved the problem” Y/n shot back sarcastically, the corner of her mouth twitching into a humorless smile

“No wonder it isn’t working” Amren said, her voice softening just a fraction. “You don’t want it to work. Why is that?”

“Back to questions, I see” Y/n muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You’re afraid” Amren continued, her voice dropping lower, her gaze unrelenting. “But of what?”

“Are we doing this or not?” Y/n’s voice was sharp, defensive as she crossed her arms again. She didn’t want Amren to push any further. She knew what she was afraid of, but she wasn’t willing to face or admit it yet. And if Amren found out, then she’d have to confront whatever she’s struggling to avoid.

Amren’s gaze didn’t waver. “How can we, if you don’t believe in yourself?” Her tone was challenging.

Y/n let out a frustrated breath. “So now what? I just magically start believing in myself, and boom, it’ll work?” She shot back, her eyes narrowing.

“That’s a very good question. I honestly don’t know, but maybe someone who really knows you can help boost your confidence.”

“I am confident” Y/n insisted, lifting her chin defiantly. “I just don’t think I have those powers.”

Amren;s expression remained unyielding. “Try to imagine it.”

Before Y/n could respond, Cassian strode into the tent, his presence filling the space. “You still haven’t figured out how to activate her powers yet?” he interrupted, his tone laced with amusement. “Watching you try and fail is going to be entertaining.”

Y/n’s hands clenched into fists as she drew in a deep breath, struggling to ignore him.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you join us, boy?” Amren suggested, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I think it’ll motivate Y/n.”

Both of them snorted. “If anything, it’s the opposite” Y/n replied.

Cassian arched an eyebrow. “Do I look like a lab rat to you?” He directed the question at Amren but moved closer to join them anyway. “But I’ll do it, even if it’s just to see Y/n pissed off.”

“That’s the theory I’m testing” Amren replied, her tone serious.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we tried focusing on another emotion? A positive one?” Y/n suggested, her gaze shifting back to Amren.

“Your powers seemed to have activated when you were feeling a strong emotion. One that wasn’t positive” Amren reminded.

 Cassian stuck his tongue out playfully. “I don’t think you even have positive emotions.” 

“You’re such a baby” Y/n muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

After half an hour of Cassian's relentless provocations and still no sign of her powers manifesting, Y/n was on the verge of giving up when Rhys entered the tent.

“We leave in a few hours” he announced, his expression serious. “We received word that the King is moving his troops. The others and I came to a decision- we’ll winnow to the human lands tonight and evacuate as many people as we can. Y/n, you missed the meeting- you would’ve liked it. The High Lords are going to fight and die for the humans. See, we’re not bad after all” Rhys added with a wry smile.

“I doubt it” she replied dryly, a frosty mist momentarily enveloping her hands before dissipating.

Amren stepped forward. “I was going to find you after this. I figured it out. I think I’ve found a way to stop Hybern’s entire army. You need to face Hybern in battle. Everyone you can spare. We’ll use that as a distraction-“

As Amren said those words, Y/n’s thoughts drifted to Azriel- About how he’d willingly sacrifice his life if it meant buying them even a moment’s advantage, how he might die if he decided to take to the skies tomorrow, and how there was nothing she could do to dissuade him, nothing she could do to save him if he went. Consumed by these thoughts, a tingling began to spread through her fingers, and faint sparks of electricity crackled between them. This time, the light was visible, flickering in the dim tent, drawing the attention of Amren, Rhys, and Cassian.

“There! What were you thinking about just now?” Amren’s eyes widened as she stepped closer. 

Y/n blinked, the question pulling her back to reality, and the sparks faded.

“What just happened?” Cassian asked, his voice cautious.

“I… I was just thinking about the battle tomorrow” she lied, glancing away.

“You don’t have to worry about it. While the soldiers fight, we’ll use the distraction to get to the Cauldron. You, me, and your sisters” Amren informed them.

Y/n hesitated. “But we, I-“ She struggled to find the right words. She did not want Azriel to fight, but she also did not want to leave his side if he did. Yet, she had to go with Amren. Countless lives depended on their mission, and many would be lost to give them a chance to get to the Cauldron.

“You’re really just going to walk into Hybern’s trap?” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Yes” Rhys answered with a solemn nod.

“Many will die” She whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yes. They are ready to lay down their lives if it means saving everyone else” Rhys said reassuringly, though his words did little to ease the weight pressing on her chest. 

That night, the High Lords and anyone who could winnow or had the strength evacuated as many humans as they could from Hybern's path, pushing themselves until their powers were exhausted.

Later, as Y/n wandered the camp, sleep eluding her, a voice interrupted her thoughts. 

“I see I’m not the only one who’s struggling to sleep tonight” came the low voice, and she turned to see the white-haired male approaching.

“I think many won’t be able to sleep tonight. Although exhausted and in their beds, their minds are probably somewhere else” Y/n replied, weariness touching her tone.

“Indeed.” Khallias nodded, agreeing. “I realized we haven’t really had much of a chance to get to know each other, even though you are always with Rhysand and Feyre. I’ve heard things about you.”

“Bad things, I suppose?” she responded, raising an eyebrow.

“It depends. I heard you’re the one giving Rhys the most trouble” his lips curved into a small smile.

“Is that what he told you?”

“Not directly” Khallias admitted. “I heard it from my wife- my mate. Women love to talk.”

Y/n scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “And men love to fuck and fight.”

He chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t” she shrugged. “It is true, though. I give them a hard time. But you have to understand, my sister’s mate is an arrogant prick. They even got married without inviting or telling anyone. So you see, I have to get my revenge one way or another.”

“As is your right as the eldest sister” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with understanding.

“Exactly.” She felt a sense of comfort in his presence. He was easy to talk to. 

“It was nice talking to you. I should go back and spend whatever time we have left with my mate” he spoke again after a while.

“Of course” She nodded, offering him a small smile. “Thank you…for fighting for the humans.”

As Kallias walked away, Azriel’s voice suddenly sounded behind her, startling her. “So, Kallias, huh? You know he’s mated and married” he teased lightly.

Y/n jumped slightly, then scowled. “Ew. You sound just like the General.”

“Ah, so it’s not blondes or white-haired males?” he joked, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Are you taking notes on my preferences?” she tried to hide a smile.

“I simply recalled“ he lied, his tone casual.

“Riiight” she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“What were you talking about?” He inquired subtly.

“Why do you care?” she countered, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Curiosity” he shrugged, and as he spoke, the shadows danced around his neck and arms.

“Ah, there they are” a smile brightened her face as she spotted his shadows creeping toward her, playfully twirling around strands of her hair.

“You seem happier to see my shadows than me” Azriel claimed, his tone soft, but a flicker of something unreadable crossed his features as he tilted his head. His eyes tracked the way her fingers reached out to brush one of them, and for a moment he felt envious of them.

“I see you every day. Them, on the other hand, I haven’t seen them since before you brought Elain back” she shrugged, still focused on the shadows winding through her hair.

“Are you bored of me?” he asked, his voice carrying a half-teasing, half-serious note that betrayed just a hint of something deeper.

“I could never” she joked with a playful grin, not catching the flicker of intensity in his eyes as she spoke.

Silence fell between them as they sat together, their gazes drifting upward to the stars. It wasn’t as clear or as beautiful as it is in Velaris, but it was still peaceful. 

“Are you going to fight tomorrow?” Y/n finally asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. It was a question she dreaded hearing the answer to.

“I am” Azriel replied simply, his tone calm.

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?” Her voice was soft, almost pleading. Her eyes searched his face, hoping for a different answer, but he only shook his head, a quiet resolve in his gaze.

“Just don’t die” she whispered, the words escaping her with a mix of frustration and fear, accepting the reality they faced.

“I can’t promise you that, but I’ll try my best” a small, reassuring smile tugged at his lips. He hesitated for a moment before reaching for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers gently. But when his gaze met hers, he saw sadness clouding her features, the weight of her unspoken fear evident in the downturned corners of her eyes.

“You should spend these last few moments with the people you care about.” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “The General, your High Lord, your friends… You don’t know if and when you’ll see them again” Her hand slipped from his as she glanced away, trying to mask the vulnerability in her tone.

“I’d rather spend it with you” he confessed quietly, his eyes fixed on her face. “But shouldn’t you be with your sisters tonight?”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She shook her head, her lips curving into a faint bittersweet smile. “We’ll be together tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to… enjoy the stars” She tilted her head back, gazing up at the sky. 

The two of them sat in silence, the world around them fading away as they watched the night sky together. Y/n’s focus remained on the stars, but every now and then, Azriel stole glances at her, his eyes lingering on the quiet curve of her lips, the softness in her expression. There was something in the way she looked tonight- a glimpse of the person she was beneath the layers of guardedness.

Eventually, she leaned against him, her breathing evening out as sleep crept over her. Her head rested on his chest, and his heart fluttered at the sight. She looked so peaceful, her face free from her usual mask of defiance or anger. For once, she seemed almost innocent, unburdened by the world and war that loomed ahead.

Azriel’s arm slipped around her shoulders as he continued to watch her and the stars, holding her close while the night stretched on, cherishing the quiet moment they had together.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore

[marauder-misprint]

Glass

Sirius Black x Keeper!gn!reader

Microfic - 980 words

cw: injury, semi-fluff

After getting hit on the shoulder with a bludger and somehow managing to not fall off your broom, the Quidditch match both dragged on and went by in a blur. Streaks of red and yellow passed in front of you, standing out yet blending in with the bright blue sky behind them. You were glad that you weren’t Gryffindor’s seeker. With how much pain you were in, you wouldn't have been able to catch the snitch, let alone spot it. The tears that involuntarily fell down your face blurred your vision as you hovered in front of the goal posts. You try to focus on the game going on around you, but it’s no use. You instead focus on staying on your broom until one of the seekers ends it, hoping your team is able to defend enough where you won’t need to block a Hufflepuff’s shot.

One the seekers is finally successful. As soon as you hear the whistle blow and cheers erupt from the stands, you’re essentially in a nosedive. You hurry to the locker room to put away your broom, not bothering to celebrate with the rest of Gryffindor on the pitch. You repeatedly mutter “ow” with every movement of your left arm. You have one thing on your mind once your broom is safely in your locker: Getting to Madam Pomfrey so she can put you out of your misery.

Sirius spots you as you exit the locker room and within a moment, he’s sprinting to be at your side. Not that he had intentionally been looking for you, but your absence among the rest of the team still on the pitch seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.

“You alright?” he asks slightly out of breath once he catches up to you.

“I will be,” you answer through gritted teeth.

You knew he saw you get hit; everyone in the stands had. There was also about a 50% chance he heard the crack of the bone that accompanied the hit, based on where he had been sitting. The pain in your shoulder is a dull, throbbing ache that stings sharply whenever your arm moves. You lengthen your steps as you weave through the throng of students headed back to the castle. Sirius has no trouble keeping up. But rather than simply follow you to the hospital wing, he decides he has a better plan.

“Wait,” he says with a reached out hand, at which you slow down but don’t stop.

He quickens his pace briefly so he’s right next to you. Then he attempts to pick you up bridal style while you are mid-step. You let out a yelp of pain as your bad arm is wrapped around his neck while the rest of your body falls in ragdoll style.

“What are you doing?” you hiss through the pain coursing through your shoulder.

“Going to carry you…” he replies, still trying to pick you up.

 The students around you start to give the two of you a bubble of space and sideways glances. Murmurs of confusion and annoyance can barely be heard over the rumbling of hundreds of footsteps.

“I got hit in the shoulder. I can walk,” you snap, pulling yourself out of Sirius’ grip and righting yourself. 

You flex the muscles in your face to relax your expression. You walk quicker than you had been in the direction of the hospital wing; Sirius follows, not one to be left behind. And if you’re being honest, you’re not sure why he’s coming with. You are perfectly capable of making it to the wing yourself, and if you were alone, you’d be swearing under your breath at the pain. You don’t, since he’s right there. You don’t want to encourage another attempt to carry you.

A quick examination by Madam Pomfrey tells you that you’ve broken a bone and have major bruising. It’s nothing some magic and an overnight stay in the hospital wing can’t fix. She informs you to pick a bed and she’ll over shortly with some potions and skelegrow. 

Your footsteps, along with Sirius’, echo through the room. It’s without a doubt the cleanest room in all of Hogwarts and you can smell it. The tall windowed walls are lined with cots, uncomfortably thin mattresses covered with equally thin, scratchy sheets. You pick one in the middle. Sirius puts his hands on your waist and your eyes go wide at the sudden contact. 

“Dear Merlin, what are you doing, Black?” you ask, agitation dripping from your voice.

“Helping you up?” he offers meekly.

“I am not made of glass! I can do it myself!”

He backs up, hands raised in front of himself in defense. You wince as you climb gingerly into the bed, having failed at your attempt to avoid putting any pressure at all on your injured arm. 

“I was just…” he starts.

“Trying to help, yeah. I know.” Your voice is tired and your expression is a mix of irritation and pain. You just want the potions from Madam Pomfrey so your arm will stop hurting.

Sirius purses his lips. You’re annoyed, but it’s an annoyance he recognized. It’s the same annoyance that Remus has around every full moon. Remus knows his friends are only trying to be helpful but the pain he’s in causes him to lash out. At least, Sirius thinks, you haven’t said anything hurtful toward him. 

“Do you… do you mind the company?” he asks after a few moments of silence. 

You give him a pitiful glance. Madam Pomfrey still isn’t here with the potions. You sigh.

“Only if you can distract me from this goddamn pain.”

A smile breaks across Sirius’ face as he pulls up a chair to the side of your bed. He is more than willing to recount a prank he pulled on the Slytherins with the help of James. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Even If We Stay Here

Requested Here!

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!50squadSWAT!reader

Summary: Luca isn't himself, and when you find out why, you remind him that you're always there, even if it's just as a friend.

Warnings: discussion of cheating, angst, fluff, little makeout sesh in the station

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

A knock on Luca’s window draws his attention back to the present. He’d been staring at the block wall before him, lost in thought about everything that had changed in the last week. Looking to his left, he smiles and hopes that Street is in a talkative mood rather than his usual curiosity.

“You good?” Street asks as Luca opens the door. Luca nods once, then sighs when Street launches into a story about the real-life Call of Duty simulation happening the following weekend.

Luca enters the station without his usual excitement levels. It’s been a long week, and when his team takes his lethargy as just that, he is more than happy to avoid talking about what is really bothering him. 20 Squad has strong opinions on his relationships, and his past experience makes him hesitate to tell them anything. So, Luca takes his heart, usually worn gladly on his sleeve, and tucks it away behind a fake smile and faux happiness. It's no big deal, he reminds himself, they don’t need to know.

“Good morning,” you greet as you enter SWAT HQ, only sparing a glance at 20 Squad as you walk by.

“Morning,” they call in reply.

You notice Luca’s lack of reply but turn away before you get a good look at the smile on his face. Though you’re on different teams, you know Luca well, and it’s clear that something is wrong. You assume he’ll tell his team and be back to himself in no time.

20 Squad returns from a call later in the afternoon, and Luca’s smile is strained, and it’s failing. Whatever front he’s putting up for his team, they’re buying it. Maybe they’re too tired to notice he isn’t himself, but you refuse to let him deal with whatever this is by himself. Luca is too good for this world as far as you’re concerned, and if you have to be the one to show him that, you’re ready to.

“Luca!” you call before he can reach the locker room. “Could you help me with something really quick? I asked Rocker but he said you’d explain it better.”

Luca nods and breaks away from his team, and his smile falls as his brows rise. Something twists inside you and threatens to tell your secrets. You’ve had feelings for Luca since joining 50 Squad. You buried them because they were inappropriate and unlikely to ever be reciprocated. Yet, as you stand before Luca and suspect the look in his eyes is heartbreak, your heart begs your mind to hug him and let him know he’s not alone.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “You haven’t seemed quite like yourself today.”

Luca shrugs and says, “Just tired.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Luca,” you begin.

He watches you for a moment, then shifts on his feet. “Look, I have to do the paperwork for that raid, uh, maybe I can help you later?”

Luca has never hesitated to help you, and his sudden need to get away from you concerns you. You can’t see it, but he’s battling the same internal feelings as you. Even after everything that has happened, Luca wants to be close to you and tell you how he feels, but it is neither the time nor the place. He’s not sure you’re the person he’ll ever have the time he wants with.

You hiss as the skin across your knuckles pulls painfully. Shaking your hand as you step back from the punching bag, you exhale sharply. You’re the only SWAT officer in the building; everyone else went home about an hour ago, but you couldn’t bear the thought of going home to the quiet, not with your mind racing. So, you took to the punching bag, and eventually took the gloves off to hit the heavy bag without protection.

Blood runs between your fingers, and you press your other hand against the bag. You could have told Luca something earlier, anything to keep him from walking away and leaving thinking he couldn’t talk to you about it. You refuse to lose Luca as a friend, even if you can never have him in the way you want.

It’s late, so you make your way to the locker room to bandage your split knuckles and change so you can go home. When you step inside, you stop. Everyone didn’t go home, after all.

Luca looks up, then immediately turns his watery eyes away from you. He rubs his thumb against his jaw before asking, “Why are you still here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you reply, sitting beside him. “Seems like we both needed the quiet.”

Luca nods but doesn’t speak again. His elbows are on his thighs, and he stares at the point where the lockers meet the floor. Sitting up beside him, you resist the urge to lay your hand on his back.

“Are you really okay?” you ask. His back muscles shift as he inhales, and you whisper, “Please don’t lie and say yes.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Luca,” you respond firmly. “It does matter; you matter. If you don’t want to talk to me, at least tell your team, someone who can-“

“They won’t understand,” he interjects, turning his head to look at you. You hold eye contact with him until he clicks his tongue and says, “Remember Liv, that girl I started seeing a few months ago?”

You nod, pressing your tongue against to teeth to stay quiet. When Luca came in after the first date, smiling and happy, it felt like part of your heart shattered.

“She cheated,” Luca adds, pulling you harshly from your thoughts. “I found out and confronted her earlier this week.”

“Luca, I’m so sorry.”

Luca shrugs. “I just don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything. She cheated, she lost you, and that is all on her.”

“Maybe.”

“No, Luca, seriously, you didn’t do anything wrong. If she said you did, she was trying to justify her actions because there isn’t a bit of blame on you for her making the conscious decision to cheat on you. You’re amazing, Luca, and she couldn’t see that. It’s on her.”

“I didn’t spend enough time with her, she said.”

You take a deep breath, wondering what you could say to make him see that he is not at fault. “You don’t spend much time with me either, but I still care about you.”

“Hondo and the guys, they don’t understand. They think I just date because I don’t want to be alone, then move in with someone, breakup, and crash at their place. I want more than that, more than simple company.”

“I get it, Luca. And you deserve more than that.”

Luca laughs, but it’s a devastating sound. “Not what my track record shows. She cheated on me with a banker, though, so at least I know it wasn’t a badge bunny-type deal.”

You don’t think about your words before you say, “You were dating women who weren’t good enough for you, Luca, that doesn’t say anything about you as a partner.” You close your eyes when you realize what you said. “Sorry.”

“I’m not infallible.”

No going back now. “Maybe not but you’re incredibly easy to love.”

The room seems to freeze, your words hanging in the air. You half expect Luca to let him down gently, pray that he won’t just leave without a word.

“You- you’ve never said anything,” he mutters, sitting up straighter.

You shrug, picking at invisible lint on your pants. “Why would I invite rejection from someone who has my life in their hands at least once a week?”

After several seconds of tense silence, unaware that Luca’s eyes are still on you, you say, “Maybe I should go.”

“I felt the same,” he whispers. “Feel the same.”

Looking up quickly, you’re face to face with Luca. He smiles, and you grin at the sight of his genuine smile.

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t move in with Liv,” you tease.

Luca shakes his head, then takes your chin between his finger and thumb.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask.

“Why would I invite rejection from someone who has my life in their hands?” Luca repeats.

“You can talk to me,” you tell him. “Even if this doesn’t go anywhere, if we stay friends and teammates, I’m here for you.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

Your smile drops as your brows furrow, and Luca leans in to add, “We can’t stay here after all of this.”

Luca closes the distance, and your eyes flutter closed as you kiss him. You raise a hand to his chest, moving closer to him as you fall deeper into love with Dominique Luca.

“That’s why you should have told me sooner,” Luca murmurs as he pulls back.

You shove his chest gently and argue, “You could have said something.”

Luca’s eyes widen suddenly as he asks, “What happened?”

He takes your bloody hand in his before you can question what he means.

“Oh, I was just dealing with some stuff,” you answer as he reaches for a towel. “Now I wish I’d known to envision Liv’s face.”

Luca chuckles as he bandages your hand, then pulls you to stand with him. He kisses you again, and with your face between his hands, your heart placed safely in them, you know he’s right. You’ll never be able to go back to being friends after this.

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

More little things I noticed in my third rewatch of ATSV.

-SPOILERS AHEAD-

There was a moment that confused me where Spot was robbing the guy of the ATM and he was setting down some cans for (seemingly) no reason. He was actually placing the ATM on top of the cans so he can roll it out.

I can't confirm if this is what was actually there, but when Uncle Aaron was telling Miles they "gotta roll," there was an acrylic stand of Spider-Man there that looked like Miles Morales Spider-Man (color and all).

When Miles was swinging through 42 NYC, there was an advertisement for "Vulture" something, I'm assuming a company. Messed up.

When Miguel first introduces himself by ramming into Vulture, Gwen gets to the spot and does this really slick landing animation where she kinda just gracefully brushes against the bannister briefly before landing on the ground.

42 Rio being given more hours at the hospital shows just how bad 42 New York has gotten without a Spider-Man. Terrifying.

I think I may have pointed this out on a previous post, but 1610 Uncle Aaron had a lucky black cat while 42 Uncle Aaron had a lucky white cat instead. I also like the parallels of Peter being tied up against a punching bag by Miles in ITSV while Miles is tied up by Uncle Aaron in ATSV.

I find it hilarious that Miles STILL doesn't know about ComicCon and didn't bother to look it up since ITSV when 42 Rio brings up "ComicsCon."

When Hobie is blocking off Miles from walking through to Miguel and Miles bumps into him, there's a tiny skull that appears when they make contact. It might just be a punk thing, but I wonder if it's an omen for the bad thing that's ahead of Miles.

Lego Spider-Man's vocalized "boop boop"s killed me.

I love the reveal when Miles realizes he's in the wrong universe, the camera pulls into his face and twists slightly. Obvious but nonetheless cool film styling of "his world is spinning" aside, I love that it feels like a 40's/50's kind of thing. Like this is something that you would see in The Twilight Zone, it nails the old comic book-y vibes too.

42 Miles' facial posture has his head up high and his chin slightly jutting out and up, like he's this "in-charge," cold, dignified superior while our Miles has his chin straight, sometimes pointed down and his head straight, showing he's trying to appeal to his humanity and trying to be humble and unassuming. It's awesome details like this that I love.

Hearing Spot say that he couldn't get a job because of what happened to him at that deli really hurts, honestly. Even if, in a way, he himself is partially to blame, it sucks that he has to resort to this. And the way he says it, almost in a "well, I can't do anything else so this is the only thing I can do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" kind of way is really saddening, like he's trying to take it in stride and as a matter of fact. As awful as Spot becomes, I still feel bad for him.

Miles has a "#BLM" pin on his backpack. I'm sure people saw it already and it's probably a given, but in a world where media is trying to appeal to as wide of an audience as possible, it's nice to see the studio make a clear stance with a character that absolutely fits the bill.

That title drop for Earth 42 when Uncle Aaron tries to dab up Miles going into slow-mo with the music subdued was dope as fuck.

Miles throwing his arms up when asking when his dad dies ("When does it happen?!") is so on-point and well animated, it feels like something every New Yorker would do (I would personally know, since I am one).

When Gwen asks Jess if she ever made mistakes, Jess' reply, saying "yeah, but I got over it," is pretty toxic. It feeds into Gwen's need to avoid her problems rather than address them and face them, and I think that's why she probably chooses to avoid discussing things about Miles to him directly.

That look of disgust on Miles' face when he's being surrounded by Spider-People ("What is this? Some kind of intervention or something?") was so real.

The long silence between Miles choosing to go into the portal to follow Gwen is so good, I love when the movie speaks for itself rather than the dialogue. You can see the hesitation in Miles' eyes and face and then his determination as he jumps headfirst into the portal. A great character scene and fitting transition into the next act.

The album cover for the soundtrack is so good and comes from the scene where Miles goes into the portal. It feels like a mix of something from a Golden Age comic book cover, Miles' hand opened out towards the camera like he's being thrust into another world. And the colors of the portal and transition to Mumbattan are gorgeous. Fills the 40's/50's vibes I was talking about earlier, too.

Jeff's toast is really well done and I like how heartfelt and real it feels. Makes his anger, unfortunately, justified on Miles, even if Miles was trying to do the right thing for him and Rio in the end.

"I was just cool the whole time" is such a boss line, I love Hobie.

Miguel casually (almost lazily) swinging around rescuing civilians at the Guggenheim whilst talking to Gwen about a serious conversation is unironically cool. And it fits to his character, he's probably done it so many times that it becomes child's play in the end.

"I ain't got Scooby-Doo, mate."

How does Hobie know that Miles should use his palms for those powers? Curious.

"But now...I'm not afraid of anything." I love Miles so much, he's grown and become so strong not just for himself but for others. He's the best Spidey. Full stop.

I love the reversal of reflections for Gwen. At the beginning of the movie, she's in her casual wear but with the reflections always showing her in her Spider outfit. At the end, she comes home in her Spider outfit but with herself in her casual wear in the reflection instead. She started off alone in the world as Spider-Woman and ended feeling like Gwen. Her arc was completed and she's facing herself, the real Gwen Stacy and not Spider-Woman.

I felt bad that the deli clerk got bonked by the bat :( But, at least he's all right.

Miles saying "Don't do that" to the kid licking the subway window is real. That shit is nasty, the windows are the least clean parts of NYC's subway.

I love that both Gwen and Miles use comically deep voices around their respective dads. It's cute.

When the police officer was saying "I think we found our sign" when Gwen webbed them up, George's silent head turn with unamusement was awesome.

I will not have anymore George Stacy slander. Yeah, he made a bad call in seemingly arresting his daughter, but he QUIT his job for her. He loves her that much that he quit being, not just a police officer, but a CAPTAIN, for HER sake.

Speaking of which, when George had his gun pointed at her before she unmasked, he had his gun down the whole time after she unmasked, even while he was re-relaying her her rights. And when she tries to approach him, his gun flinches up a bit but stops.

"Can you go easy on the penguin?"

This is actually a follow-up post, since I said before that I might make another. This movie is too much for me and I love taking it apart.

Edit: I'm sorry for the constant updates and changes/revisions, but I can't stop thinking about this movie.

[dozyarchive]

✦ Patron Saints, Chapter Five ✦

The one where things are said.

TW//Possible reference to SA

   THE FIRST THING THEY NOTICE ABOUT THEIR NEW LIEUTENANT WAS THAT THEY HAD A LARGE AND COLORFUL TATTOO GOING DOWN ONE ARM. The second thing they noticed was a nasty scar running across the bridge of their nose, stretching to below the middle of each eye.

   “Pleasures ours, Lieutenant. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, callsign Gaz.” Gaz is the first to speak, stepping forward and offering a hand. Saint takes it, shake firm and grip strong without being crushing. Soap jumps in after, taking their hand with enthusiasm. 

   “Aye, ‘s a honor tae meet ya ma’am! Am sorry I wisnae able to introduce m’self earlier. Sergeant John MacTavish, but please call me Soap.” He flashes a wide smile, genuine in the way it reached his eyes.

   “Ghost, ma’am,” is all that’s said from the dark figure beside Price. Saint nods, a small smile appearing.

   “Thank you for the welcome gentlemen. Capitaine, everything is ready, so please enjoy.” They gesture to the table, a spread of plates taking up a good portion of the table. Soap and Gaz move to take a seat immediately, and Saint returns to the drinks. They’re stopped by a gentle hand on their arm. They follow it to an arm, then a body, then Price’s eyes.

   “Ah, I’m pretty sure I heard Kate say we could take care of our own drinks. You worked hard on this, you get to enjoy yourself as well.” He gives a soft tug, maneuvering Saint away from the drinks and towards a seat. They hesitate for a second, eyes flicking over to Laswell who simply nods back, before taking a seat. 

   “Aye, we’re big lads, can take care of it ourselves ma’am. Ye done enough makin’ food for us.” Soap’s face stretches with a smile. Gaz nods in agreement, smiling and eyes wide as he fully takes in everything on the table.

   “Bloody- hello there! Ma’am, you’ll spoil us with all this. I’ve never seen anything half as appetizing in our mess.”

   “That’s the point, Sergeant. I will be at your full disposal in regards to meals and medical assistance.” Saint replies simply.

   “That being said, try not to bother Saint too much, or they’ll give you stitches without any pain medication,” Laswell is quick to butt it, placing a tumbler with whiskey, as well as a glass of water.

   “I would never do that Kate, I’m not that cruel. I’ll just have him taste test some of my new recipes.” Saint is quick to reply, grabbing the glass of water and taking a sip. They eye the two sergeants as they load their plates up. Their own plate is relatively empty compared to the others, and they can see the way Laswell eyes it.

   Ghost sits across from Saint, Soap and Gaz to his left, leaving Price and Laswell to sit next to Saint. His eyes are dark, clinical in his assessment of the food, and of Saint.

   “I trust the facilities are up to standards? Had it cleaned before you got here, but tell me if you need anything else added.” Price sits next to them, his plate full as well, a tumbler of whiskey as the choice drink.

   “The kitchen is beautiful Capitaine , quite well stocked. I have a need for only one thing, but it is not a pressing matter,” they speak, carefully gathering food on their fork. “Rather, it is more of a want than a need. I can get it myself when I get more personal supplies.”

   “Please, you’ll be taking care of us from now on, the least I can do is make sure you have the proper equipment. What’s missing?” His eyes and voice are kind, yet Saint finds themselves hesitant to ask. Again, their eyes flick to Laswell, who is already looking.

   “Ah, some foreign cooking equipment, and a magnetic knife strip.” Their voice is much quieter, even though there is no need to be softer. “I would like to keep the knives as sharp as possible. Drawers leave a risk of cuts when grabbing one, and a knife block will dull the edges quickly.” 

   “Understood. Make me a list and I’ll have them ordered soon.” Price smiles, the kindness Saint had seen in his eyes reflected there as well.

   “Affirmative, Capitaine .”

   Price could see the exact moment that Gaz and Soap finally understood why Laswell had recommended Saint. Both of their eyes widened after the first bite, and they stopped chewing for half a second before practically shoving the rest of their piece in.

   “Oi! Slow down, manners lads,” he laughs, cutting into his own food. “‘S not going anywhere, and there’s plenty to go around.”

   “Sorry-,” Gaz tries to speak, mouth still full of chicken, before stopping to swallow. “Sorry Cap, but this is bloody good ! Think it’s the best food I’ve ever had!”

   Price chuckles, nodding his head in agreement.

   “Quite so, ‘m not surprised. Had the pleasure of enjoying Saint’s cooking before, but I’m quite pleased with this.” He looks over to the lieutenant, smiling. “Cheers, Lieutenant.” Saint gives a small nod, taking another small bite before setting their utensils down.

   “ Pardon , but I am afraid I would like to clean up and retire. Enjoy the rest of the meal,” Saint is quiet, quick to stand and plate only half empty. They flash a small smile, hurriedly walking to the doorway before being stopped by a hand on their shoulder.

   “Laurence, hold on for a second-,” Laswell speaks softly, Saint not even realizing she had gotten up.

   “ S'il-vous-plaît , Kate, I would like to rest.” They are so quiet that Laswell can barely hear them, eyes switching between the four men remaining at the table and the woman holding their shoulder. 

   Laswell searches their face, noticing a distant look, some sort of thousand yard stare.

   “Fine, but we need to talk about this,” is all she says, letting go of her hold on Saint. They nod, quickly scurrying off in the direction of the kitchen. Laswell turns back to the table and looks at Price, his own eyes questioning.

   “Solid?” is all he asks when she sits down, an eyebrow raised.

   “I don’t know actually. They’re off, not like usual.” She takes a sip of her drink, contemplating something.

   “I’ll talk to them now, you guys finish up dinner. Just bring the trays back to the kitchen after you’ve finished.” Price simply nods, and Laswell stands, murmuring some sort of excuse to the rest of the men. They politely brush her off, too focused on the food. Only Ghost questions it, but she quickly cuts him off with a look.

   She is quick to walk to the kitchens, slowing slightly once she reaches the doors. A running sink is the only noise in the kitchen, Saint standing in front of it, scrubbing something.

   “Laurence…” They stop, turning the faucet off.

   “Kate,” is all they say. She steps up a little, a few feet away from them.

   “You’re off. Do I need to pull you for a little longer? The guys are great, they’ll be ok if you need to-,”

   “I’m sure they are great men, Kate, but Mon Dieu ! I have been on this base for less than 24 hours and there’s already been an incident !” Saint spits the last word out, an old and dark anger coating it. They scrub the cloth in their hand harder against their skin, turning it pink and raw.

   “What?”

   “I think we’re both so very lucky that they look nothing like the connards that put me through the unspeakable!” Saint throws the towel down, gripping the sink edge with white knuckles. “I would not be able to be in the room with them, much less work with them.”

   Kate is silent, simply staring at Saint with wide eyes and so much  concern it almost makes them sick.

   “Laurence, what do you mean there was an incident? Please, tell me what happened.” Saint just lets out a bitter laugh, finally looking up and meeting her eyes.

   “We both know there is only one type of incident ever associated with me, Kate. If you really want to know the details, ask Capitaine . There should be a fresh report on his desk.” They draw themselves up to full height and turn to Kate. “I’m sorry I will not be able to see you off later. I will call when I'm completely settled in. Goodbye, Kate.”

   Laswell doesn’t move, just watching as Saint walks through the doors and away to their room. 

A/N. Please feel free to leave comments with feedback!

1416 Words.

[quickspinner]

Substitute Santa

For @verfound, queen of hilarious prompts, as part of the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Secret Santa.

Her prompt was: Jagged Stone is Santa Claus. However you want to interpret this: Jagged is literally Santa and Luka is his son (a la Hallmark "find a Mrs. Clause for Christmas"). Jagged is dressed up as Santa for an event/Because Jagged. Luka caught Jagged dressed as Santa as a kid and now firmly believes it (Jagged snuck in with gifts for his kids? Last Christmas before Jagged left? Party Anarka drug him to?).

So here we go!

Luka was not pleased at the best of times to be called out of the workshop, up to his father’s “office” (he would have said playground, but it made Penny frown at him). But to be called up today, of all days? 

This really can’t be good , he thought, sighing through his nose as he climbed the spiraling stairs. 

He didn’t bother to knock, since knocking could almost never be heard over the racket of the workshop below and Jagged’s own…extraness. When he walked in, though, he blinked in mild surprise. The iconic red suit with white fur lining was missing, as was Jagged’s usual ebullient attitude. Normally Jagged was bouncing off the walls on Christmas Eve, ready to rock his way around the world while his cool but stressed assistant tried desperately not to lose her lunch in the passenger seat of the sleigh.

Tonight, though, Jagged was sprawled with his long legs hanging over the overstuffed armchair that they normally only used for photo ops, wearing his favorite purple striped pajamas instead of The Suit.

Luka turned and almost walked right back out again, but Penny and her clipboard had somehow appeared behind him, blocking the exit. 

“No,” Luka said to her, but to his annoyance, it was pleading rather than firm. 

Jagged let out a concussive sneeze that shook all the knicknacks in the room, and blew his nose like a trumpet before pointing a woeful glance at his son.Luka knew exactly what it would look like, though he refused to turn around to confirm.

“No,” Luka—whined. He was whining. He was man enough to admit it. “No way.” He pointed an accusing finger at his father. “Santa Claus does not get sick on Christmas. There’s gotta be magic or a—a rule or something.”

“There is a rule,” Penny said stiffly behind him, and Luka jumped a little, moving inadvertently further into the room. Penny stepped after him, shutting the door behind her. “The rule is you , Santa Junior.” 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Penny…” he whined again, and Penny rolled her eyes. Jagged sneezed again and moaned pathetically. 

“Oh, grow up,” Penny snapped irritably, and Luka actually wasn’t sure which one of them she was talking to. She stalked over to the wardrobe and yanked it open. “I don’t have time for your bullshit today.” She pulled the red coat out and turned towards Luka, holding it out.

“Now?” Luka switched tactics. “I haven’t even had dinner yet?” 

“Then you should have plenty of room for cookies,” Penny replied, unsympathetic. “Now shut up and get dressed. I’ve assigned you an assistant and she’ll be here any minute.”

Worse and worse. “You’re not coming with me?” Luka asked, accepting the inevitable with the coat.

“I’ve been exposed,” she replied, throwing a dark look at Jagged. “Some of us can handle illness without being reduced to invalids.” She looked back at Luka, and suddenly he could see the tiredness in her expression and the tightness around her slightly watery eyes. “Still, I have a monster headache and I’m going straight to bed once your butt is in the sleigh.” 

“Right,” Luka sighed, slipping on the coat. “Sorry, Penny. I know this sucks.” 

She acknowledged it with a nod. “I know you don’t want to do this, but it’s got to get done.”

Luka nodded morosely. It was a responsibility he accepted when he came to live with his dad, although he’d been more interested in the workshop than the top job. He’d spent the whole year building instruments for tonight (and being teased about his slow, methodical way of working), and he wasn’t about to let all that work go to waste just because his dad was a dramatic whiny baby. 

Not to mention an entire world full of kids who would wake up disappointed on Christmas morning if he didn’t step up. 

He swallowed any further whining objections and pulled on the stupid fluffy red pants with nothing more than a long-suffering sigh. 

“You’re so his son,” Penny muttered, and Luka gave her a pouty look that did nothing to disprove her statement. It turned even more mulish as she held out the boots.

“Do I have to?” 

“You know you do. You’ll trip in those things anyway. They don’t have enough heel to keep the pants off the ground.”

Luka kicked off his shoes without further complaint and put on the stupid boring black boots. He even tied the laces when Penny continued to glare at him. The boots adjusted to fit his feet. At least the vaunted North Pole magic was good for something. The suit shrank a little as well to fit him. Luka took the hat from Penny and stuffed it in his pocket. He’d have to wear it, or the glamor wouldn’t kick on, the one that made him look like viewer expected - chubby and white-bearded, the usual thing. 

“I really don’t know what I’m doing,” he warned Penny. “I mean, I can drive the sleigh and stuff but—” She was already waving him off.

“All you have to do is drive and drop the presents. I went over the route and double-checked the lists with Marinette this morning; she’s very organized. Although,” she added, looking up at the clock above the ostentatious mantlepiece, “punctuality has never been her strong point. Make sure you stay on schedule.” 

“Yeah, okay—wait, Marinette?” Luka looked up sharply, fixing his eyes on Penny and feeling his stomach flip. “The one that works in the fashion design department?” The one that he seemed to bump into far too often coming into and out of this office, often literally. Jagged gushed about her every time, delighted to have secured such a talented and creative person for his workshop. If there was one thing you could say about Jagged—well, it was that he really enjoyed being revered and loved by all the children of the world, which translated to wanting the best to come out of his workshop so that those children kept adoring him. 

He sighed to himself. Even a substitute Santa probably shouldn’t be such a cynic. And Marinette—

If there was another thing you could say about Jagged, it was that he was not at all subtle, and Luka was mortally convinced that his frequent brushes with Marinette in this office were intentional. He should have been doing everything in his power to dodge her, but…

Just then, she barreled in through the door, and his mouth went dry and his breathing quickened. She was flushed from the run up the stairs, eyes bright and eager, and she tripped over her words as she apologized profusely to Penny. She had a tablet tucked under her arm and she was wearing the traditional elf uniform, green with striped stockings and a silly belled hat perched between her pigtails. 

She was stupid cute and he felt like his brain was leaking out of his ears even before she turned to smile at him, clearly nervous but also excited. He couldn’t help but smile back.

Before they could say anything, though, Jagged groaned loudly, and Luka just caught Marinette’s arm before she rushed to the poor invalid’s side. “Don’t get too close,” he warned darkly, and winced when she turned wide eyes on him. “I don’t want you getting sick too,” he added quickly, dropping her arm. He felt like an idiot but the look she turned on him was grateful.

“You’re so right, I wouldn’t want to spread anything to the children.” She returned a sympathetic smile to the pitiful look Jagged gave her. “You stay home and rest. Don’t worry about a thing. Luka and I have got this!” She pumped a fist in the air, and Jagged threw her a goat and a grin that actually seemed genuine, and genuinely tired. Luka felt a tiny stab of sympathy, but it disappeared when Jagged blew Marinette a kiss and hoarsely told her she was the best, adding, “Keep the kid out of trouble!”

“Right!” Marinette grinned. Then she turned to Luka and his stomach did that weird flip thing again as her eyes darted over him. “Shall we go?” she said, checking her tablet. “I’ve got our schedule and route all worked out and when I stopped by the stable, they were just finishing up loading. Do you have your hat?” 

Luka pulled it from his pocket and waved it, and her smile brightened, making his knees weak. “Lead the way,” he managed to get out, and when she turned he followed right behind her. 

Penny whispered, “You can thank me later,” while he passed, and he nearly tripped on his own feet. 

Fortunately, his face cooled by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, so he hopefully didn’t look any more like a tomato than the suit already suggested when Marinette turned to him. 

“All right,” she grinned at him, linking her arm through his. “Let’s go save Christmas!”

He let her tug him towards the stable, chuckling a little at her enthusiasm. Well, if he had to do this, there was no point in sulking the whole time, right? It was just one night.

Marinette was a whirlwind, checking the packing, checking the harnessing, giving firm but polite directions when she found anything amiss. Luka wasn’t really sure what to do with himself, so he climbed into the sleigh and waited, until Marinette bounced up into the seat beside him.

“I’ve always wanted to ride this,” she confessed, flashing a grin at him. “This is so amazing. Ready when you are, Santa.”

“Luka,” he corrected automatically, but he was smiling as he picked up the reins. He couldn’t help it. “Hold on,” he said without thinking, and suddenly Marinette was pressed tight against his side, both her arms wound around his right arm. 

“Can you move okay?” she asked, looking up at him. “There’s not much else to hold on to,” she added, blushing, and he realized he was staring at her.

“Oh—yeah, sure, you’re fine,” he said, and flapped the reins with a little more force than was wise.

He had to admit, as the reindeer started off, gliding across the snow faster and faster before lifting sharply into the air—the sleigh was a rush. He couldn’t help laughing for pure joy at the swooping feeling in his stomach and the sudden surge of adrenaline. Marinette squealed a bit as they came off the ground. She sounded more excited than terrified but he risked a glance at her to make sure she was okay, and saw her grin in a flash of the bouncing lamplight.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she said again, letting go of his arm and sliding over a little bit as they leveled out. 

Luka grinned. “Well, we’ll get to do it a few thousand more times.” 

“Right,” Marinette said, pulling up her tablet, suddenly all business. Well, that was understandable, but it did kill Luka’s good mood a little. Right. It’s not like he was taking her out for a joyride—or a date.

He really wished he could, though. He’d run into Marinette half a dozen times, but always with Jagged in near proximity, which didn’t exactly bring out the best in Luka. She’d caught his eye every time, but he’d never managed to be walking out of Jagged’s office at the same time, and once he was back in the workshop with his tools in his hands, he tended to forget anything except the vision he had in mind. Luka wished now he’d been a bit more proactive. He could have come up with some excuse to visit her department if he’d thought about it. If only Jagged weren’t so damn pushy, then maybe…

Before he could get too far down that train of thought, it was time for the work to begin, and Luka didn’t have much time to think of anything except getting in, leaving presents, and getting out. Marinette was a good assistant, and everything he needed was right to hand when he needed it. They made a good team. Luka made sure to bring some of the best cookies back to the sleigh for her, to show his appreciation. He loved Penny but Marinette was a lot more fun—especially since Penny got horribly motion sick in the sleigh. He didn’t know how she managed the trip every year, but he supposed someone had to keep Jagged in line.

“Oh, these are good,” Marinette said, as they sailed between towns. Luka glanced at her and saw that she had a molasses cookie in her hand. 

“They were,” he agreed. 

“My parents own a bakery,” she said, taking another bite. “These remind me of home.” She giggled. “Who would have thought when I was putting out cookies as a little girl that I’d end up actually working in Santa’s workshop?” 

Luka chuckled. “I bet you were adorable. I can just see you in fuzzy pajamas, arranging the cookies and worrying about whether Santa has food allergies.” 

Marinette barked a surprised laugh. “It’s like you know me,” she said, putting a hand over her mouth as she tried not to choke on her cookie.

Luka grinned. “Maybe not yet, but I feel like I’m getting there.” He winked at her, and she blushed, and he grinned all the way to Budapest. 

Luka had no idea how the Christmas magic worked, only that it messed with time, so that Santa could make it everywhere that welcomed him before daylight. When Marinette announced happily that they were running ahead of schedule, though, he had an idea. 

“Do you think we can squeeze out fifteen minutes or so before we get to Paris?” he asked. “There’s someone I’d like to stop and see.” 

Marinette frowned. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nah,” Luka chuckled. “She already knows all the secrets. I just want to stop and say hello.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, her tone a little strained. “Well, okay…I think we can probably make that happen, if you don’t mind eating your cookies on the go.” 

“I think I can manage.”

Landing reindeer on a boat was a no-go, so Luka left the sleigh nearby, hopefully out of sight. He turned and offered Marinette his hand to help her down.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude—” she began, but Luka snorted. 

“You won’t be, trust me. You ought to get out and stretch your legs, anyway.” 

She let him take her hand and pull her down from the sleigh, though she still looked a little unsure. He kept her hand as he pulled her gently along behind him towards the boat at the dock. The garish paint job was masked by thick swags of twinkling multicolored lights that seemed to dance when they reflected on the water. 

When they were standing on the deck, Luka let out a loud “HO HO HO,” in a credible imitation of Jagged’s voice.

There was a thundering sound from inside the boat, and an older woman popped out of the door, scowling. 

“What did I tell ya about showin’ up on my boat you old—” Luka pulled off his hat, and she stopped her tirade, blinking, as Luka grinned. “Luka, m’boy!” She laughed, and threw herself forward. Luka dropped Marinette’s hand to catch and hug her, enjoying his mother’s bone-crushing embrace. “What are ye doing wearing the suit, lad?” 

Anarka stepped back, looking at him, and Luka shrugged. “Old man’s sick tonight, so I got stuck with the job. It’s good to see you, Ma.”

Her face softened, and she smiled. “Aye, it is that. I know ye probably cannae stay long, but come downstairs for a moment and have something hot to drink. And you too, lass,” she added, leaning a little to look around Luka at Marinette. “Got stuck with babysitting duty, did ye?” 

Marinette giggled, and nodded, while Luka pretended to look wounded. “Ma, this is Marinette,” he said as they followed Anarka down the stairs into the ship’s galley. “Marinette, this is Anarka Couffaine, my mom. Where’s Juleka, Ma?” he added, glancing around. 

“Passed out on the couch about an hour ago,” Anarka told him, jerking a thumb towards a lump topped with long black hair curled up at one end of the couch. “Never manages to stay up on Christmas. Pretty sure it’s that magic shit. Kids who try to stay up and see Santa never manage it.”

“There should be a loophole when you’re related to him,” Luka muttered. “And she’s hardly a kid.” 

Anarka shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I don’t truck with that Christmas magic bullshit.” 

“Maybe because she still believes,” Marinette suggested, and she blushed when Luka turned to look at her. “I mean, she knows Santa exists, so she still believes in him, so the magic still works on her.” She spread her hands, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just a thought.”

“Well, maybe.” Luka went over and kissed his sister’s forehead, tucking a creepy-ass doll he had picked out just for her under her arm. “Tell her I love her, okay?”

“O’course,” Anarka brought him a cup of—

“Coffee!” Marinette squealed, and then immediately put her hand over her mouth, eyes round.

“Aye,” Anarka laughed. “I know ya don’t have it ‘up north.’ Cocoa’s fine but,” she grinned at the blissful look on Marinette’s face at the first sip, “sometimes ye just want a good ol’ cup o’ joe. That much sweet all the time, sometimes ye need a touch o’ bitter.” Anarka winked at Luka, who realized he was staring at Marinette with what was probably a very stupid expression on his face. “Or spicy, eh?”

“It’s lovely,” Marinette sighed, fortunately not noticing the way Luka flushed red.

“Ye have to go, I expect,” Anarka sighed, when they handed the empty cups back. 

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, glancing worriedly at her tablet. 

“Don’t apologize,” Luka told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s the job. Ma understands.”

“Aye, that I do,” Anarka said, rolling her eyes. “Get on wi’ ye then. Thanks for stopping to see yer ol’ Ma.”

Luka kissed her cheek, and hugged her. “Bye, Ma. I’ll come by again when I can.”

As they loaded themselves back in the sleigh, Luka said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted to stop and see your own family.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, waving a hand. “They’re surely asleep by now. Bakery hours, you know. And if they weren’t, we’d never get out before dawn. You don’t know my dad.” 

Luka grinned and clucked to the reindeer. “Tell me about him.”

The night seemed to pass like lightning after that, conversations pausing and picking up between deliveries as if they’d never been interrupted. Marinette told him about her parents and her life before the North Pole. Luka told her about growing up on a houseboat with Anarka and his sister, and then finding out as a teen that his father was THE Fucking Santa Claus. For the first time Luka thought he could actually feel the magic working, and they left their last delivery and turned back north just as the sun was lightening their section of sky. 

“So that’s that,” Luka sighed. 

“Yes,” Marinette agreed, and leaned back with a sigh. “I won’t say I had no idea how much work it would be, because obviously it’s hard, but it’s different to actually experience it.” 

“Would you do it again?” Luka wanted to know, and Marinette laughed.

“In a heartbeat,” she giggled, and then sobered slightly. “Would you?”

It was a bit of a loaded question. Somewhere in the dark of the night he had confessed to her his misgivings about taking on the mantle one day. 

“I think I might,” he said slowly. “The right company makes a big difference.” He smiled at Marinette, and to his delight, she smiled back, in a shy way he hadn’t seen from her before. “We make a pretty good team,” he dared to add, and Marinette nodded.

“And we made so many people happy,” she pointed out, looking back towards the horizon where the sun was rising. “It feels good.”

Luka nodded thoughtfully. “So yeah, maybe I’d do it again.” He shrugged. “I don’t think the old man’s gonna retire anytime soon, so. I’ve got time to think about it.” He grinned. “After I’ve slept for like three days.”

“Agreed.” Marinette covered a yawn. “And I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t think I’m going to want to look at another cookie for at least a month.” 

“I’m with you,” Luka laughed, and then licked his lips a little nervously. “So, after we’ve slept for three days…do you have plans for the New Year?” 

“N-no, not really,” she stammered, reaching up to check her belled hat, which was slightly askew after all this time, but still there. Luka’s heartbeat sped up at her nervousness, which he thought was both adorable and a good sign. 

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Luka suggested. “Find a good cup of coffee and ring in the new year together?” 

Marinette visibly swallowed, blushing before she met his eyes. “Maybe kiss at midnight?” she suggested, quietly but boldly.

“I’d like that,” Luka managed to get out, just barely. 

“Hmm. That sounds nice. But…I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

Luka’s hands were on her face and his lips on hers in a heartbeat. The reindeer knew the way home, after all—but at the moment, he honestly didn’t care whether they made it or not. Another few laps around the world was sounding pretty good as Marinette’s arms wound around his neck. 

Fiction Master Post

[pro-depresanti]

Hi ;-) heard you write Fluff :D?

can i please request a OneShot where Velvette is babysitting the child of Staticmoth and of course is addicted to her phone and the kid wants to bake and ends up opening a flour bag in the kitchen causing chaos when in that moment the dads came back from date night?

I low-key forgot that Asks existed for a hot minute, sorry that this took so long

___

Vortex is a fucking menace to society. The kid is barely seven years old, and he already causes chaos worthy of Valentino's tantrums. That, together with Vox's strategic thought process, proves to be a deadly mix. He's really gotten the worst out of his fathers.

He can't be left alone. Partially so he doesn't stumble upon his fathers' workplaces, partially so he doesn't destroy the whole Tower. No one worries that a staff member might hurt him, Vortex is more than capable of electrocuting anyone he fancies, plus, no one would dare mess up with Vox and Valentino's offspring, even jokingly.

Still, supervision is mandatory for him. Today, Velvette is tasked with that, since the other Vees are having a date night. She doesn't like the kid much. Not hate his guts or anything, she just isn't in the mood to play parent. Kudoes to Vox and Val for being decent fathers, certainly doing a better job at raising him than most.

The only redeeming quality Vortex has in Velvette's eyes is that the kid can be entertained with a screen. The Overlord shoves a tablet in the kid's hands with the instructions to not bother her, and that's that.

She stretches her legs on the couch and gets some work done on her phone. PR is never finished, especially when she's doing the job for all the Vees. Vortex is sitting on the floor, within eyesight, watching some video. Vox has developed an entire program that blocks out any inappropriate content, which means 99.9% of everything. How the kid manages to find anything to occupy himself with is a miracle.

"I'm hungry," Vortex says suddenly, startling Velvette.

"Order yourself something," she replies.

"Can I have cake?"

That actually catches Velvette's attention. "Absolutely not!" The kid processes sugar like amphetamines. He gains enough speed to break the sound barrier. Literally. Velvette witnessed it once, Vortex was just a smear of blue and purple, doing laps in the hallway, running on the walls.

The kid hops up in her lap, knocking the phone from her. "Pretty please?"

Velvette shoves him away. "No."

"Please, please, please, please, please, please," he keeps going.

Velvette considers herself the most patient of the Vees. Still, after twenty minutes of nonstop 'please, please, please', she orders the kid a slice of cake, sugar free, because he's a kid, he won't notice.

The cake slice gets delivered half an hour later, white cream, decorated with red swirls.

"Thank you, auntie!" Vortex says with a grin. "You're the best!"

Velvette hums in acknowledgment and goes back on her phone.

Her peace lasts about five seconds. Vortex takes a bite, piling as much cake on the fork as humanly possible, shovels it into his mouth, and promptly spits it out on the carpet, gagging and wretching like he's just bitten into a lemon.

"What the fuck is that?!"

Velvette barely lifts his eyes off the phone to glare at him. "You wanted cake, now eat it!"

"That tastes like shit!"

"That's your body telling you to not eat dessert first."

The kid huffs and puffs. Velvette doesn't care. He wanted cake, he got cake. That's it. Velvette will not deal with a sugar rush. She isn't payed enough for this. Or, at all for that matter.

She doesn't notice when the tantrum stops. Or rather, the walking force of nature storms away to the kitchen, his footsteps loud and heavy. He can't leave the apartment without coming within Velvette's eyesight, they are in Valentino's suite with the bedroom triple locked, whatever damage the kid does is none of Velvette's business.

Vortex quickly finds a recipe for a cake himself. His papi Val loves to cook whenever he has time for work, the kitchen is well stocked up with the basics and some shit kept behind locks that he isn't allowed to touch. Luckily, he doesn't need any of those secret ingredients.

So, he needs to make a batter and a cream. The recipe starts with the batter, but that's no fun! The cream is the important part, everyone knows that! Obviously he'll start with the cream.

Butter, milk, cacao powder, vanilla extract, and most importantly, sugar. Making it extra sweet and extra extra chocolate-y won't hurt, so he doubles those ingredients. He can be exact with his measurements, the kitchen scale is accurate to the hundredth of a gram.

The frosting is done easily enough, with only a tiny amount lost on the walls, and a moderate amount of spilled milk and cacao powder on the counter. He should become a chef, he's very good at this!

And, as all chefs, he has to sample his work, to make sure it's as delicious as he wants. He licks the whisk clean, and yep, delicious, very very sweet and chocolate-y. Perfect. But he couldn't get a good sample from his that! One heaping tablespoon of frosting is enough to prove him extra right.

Now, to the batter.

He hugs the bowl with cream under one arm, balancing it against his side, and grabs the flour sack. It's brand new, so he tries to open it like a pack of chips. Stubborn piece of shit! It's sealed like it's meant to never be opened! Who designed that thing?! His claws sink into the packaging and it still won't open!

Ugh. Baking is hard. He's so busy with his struggles he doesn't hear the front door open, or that his fathers are screaming at auntie Velvette about his wearabouts.

When his dad walks into the kitchen, Vortex gets startled. The bowl with frosting gets dropped to the floor, face first, the contents splattering everywhere. And of course, the flour sack decides to tear open right this second, the paper packaging ripping cleanly in two. All the powder flies up like a mushroom cloud, covering the kid in white.

His dad is halfway through a greeting before the explosion. He shakes his head to get rid of the flour trying to fly into the vents and ports of his head.

They stare at each other for a good second. Vortex looks like he's been through a snowstorm. Vox is cringing at how much powder has clogged his system.

"I wanted cake!" The kid reasons.

Vox blinks, once, twice. "Velvette!" He shouts, dragging the syllables.

Velvette and Valentino run in, more annoyed than anything. The staring contest repeats.

"How the fuck did you–" Velvette starts, before she laughs. It's not her kitchen, after all.

Valentino, still in a good mood from the date, shrugs. "This kitchen has seen worse."

"Can I have cake now?"

[yuki8563]

I’m actually curious about this. I am genuinely asking you: if that kind of content is really gross to you, why do you allow people like that into your community? Are you neutral on people that enjoy that kind of content? It makes sense for you to push against the people who enjoy that content because of your past experiences with them, right?

For me, I have had terrible experiences with those people. They enjoy invalidating our boundaries. I have dealt with those people lying about enjoying dark content just to befriend me even when I have made it clear I don’t want to interact with those people. They believe it should be normalized to make that content appear as if it’s okay when it’s not.

Truthfully, I wish I could speak to you in your language because this language barrier is making this difficult to have a proper conversation with you. I try to read your text in without the English inflections.

I’m sorry for the tangent. I just had to let you know that.

First of all, I want to thank you because you are one of the few foreigners who are willing to express their desire to read my native language (which touches me a lot)

I am also sad that my Chinese grammar always conflicts with English grammar. If you have difficulty reading, please let me know!!!

It's my working hours now so I won't reply to new anonymous messages immediately.

(My Working hours is 11:00- 19:30 GMT+8 & My commute to work is 1 hour.)

I'm not sure how to put it in the right way to answer your question, but I'm trying my best.

I grew up in an environment where people are actually less sensitive to such things (probably because of my family factors and my political stance, which make me negative in many areas, people here are like this... Such habits can be traced back to historical characteristics).

After the end of WWII, we went through a very difficult time. The national character and habits formed during that period are still passed down from our elders, so we actually care overwhelmingly about reality rather than virtuality, and the Internet is our space to relax (because many of us have no window to vent, and it was with the analysis and advice of my Japanese friends that I had a great encounter with a psychologist.)

This is one of the reasons why we care about courtesy, distance, and personal space. (Some people don't even have locks on their doors)

If we are not bothered, we will not fight back. But we will never defend those who disturb you. If someone continues to do so after you say "stop!", it is harassment.

I personally also had experience of being bullied before (When I was between the ages of 13 and 18, at the time I was developing my interpersonal skills.) , so I don't like to follow anyone in hating certain people (unless they are an asshole in real life, then I will throw tomatoes at them like I would treat those criminals, believe me!).

The students here like to impose the pressure and authority they learned from their parents on people they don‘t like. I have no privacy at all, so I think sometimes the way some of you attack others is terrible. (Not related to your topic, some emotions will cause my PTSD reaction and cause me to dissociate my thoughts)

To reiterate the key points: The core idea is that everyone should have their own safe space, and I welcome different people to exchange ideas with me. And when your safe space is invaded by people you hate, and they still harass you even when you express your discomfort, that is not right!

(This is how I see things... but I don't know how your online community works. People in North Asia are used to playing with their own small circles. Everyone keeps a distance and makes good use of the mute and block functions

(we pay a lot of attention to superficial harmony... this has both good and bad sides...)

But I am actually still lost in interpersonal relationships, so it is difficult for me to discuss deeper thoughts with you. For me, I just want to survive...

As for those people who used to be fandom... I actually think it was my own fault. They did not seduce me, nor did they retain me. (They actually just play in their own little circle, and I am a foreigner to them, so... yes, I admit that I am not good at this kind of thing.)

That alt is actually for Disney fandom. I also liked DT's Launchpad at the time (I treated him as my silly grandson...)

The work I like is completely obscure here, and I won't even search any tags for fan art.

Now you know that I am at the level of a baby socially. (I am still practicing how to identify my emotions to avoid losing my sense of self when facing trauma.

(My outlook on life makes it difficult for me to bear more worries, so I'm sorry that you see my negative side on certain issues)

I can't check and polish my grammar right now, so please forgive me if there are repeated sentences or parts that stray from the point.

If you have any other questions feel free to ask! But I have a health check-up the day after tomorrow so I may only have 2 hours to deal with these issues after I get home. (This is a heads up, in case you are confused)

[snakewh1sperer]

Greetings.

I'm sure you already know who I am, but in case you don't, I'm Jamil Viper, Scarabia's Vice Housewarden. //This is an RP and ask account run by the same guy that runs @floydleechrp

Let me set some ground rules. Follow these and we'll be fine.

1. Please use common decency here. I may be from a popular Disney mobile game, but I am a person too. Please don’t be rude or disrespectful towards me (unless for lighthearted and/or roleplay purposes, in which please specify in some way or another), unless you wish to be blocked.

2. If I don't immediately respond, please don't make a big deal about it. I'm rather busy, both taking care of Kalim and handling Vice Housewarden tasks. I'll either get to it, or I won't. Please don't bother me about unanswered asks.

3. No NSFW on this blog. I personally am 18 (out of character), so, just generally don't make things weird... jokes and such are fine, though.

4. In a non-rp related topic, it’s literally just me running this blog. I’m just one person, after all. Please be patient with me. Also, please be respectful. That’s all I ask. I’m human just like you, treat me like one.

5. OC asks are welcomed and encouraged! In fact, send me whole info dumps on them! I love seeing ocs and will happily interact with them. Tell me all about them so I can properly interact with them too, please.

6. Cursing will likely be common here. If that's something you know bothers you, please do yourself a favour and don't interact. My goal is not to cause distress.

7. We don't speak of Book 4.

8. NO MORE BUG ASKS. GENUINELY UPSETTING ME.

9. Please stop trying to force breaks and vacations on me without even bothering to let me know in advance. I know you people want to help, but it's incredibly stressful to me. You will NOT get a nice reply if you try to force me on a break or forcefully take over caring for Kalim.

Other things to note:

Run by an autistic person -- please use tone tags. It will greatly help me. Here's a masterlist of the basic tone tags.

Here's some personal headcanons I abide by.

Some common tags I use/will use: #ask jamil - For any replies to asks, whether questions or not #jamil speaks - Text posts, mostly #jamil reblogs - I sure do like looking through my tags on Tumblr... this is for the ones I enjoyed enough to reblog.

Jar Anon is my best friend now. I'd say I don't make the rules, but I run this blog, so yes I do.

That's probably all. I will add and update as needed. Please, enjoy your stay in Scarabia.

[sophliftss]

2024 🧬 Masterlist

green = success red = failed

$c@m@z0n : £120 - success (multiple times) especially if you do it right ( order items that are dispatched by them)

4s0s: £200 - failed and honestly customer service was terrible, they said they'd refund me only to then email me to block my account. Have heard of this happening to several people. Should add that I actually had two missing items yet attempted 🧬 rather than PEB. 😭

J@yD $ports : success for PEB (£120-30) . Replied really quickly to an email, instant refund.

N1k3: surprised at this one but was a success for around £130 (they had no proof of delivery so didn't ask questions)

Y£s$ty13: fail (sort of - got a replacement ) Refused to refund, Cs was rude and said they'd ban my address if I attempted to dispute it with my bank. Lmao I still did... My bank refunded me ONLY for them to somehow get the money back after two days. Gave up cause it was pathetic watching them do this much for £70. Turns out they sent out a replacement at some point without letting me know so a half win? Wouldn't recommend though tbh.

t3🐮🐄 : succeeded multiple times, recently as well. Have to do it right though or they don't refund. Honestly can't even give a number, probs over 300 in the past few months.

Jü1<y €0ùtúr£ : success. The set went out of stock after I received it so they said they couldn't offer a replacement but would give me a refund. Quick + easy.

$h£1n: success for £90. Dead easy x

@1i£xprE$$ : 50/50. Honestly just depends if your reason for a refund is approved of. Some of mine were, others weren't. Spent £100, got back £60. If you put in the effort to make it look like something was actually wrong it'd probs be a success. I was lazy though.

w@y£a1r: fail. CS wasn't that great, basically said they couldn't do anything and to contact the delivery company. Also was so hard actually speaking to someone, took forever.

V$ : success, around £240, lovely customer service x

$ty(£vanà : attemped PEB -fail. wouldnt bother unless you use PayPal so you can dispute it. I didn't use PP and cs was terrible, went back and forth asking for pictures of items I had received only to then get blanked at done point. No response, no refund or replacement. Just wasn't worth it... Though I've heard they now do insured shipping so might try them again.

thank u n3x|+ : PEB was a success. £70.

$e4r@ : PEB was a success + got lucky? Received a refund for £50 after asking for one though they'd sent out a replacement already so got both in the end. CS was good, and the whole process was just really easy.

wH1t3f0x: fail. Refused to refund even though I attempted PEB. Honestly besides that the shipping took forever (a month) .

€lö$$ièr : love them for a reason. Instantly refunded over IG. Around £100

m0t3l 🪨s: don’t even know what this was. They didn’t even deliver my order (wasn’t their fault). Did refund though once they asked the delivery company to send the parcel back to them - obviously. Heard they only give credit back though anyways x

Honestly can't remember any other places, but will add to this if I do recall anything.

A work in progress / next places I’ll attempt:

DEéhg@t£

$tr@ð1vār1ús

Pr1n(3$$ pø11y

b0üx @ve

10ûng€

[bloodcandied]

Death Addiction 亡瘾 Chapter 6

The day Xu Tuo went to meet friends, I went downstairs to find Qi Mengzhu standing there.

"Why don't you go to the intensive care unit to find someone to lay your hands on?" I asked, "There are a lot of people who would rather die than continue to languish."

"There's no beauty in it." He replied thoughtfully, while reaching down to fold my collar neatly for me.

"Hypocritical. Trying to play hard to get after all. When you get hit in the head with a bucket again, maybe you'll turn normal."

I suddenly felt the preciousness of Xu Tuo.

People always inherently have a few harmless perverted hobbies, the key lies in the ability not to cause trouble for others.

We were talking in front of the neighborhood, then, a cycling youth passed by, his bicycle getting too close to Qi Mengzhu's car door and dinging it. Qi Mengzhu glared at him, but did not intend to do much else.

This person was good and got close to the car to apologize: "I can pay damages, I see you this car is quite expensive."

"No need." Qi Mengzhu did not want to give his contact information to just anyone, pulled open the door and got into the car, "I'm leaving, Dai Xueming, let me know if you change your mind."

The man on the bike looked at him blankly as he drove away, then turned his head to me and smiled awkwardly, "Are you a friend of his?"

"No."

"So ...... I was going to ask you for his contact info. It feels like it's not a good idea to leave without paying."

I didn't bother to listen to this person muttering, turned around and walked away. He chased a few steps to follow up, "Brother, you really don't know his cell phone?"

At this time, a hand reached out from the side and dragged me behind him; it was actually Xu Tuo.

He blocked the space between us and asked the man with a smile, "I'm his friend, do you want my contact information?"

Somehow, his smile gave me a tired feeling. The hand on my shoulder was trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the how much force he exerted.

Seeing this, the guy didn't pester me any further and rode off on his bicycle. Xu Tuo and I walked back, and I was quite surprised, "Why did you come back? Didn't you go to meet your friends?"

"I finished." He said.

The sky was gray, but the street lights were not yet lit. He walked slower and slower as we walked, and just as he was about to enter a brighter lit area, Xu Tuo slumped to the side and leaned against the wall. His hand covered his lower back. It took me a moment to realize that the his black clothes seemed to be soaked with something.

"...... Blood?" I hesitantly reached out and touched the marks, "You're hurt?"

He nodded.

I set him up and wanted to take him to the hospital. Xu Tuo stopped me, "let's just go home ...... I'm fine."

"If you decide to go home,...... even if you regret it and do end up wanting to go to the hospital, I won't take you there."

He smiled, "I won't...... It'll be fine if I go home and take care of it. My friend and I haven't seen each other in too long and we were a little emotional with each other."

I paused in my steps, "What's the nature of that 'friend' of yours?"

He just looked down and laughed softly, not answering.

Back at home, I rummaged through our medical kit. He had been stabbed in the waist with a sharp object, and blood continued to pour from the wound.

After cutting his shirt open, my heart sank. There was more than one wound, there were three. The stabbing had been fast, he had most likely been held down to the ground and stabbed repeatedly and consecutively.

Xu Tuo knocked back two antibiotics and painkillers, biting his bottom on the tip of his teeth as he sterilize the sewing needle in preparation. As he stitched for himself, his hand trembled worse and worse, and I couldn't help but feel his forehead - his temperature was low, and he was already starting to experience blood loss.

"You gotta go to the hospital." I gathered my things decisively, "If you're worried about identity, I can take you to a private clinic. It's run by my old classmate, as long as you pay him, his mouth will be kept shut."

Xu Tuo looked at me and smiled bitterly, "Xueming, the only way to keep his mouth shut is to shut him up forever."

"Save your strength for talking and explain the ins and outs to me when you're better."

He was quiet for a while, lying on the couch watching me pack. I took out all the cash, brought along a few changes of clothes, and prepared to drag him out the door. He was so quiet during all of this that I even thought he had fallen asleep.

And just as I finished packing and ran back to the couch, the tip of a knife was aimed at me.

Xu Tuo was holding the knife and pointing it at me, his smile growing weak and thin, the mask of his smile seemingly about to dissolve. Then, the knife in his hand spun around, its hilt facing me.

"...... Take it." He said, "Its not safe here. Leave me here, leave the house at once, and go to a safe place for two months. In two months they should not ...... not be a problem...... anymore."

His eyes closed and he breathed weakly. I looked at the knife that had fallen to the ground in surprise; it was a small, ultra-light fighting knife that even an ordinary person could quickly get to grips with.

"...... Are you kidding me ......" I wrapped him up in a warm blanket and stared at the fighting knife, contemplating the current situation.

This man who had lived in our house for years, but whose real name wasn't even known, seemed to have always been at the top of the fighting bio-chain, and the occasional hang-up didn't hurt. Now he'd been stabbed three times, and the last thing he tells me before he passes out is to "run for it".

The only possible reason was that something was coming that he couldn't handle.

Half a minute later, I made a decision - I dragged Xu Tuo off the couch and hid him under the bed in the bedroom. All the doors and windows in the house were closed, and a porcelain dish was set against the corner of each one. After doing all this, I brought along a climbing rope, climbed up to the bedroom window, carefully climbed out to the air-conditioner's external box on the outer wall, and then closed the window from the outside.

Generally speaking, because of the use of high-strength fixings, the racks of the external box could bear extra weight in addition to carrying the box. Of course, this extra weight couldn't be too much though. Even if I weighed less than an average male, I wouldn't dare to put my entire weight on it. My right foot stepped on the water pipe on the outer wall, spreading some of the force of the outer chassis.

--I'd once gotten into a fight with Xu Tuo after finding out that he took part of his hunt home to put in the refrigerator as a short-term souvenir. After that, I installed instant monitors in the living room and it hadn't happened again. The data from the monitor would go directly to my cell phone, and when I turned it on I could see what's going on in the living room at that moment.

How long would it be before the threat Xu Tuo talked about would come? How long would I have to wait outside? Should I eventually take Xu Tuo to the hospital? Was calling the police an item to consider once the situation was out of control? ......

One hypothesis after another flew through my mind. Just then, something moved in the cell phone screen.

--The front door in the entryway opened.

The stranger had entered my house. He didn't have a weapon in his hand, but even with my bare hands, I didn't want to fight him in close quarters.

The man wore a mask and was of medium build. After touching over the first plate, he could see that there was a set up and drew his folding knife from his pocket, quickly unfolding it. After strolling around my house, he finally made his way to the bedroom, out of surveillance range of the living room.

The opponent was alone and appeared to only have a folding knife as a weapon.

The bedroom's occupancy could only be confirmed by checking.

This person was frighteningly sharp, and almost immediately realized that Xu Tuo was under the bed. It was a good thing that Xu Tuo was now seriously injured and unconscious, and was judged to be no threat though. 

He moved away from the bed and looked around the bedroom. Just when I thought he was coming for me, the man suddenly returned to the bed, dragged Xu Tuo out from under the bed, and then began to stab him many times without mercy.

I bit my bottom lip, and then tapped the glass with my fingertips. A soft rattling sound caught his attention and he came toward the window, not bothering with Xu Tuo on the floor anymore.

The window opened. The other guy was wary and didn't peek out right away. But he was standing not far from the window, less than twenty centimeters from me in a straight line.

What was he considering doing?

I had to plan for the worst - assuming that he was an existence with comparable combat power to Xu Tuo, in a head-on fight, I had no chance of winning unless he had a sudden heart attack. 

If it had been Xu Tuo looking for me, could he realize that I was hiding on the outer case of the outer wall?

Absolutely.

The sense of smell of predator was always completely different from that of an ordinary person.

My current hiding place, my current plan, was a last minute survival plan based on the worst case scenario, on the assumption that the other party had already realized where I was hiding. When he sensed that I was hiding right outside, less than half a meter away from him, he would attack me one hundred percent!

Immediately after I thought that, a quick and old-fashioned stab hit me in the thigh - his hand was sticking out of the window as if it had grown eyes, and accurately stabbed me.

I gritted my teeth and held back, trying to catch his hand according to the plan. If I could just grab the hand he attacked me with, I'd pretty much win!

But I didn't manage to grab it.

The hand holding the knife flew back inside, and the window was silent, so all I could hear was my own heartbeat and gasps of pain.

When would the second strike come back? With an attack like that, three more strikes at most and I wouldn't have the strength to keep standing.

I had to catch the second strike before he hit me!

I adjusted my standing position, and in the next second, the knife glint flashed out of the window again. Because of my alertness, I finally grabbed his hand the moment it stabbed me. Ignoring the pain of the knife cuts on my body, I pulled his arm with all my strength and dragged him out of the window.

He didn't expect me to dare fight back either, and he stumbled as he was yanked, his head poking out the window. In an instant, I bet my greatest wager, the thing I knew how to do best, and crossed over, clutching the rope in my hand.

--While making the preparations earlier, I had laid out the ropes. They were briefly secured by transparent tape along the edge of the exterior window, a live knot was tied under the window, and the other end of the rope was held in my hand -  it was a window gallow - and as soon as his head poked out I leapt down with the rope in my grip.

My own weight and the speed of my descent would instantly dislodge the large loop of rope that had been looped along the window and land around his neck, tightening instantly.

It worked.

The climbing rope made a taut sound as it tightened. I held it suspended in mid-air; while the loop of rope at the other end tightened around the man's neck poking out of the window as he struggled desperately, but to no avail. Even if you cut the rope with a knife, this special composite mountaineering rope could withstand the cuts of small knives.

After a while, he fell back into the bedroom, the other end of the rope stopped vibrating, and the man stopped struggling.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Struggling to grab the climbing rope to climb back up to the windowsill. But just as I was pawing at the edge of the ledge, ready to flip back inside, the folding knife appeared out of the darkness of the bedroom and stabbed me hard through the palm of my hand, pinning my hand to the ledge.

--In the bedroom, the assailant, with the rope loop still wrapped around his neck, staggered to his feet. Because of the lack of oxygen, his face was a horrible purplish color, and his eyes were bloodshot. In order to lure me back, he had surprisingly endured not struggling just now, creating the illusion that he had been strangled to death.

To be continued

[faerunfey]

RULES & CONSIDERATIONS.

We’re all here to have fun, so lets keep it that way. I can also be found on my other BG3 blogs @silvertiefling (MAIN) & @mvstra

OOC.

Ivy. 25+. They/Them.

English isn’t my first language & I have dysgraphia. If something doesn’t make sense or I mess up, please let me know!

Mutuals only.

No Minors. 21+. Selective & Private.

I try to keep my blog as accessible as possible, if something is hard to read or find, please don’t be afraid to let me know.

I tag common triggers where I can, but for specific ones to be tagged, please message me.

Characters opinions do not necessarily reflect my own.

Incredibly liberal with the block button <3.

HOW TO INTERACT. (Mutuals only)

Send Ask Memes (and reply to them in a new thread)!

Slide into my DM’s/Askbox.

Answer one of my Open Starters!

Talk to me about one of my wish list threads!

ROLEPLAYS.

Literate only. I don’t do asterisks RP. 

If you have an OC/Tav/Durge, please have an accessible, somewhat detailed bio.

I love random starters from mutuals.

Also love plotting stuff, my ask box and messages are always open to mutuals.

No godmodding.

No AI. If you’re using AI/ChatGPT or whatever to write your whole replies and then just tweaking them without being open about it. Just… don’t bother interacting with me.

SHIPPING.

I love shipping. That being said - I’m very dedicated to building/maintaining/discussing our characters and their ships. So if you’re not really into that, it’s probably best we don’t. I want to spend my time and energy on a few ships that will develop into something amazing, than just shipping for it to go nowhere and fizzle out.

I’m open to both oc / canon and oc / oc pairings.

This blog will have blood, gore, sex and other NSFW content most likely. I will tag as much of it as I can, however. 

OTHER.

Would rather personal blogs not follow or interact with my posts, thank you!

I prefer only interacting with single-fandom RP blogs that are BG3/DND as I get easily confused.

Not super comfortable with rping with accounts that use real people as faceclaims/icons/etc. Nothing personal, just makes me feel weird!

[aahsoka]

i wasn't particularly pressed about it personally but it was such a wild thing to see like. there were 600 arguments going on on a post that was Truly not that deep and some of the takes were awful and some of them were genuinely good and relevant but by the time anyone got around to having something good to say it was because someone had tacked on some insane bullshit. and like idk yeah i personally didn't care but it's such a frustrating phenomenon with large posts in general. and if you'd been making a claim i think it would be responsible to expect or provide citations/a more thorough explanation but "i love bread" is not really a claim that i think needs defending. but of course within two reblogs here on tumblr people will ask if you hate people with epilepsy. because that's a normal and logical step from a two sentence post about carbs.

To be fair to them, they did reply to someone who was talking about disliking the Keto diet. So it was slightly more relevant but I do also still don’t think the leap to not considering epileptics at all is particularly warranted and it might be more productive to have that conversation about how it was originally developed for epileptics. I can see if maybe someone made a popular post that was like ‘i think we should legally ban Keto’ or something ….. like then it would be more important to mention that its used in a medical setting.

Everyone is just ….. having emotional reactions and not thinking out actual arguments or having genuine discussions and I think sometimes we gotta learn when someone is genuinely starting a discussion and when they are just doing something in the heat of the moment, and whether or not the effect is negative enough to warrant a reaction. Personally I struggle with emotional regulation so like I try to avoid things that make me mad or vent that frustration without directly confronting people lmfao. I think it’s worth it to ….. make your own posts, vent to friends, block people liberally etc rather than arguing with what is most often ….. a wall. Considering whether someone’s blog/post is personal or if they are trying to make an actual argument or spreading information etc

And like for example, as far as things that initially seem innocuous but can have negative implications, I do think instances of accidental or unconscious racism is worth being pointed out. And theres certainly a way to go ‘did this person have malicious intent?’ ‘is it worth even talking to them in the first place?’; and while I think effect often outweighs intent when it comes to systemic problems…. its worth your own first reaction (if you are going to interact instead of just blocking) to be polite and informative and if they dont return that energy then you can go. ok fuck you lol .

And yea it’s a worthwhile discussion to talk about keto and its relationship to epilepsy especially because it was taken from a medically prescribed diet that needs to be carefully monitored and mutated into a grifty fad diet to lose weight. As well as a discussion of its actual medical history and effectiveness in treating epilepsy (like I believe it doesn’t always help all patients— which is why it being monitored by doctors is important). But really thats something that needs to be a new post with intent to talk about ….. Keto and epilepsy.

and maybe this person doesnt deserve to be called out on my blog lol but like I try to just vague post abt things that bother me at least . I may delete it lol I always delete things when I get over it. Which is why I dislike replying on posts lol

anyways. thanks for sharing my frustration

I’m gonna enjoy some hainanese chicken and rice now lol