#she just kill because she wasn't raised to know any better. or that's how she copes. or SOMETHING ya know?

[dreamyinwriting]

Whatever I’m still living in the (better) alternate universe where Do Hae-soo was the accomplice

[kushnovice]

Be Mine Again

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x ex! reader

Synopsis: Reader and Bucky have been broken up for a short time, fighting often and rarely seeing eye to eye. Bucky starts to fall into a bad mental space while a mission goes wrong.

wc: 2.8k

Warnings: fighting of all kinds, bucky being depressed and cold, angsty at the beginning, blood, choking, Zola being sadistic, not the best. if i made any mistakes please lmk :)

AN: Female reader, angst with little comfort (yet), lots of mistakes, self indulgent, it sucks but i had fun making it so i hope some people enjoy it. if so I'll write a part 2

"I broke my rules for you! I bended my morals for you, again! I had to change everything I believe in, yet again!" She yelled out at the tall and broad man in front of her as his hand tightened against his glass of ice water, jaw clenching.

The kitchen of the Avengers Tower was very cold and filled with tense air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Bucky deeply groaned as he placed his glass onto the table with a loud thud, "I never asked you to do that. I never asked you to care about me, you did that all yourself." Bucky's hand ran up into his hair showing how stressed out he is at the moment, he had never been one to enjoy fighting, actually he hated it. Almost as much as he hated her."Don't you care about me? About us?" She questioned with a huff as her arms swung to her hips. "Truth is," Bucky stood up, slowly walking toward her with each word, "I'm tired. So fucking tired of you that you always have been nothing more than an obligation." Bucky's lip raised in a scowl. The hurt was written on her face but immediately gone as she grumbled and pushed Bucky back by the chest. "I'm done helping you." She sucked in a breath, "Did it ever occur to you that your hurting me or are you just that selfish and arrogant?"

Before she could react, his glass that was once on the table was now shattering against the wall on the far side of the room as he stormed off quickly, slamming the door shut in the process. Bucky made his way through the winding hallways with his fists clenched tightly to the point his knuckles were white. He couldn't stand when she would act like this, after everything they had been through together, she had promised she would stay no matter what. She was always just like the others, except Bucky couldn't get her out of his mind.

Bucky swings open Steve's door and slams it behind him as he paces back and forth through Steve's room. Steve sighed as he placed his book to the side on his bed and looked at Bucky. "What happened this time?" Bucky groaned deeply, "I told her about the mission we are going on later this week and she flipped out on me." He grabbed a workout dumbbell off the ground and started to work out his human arm by doing bicep curls. "She keeps telling me that she can't deal with me trying to track down and kill every single person that was ever or is currently apart of Hydra, that this mission we are going on is a trap." His breath becomes uneven as says breathy words under his tongue as his annoyed attitude has not faltered in the slightest. Steve rolled his eyes at the drama going on between the not so couple right now. "You do realize that she's scared of losing you, especially more since she's already lost you as a partner." Steve sighed deeply, being the person that both of them had come to confide in about their problems. "And with the Hydra thing, it's tricky because I know you want to move past it, and it was such a hard time of your life but there are better ways to grow past it, Buck." Steve talked softly as his kind blue eyes pierced through Bucky, hoping he would accept his words of advice but seeing how Bucky was instantly throwing the weight around as if it weighed nothing due to his anger, Steve knew Bucky wasn't truly hearing him.

Bucky dropped the weight at Steve's words, "Better ways, huh. there're better ways for everything but does that mean it's always achievable? No." Bucky looked at Steve almost desperately, "I don't want to lose her but if I don't do this, I feel like I might lose myself." Bucky sighed as he looked at the weight on the ground before picking it back up again. "What's rule number 3, Buck?" Steve asks knowing how Bucky's rage and trauma is having a profound impact on his own mental health. "What would they think about you after you murder them all?" Steve questions, knowing that if Bucky were to kill them then people would believe that Bucky was the Winter Solider still, or just a cold killer."Who cares, they took everything from me. They took me away from myself." Bucky stormed out of Steve's room in frustration and made his way to his room with loud footsteps as he carried his empty duffle bag.

Bucky's mind was whirling with angry thoughts about how no one understands him and the one person that did, was no longer a happy part of his life. He angrily shoves his clothes and weapons as well as his dog tags and anything else he would need into his duffle bag. Bucky fit everything he needed perfectly into his duffle bag and sat it by the door before he slouched down onto his bed. He rubbed his temple as he exhaled a deep sigh, wishing he could understand life like he did back in the 40's.

"If you feel it so necessary to risk your life so that you can battle an internal fight, then I'm coming too." She swung the door open as she placed down her duffle bag with confidence and stubbornness. Bucky groaned and ran his hands through his hair again, stressed out, knowing that she won't back down. "If you keep doing that, you'll go bald before you're ancient." She giggled snarky as Bucky narrowed his eyes at her seriously. "If you're coming, you're staying in the plane. Eyes in the sky." She rolled her eyes but stayed silent knowing that putting up another fight was worthless.

They made their way to the airplane with slow steps as the tension around them stayed present even in the silence as they walked feet from each other. Bucky's eyes were unable to focus on anything other than her, her hair, her body, her clothes, the way she held herself. He knew he shouldn't think about her like this after their no so soft break up but he couldn't help himself. He was snapped out of it when Steve talked to him on the plane, "Buck, why is she joining us?" He asked as he looked at her getting comfortable in a seat on the plane as if it was her mission to be on. Bucky sighed, "I didn't want to fight her anymore. She will stay on the plane the whole time." Steve nodded in understanding, "We got this." Bucky chuckled, "As long as you don't blow the whole thing trying to 'save the world'" Steve chuckled along with him. The plane ride was silent as they quickly made it to the main hydra headquarters with Steve occasionally talking about the mission and the plan.

When they arrive at the place, Steve and Bucky easily jump out of the plane, landing exactly where they needed too to be at the top of the Hydra roof. She got comfortable on the plane with the coms on, cameras on, and trackers on but she couldn't settle the anxiety creeping up her spine. She tried to push it down as she figured that since she was watching and listening to them and that nothing would go wrong. That's what she had wished for, but not all dreams come true.

After the two men had entered the building, an alarm went off causing the rooms to blare nosies and lights to shine red and white in an emergency. They quickly move to the wall, Bucky had his gun up as his eyes glared through the top of the barrel with intense focus as he lead them through the hallway while Steve had his shield up as well as his arm to help brace himself for any situation that could happen. The lights continued to strobe with the blaring alarm as they swiftly and quietly made their way through the headquarters. As Bucky rounded a corner, there was a Hydra solider waiting for them. He fired his gun quickly multiple times causing bullets to go into his shoulder, his arm, and his stomach. Steve quickly threw his shield at the Hydra solider causing him to go unconscious and drop to the floor with a thud. "Buck?" Steve turnt around quickly as he grabbed Bucky's shoulders to help him stay up as he is loosing a lot of blood.

"What's going on?" She asked through the coms as the anxiety in her stomach started to bubble up yet again. "Why aren't you guys moving?" She impatiently waited for an answer as she tapped her fingertips against the desk, staring at the screen of their tracker and trying to find them on the camera system. "Everything's fine," Bucky growls out in a snap. Over the coms she can hear Steve groan, "Bucky got hit, three times." he explains to her and while his words are processing, her heart beat increases dramatically. "I'm fine." Bucky growled out as he continued to make his way down the hallway with Steve closely behind him. She watches as the dots move slowly down the hallway on the tracker, Her anxiety roaring.

Suddenly the screen starts to glitch out, becoming unreadable entirely. She began to panic internally as she starts to talk on the coms, "what's goin' on?" She asks to no response but loud sounds like a frequency is blocking communication. She groans deeply as her anxiety is coming up through her stomach and settling at her chest as she makes her way up and slings a gun around her torso to make her way out of the plane which is now landed at the waiting point. She runs through the clearing and gets to the door, trying to open it to no avail, she uses her body weight next to slam against the door, again to no avail. Sounds of yelling and screaming stop her in her tracks as the anxiety now feels like an elephant sitting on her chest. Looking around, she spot a window and she uses the back gun barrel to break the glass, making sure it's safe before she climbs inside. When she gets inside it is dark and eerily quiet, she cautiously take slow and soft steps and she keeps her gun up on guard as she search's for Steve and Bucky. She shoves open a door which reveals a pitch dark room, She is hesitant to go in until She hears Bucky whimpering in the darkness. She quickly makes her way inside, "Buck?" She whispered as the door shuts behind her, she hears the door click causing her to turn back to the door to see someone outside the door flick the lights on to reveal Bucky on the ground bleeding out from multiple injuries, she ran up to him immediately.

"Oh Buck..." She sighed deeply and she glare up at the person behind the door. The mysterious person presses a button with a smirk before they turn and makes their way out of eyesight from her. She hears a hissing sound causing her to look up to see a gas coming out of a huge vent in the room, the barley visible smoke filling the floor as it causes Bucky to cough an incredible amount and making his injuries worse. The smoke filled the room and eventually her lungs as she can feel the smoke burning her airway. She coughs violently in sync with Bucky, trying to stay conscious and aware but it becomes more challenging as the world starts spinning and her eyes get heavier. Bucky suddenly stops coughing causing her to know that he fell victim to the gas, she tried to fight it as long as possible as she held herself up against a table but still inevitably fail as she fell to the ground with a loud thud as she went unconscious.

When she woke up, everything was groggy and the room is spinning and her chest feels heavy with more than just anxiety. She groaned out in pain when she turn to look around to see her hands and legs tied up to the arms and legs of a chair while she was also tied around the torso. Turning her head, she saw Bucky sitting there tied up the same as her, him still unconscious though. "Bucky!" She whisper shouted trying to get him awake, whispering his name loudly multiple times in hopes of him waking up. "Bu-" She gets interrupted by the sound of a door opening causing her to fall silent as she watches the darkness to see someone emerge from it. "Well, Well, Well. Look what we have here. The world's most dangerous assassin..." The person walks towards us to reveal its Zola dressed in his white coat. "And his little toy." Zola smirks at us. "What do you want with us? Bucky isn't under your control anymore." She speaks deeply and firmly even through the anxiety and fear that is ever so present. Zola chuckles at her question as he leans down and grabs Bucky's unconscious face, holding his face up by the chin, his fingernails digging into Bucky's cheek, leaving red to glow off of Bucky's face. "I want him." Zola lets Bucky's face go with no regard for him. His head falls back down as Zola shifts his attention back to her. "I can't have him with you around. With you here. He has something to fight for." Zola leaned in close enough to her face that she could smell him the smell of rubber and overpriced Calonge on his body, he smelt like fake money. "I'm going to make him lose everything. Anything he loved or ever will love in the future, I will destroy."

Zola pushed some of the hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear, "And that starts with you, Darling." Zola had a maniacal smile on, his twisted face that contorted the anxiety in her stomach from anxiety into fear and anger. Her anxiety and fear had instantly turned into rage as Zola kept speaking, her jaw clenching and veins popping out of her neck and forehead. "I'll kill you." Her voice growls deeply with hatred as she struggled against the restraints roughly with harsh movements. Zola couldn't help the chuckle that escapes his lip. "Or you'll die trying, sweetheart." He exclaimed with a smirk on his face, "You'll be fun to play with." Zola runs his fingers softly down her face as she holds a scowl and her eyes bore into him with rage.

A soft voice croaks out, "Don't touch her..." Bucky's horse and rough voice speaks out as he raises his head to assess the situation as the gas wears off. Zola smirked as he trailed his fingers down her face and down her jawline and to her throat where he roughly grabs it with a tight grasp causing her to gasp out at a loss for air. "You take orders, Soldat. You don't give them." Zola says as his dark eyes meet Bucky's whose eyes are dark and cold, his glare unwavering as his jaw clenched. Bucky thrashes around in the restraints, easily breaking out as he saw you under Zola hold, anger filling his body with red heat as he stands up in front of Zola, dark eyes that would send shivers down the body of a normal person. "Let. Her. Go." Bucky's rough voices speaks out firmly as he towers over Zola, he smirks as he lets go of her but reaches into his pocket and injects Bucky with a syringe causing Bucky to be disoriented and out of it as he stumbles backwards. "Stay away from her!" He yells in frustration as he tries to move close to her despite the drugs and ultimately failing.

"Bucky! Stop trying to save me. They want you." She speaks out firmly through her coughs and deep breaths. Bucky growled at her statement, "I will never stop fighting for you, defending you, protecting you. Over my dead body will I let you get hurt." Bucky's deep voiced traveled through the room as it sent shivers down her body. Zola moved to Bucky, grabbing him by the back of the neck like a kitten and forces him down to the ground as he digs Bucky's head into the ground before quickly chaining him up, Bucky being easier to restrain with the drugs in his system. Zola squatted down to make eye contact with Bucky, his eyes digging into Bucky's with determination. "I will destroy you. You'll be mine again."

[inkedinshadows]

What Truly Matters

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: After the war, Y/N has fallen into an unhealthy routine of training and pushing everyone away. But Azriel had enough of it and wants to know why she's doing it.

Warnings: angst, language, mention of child death

Word count: 4.5k

֍֍֍֍֍

Sweat was dripping down her forehead, and Y/N took just a moment to wipe it away with the back of her hand before she got back into position in front of the target and started training again.

During the war with Koschei, the Illyrians had suffered substantial losses. Their victory felt almost like a defeat, and Rhysand had been trying to get them back on their feet since. Y/N was stationed in one of the camps with Azriel to help him do just that, though she had no idea why. As if being female wasn't enough, she wasn't Illyrian. She wasn't even a warrior, for that matter. She didn't understand why Rhys thought she might help. He must've known the Illyrians were only going to sneer and laugh at her.

But she didn't mind. Staying at the camp meant she could train all day. To get better, stronger, faster. So that what had happened during the war would never happen again. She'd fallen into the habit of arriving at the training ring before dawn and leaving after twilight. It helped take her mind off things.

She swung her sword at the dummy target, aiming for its chest, then arms, then head, just like Cassian and Azriel had shown her. She did it again, over and over. Her breaths came in sharp pants, but she never stopped.

She knew Azriel was watching her. He always was these days, but she always ignored it. She ignored him, just like she ignored all her friends and anything that didn't involve physical exercise.

“Y/N.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Azriel take a step forward. She didn't even look his way as she kept hitting the target.

“Take a break,” he said. She'd heard him use that tone before with the Illyrians. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

Too bad she didn't answer to him.

“I don't need one.” Her words came in between one lunge and the next, her eyes never leaving the dummy.

“You do need one.” Azriel stepped even closer but still kept his distance. “You're going to hurt yourself if you keep pushing like that. Your body needs to recover. You need to rest and eat.”

Y/N gritted her teeth as the next hit reverberated along her arm. Her limbs were sore, yet she welcomed the pain. “I don't. My body is fine.”

Azriel spoke again, something about her unhealthy habits and how she should stop. She did no such thing, and instead put even more effort and strength into her blows.

“You're distracting me.”

He was close enough now that his shadows pooled at her feet, sliding up her legs as if they could stop her. She glared at them for just a second before resuming her movements.

“Do you think I can't see what you're doing?” Azriel’s voice was cold as ice, colder than she'd ever heard. “You're punishing yourself because you think you deserve it. But you're just going to collapse if you don’t stop. Are you trying to die or something?”

“Maybe.”

The word was out before she even realized it. But there it was: the truth, now out in the open. The thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind for months. That maybe she did deserve to die for what she'd done. Or rather, for what she'd failed to do.

She finally looked at Azriel then. She saw the shock on his face, the hurt in his eyes. His shadows retreated back to his side as if even they couldn't stand the truth she'd revealed.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Y/N wiped her sweat away again, tightened her grip on the hilt, and went back to jabbing, hitting, lunging.

She suddenly stopped mid-blow, her sword raised, the tip just a few inches from Azriel's neck. He'd stepped in front of her faster than she could see and didn't even flinch when her blade almost cut through him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she yelled, her arm falling back to her side. “I could've killed you!”

Azriel didn't look bothered. Whether it was because he knew she'd be able to check that swing or because he would have stopped it himself if she hadn't, she couldn't tell.

“What do you mean, ‘maybe’?” he asked instead. “Do you really believe you need to punish yourself like this?”

She snapped then. “So what if I do? Why do you care? Shouldn't you be overseeing the Illyrians?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and his jaw set. “You know damn well why I care, Y/N.”

She might know, but she didn't care. Couldn't bring herself to, not anymore.

“What I know is that you should go back to do your job.” She stepped around him to position herself in front of the target again. “And let me do my thing.”

Azriel gripped her elbow, forcing her to turn around and face him. “You're not doing ‘your thing’,” he growled. He was getting angry now. Good. “You've let your training become an obsession. You never stop. You barely sleep. You barely eat. You're hurting yourself, Y/N.”

He was right, and she knew it. But why couldn't he understand? Why couldn't he let her go so she could go back to training? But despite her effort of freeing her arm, his grip didn't loosen.

“So you've noticed things. Congratulations, you're good at your spymaster job.” She bared her teeth at him. “Now let me go, Azriel.”

“No.” His voice was firm and low. It was the voice of the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Y/N might have flinched, if she'd only cared about it. “You're pushing yourself beyond your limits. And you want me to stand by and let you continue like this?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Consider it a favor, an order, a command. Whatever you want as long as you do.” She tried to yank her arm free once more and when she couldn't, she glowered up at him. “Because you know what the alternative to training is?”

He didn't answer, but she noticed the tic in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed for just a second. He was trying to figure it out.

“Did you know,” she started slowly, “that they don't let females buy alcohol here? Especially if they're not even Illyrian. So it's either training or sex, Azriel.” She raised an eyebrow, staring right into his eyes. She stopped struggling against his grip. She knew she was being a bitch, and that none of this was his fault. Just like she knew her next words were going to hurt him, and yet she said them anyway. “Would you prefer that? Would it make you feel better if instead of training, I'd let every Illyrian in this camp fuck me?”

She could tell the exact moment her words struck home. Azriel froze. He went completely, utterly still. Even his shadows halted their usual swirling around his body and wings. But his eyes… She might as well have been staring at rage itself.

“Don't you dare,” he said. His icy tone, so at odds with the anger burning inside him, would send wiser people running from him. But Y/N wasn't exactly being wise right now.

“It's your choice, Azriel.” His grasp on her arm tightened so much it almost hurt, but the slight pain was a welcomed friend. “What will it be? Training or fucking?”

He was silent for a long minute, his eyes locked on her face. And for a moment, she could see it: the Spymaster, the Shadowinger, the one whose sight was enough to frighten people.

They were both aware of what Illyrians would do to her if she sought them out willingly. To them, she was little more than an object, and they'd stayed away so far only out of fear of Azriel's wrath. But if she was the one who approached them, things would be different. Y/N didn’t have any particular desire to let those brutes anywhere near her, but if Azriel was going to take away her training and she wasn't allowed to drink… she had to find another way to either feel something other than grief and guilt, or to numb everything.

“No one is allowed to touch you,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, as if struggling to control his rage. “I won't let them touch you.”

Y/N bit her tongue to keep quiet. A part of her, the one that was hurting and just wished for relief, wanted to lash out and tell him to fuck her himself if no one else was allowed. But another part of her, the one that still cared, knew she couldn't cross that line. She was acting like a spiteful bitch, but she still had limits. She wouldn't hurt Azriel more than she already had.

“Then let me train,” she replied instead. “Let me go, move aside, and let me finish what I was doing.”

“Over my dead body.”

They stared at each other, his hand still on her elbow, hers still holding the sword. She had to find a way to make him leave. She didn't even know why he was still there, still not giving up. She'd pushed everyone else away in the last few months: Elain, Nesta, Rhys… even Feyre and Cassian. All of them. And yet, Azriel was still here.

“Is this because of the children?”

Her heart stopped. Her body froze. Memories flooded her mind: screams and blood and cries; unanswered prayers, ignored pleas and evil laughs.

Suddenly, she moved, too swiftly for even Azriel to react. Yanking her arm away, she stepped back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Don't,” she spat. “Don't even mention the children.”

Azriel's shoulders slumped as he realized what was going on. His anger seemed to disappear, and his gaze softened as he took a step forward. But she couldn't bear the pity in his eyes and retreated a step. She'd much rather face his rage than his pity.

Azriel's voice was calm and collected when he spoke again. “I know you're hurting. But this is madness, Y/N. Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” she started, her voice still loud with anger. But just the mention of the children left her feeling drained. Empty and spent, she stared at him without really seeing. There was nothing left inside her but an overwhelming void she had no idea how to fill.

“It should have been me,” she whispered in a flat voice. “It should have been me, Az.”

Her sword clattered to the floor and the cold ground bit at her knees as her legs gave out. Azriel was there in an instant, crouching before her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“It was the only thing Rhys asked me to do,” she murmured. A sob shook her and tears followed short after. All the tears she hadn't shed since it happened were now flowing like a tidal wave. She didn't care if anyone passing by could see her. “To protect those children and lead them away from the battle. But I failed, and now they're all dead. Because of me.”

“Y/N–”

“The only thing, Az.” She shook her head, her eyes closed. “And I failed him. I failed them. I failed their families. I failed everyone.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and then it was the only solid thing as the world turned into shadows and wind. When she looked up, she realized Azriel had winnowed them away from prying eyes and into the cabin they shared at the camp.

“It's not your fault, Y/N,” he said gently. “No one blames you for it.”

“I do.” She pushed away from him, though she didn't try to stand up. Her legs were too sore from all the exercise, and now that she'd stopped and the adrenaline of training had worn off, it would take a while for her body to work the way she wanted it to.

“It's my damn fucking fault and you know it. Everybody knows it, and yet no one acknowledges it.” Anger surged once more and she almost screamed. “No one! Not even Rhys!”

Azriel’s eyes remained soft, his voice still gentle. “Because we know there was nothing you could do, Y/N.”

She couldn’t bear it, that pity. She wanted him to get mad at her, to yell and scream at her and give her the confrontation she needed.

“Nesta took out the soldiers all by herself,” she retorted. “Five soldiers. All by herself.”

“Nesta is a Valkyrie. She has more–”

“More training and experience,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “She had the element of surprise and all that. Can people stop repeating that already?”

Cassian had told her. Rhys had told her. Nesta herself. Yet it didn't change the simple fact that when those soldiers had found Y/N and the children, they caught her so off guard she barely had time to draw her blade before they seized her. And then made her watch as they killed the children. They were getting started on her when Nesta found them. Too late. Or too early, by then. A few more minutes, and Y/N would have died too. At least she wouldn't have had to live with that guilt and pain.

“I thanked her, you know,” she added in a whisper, meeting Azriel’s eyes. “Nesta. I thanked her when she saved me. But I didn't mean it.”

Realization dawned on him, and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, and in that moment, with just the two of them, she let go.

Azriel caressed her hair, unfazed by her sweat or the tears soaking his clothes as she cried into his chest. “Shhh,” he whispered in a soothing voice. “It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. Why do you keep punishing yourself like this?”

Deep down, a part of her knew he was right. That even if she'd got the chance to fight back against those soldiers, she wouldn't have been able to take down more than one and the others would have gotten to the children anyway. It didn’t make it any easier though.

“Do you know how old the oldest child was? Did Rhys tell you?” Her voice was muffled by her sobs, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She continued before he could answer. “He was nine, Az. Nine. The same age my brother was when he…” She trailed off, unable to say the words even after more than a century.

She swallowed in an attempt to calm down and lifted her head to look at Azriel again. “What I'm trying to say is, I know what kind of pain their deaths brought to their families. And knowing I was the reason for it… it's just… it’s too much.”

A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes. “You know what kind of pain it brings,” he echoed. “So why push yourself until you collapse? Why would you bring that same pain upon your own family?”

“You know my family doesn't care if I live or die,” she retorted, her voice a bit sharper.

Azriel clenched his jaw. “Not your parents, Y/N,” he growled. “Your real family. Cassian would be crushed. Feyre broken. Even Amren. And… and me.” There was a vulnerability now in his voice that she'd never heard before. “I would care. I would be devastated. Not just as your friend, but… No, not just as your friend.”

She could only stare at him. Her real family. Not the one she was born into, but the one she'd chosen. The one that had chosen her back. How could she ever forget that?

Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren. All of them.

Azriel. Did he know?

Not just as your friend.

He probably did. But it didn't matter now.

She had pushed them all away. Because it was easier than accepting that they were right, that there was nothing she could have done to save those children. It was easier to stay away than to see their faces and know they weren't angry at her for failing, when she couldn't forgive herself.

“I'm sorry.” Another sob tore through her as she hugged Azriel. “I'm so sorry, Az… you're my family. I don't know why I lost sight of that.”

His hand drew soothing circles on her back. “Grief and guilt can do that,” he said softly. “They make you forget who you are and what truly matters… who matters.”

Azriel rested his chin on top of her head. They stayed like that for what could have been hours. Y/N kept crying all the tears she'd bottled up since the war until she was spent and her eyes stung, but never once did Azriel’s embrace falter. He held her through it all.

“Do you think they can forgive me?” she eventually asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I know they will. They're your family, Y/N. They're just worried about you.”

She lifted her head then, looked in his eyes and found concern staring back at her. “Can you forgive me?”

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Azriel cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the last of her tears. “Of course I can. I already have.” He smiled, and it started to heal something inside her. “Just promise me you won't push us away again. Let us, let me, help you.”

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. Azriel was right. She couldn't keep pushing away her friends, her family. And maybe she'd never get to the point of not blaming herself for the death of those children, but with some help she could learn how to live with the guilt.

“Good. That's the Y/N I know.”

She looked at Azriel again, only to see that soft smile still gracing his lips. She’d always loved that smile.

Azriel stood up and offered her his hand. She took it immediately and let him help her up. And then she realized there was a small smile on her own lips, the first one in months. Since the children.

“Now, will you let me cook you something?” Azriel let go of her hand and turned around toward the small kitchen counter. “You need to start eating healthy again.”

Y/N appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she still found herself saying, “I thought it was the other way around.”

“What was?” he asked with a glance, his focus already on this new task. Tendrils of shadows were spreading around as if eager to contribute.

She didn't know why she'd said that. Maybe she could still change the subject or come up with some other stupid answer. And yet she couldn't stop the words already on her tongue. “Isn't the female supposed to be the one offering food to her mate?”

Azriel turned to her then. His face seemed a bit paler than before. “You know.”

She smiled. A real, full smile as she nodded. “If I hadn't known already, you kind of gave it away earlier. ‘Not just as your friend, but…’?” She shrugged. “It was pretty obvious, to be honest.”

He still looked a little wary, though. “How long have you known?”

“Since last spring.”

“That was more than a year ago.”

Y/N cocked her head. “So how long have you known?”

“Just a couple months.” Azriel's gaze bore into her. “Why didn't you say anything a year ago?”

This was not how she had imagined this conversation to go. Not in a cabin in a war camp lost in the Illyrian mountains. Definitely not after months during which she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything beyond grief and guilt until she was drowning in them. But she was glad that the truth was finally coming to light, no matter how unexpected it was.

“I wanted to, Az, trust me. But I didn't know how, and… a part of me hoped you'd want me regardless of the bond.” Y/N sighed and she shook her head, as if to chase away her thoughts. “But the war started soon after that, and everything happened, and I just… I shut everything out. Even the bond.”

“Y/N.” He closed the space between them and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes were soft, his tone gentle. “I've wanted you for a long time. Long before I even knew you were my mate.”

She hadn't seen that coming. Azriel wanted her? And he had for a while, apparently. “Why didn't you say anything then?” she questioned without even trying to hide her surprise.

“Because I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship.” The vulnerability in his voice made her brace herself for what he might say next. “That you might not… love me the way I love you.”

Her heart was pounding and she could only stare into his eyes. He loved her. There'd been a time when hearing him say those three little words was everything she hoped for. But he didn’t think she loved him back. Well, she couldn't really blame him for it. Not after how she'd been acting lately.

Y/N let the wall she'd erected around the bond come down. She let her feelings flow toward Azriel’s end of it. She held back her pain and her guilt and her grief, but the love she'd pushed down and refused to acknowledge for months flooded the mating bond.

It was met halfway by Azriel’s love.

She shuddered at the intensity of it all. After all the time feeling barely anything, it was almost overwhelming. Y/N welcomed it in her soul and let it wrap around the broken pieces of her heart.

Azriel's smile was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. “Does that mean you will accept the bond?”

She nodded, smiling as well and holding his hands a bit tighter. “Of course I will,” she answered. “But not now. I want to get better first. To learn how to cope with all this guilt. And then I'll cook you anything you want.”

He seemed surprised and for a moment Y/N thought he might not understand her decision. But then he cupped her cheeks. “That's very wise,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You can take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way.”

She hugged him tightly, with no intention of letting him go anytime soon. New tears swelled up in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back this time.

She'd ignored her feelings for Azriel and their mating bond as an additional way to punish herself, but a part of her also believed she didn't deserve him after her failure. But now… maybe it had all been a huge mistake after all.

Azriel wrapped her in his arms and wings, his chin resting on the top of her head as his scent enveloped her. Night-chilled mist and cedar. As familiar as her own, if not more. It soothed her, made her feel safe. It was a beacon toward the light, toward home, after months lost in the darkness.

“You know, I should thank Rhys,” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Rhys?” Azriel pulled back to look down at her, confusion clear on his face and in his voice. “For what?”

“Well,” she started with a little shrug, “we all know you don't really need my help with the Illyrians. I'm kind of useless. And I doubt I'm here so I can train till I pass out.” She gave him an apologetic look before she went on. “I think Rhys sent me here because of you. Because he knew that if there was someone who could help me, it'd be you, Az.”

Azriel thought it over, but she could see he was inclined to believe it too. “Do you think he knows we're mates?”

Y/N frowned. “I don't know. I never told anyone.”

“Me neither.” He shook his head. “But you're right. We'll thank him when we go back to Velaris.”

“Hopefully soon,” she muttered with a sigh. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Azriel caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “They'll forgive you, Y/N. What matters to them is that you get better. I can promise you that.”

It was her turn to bring her hands up to his cheeks and gently cup them. She was so grateful to have him at her side. “I'm glad it's you,” she said, her voice soft. “I'm glad you're my mate, Az.”

His smile lit up his whole face. He slowly leaned in, and she held her breath as he brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't exactly a kiss, more like the promise of one, but it was enough to leave behind a tingling sensation when he pulled back.

“And I'm glad you are mine, Y/N,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “But now you should really eat something. Go take a bath, maybe, and food will be ready when you come back.”

Y/N chuckled as she took a step back. “That's why you didn't kiss me? Because I stink?”

Azriel's eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed again. He looked relieved that she was trying to joke. It was a step toward getting back to her usual self.

“I did not say you stink. But you've been training all day and you're all sweaty,” he answered, continuing before she could reply. “And I didn't kiss you because I know that if I start… I might never want to stop.”

She studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed. “I'm not sure I believe you, but that's a better reason for sure.” Y/N left a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

Azriel was already shaking his head. “You don't have to thank me. Not for helping you. I'll always do it gladly.”

“And that's exactly why I'm thanking you, Az.” She smiled, brushing his hand while she turned to walk out and toward the bathroom.

The path ahead might be full of obstacles and setbacks, and she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could wake up tomorrow without feeling guilty, but she had Azriel to help her now. The rest of her family as well, once she apologized and explained why she'd shut them out.

More importantly, she was willing to let them help and to heal. She was tired of feeling this way and wanted to get better. For her own wellbeing, sure, but also to give Azriel the best version of herself because he deserved no less than that.

And when she was ready, she'd accept the mating bond and they'd start their life together.

[duncan-rohanne]

i've seen this thought circling around of twitter and here, in different variations, but it's still the same: don't hate alicent, she isn't a traitor, she doesn't try to have anyone actively killed. she just hates war, is desperate and doesn't know what to do.

ok, i get what you are saying but you are missing the point that she should know better. even if i completely forget book!alicent, who is totally different character, at this point, show!alicent should know that this entire trip to rhaenyra is pointless. nor aegon or aemond would bend their knees. aegon because he is convinced that rhaenyra killed his son and aemond because he just doesn't feel like it. and she also knows that rhaenyra cannot let any of her sons live. she currently raised army of bastards, which alicent knows about, all with dragons and possible claims to the throne. jace himself is a bastard and again - everyone knows! alicent's "you are challenge, aegon, just by living and breathing!" wasn't hyperbole. aegon, aemond and daeron all have to die for rhaenyra to win. otto, criston and gwayne would stand trial for treason and (at best!!!!!!!) they'd be send to the wall. alicent knows all of this, she doesn't let us forget how skilled in ruling she is when viserys was incapable.

(most) people don't hate alicent because now she is some kind of evil traitor. they hate that condal wrote her to be stupid. in her years of living in the court and mingling with royalty, being the queen, the queen mother etc. she has no business to be naive. she is acting reckless, stupid and foolish and those are not alicent's character traits.

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being An Assassin Who Joins The team

A/N: I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA :D I have so many ideas attached to it, so many posts brewing, so I really hope you like it!!! I kinda think of it similar to Red Room from MCU and also the Aunts from The Handmaid's Tale, if that makes any sense lol. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher likes you. He sees the emotion you evoke from the rest of the team and he thinks you're a perfect fit. You're not sure what to think of him. If he was one of your siblings, he wouldn't have lasted long. Selfish, arrogant, self-righteous. That's the kind of thing that got you punished, that got you killed. Beneath it though, to a degree, you can tell he really cares for everyone. It might be twisted and warped and at this point unrecognizable, but it was there. He enjoys hearing about your kills, especially when it was Supes. You weren't just good at what you did, you were the best. You were creative, too. Imaginative. He brags to you about killing Translucent, how they did it. You're not terribly impressed, but for his benefit you put on a show. You're a little weird, but he likes that. You're except in some areas (like going undercover) and mediocre in others (like figuring out how to befriend Hughie). He doesn't judge what you've done. It's just how you were raised. He tries to do a background check on you, but there's nothing. The name your mentors gave you wasn't the one your parents, if there even were parents, gave you. You were a blank slate. It was both riveting and terribly dangerous.

Hughie has the most questions. He can see just from your appearance, all the scars on your face and neck, all the ones he can't see, that you've been to hell and back. You hold yourself rigid, tight. Even when you seem relaxed you aren't. You're constantly looking for the nearest exit or weapon, scanning every room you walk into. It spooks him a little. He lets his imagination get the better of him, something he knows he shouldn't do, but just can't help it. You like Hughie instantly. And not just because he's too awkward and frail to get in a proper punch, too soft to ever truly hurt you. He seems sweet, naive, like he needs protecting. He reminds you of the kids in the program who didn't make it. You protected them, too. Or, at least tried to. You're as friendly as you let yourself, taking an interest in whatever he's doing, becoming his shadow. Everyone takes notice, but he doesn't seem to mind. He likes your company. The rest of the team hopes you'll open up to him, tell him what you won't tell everyone else, but he refuses to pry. If you talk, that's great. If not, oh well. If you want to hang out by his side, that works too.

Annie has nothing against you, but you definitely keep your distance, especially at first. You've killed more than enough Supes to prove your competency, more than you can name. You're not sure what they tell each other, but you imagine it similar to the system you grew up with: word spread quickly, you all felt it when one of your own were killed. There was an alliance that went unsaid. If you could avenge your fallen siblings, you would. If she found out who you killed, how many, would she come after you? Eventually you learn they're not all connected like that, that Annie's on your side. Still, you kind of see her as the embodiment of everything you're not. She's sweet, caring, and honest. You've been lying all your life, you can't tell what's real and what isn't. Hughie likes her, loves her, so that definitely helps in developing your relationship. Annie knows about your past, what little you share of it, but she doesn't judge. Maybe, at a time, she would have, but after being part of The Boys so long, that kind of thing kind of loses its shock power. You did what you had to, what you were trained to. Weren't you all guilty of a version of that?

M.M., similar to his initial feelings about Kimiko, isn't too fond of you. He doesn't mean to judge as harshly as he does, but just by the looks of you, you mean trouble. Hughie tries to talk to him, but he just can't get past your quirks. You're so naive about certain things (what music you like to listen to, shows you've never seen, how to form normal friendships, what jokes are funny) and so knowledgeable about other things (the fastest way to bleed out a man, how to make a murder look like a suicide, the amount of languages you were taught to better go after your targets). It just doesn't sit right with him. Knowing this, sensing this, you keep your distance, knowing not to further upset him similar to how your mentors were. Be invisible to him, them. It isn't until you give him sound advice for protecting Monique and Janine, something he never would have thought of, does he reconsider his feelings. He's still not a big fan, but he can see why you belong on the team, why your skills are beneficial, even if some of the stuff you say so lightly gives him the heebie jeebies, like the time you reminisced about killing someone with just a wooden spoon.

Frenchie doesn't really see you as an assassin. They've all killed people, it didn't seem like such a big deal. He doesn't love the idea of you being around Kimiko. She's made a life for herself beyond what she's gone through. It feels like you're still learning how to be without it. Without your mentors, your siblings. He knows there's no one better to give you a chance than him, so he's very open, inviting. You talk to him exclusively in French. You tell him small parts of your past, and he's grateful for that. In return, he tells you about his own childhood. When he shares the scars from his father, you tell him about the ones on your face and neck, how you deserved them for disobedience. He doesn't tell anyone else, knowing it was only meant for him to hear. You even speak affectionately about your mentors, the ones who were kind and only hurt you when you needed it. He wasn't shocked, at least not outwardly, not wanting you to feel strange or odd. Because you don't speak French with an accent, it's hard for him to decipher where you're from. All over, you say, and though you know it's a non-answer, it's the truth. You've been all over the world. You just happened to end up in New York.

Kimiko becomes your friend immediately. Though you gravitate towards Hughie because he's sweet, you like Kimiko because you can tell you're very similar. She doesn't have to say anything, you just know. You recognize the signs. The rest of the team doesn't think it's a great idea, you are alone with her, namely Frenchie. When you aren't cold and standoffish, you're far too casual about what you've done, pointing to old movies with famous Supes back in the day or old politicians, reminiscing how you killed them, made it look like a suicide. Or you talk about growing up, how you were punished for crying even when your friends were killed, pointing out the scars they left. She's not upset by it, she's glad you're talking about it. It makes her upbringing feel normal. You learn sign language quickly, another language you can add to your list, telling her more than anyone else. In return you listen to her, whatever she wants to share, grateful for someone who doesn't look at you like a monster or a freak. You like listening to her go on about Frenchie, her feelings for him. It's a piece of childhood you never got to take part in. It's nice.

[i-cant-sing]

I'm not sure what I want to write about but I have this very overwhelmingly strong urge to write about Platonic Yandere Gojo Saturo x teen/adult reader. And not like just light fluff, I'm talking about unhinged yandere Gojo- the one from the latest panels where he was fighting with Sukuna- that Gojo.

Like that Gojo just radiates "buffed up cool dad finally puts his foot down and is now actually low key scary".

Hmm, I mean I could see unhinged Shibuya arc Gojo just going absolutely feral as he drags you away from Toji (your dad) and begins to actively kill him, no matter how much you beg and grovel to spare your father's life. How you can't bare to see your dad taken from you again.

But Gojo? Nah, he doesn't care. He was serious when he took you in (kidnapped u from Naoya/Zenin Clan) and told u that he'll be the father you need.

And he doesn't even have any qualms about knocking you out either, he doesn't need u interfering mid battle and getting injured in the process. He might even hand u over to Yuta and others and cheerfully threaten them to keep you safe while he obliterates Toji, because yes Gojo is 100000% jealous of Toji and you bonding/being closer to each other than u are with Gojo. How fucing dare you??? Does he need to do the speech again?

"Through heavens and earth, I alone am tge honored one" or whatever 🙄🙄🙄

OR OR OR

Listen to me- Romantic yandere UNHINGED Gojo with reader who'd been selected by his clan, trained and raised by them for you to be Gojo's bride. Obviously, growing up Gojo was like "yeahhh, you're not good enough for me" and well treated her like absolute trash (he insulted her) which them lead the clan to be even more harsh on you because why the hell are you still not able to seduce Gojo????? So, basically poor reader is just being absolutely miserable throughout her life until one day the Gojo Clan is finally like "Alright, we gave it our best and Saturo still doesn't like u, so you can work as a maid in our house" and like instantaneously her life turns much better now that she doesn't have the pressure to be the trophy wife/heir producer for Gojo, and reader now can even leave the house to run errands.

But then Gojo notices that there is one less person who was constantly fawning over him, vying for his attention, and he's trying to figure it out who it is when he realises its you! And when he asks his clan about you, they tell him that they demoted u to a servant instead of future Mrs Gojo and Saturo is like "hm. Okay." And it doesn't exactly hit him how much this affected him until he saw you giggling away with some man.

He doesn't react immeadiately, still treating you like you're just nonexistent to him, but deep down, it eats him up the way you were touching that man's arm, the way you looked at him like he hung the stars for you.

Why tf weren't you like this with him?

Whatever. You're just... so beneath him. Why even bother thinking about you?

And then Shibuya arc happens. This man gets trapped in the prison realm and most of his thoughts are occupied by you, and how after be defeats Sukuna and the gang, he's gonna date you and you'll be touching his arm, looking at him with goo goo eyes.

Except when he comes out, for whatever fucking reason, you're fucking clinging onto some guys shoulders, acting like you're a damsel in distress, and if things weren't worse before, they certainly were when you kissed the man in front of him (okay but like u didn't know Gojo was watching u two. Like you were with your man in alley, kissing and hugging each ither lovingly after just barely escaping death from curses and then mf Gojo is just hovering in the sky above you)

Of course, now it's instantaneous death for your man, and then Gojo is just dragging you screaming and crying, and you're like "WHY? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??" And Gojo very cheerfully tells you, as if he still wasn't covered in blood from your man-

"I don't want my wife-to-be cheating on me."

Like whoa! Where tf did that came from???? And you're all like "What are u talking about??? Your clan ended our relationship- if you could even call it that?? Besides, you're the one who always said that we're not compatible because I'm beneath you."

And Gojo doesn't even bat an eye, as he goes "doesn't matter. You were born for me. You were made for me to marry, play with, discard, do as I please. So don't you ever even look at another man again, or I will be the one to rip your eyes out." And you know that he's capable of doing that after u just witnessed the live demonstration of your man being murdered.

Anyways, jealous Gojo, be it romantic or platonic, is dangerous unhinged Gojo.

Look at him, the tiny waist, the Toji Fushiguro fit.

[jewish-vents]

I was adopted by Jewish people and converted to Judaism when I was a teenager. The morality Judaism offers has guided me through navigating my personality disorder, my severe alexithymia, my impaired judgment and my bouts of irrational paranoia. My original family lost custody of me because they beat me senseless, starved me, burned me, broke my bones and actually killed my sister by beating her to death. My girlfriend, a goy, texted me images of alleged victims of the IDF that a single reverse Google image search would have showed her are victims of US military intervention in Syria. And she honestly said, "Sometimes I think it would be better if you hadn't been adopted so you weren't technically sort of part of Israel."

I've never been to Israel but I have been up all night and now, as the dawn breaks, I've come to the conclusion I need to cut her out of my life. My whole life I've struggled with outbursts of anger, it's a part of most Cluster B personality disorders. When she said that I wasn't angry. I felt hollowed out. It feels like she ripped the personhood out of me. Because if you care about a person's well-being, you would never, EVER look at them and go, "I think it would be better if you had stayed with literal child murderers rather than be Jewish, which I am going to conflate not just with Israel but with the image of the IDF spread online". I can't be angry because it's so cruel I can't wrap my mind around it. It seems unreal. I kept checking for hours, convinced I must be having a break from reality because of the stress. I kept thinking it must be a visual hallucination. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this is going to be a very strange dream.

I know breaking up with her is going to hurt her very badly no matter how nicely I do it. We've been dating a very long time. But I want to have kids someday and I can't do it with a woman who would rather I be dead than be Jewish. I'm not a guy who does the whole "my partner's beliefs have to match mine" thing but I can't raise Jewish children with her. I can't even trust her to see me clearly.

It's taking everything in my power not to say anything to her until I can calm down enough to approach this from a stable place. In my entire life, I don't think a single thing someone has said has ever messed me up so profoundly in my life.

I'm sorry I'm rambling. I can feel that I'm all over the place. Feel free not to publish this if it's too long. I can't imagine how much stress running this blog is. You probably get a bunch of hate and garbage on top of the already hard job of reading everyone's pain. I hope you're taking care of yourself. Thank you for running this blog.

I'm so sorry for all of that. I think you're making the right decision to cut her out. It's very reasonable to worry about how she might treat any children you have in the future, but that was also an indefensibly cruel thing to say to you.

Breaking up might hurt her, but that isn't your fault. You need to take care of yourself. -🐞

[cenorii]

Reasons

Hi, today let's discuss some interesting and short topics related to Chris and Wesker. Their relationship and a bit of biology.

Strange attitude towards Chris

We know that Chris has been diligently strengthening his body since the events of Code Veronica, in order to have something to counter Wesker. But he's still human, so no matter how much he tries to increase his physical strength, he can't stand up to Wesker if he's serious about killing him, it's logically useless. Of course, he wasn't the only reason for Chris's increased body mass, an additional motivation was the moment in Code Veronica when he didn't have the strength to kick down the door to save Claire.

Against Wesker any strength is useless (except for Alexia), just think of the final battle in the Lost in Nightmares DLC. No amount of physical strength and training helped Chris even scratch his opponent, let alone any attempt to fight back. The difference between the two is unrealistically huge, which raises the logical question... why is Chris still alive?

What's his attitude towards Chris anyway? Judging from their dialog in re1r, Wesker respects Chris's talents and has his hopes set on him, proud that he came out from under his captain's wing. It's the reason he didn't shoot Chris, wanting to show his best man his best creation (he also showed Jill Tyrant, but from the prism of their situation it looks more like bragging than a meeting of his two best creations). In Code Veronica they met again, and despite Wesker's open hatred for his former subordinate, he chose to demonstrate his power in front of him rather than kill Chris.

What emotions does a person feel when he wants to brag to someone he respects, but at the same time hates? I think Wesker has more respect for Chris than hate. He also wants to show him that he is now "better than he knew before" by trying to impress Chris a second time. He doesn't want to kill him because he's cocky and knows for a fact that the average person won't stop him.

The next encounter takes place in the Lost in Nightmares DLC, where Wesker is angry about information that offended his pride and crossed out everything he thought about himself. This time, when attacking Chris, he's driven by nothing but rage, so he doesn't think much about who's in front of him. Because of this, he might be contemplating breaking with his past, including Chris, so he's actually going to kill him. But he is interrupted, time passes and his emotions cool down, thanks to which the next time he meets Chris in re5 Wesker again doesn't plan to kill him. Chris is now his past, which he has accepted.

Instead of finishing what he planned and cutting off everything that reminds him of his fake past, Wesker decides to embrace the truth, including saving Jill's life and using her in his plans. He must have thought about Chris a lot and talked about him a lot, which you can tell from Excella, who said with disdain: "Chris Redfield" and Wesker at that moment turned away and smiled so that she could not see. He is either amused btw Excella reacts to Chris, or he is really secretly happy to show him his creation again but doesn't want to show his joy to Excella, whereupon he switches back to a serious tone of voice, provoking the woman to leave the room.

Their encounters in re5 don't look like a normal battle, because Wesker is able to kill both of his opponents (Sheva and Chris) completely unhindered just like he killed Spencer's guards in the mansion from the Lost in Nightmares DLC. But he doesn't because Chris has now found a new value to him. Redfield is an element of his past and an element of his present, integrating his personal growth processes and showing up at significant moments in his life. Therefore, as long as Wesker is confident that he will show Chris Uroboros, he will not seriously harm him. Only when his confidence crumbled did he become adamant about getting rid of the interfering element that now not only ruins his plans, but ruins his dreams, opposes his ideals, and negates what Wesker believes in. Chris is now not an accepted and valued past, but a judgmental eye looking straight into Wesker's soul. Someone who is the complete opposite of him. And since Wesker still respects Chris, because he only shows strength to those who are worthy (artbook quote), his opinion is valuable. But what if Chris's opinion differs from his and it can't be changed? The only thing left to do is to beat those views out of him.

Chris is a very important person to Wesker, despite the feelings of hatred he displays, which may also be the result of Wesker being confused about how long he let Chris live. That said, he is utterly helpless to kill this fragile man. He's too rare, valuable, special, the only one. And that brings out the tangled emotions in him. The fact that Chris is alive is absolutely no credit to Chris himself.

Height difference

When Wesker caused himself to overdose with Uroboros, his body increased in size due to the excess cellular material in his body. He is now about 230 cm. I'm sure the process is reversible, and when the virus in his body stabilizes from the overdose by properly fusing with his body, Wesker will return to his previous size. But what's funny is the very fact that because his body cells are unusual and able to regenerate, Wesker is able to react to the overdose with similar side effects. But if the effects were irreversible? That's interesting to think about.

Lack of a hand

If you follow the animations of Wesker's right hand on the volcano closely, you will notice that it moves as one continuous tentacle without bones. While the left one seems more static, and you can also see the arm model through the tentacles on the left arm. I examined its model and found out that the left hand does indeed have a full hand, even fingers, but the right hand is less fortunate - it's missing. In its place are tentacle bones. I realize this was done for ease of animation, but let's imagine for a second that the missing arm is an irreversible side effect, and now Wesker's arm will never come back. The tentacles will retract inside his body, but the arm will be missing and never regenerate. Oldsker without his right arm? Interesting.

[songsofadelaide]

"Oh, so the one percenter Officer Hibino and Captain Ashiro were childhood friends?"

You knew better than to partake in office gossip, but it was difficult not to hear things when everyone had been talking about the Third Division's new recruits. They say this year's crop is one of the best, and there was a prodigy in your midst, too, in the form of Director General Shinomiya's daughter, Kikoru. There was no doubt that the girl looked up to her as well.

It wasn't new hearing how many young bloods decided to join the Defense Force because of the cool and level-headed Captain Mina Ashiro, but her astronomical rise in rankings did not come as a surprise to many of the top brass. She had raw yet rough talent— the kind that had to be honed and sharpened like a blade meant to kill.

Ashiro was a genius. A diamond in the rough at first, but now a polished centrepiece of the crown that is the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force.

It's hard to believe now she once looked up to you as her senpai. She still does, but you just don't let it get to your head. While you were glad she overcame her exhaustion ever since Director General Shinomiya took a special interest in her and her abilities, there was no denying that something inside her snapped. She would still rest her head on your shoulder every once in a while when you occupied the baths, and you could find the semblance of her tender, younger self, her lips curved to a small smile at times before she eventually shook it off.

"Does it get tiring?" You once asked her as you sank into the warm baths yourself before the fatigue from today's training further settled in your bones. You could tell that a sigh wanted to leave her lips, but she shook her head instead. "It does, but... knowing everyone gets a night of restful sleep is worth it."

What frustrated you wasn't the fact that she overtook you. It was the fact that she had to be at the top all alone.

They called you a burning star. You reached your prime way too early and burned out fast— and eventually condemned yourself to a fate of mediocrity, never overcoming the wall that both saved you from crashing even deeper and slugged your growth.

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 47%

It was always the same result for the last few years. You try not to look crestfallen when you hear Okonogi encouraging you through your comms. It was no wonder you hit a dead end as a platoon leader. They say people your age should be more accomplished— perhaps a vice-captain... But you didn't dare aspire. Aspiring was for dreamers, and more ideally and realistically, for those just starting out in the force. Old-timers like you don't get to dream anymore.

"I'm not fooling anyone... It's been years since I had my shot at a promotion. I'm not getting any better, either..."

You didn't understand why you were so hung up on the whole thing, either. Ebina was content with how things were, or at least he tried to be... But you would both be lying to yourselves if you said outright that you didn't feel the least bit threatened by the rising stars of the Third Division.

On a particularly warm night, while everyone else was already at rest, you reflected on the events of the day on the base rooftop, your can of black coffee nearly drained as a sigh that gradually turned into a grumble escaped your lips.

"Hmm. Maybe I should consider that fox-faced Vice-Captain's joke and retire early. Even though I know he doesn't mean it... But 30 is way too late to get married, no matter how I look a—"

You were so deep into your self-loathing that you didn't notice the new recruit approach you with his own canned drink in hand. "What? Are you planning on getting married, Platoon Leader?"

"Gah! O-Officer Hibino! Where did you—"

"S-Sorry! I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just wanted to ponder a bit but I heard you, uh, talking," Kafka said with a crooked smile and hands raised in defence. "What're you saying, though? Don't you know how much skill it takes to raise your combat power to that level? Let alone maintain it..."

"Maintaining combat power is one thing, but not being able to grow any stronger is another. Every single one of the new recruits is eager to skyrocket to great heights. I'm sure you're no different, seeing as you want to... to stand next to the Captain if I heard you right the last time," you stated with a clenched fist, the coffee can only slightly crumpling in your hand. "Personally, I feel like I've... stopped growing a long time ago. Platoon Leader is all I'll ever achieve and I..."

I feel so pathetic.

"Does it really matter? Where you stand and all... Ranks are good and all, but I think carrying yourself with pride is more important," he answered you without missing a beat. There was a shine in his eyes you hadn't seen in a long time. "I know everyone calls you a burning star, but that's not what I heard from the Vice-Captain and Min— Captain Ashiro."

Hope.

"The Third Division stands because of its pillars, but cornerstones like you are important, too. The Captain referred to you as such," Kafka stated with the same crooked yet comforting smile. You've only had a handful of interactions with him, but you confirmed soon enough that he had a kindness that seemed to melt away your worries. "Besides, a burning star is still a star. It's still a dazzling celestial body, regardless of what people say about it, regardless of how burned out it is."

You had to admit that he was pretty cute, too. Then again, Tae would point out that you've always had a weakness for hard workers, so it was only a matter of time before your stupid crush was discovered— Who the hell does this guy think he is? Giving me hope, of all things.

He was a burning star, too, but he burned so bright that you couldn't look away. Maybe he wasn't a burning star. Maybe he was a beacon. Either way... A burning star is still a star. He said it himself.

"Don't retire just yet, Platoon Leader. You're a cornerstone, after all. The Captain needs you still. Besides, don't you want to see us new recruits storm the floor at missions?"

Hope was the last thing on your mind, but Kafka had an abundance of that shine in his eyes that made it hard to look away.

"Soshiro-kun was right about you," you said with a small smile closely followed by a sigh of defeat. "You're way too upbeat for someone who's only at 1%!"

— The Raid on Tachikawa Base

"Tell me something good, Konomi-chan. How's everyone else on the field at the moment?"

"Platoon Leader! You—"

You could sense the shock in Okonogi's voice even through your slightly garbled comms.

"Y-Your unleashed combat power is—!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 53%

While that wasn't exponential growth, that was still growth. The first of its kind you've had in years.

"A-Are you okay, Platoon Leader? Your heart rate is increasing!"

"I-I'm fine, Konomi-chan!" You stammered right back, an uncharacteristic flush on your face that your subordinates swiftly took notice of. They hardly had the chance to tease you about it when you groaned to yourself as you fiddled with your firearm. "What the hell am I getting all worked up for?..."

Your combat suit made you feel steamy all over, the heat reaching your joints anew. The surplus of power coursed through your every vein and fibre and made you surprisingly tactless. "I'm hardly at her level!"

Right from the start, you knew that you were competing with a monolith. A phantom from the past... and the present. Mina wasn't your competition. You made that clear to each other from the start. But when you remember the unusual smile that graced her face for a single moment when Kafka gatecrashed the Presentation of Enlistment Certificate Ceremony with that stupid declaration of his—

You were competing with the shadow of the Captain of the Third Division in this stupid thing called love, of all things!

The static in your comms cleared up, followed by Kafka's voice filling your ears, his tone both solid and encouraging, filling you with hope once more.

"Platoon Leader! Don't compare yourself to her! Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Just remember that you're Captain Ashiro's cornerstone! You cover for her in places she can't reach, right?!"

Static, again, before Okonogi sends out a command for your platoon.

"We'll need you on the field soon, Platoon Leader! On the Vice-Captain's order!"

UNLEASHED COMBAT POWER: 54%

"Let's get to work, then!" You declared to your subordinates with a smile that did not suit the situation. But seeing your improved numbers filled them with the same hope that theirs will rise, too. "How could I forget that burning star's still a star?"

[bugs1nmybrain]

sleeping beauty - L Lawliet x Fem!Reader Voyeur + Somnophilia Smut 🩵💤

Writer's Notes: Well. Yea

Word Count: 2839

18+ Minors Do Not Interact!

Warnings: Cringe title cuz I couldn't think of anything more clever, smut, female reader (she/her pronouns), voyeurism, masturbation (L), somnophilia, dub-con, dom L, ooc L?, L uses "my love" and "darling" and "lovely" (new one!) as pet names, unreciprocated kissing, PRAISE, established relationship, unprotected sex, not proofread yet

Dub-con explanation to avoid triggering: L watches reader sleep on surveillance cameras and jacks off to her, L touches and penetrates the reader in her sleep/while she is sleepy. She's not scared or feels violated, she knows it's L and wants him, but the lack of alertness and being drowsy makes the consent dubious.

L was bored.

There really wasn't much happening in his current case, at least not at the present moment. There were many things to do but with it being sleeping hours for the countries he was in contact with, getting any of his plans into fruition was going to have to wait until the morning. After all, it was 2 a.m. The only thing L could do was research. He had been keeping his alerts on all night, impending a new lead, but nothing turned up yet. He had been waiting for several hours. Still nothing.

So he sat at his monitors with a blueberry yogurt. He played with his food, swishing the spoon in and out of the yogurt for many seconds before finally taking a bite. He was getting tired of this boredom; it was killing him.

With nothing better to do, he figured it would be a good idea to check on you. He flicked around his computer screen and opened the tab to the camera in your room. You were often invited to L's room when you wanted, even if he didn't join you for bed. You chose your room tonight though.

When L saw your sleeping form, a strange calmness washed over him. What was it that caused this reaction he pondered? Was it as simple as that he loved you? Or maybe it was knowing that you were safe and secure under his supervision. You were lying there with only a snug tank top and panties, a poor excuse for pajamas L thought. It was easy to see how the shirt hugged your breasts and tummy even from the distance the camera was from you. And your panties were cute, frilly white and pink. The ones he bought for you.

He watched as you snuggled your pillow tight. You seemed lonely. Did you miss him? The thought of you craving his embrace and presence caused a peak of possessiveness in L. Or was it arousal? It was likely both, but L was more so distracted by the way you nuzzled your face in the pillow and grinded your groin on it, with your thighs wrapping around it. Oh, how cute you were.

You looked gorgeous. You always did, but you looked especially alluring tonight. So peaceful. He was grateful that he had more than one camera installed because he could see your drifting form from many angles like this.

L sat there and ate his yogurt while he watched you shamelessly. Your continued grinding and snuggling into the pillow was endearing, but then you let out that noise. Yes, he had wiretaps in there as well. You knew about the cameras and bugs; it was an agreed-upon condition.

L turned the volume down quicker than the speed of lightning to avoid anyone in the other rooms hearing his speakers, and just as quickly grabbed his headphones so that he could hear you much more clearly. Now he had full access to your voice. He was disappointed, though, because you weren't making any more sounds.

You turned to lay on your back, which was odd. L knew you didn't typically sleep that way, but he chalked it up to random occurrence. Though, the way your tits were shaping out into your tank top made him almost want to believe that you were doing this on purpose. Your shirt was raised over your stomach from ruffling around, showing the lower area of your stomach.

Uh-oh

L's attention averted only a little when he realized that his pants were becoming a bit tighter in the crotch. He looked down for a second to see his bulge in his pants. Instinctively, his thumb met his lip, but his gaze went back on you. You were now turned on your side, your round ass facing the camera. Fuck.

Without much thinking about it, L began to unbutton his pants. His cock wasn't fully erect yet, but it was starting to pulse, and was begging for some external stimulation. He pulled his slender, pale dick out from his underwear and stroked the entire length as he watched you in your slumber.

Yes! The noises came back. You whined and mewled in your sleep, hips squirming. L had a good hunch you were having a rather impure dream, which worked well for him. Your sounds were so beautiful. You were being so good for him.

His cock quickly grew to its full length as he stroked it in a timely rhythm. He played with himself as he watched you return to cuddling the pillow, and paid attention to your ass and crotch riving against it. Fuck.

It wasn't enough. You looked beautiful and he loved it. He loved you and seeing you like this. However, simply watching you toss and turn wasn't going to satisfy him. He needed to see you in person, to touch you, to fuck you.

L tucked his cock back in his jeans, though it still created a bulge from his erection. Why did you have to be many flights up the stairs? So inconvenient for him right now. He stood up, hunched as always, and made his way to the elevator. He waited impatiently as the elevator transported him up to your floor, yet when it reached it, he took his time walking toward your door.

L slowly turned the doorknob, making as little noise as humanly possible. When he shut the door, he turned his face to look at you. The sight of you made his heart leap in spike and his cock ache in agony. He stepped very slowly toward your bed, raising his head to see the entirety of your body. The curve between your waist and your hips was lovely and your skin looked glowing under the light of the moon from the window. He wanted to touch you instantly, but he held out for a moment.

He decided to just watch for a moment, but you weren't as antsy as you were before. Perhaps your dirty dream had been over by now. Just seeing you sleep, though, was enough to provide L with all the love hormones he needed. The rise and fall of your peaceful breath was soothing, and you even produced little sleepy sounds that didn't exactly snore, but they were cute regardless.

It was time to take action, he reasoned. L quietly made his way to prop himself beside you on the bed, and began running his delicate hands along your waist.

"Hmm.."

Your response made his cock twitch violently. Just from brief contact, you reacted beautifully to him. He raised his hand to stroke your messy hair out of your face. Your sleeping face was so adorable.

Impulse struck L and he acted on instinct. His face descended down to yours. He planted a very gentle kiss on your lips, relishing in their soft texture. Of course, you didn't kiss him back. Your lips curved into a lovely smile, but your eyes didn't open. Interesting, L thought. You have been exerting yourself in your responsibilities lately, so you were absolutely dozed off.

L made a bold move and gently moved your form from its side position to lie on your back. Your body instinctively tried to snuggle back into the fetal position, but L took your hands in his, circling your palm with his thumb. As he lied your hands down at your side, he trailed his hands up your thighs, relishing in their softness.

He knew that maybe this wasn't morally correct. You were asleep. But you responded so invitingly to his touch. You were so pretty like this. L lightly grazed his fingers along your panties and felt a dampness. He knew it! You must've been having a wet dream and were aroused yourself, though unconscious.

L stopped for a moment, calculating his next step. He didn't want to exactly fuck you while you had no knowledge of it. ..Or? Well, in more specific terms, he didn't want to hurt you, quite the contrary. Maybe it would make your dreams more pleasant. Would it make you sleep better? He didn't want to scare you though, and somnophilia wasn't something you two had really talked about before.

Conceding from his moral inhibitions, L trailed his fingers up your arms, hooking them around your spaghetti straps. He paused for a moment to observe your breathing, still heavy from sleeping. He begins to drag the straps down your arms, taking your top along with them. When the skin-tight fabric was removed from your breasts, L insisted that he could feel his heart pumping through his cock. You were always so pretty, so gorgeous, and all for him.

Your tits were so pretty and your nipples seemed flushed. Was it from your arousal?, L pondered. He slowly latched his lips on one of your nipples, tending to it gently before releasing and going to the other. Your body reacts to the stimulation and your hips drive forward while you give out a pleasured moan. L moves his head back quickly, startled by your reaction.

However, instead of being scared out of his next move, L recognizes that perhaps he could make you feel just as safe and cared about even while you were asleep like this. You shouldn't have to fear him, right? L takes the risk and begins trailing kisses along your chest and up your neck. He actually hoped it would wake you up, even for just a moment, so he could get some clearance from you. As if he hadn't already been kissing you unconsciously, undressing you, and sucking your tits.

With a heavy breath and a groan, you begin stretching your arms upwards. Your eyes open only slightly, and you're hit with confusion at first. Your vision was very blurry, and you could only make out blobs of color and shape. After halfway registering the texture of the lips that were kissing you and how their hair felt against your skin, your tension eased. You could tell it was only your lover by the way he was touching and kissing you; gentle, meticulous, and romantic.

"Mmmrr.." is all you could manage to say. You were very tired and groggy and could feel yourself already falling back to sleep. "..L?"

"What is it, my love?"

"I'm wet."

"I already know that. Do you need me to help you?"

"I'm.." you begin drifting but fight it. "I'm very..tired...but I..."

"Shhh...I know, lovely. I'll take care of you, alright? You just relax and look pretty for me, hm?"

You giggle sleepily and relax your head back as L continued to kiss your neck, "Mm..ye..yes..please.."

"Mm..of course, darling..."

L kissed your cheek tenderly, and then to your lips. You did what you could to kiss back, though it was very sloppy because of your drowsiness. You felt your pussy grow wetter as L stroked the side of your face while he kissed you, but soon his hand moved away from your face and down to a more intimate area.

Slowly, he removed your panties from your body. His brows (that weren't there) furrowed in arousal when he witnessed the slick fluid that strung out from the panties as he took them off your pussy. So wet already, and if that wasn't enough for him to tell, the clear, slick substance that glowed on your panties definitely was. "Silly girl, you're not supposed to sleep with underwear on", he thought.

L's fingers met your pussy, stroking up from your labia up to your achingly sensitive clitoris. Your juices were already coating his fingers. L firmly began to rub two pads of his fingers on your clitoris, wasting no time to circle around in perfect motion. Your body was already completely submitting to his touch. Your hips bucked against his hand, and thank god L knew how to adapt to your sudden movements because he kept fingering your clitoris as you squirmed for him. It felt so incredible with your body feeling intoxicated by all those feel-good emotions he was producing from you. As great as his fingers felt physically, the knowledge of his care and love for you without expecting anything in return made you infinitely more aroused.

Your clit was starting to feel the rolling sensation you were familiar with. "Already?" L snickered in his head. He couldn't feel what you were, but he noticed how your pussy was contracting and moving on his fingers. He knew these movements of the onset of your submission to pleasure.

"There we go..."

"Mmm!" The feeling was almost unbearable. Somehow being halfway asleep made this pleasure better. Perhaps it was the lack of autonomy over yourself in this moment? L kept rolling his fingers along your clit and you felt your orgasm on the verge of exploding.

"A-a-ah!"

"That's it. Don't hold back.." L cooed at you for comfort, though you weren't registering anything he said; they only sounded muffled.

Your clitoris erupts in pleasure and you begin thrusting your hips as your orgasm overtook you. L made sure to stimulate your clitoris for every moment of your orgasm, and you made the prettiest noises for him while he did so.

"Awhhhh~ hmm.."

"You're doing so well for me, lovely. Could I maybe feel how wet and warm you are for me? Would that be ok?"

"So wordy", you thought in your drowsy mind. You hummed in approval for him, much to his delight. L had been wanting to feel you for so long, but he had to make sure you were taken care of, too. Besides, you feel the best when you're properly ready for him.

L took off his pants and underwear, both attached as he did so. His cock was painfully hard and he winced when his fingers grazed it. He himself wasn't immune to overwhelming sensitivity. He adjusted into a position where he could see you as you moved to his thrusts, though it was still very much a branch of missionary.

He pulled your thighs closer and lifted your legs to wrap around him. He placed the tip of his cock before your vagina without inserting it and already felt the heat of your pussy at the touch. Finally, he pushed his cock inside of you, already sighing from only halfway in. L slowly began penetrating you in and out, rolling his hips to meet your G-spot inside.

((fun fact: the g-spot isn't an individual gland or part of the anatomy, it's actually an extension of the clitoris! I'm using the term "g-spot" for easier comprehension because I'm not teaching a sex education class; this is smut))

His long cock rubbed your sensitive sleeve so perfectly, and you somehow produce even sexier sounds than you did when he was focusing on you alone.

"Aawhh~"

"Mmm...you feel so incredible.."

His thrusts were deep and gentle. Not slow, per se, but calculated. It was as if he was trying to savor your pussy, which was true. His penis made slick sounds when it would enter and exited your wet, slobbery cunt. His dick and hands were the only sensations you could process right now, and they felt so good.

"Ah..L.."

"You're doing so good, baby."

L couldn't help his male instincts as his cock grew hungrier by the visual sensations in front of him. The way your lips parted slightly and how your tits would move to his thrusts made him leak. His thrusts become more eager and less restrained, desperate.

"Ah...you're such a pretty girl..so perfect..."

You whined adorably, making him begin to feel his own orgasm approaching. He holds your waist firmly to be able to control his thrusts better, pumping you full as you squealed for him.

"F-*sigh*-fuck. Y/N...I'm so close.."

His hips bucked against you as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. His cock throbbed inside of you for a few split seconds as he finally came inside of you, his own body losing its rigidity as he slumped forward. He rested his forehead on yours, panting with you in unison. You looked like you were on the verge of passing out. He almost felt bad, but he could tell by your pleasant face and relaxation that you enjoyed him making love to you, even if you weren't properly engaged for it.

He pulled out of you, needing to shake the extra seminal residue off of himself before he rested next to you. Messes like this typically bother L's need for cleanliness, but you were exhausted and he was sort of as well. So instead he wrapped his arms around you from behind and pulled you in to snuggle him. He hadn't slept for many days, he thought that maybe he could afford some slumber with you. He slept the soundest when you were with him, after all.

But as he started drifting off, he contemplated how the situation before would have been if the roles were reversed...

Requested tag: @graceful-disaster

[brucewaynehater101]

Breaking in because some months ago you posted an AU idea where Dick kills Batman before Damian arrives but imagine if Dick realized that Batman got so bad a child resorted to being brutalized because he thinks he's needed to fix him

So then Dick ends up killing Batman BEFORE Jason ever arrives, and disposes of the body in such a way, that trying to ressurect Bruce w/ Lazarus waters is pointless

There's two three four ways we can do this

a. Jason only learns of Batman dying after coming back to Gotham and before meeting the Batclan

b. Jason learns Batman died while still with the League, something that throws him, Thalia, Ra's, and whoever else for a loop

c. Jason doesn't even know Bruce is dead after getting to Gotham, and it takes time until he learns Dick is Batman

d. Jason and the League only knows of Batman being replaced or missing himself, and only later learn he's been found or announced dead

When the newest Red Hood tries to pull shit? Dick (the new Batman) has none of it as he is extrq protective of his Robins (Tim and Stephanie) after Jason died and Tim was abused

Now what to do w/ Bruce and Wayne Enterprises? I mean, Dick w/ Barbara and Tim's help can become the new patriarch and owner/CEO but there's also the fact that tjey need to navitage the chaos that is either Brucie Wayne dying or going missing qnd being qnnounced deqd unsuspiciously

There's also the idea that Dick (+any accomplices) would have to navigate relations with the Justice League whilst hiding his murder, and Gotham has to deal w/ the changes a new Batman introduces

Suddenly Batman is putting the wellbeing of the people, especially his kids, over justice and his ideals, and whether or not anybody suspects or knows this new Batman "took care" of the old one leaves a lot of potential for plotlines

Also Cassandra, if she still joins the Bats, has to grapple with the patriarch being a killer because the previous patriarch was an abuser

Gosh how will this affect Damian and how he's raised? How will the LOA respond to Bruce's death?

Oh yeah Jason, I can't imagine Dick would leave Joker alive either after what happened to Jason, especially if there was a Joker Junior incident

It's gonna be a mindfuck for he, he needs wanted for his father to prove himself as still being his dad, for Bruce to choose him over "The Right Thing To Do" even if Jason became something Batman would hate

Except Jason doesn't even get the closure of his father proving himself a failure of a father, because Bruce already failed as a father to Dick to such a degree that his reward was death

Jason doesn't know who his father is or would have beenanymore, just that Dick is to Tim, Stephanie and so on what Jay dad wasn't as he was in the League, training for an encounter that would never come

Ooh! But let's add on more, shall we?

I don't remember the og post you're referencing, but let's be mean to Dick :)

I like the many many possibilities for Jason you've listed out, but imma get specific on how Dick killed Bruce.

To be cruel, let it be an accident.

For the exact stage, perhaps the JJ incident still happened, but after Tim was Robin. Dick didn't find out about it because Bruce never informed him, and Dick was busy with Bludhaven and the Titans (it was another unfortunate timing for Dick).

About a year or so after the event, Tim is doing much better. He's been on the field for a bit and doesn't relapse as much (either into thinking he's JJ, Joker's his dad, or the laughing spells).

Joker captures Tim again and calls him "Junior." Dick has never seen Tim react the way he did to that name.

They have history. A bad one.

Bruce isn't surprised.

Bruce hid this from Dick.

The young adult has to take several breaths, but he holds his reservations. Maybe Bruce was respecting Tim's boundaries (yeah fucking right).

Fighting happens ya da ya da and Dick learns what Joker did to Tim.

He's fucking enraged. Joker has touched another sibling of his.

Then, the Joker and Tim are in a precarious position. Dick rushes to save Tim and barely manages to get him in time.

When Dick looks up, the Joker is perfectly fine. Nightwing feels his blood start to boil.

His baby brother almost slipped out of his grasp when he rushed as fast as he could to save him. Dick moved, without hesitation, to save Tim.

Batman would have had to move, without hesitation, to save Joker over saving Robin.

Batman put Joker's safety over Robin's.

The flip is instantaneous.

Nightwing starts pummeling the shit out of both Joker and Batman. Due to the element of surprise, Dick had the upper hand. He gets broken ribs and a concussion for his troubles, but Batman is beneath his fist taking the beating Nightwing is dealing out.

He never realizes Bruce has stopped breathing until he feels a hand on his elbow.

Tim's expression is grim as he focuses on Dick. The teen is heavily dissociating as he takes in the scene.

Tim's lips, when he glances down at Batman, start to tremble. He presses them together to try to keep a calm facade.

The teen closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out, nods to himself, and then opens them.

Bruce is dead. Joker is dead.

They've got work to do.

~~~

In this AU, Steph becomes Robin during Tim's recovery stage from JJ and after this incident. Tim takes a step back after helping Dick dismantle and hide Batman's body to consolidate Dick's position as Wayne heir, majority shareholder, and Batman. He works with Babs to aid Dick in these various transitions.

Lucius is the acting CEO, which takes a huge load off of Dick's shoulders.

Dick is obviously not doing fine about accidentally murdering his dad. At least he killed Joker too, though.

Tim's not doing great either, but it's fine. He eventually steps back into the cape. Steph and him like to play pranks on Gotham. They both vehemently deny that there's two Robins running around at the same time.

I don't think Alfred would stick around after they murdered and covered up the murder of Bruce :/ I wish he would, but maybe he takes a nice retirement in England.

Babs, Tim, and Dick are good at covering their tracks. There's rumors that the new Batman killed the old one, but there's also rumors that he eats people.

The LoA don't know who killed Bruce, but they know he's dead. Tim and Dick still grieve him (feelings are fun like that), so they aren't on the suspect list.

Red Hood shows up demanding answers.

Batman (Dick) confirms that he *will* put his family first. Always.

[lowkeycasanova]

you ain't my boyfriend, i ain't your girlfriend

Based on the song "Boyfriend" by Ariana Grande & Social House

masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Do you think anyone in the friend group is dating?” Lydia inquired while you threw on an oversized shirt over your swimsuit.

You raised a brow. “I mean, Jett and Samantha.”

“I already know about them.”

"Well...no? Why?" you asked.

"I don't know why, but I feel like Vinnie and Julia have something going on."

That got your attention.

"Huh?"

"I mean, I could be wrong. I just see them together a lot it seems, so I wondered." She shrugged.

"Well-" you started. "They haven't even known each other that long."

"True. Just a thought."

You both went from your spot in the guest room across the hallway to Vinnie's room to call him downstairs.

Upon arriving, you hear laughing from two people. You didn't think anything of it until you saw Vinnie and Julia side by side on the bed, him showing her a something on his phone and she's the main one laughing.

"Hey!" Lydia greeted. "We were just trying to get everyone downstairs. Jett is firing up the grill as we speak."

"Cool, I'm sure my sister is looking for me anyways." Julia stated and got up from the foot of the bed."

She made eye contact with you and you gave her a closed mouth smile. She walked away with a little attitude in her hips and you felt your chest twist up when you saw Vinnie's eyes follow her out the room.

Why would Lydia put that thought in your head? If you hadn't already disliked the idea of them together, you surely did now.

Vinnie followed you both downstairs. Jack had planned a get together with all the friends... just because. There was even a water slide in the backyard.

These people could be so extra, but they were fun regardless.

You mingled around, talking to friends and saying hello to any new people. Every once in a while, you'd see Julia standing next to Vinnie, recording him for whatever reason. You felt yourself getting hot and didn't even realized you eyed her up and down until after.

Anyways.

A few minutes later, you met up with Evan in the backyard by the pool, a friend you met through Vinnie, but didn't know all too well yet.

"Hey!" you greeted him and brought him into a hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been good." he smiled.

"You just had a birthday right?"

"Yeah!" he smiled wider like he was happy you remembered.

"Well happy belated." you said and gave him another hug. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"Thanks. It's cool though." he hugged you back.

You two began to catch up on things that recently happened in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Which was a while ago. He's so nice and easy to talk to. You wonder why you never really talked that much to each other before.

What you didn't know, was that Vinnie was observing the entire interaction.

He was sitting on top of the table a few feet away, talking to Jordan when seeing you with Evan started to distract him. He was looking past Jordan and subtly leaning forward to get a better look, nearly missing every other word he was saying but trying not to seem obvious.

(Refer to the picture I used)

And if looks could kill, Evan would be done for.

****

You were in the kitchen sipping on your drink when Vinnie approached you, and leaned against the counter with his arms causally across his chest.

“Hey.”

You gave him a nod back.

"What are you doing over here by yourself?"

"Got me a drink." you gestured to your glass. Sometimes you got so nervous around him that you couldn't even look him in the eye.

Vinnie glances over at the people in his line of sight and he gets a glimpse of Evan walking across the room.

"There go your boyfriend." he uttered, trying to hide that proud smirk on his face knowing he probably hit a nerve.

"Huh?" you quickly turned in his direction.

He dipped his head down by your ear and you swore you could feel his lips graze it. "Evan." he simply stated as if he wasn't annoyed by the idea.

You hated how cheeky he was being. You heard him perfectly fine.

"We're not dating." you revealed in defense.

"Well it's obvious that he wants to hit. It's embarrassing actually."

You rolled your eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Then you remembered a someone who'd been by Vinnie's side since she got here.

"Why are you talking about me? What about you and Julia?"

Now it was his turn to get defensive.

"Me and Julia?? Who told you that?"

"A little birdie told me." you shrugged.

"We don't have anything going on. I mean, she's cool and all but I don't know her like that. And she's more of Payton's friend than mine."

"Hmm," you said in response as if you weren't convinced.

Vinnie scoffed. "Whatever. It's not like you and I are dating anyway."

"Yeah, so lets just drop it." you agreed.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good."

He was about to say something else but your stubborn ass wasn't about to let him have the last word.

You finished your drink in one swing before stating, "excuse me" as you put the glass to his chest and he grabbed in on instinct to not let it fall as you let go of it before making your way to the backyard again.

You both smirked behind each other's backs as the bickering made you like each other even more.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 12/8

@williamjakespeare asked: One of the recent posts concludes that the circumstances around Vriska's god tiering were "so much worse than anything I thought was going to happen" and I'm curious. What exactly did you think was going to happen?

Back before I knew how God Tier ascension worked, my theory was that Vriska's Quest Bed might grant her access to a special dream moon, and that Tavros's presence there might throw some sort of spanner into the works. I wasn't sure what kind of spanner, and my theories were very vague.

Vriska's a huge taskmaster, and I thought she might have given him an instruction that he was unwilling or unable to carry out. Like, maybe she told him to leave her God Tier Moon, and he was unwilling to abandon her to a fate he didn't understand.

I guess I was right. In the end, she did give him an instruction he couldn't carry out.

Anonymous asked: For the kid who was the most vocal about her 'distaste' for their guardian, having Mom be the reason that Rose snaps is actually very sweet, in a sad way. ~DJ

The above line from Rose implies that she had a lot more affection for her mother than she was letting on.

Their relationship was complicated, but if Rose viewed her as a sister, I think there had to have been some camaraderie between the two. We just never saw it on-panel, because the narrative began on the most stressful day of Mom Lalonde's life.

@elkian asked: So, fun fact about that time John joked about rescuing Rose from the Broodfesther Throes and you were going "yes it's a joke BUT IT'S ALSO SERIOUS JOHN!!!": Hussie's author note for that page is almost verbatim your reaction. Homestuck is as serious as it is silly and typically both at once.

Every time Hussie and I share the same thought, a subtle chill runs down my spine.

@gl1tchypyr0 asked: In regards to the thing about LOWAA potentially corrupting Eridan, itd be a little smart to remember what Sollux said in his conversation with Terezi about a prophet has to go blind to earn their stripes or how an angel earns its wings, Sollux states that 'angels are terrible feathery demons that paradox space uses to usher in the end' and Eridan was actually killing them even if he wasn't Supposed to. If you really think about it I actually kinda find it sad? If he was already a troubled individual Before Sgrub and then was on a planet of 'terrible feathery demons' that whisper prophecies in his earfins for an entire month that he was made to feel he Had to kill, honestly it makes me nervous imagining just how many doomed timelines there are where Eridan snapped far earlier. Not to mention the fact he's also on the Blue Team ie Derse players ie most susceptible to waking up in his sleep and seeing tentacles and eyeballs staring back at him (not that he wouldn't be /used to that/ back on alternia with his job of feeding glybgolyb so Feferi wouldn't have to). Not really defending eridan but just, food for thought kinda? About how LOWAA might have affected him enough for Doc Scratch to bring up such a hypothetical. The idea that Eridan was already pretty bad before the inevitable Sgrub trauma and then LOWAA made thinks /worse/.

Oh, don't get it twisted - Eridan's just as much of tragedy as any of the other trolls. He's certainly written to be less sympathetic, but he didn't deserve to be raised in the Alternian Empire. Just like Vriska and Equius, he could have been a much better person, if only he was raised in a less violent and oppressive culture.

Of course, he could still be an asshole if he was born on Earth - but at least he'd have a chance to be better. Alternia stacks the deck against you in ways that simply aren't fair.

@galaxa-13 asked: It is very satisfying watching you pick apart everything Doc Scratch says without playing his game. Rose wishes she could, but unfortunately she is a child and not as smart as she pretends to be. Usually it's fun to watch people theorize because of what they don't know, so it's extra fun when someone as smart as you doesn't have the pieces I already do. Just chortling to myself, "Oh ho ho, just you wait!" @elkian asked: I may have sent this before but I ADORE your Doc Scratch dissertations. What few liveblogs (and fandom during/after the run) I've followed have other strengths and focuses, so these moments where you stop everything to shred his dialogue to see if fhere's even a GRAIN of truth are novel and absolutely fascinating. I think you've done the most thorough analyses of any 1 of his convos let alone all of them and I'm here for it. Rip that shady motherfucker apart! :D

Despite myself, I am enjoying puzzling out the true meaning of what he says. I've just got to remember that he is fully capable of lying.

I do think, on balance, that there is some hidden meaning to his words - it's just hard to find. His '50% chance of ascending' statement is definitely foreshadowing something, I just can't figure out what. I think it has something to do with the reboot session, but I'm waiting to learn more about the reboot before I really start theorizing about it.

Anonymous asked: In case the 7 Gates haven’t been fully explained yet — the Gates over a player’s house are all either entry (transport to somewhere on their planet) or exit (destination of a gate on the planet of the previous player in the chain). Using John as example: Build to gate 1, which takes him somewhere on LOWAS. Find gate 2 elsewhere on LOWAS, this will take him to the matching gate over Rose’s house — build up to her gate 3, which will lead to somewhere on LOLAR, then find the planet’s gate 4, etc.

Here's my old interpretation of the Gate system, from way back in Act 4. I'm fully in agreement with you about John's path here - the problem is that when you use it to extrapolate Rose's path, things start to fall apart.

See, this ordering method implies that in a four-player chain, your own Seventh Gate is located on the Land preceding yours, rather than your own. This means that Rose's Seventh Gate is the one that got John killed on LOWAS - the one which leads to his Denizen. It additionally implies that John's Seventh Gate should have been on Jade's Land instead. It's all very confusing.

Anonymous asked: Something I love about how this god-tier immortality system is described, however it works, is that "remaining neutral" will PROBABLY keep you alive… but when you think about it, remaining neutral means not making a REAL DIFFERENCE. As a God, if you want to make a difference in the world around you -- good or bad -- you have to be willing to stake your life on it.

True! It's an interesting balancing mechanism, where each God Tier has to decide whether their life is more valuable than their personal agency. Gods who avoid Heroic and Just situations are almost invincible, but they're also completely ineffectual.

I'd obviously try to game the system somehow, but the vague, subjective definitions of Heroic and Just make this a difficult system to game.

@spyril4132 asked: with the reveal of the heroic-just system, there's now a reason you might not want to god tier immediately: sacrificing one of your selves for a heroic cause and then doing what aradia did (but intentionally)

Good point. Although, I'm not sure I'd want to rely on the Quest Slab for my resurrection - at least, not yet. We don't really know the rules are, and how they differ from normal Quest Bed rules.

Anonymous asked: "I don't really care if Paradox Space sanctions his actions - he needs to be taken down, and if that upsets the natural order, then it's time for a new natural order." i think you for sure lean more lifeways on the life/doom player axis lol. oh, the laws of the multiverse say death is inevitable? well, that fucking sucks and i hate it, so i'm gonna wedge myself into the cracks and loopholes and *make* it evitable one day at a goddamn time, life finds a way motherfucker.

Life finds a way, motherfucker!

I actually find both Life and Doom fairly interesting, as Aspects go. I think, at this point, I'm committed to giving one to my kidsona, and the other to my trollsona.

If another Aspect ends up catching my eye, we'll have to start workshopping a Carapaciansona!

Anonymous asked: I think you got it kinda twisted what's going on with Rose. Yes she is slightly corrupted by the Horrorterrors powers/boons and Scratch's… Sheer Existence. But in her mind, she's doing this to Save her session, so if she does go God Tier and gets killed, her death wouldn't be Just, it would probably be Heroic. As she probably would've died tryong to save her session, which would cancel out the corruption from Scratch and Horrorterrors. Either way she still dies, but it's the difference in Why she dies that's important. […]

See, this is the whole problem, isn't it? These terms are incredibly subjective.

I personally think Rose's attempt to save her session is extremely Heroic - but Skaia couldn't possibly approve of her assault on the game, so I don't think it would cancel out her Horrorterror corruption. Sburb itself is probably the last word on what qualifies as a Just death, so I think that's what she'd get tagged as, if she died as a God Tier in the Green Sun's explosion.

I'm also not sure if getting tagged as Heroic would cancel out a Just tag. They're not necessarily opposites - Vriska, for example, is designed to have a controversial alignment, and could easily die in a way that counts as both.

@ben-guy asked: Small correction, you referred to the Alternian empire as "intergalactic" when it only exists within one galaxy as far as I'm aware. Yes, kind of a silly nitpick, and one that I could be wrong about, but I happen to enjoy thinking about the comparative scale of space faring societies lol. If there is a quote contradicting that, I'd like to see it! Pretty sure it's merely a galactic empire tho :)

Nah, that's fair - that's the kind of nitpick I'd point out, too.

Galaxy, singular. I think I parsed the Empire as intergalactic because massively faster-than-light travel is clearly possible in this setting, via time manipulation. We don't actually know if Alternia had access to time manipulation before Sgrub - but Earth seemingly did, so who knows?

@abacusdictator asked: Found your liveblog a few days ago and furiously binged it. Happy to find another Homestuck liveblog! Especially one I can see happen in-progress! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

Thanks - and you're certainly coming in at an interesting time!

Anonymous asked: Scratch "chooses not to lie," but he also has the privileged position of knowing in advance that Rose will misunderstand what the Scratch is, leading to her doing what he wants. If he knew that not lying wouldn't get him what he wants, or even if he didn't know for certain that it would, would he lie? If so, that basically means it's pointless to try to figure out his true meanings, because if you succeed, he'll have retroactively lied about it anyway.

Yeah, this is pretty much my take.

Does it really matter if he 'doesn't lie' if he can foresee all the truths that will mislead you? When you're playing at his level, the actual truth of your statements barely matters.

@skelekingfeddy asked: to my knowledge this has never been commented on by hussie, but i feel like doc scratch doesnt lie in part because he was made from the cueball. its a fortune telling device that predicts the future with remarkable precision and accuracy. you wouldnt expect it to lie, would you? its just that the difference between scratch and the cueball is that he can pick and choose WHICH truths to reveal at which moments. (his penchant for jokes thus probably comes from cal (‘haa haa hee hee hoo hoo’) i feel like him never lying is also a way to feed his own ego. its a self-imposed(!!!!) restriction, and yet despite it he effortlessly plays everyone like fiddles. and he KNOWS it. he CHOOSES never to lie. he VOLUNTARILY hands the people he manipulates an advantage on a goddamn silver platter, and he STILL wins. ‘Isn't it funny how during our various matches, I can tell you what my moves will be in advance, and still win?’ hes so fucking smug. what a pompous dipshit. i love him Anonymous asked: I think that when Scratch say he don't lie, he mean it, and not because of some vilainous valor but out of sheer ego. Scratch is prideful, he love beating other by "playing with cards face up" and tricking them with exact word, he doesn't tell the truth because it's "honorable", he tell the truth because he doesn't need to lie to win.

Also, this. He's just a smug fuck.

Do we know for sure if the cueball is always truthful, actually? Scratch heavily implies it here, but he's only stating it as a hypothetical.

Anonymous asked: Scratch is like a fae, he doesn't lie but you better watch out how he word what he say.

I'd be so screwed against the fae. Not because I couldn't parse their statements, but because I'm only halfway competent with human social customs, let alone weird alien ones.

@manorinthewoods asked: Honestly, I think it's great for his character if Scratch is actually completely dead of emotion inside, possibly even thoughts, and is just near-mindlessly carrying out the necessary parts of his role in the story so that his desired outcome is achieved. He's omniscient, he doesn't need to think. On the other hand, he does seem to have experienced genuine emotion, on occasions… ~LOSS (24/7/24)

A pseudo-omniscient character, mindlessly following the optimal path to their ultimate goal? This smells suspiciously like a Certified Contessa Moment...

Anonymous asked: In the trolls game all the trolls got to see and speak to their lusi after they died because they put them in the sprites. Meaning Gamzees dad coming back wouldn’t get him sober. Ideally Gamzee would be able to interact with his dad way more then he ever had in the past because his dad now had to guid him as his sprite.

Fair point. Although, we know that prototyping tends to affect your personality, and shifts your priorities towards guiding your Player through the game.

Goatsprite's sprite knowledge might have informed him that Gamzee needed to be on Sopor Slime, or game would become unwinnable.

@heliotropopause asked: "Well, no! That’s the problem! The cueball’s omniscience is completely redundant, because the MEOW code already contains an omniscience gene! According to the Scratch loredump, any ‘intelligent’ host for the MEOW code will be granted near-omniscience. Scratch didn’t need the cueball," I think it's worth considering the what exactly he meant with that- it seems perfectly plausible that the teleportation-based powerset established for bequerel would make an intelligent agent very good at observation, either by physically hopping around, or by teleporting light around to see distant places, or by sending out telekinetic "feelers"; we know bec has the capability to separately manipulate individual objects in physical contact from afar. None of this would give him knowledge of the future, or of physically disjoint spaces like the human session, so the cueball is not at all redundant.

It's possible. See, this is another situation where we're really being hampered by our small sample size. We've only seen two First Guardians, and only one of them has been a 'standard' First Guardian, unaltered by HONK. As such, we don't really know how First Guardian clairvoyance is supposed to function.

Another Guardian with human-level intelligence is desperately needed, for science. It's almost enough to make me want the Scratched Guardian of Earth to be made from a human...

@manorinthewoods asked: As an alternative explanation for the double-omniscience problem, one could say that the cueball, in being used to create Scratch, retroactively and conceptually gained his omniscience - so effectively, any use of a cueball allows you to attune to Scratch's awareness (as long as he's alive, perhaps?). This would subsequently imply that First Guardians are all linked to their components - for instance, there would be some link between Bec and all dogs, or specifically Halley. ~LOSS (23/7/24)

As this ask points out, I might just be drawing the causal arrows in the wrong direction. If the cueball is omniscient because of Scratch, rather than the other way round, then there's really only one root cause for his clairvoyance.

I'm not sure why it would work like that, but I do like the idea of Colonel Sassacre running around the early 1900s with a suspiciously powerful dog.

@manorinthewoods asked: The link between 'Skaia's final gate of defense' and 'first to find Alternia' is something I just didn't notice (because I didn't really pay attention to the words and botched my experience by not watching the Flashes), but it would imply, to me, that the gates run in reverse order, Skaia to World - first meteor in, last meteor out. This would mean that the moon which dropped on Jade was the last meteor to hit […]Skaia. ~LOSS (23/7/24)

Hey, good catch!

Jade's meteor was the last to arrive on Earth. By this logic, wouldn't it have been the first thing to leave the session, rather than the last?

That makes a sort of sense, actually. A meteor this enormous would dwarf the entire Incipisphere, so the game would probably want it out of the picture as soon as possible.

@manorinthewoods asked: You seem to have run with the interpretation that all First Guardians run on the same fundamental genetic code, identical to MEOW but using different letters. Not really how I thought of it - I interpret that every FG's code is different, although I also didn't think too hard about the FGs. No reason that they'd necessarily all have to have the same genetic code - after all, Bec's a dog and Scratch's a Scratch. You'd only really need a single gene to code for Green Sun powers… ~LOSS (23/7/24)

It does say they share a genetic sequence, rather than an entire genome. Becquerel presumably contains some dog DNA - the 'host' - which is absent in Scratch, so their genome can't be identical.

Unlike Becquerel, Scratch's hosts were entirely synthetic. They didn't have DNA - which, to me, implies that his entire genome is just an amalgamation of the BR8K H34DS T1CK T0CK HONK sequences. His DNA is just the First Guardian sequence, plus whatever is in HONK.

...what the hell is in HONK, then? If it's DNA, it has to come from some living thing, and I have a horrible feeling that Gamzee spliced his own DNA into the sequence. Why else would he call it HONK?

@skelekingfeddy asked: ‘…the fucking bow-tie! He’s wearing Cal’s Alternian clothes! The proof’s been staring us in the face this entire time, and we were none the wiser!’ look at what regular cal is wearing underneath his blue ‘CAL’ shirt :)

My guy's been pulling the long con.

@morganwick asked: "#but now that i have an antimatter pellet I can feed it to my bees. they can create nuclear waste honey without all the fission rigmarole" Minecraft, Sollux style. (Or maybe Minecraft, Problem Sleuth style?)

Sollux would be a Productive Bees specialist, wouldn't he? That, alongside every computer mod in existence.

@elkian asked: Sorry if I'm the 80th person to mention this but Vriska's 8r8k could also refer to the act of shooting the cue ball at the group of pool balls at the start of a game, known as a "break". @ben-guy asked: Fun fact: In pool terms, the "8r8k" actually refers to the opening shot that sends all the balls flying everywhere. Additional fun fact: The game of pool has a history of being used as a metaphor for causality, which lends some interesting metaphorical weight to Doc Scratch as a cue ball.

Oh, that's true - pool balls are often used as an analogy when talking about causality. Surprising that that's never occurred to me before.

I like to think that when the Felt storm a rival gang's lair as a group, they call their maneuver The Break.

@manorinthewoods asked: Oh my god, Aradia uses Jack to go to the Green Sun. That's such a cool detail. It's so fast, I didn't even see it. To be fair, although the timing is ridiculously impressive, Aradia is both a god and specifically a god of time. Although it's never stated, perfect timing is an obvious power for Time God Tiers to have, which does mean that Aradia would be a half-Flechette. ~LOSS (18/7/24)

And Kanaya's a fashion designer, too. Aradia x Kanaya when?

Anonymous asked: Hey, unfortunately the reqs list link seems to be janked out on my mobile client so I hope this is ok but if you haven't already heard of it I highly highly reccomend Jon Bois' 17776: What Football Will Look Like In the Future It's about football in the same sort of way that homestuck is about video games

Love that story - and I still have to read the sequel, actually!

Anonymous asked: Forwarding another question from the person without a Tumblr account: ~DJ. [I think the change in Equis and Nepeta's behavior is explained by "being together and solving problems together for a long time was great for Equius' and Nepeta's relationship" and "the destruction of Alternia helped Equius realize some facets of Alternian culture he believed where false" (because unlike Eridan he is able to change his mind about stuff like this). - RM]

I really want to see what Equius and Nepeta got up to for a month, as well as all the other trolls. It'd be great to get an 'untold stories of Homestuck' anthology at some point - and hopefully, that's something we'll see in some of Homestuck's tie-in media.

Anonymous asked: I’ve been thinking about Bec prototyping himself and I think I’ve got an answer that works for me - not necessarily the whole answer or the only answer, but I think it’s got something. Basically, Bec knows he can’t / shouldn’t get rid of the meteor entirely (he came down in a meteor that built the frog ruins, so even if we’re just going off what he’s experienced we can say that he probably on some level understands that these meteors landing is important) but he also understands he doesn’t have the type of power or the finesse with that power to only delay it until Jade can take the shot. After all, he could’ve just teleported the living room junk to a different part of the house, but he sent it into deep space because his doggy brain can only deal in absolutes when it comes to perceived danger to his best friend, and the only power we’ve seen First Guardians use (to my recollection) that would in any way help with slowing the meteor is teleportation. He can’t reliably teleport it back only far enough that it will keep falling, but won’t yet land, and he doesn’t have anything else at his disposal - except becoming a sprite, who we’ve seen use beam attacks, which allows Bec to push the meteor back as a delaying measure. Don’t know if he knew it would help so specifically, but even so, I can see Bec understanding it as the only option he has that isn’t either ‘send thing as far away as possible’ or ‘let thing squish most beloved person’. I do think the weakest parts of this theory are What Bec Understands, but puzzling through that devilbeast’s thoughts is hardly a new impossibility. If nothing else, we can all understand that he did this to save Jade, because he loves her, and we love him for that. -Megido (am a new anon, just spent the past couple days catching up and have enjoyed this liveblog immensely)

I think this theory is a good one, and Hussie's comments support it.

The meteor needed to be destroyed in a very specific way for the timeline to retain its integrity, and Bec should instinctively know that, born from Sburb as he is.

Anonymous asked: There are three lenses I think you can view troll romance through: the Xenopsychology lens, the Propaganda lens, and the Parody lens. The Xenopsychology lens is that trolls do in fact experience alien emotions which cannot be felt by humans. It's not just that troll society chooses to categorize the same types of feelings and relationships that humans have differently; these are genuinely unique and original emotions, like a new color that a human couldn't imagine. Describing kismesissitude as hatemance or rivalry or abuse, or moirallegiance as bromance or besties or queer platonic partnership, or auspisticism as third wheeling or mom friending or refereeing are all fundamentally incorrect, because there is no human analogue. You can take this a step further and say that matespritship is also fundamentally different from human romance, even if it appears similar. Therefore all attempts to analyze or write troll romance should be forays into xenofiction, attempting to understand things within a nonhuman framework. The Propaganda lens is that actually troll emotions aren't really any different than human ones, but the quadrant system benefits the hemocasteist militaristic empire by keeping trolls divided enough to become either fucked up killers or submissive victims by the time they reach maturity, but have the minimum support structure needed to actually reach maturity. Kismesissitude is fundamentally unhealthy, auspisticism serves as a counterbalance to keep everyone from killing each other, and moirallegiance serves to prevent trolls from having multiple close friendships or from being fully open with their matesprit by arbitrarily sequestering who it’s appropriate to have certain positive interactions with. None of this is really romance except the one that’s analogous to human romance, but trolls are raised to buy into the system under threat of death. It’s hard to form community and contemplate uprising if everyone confines the meaningful relationships in their life to like 4-5 other people, half of which are based on negative interactions. Also it’s a commentary on how human rules about love and relationships and where the platonic ends and romantic or sexual starts are socially enforced rather than wholly natural and can be arbitrary and unhealthy. Anonymous asked: The Parody lens is that this is all Hussie making fun of fandom shipping tropes. All sufficiently devoted rivalries are actually romantic love. All sufficiently strong friendships are actually romantic love. These two are so hopelessly oblivious to the fact that they actually want to get with the guy they hate, or that the other person they think just wants to be friends actually feels the same way, they need a third party to push them together. (Okay this one doesn’t work because auspisticism seems to basically be the opposite of that? Maybe auspisticism is supposed to be like, contrived elimination of competing romantic options to assure an OTP. Idk if anyone really knows what auspisticism is supposed to be, least of all Hussie.) Also because this was early 2010’s Hussie, there’s maybe a certain level on which trolls being societally obliged to polyamory and bisexuality is also making fun of shippers, although if it was I think Hussie turned around pretty quickly to actually being cool about it. Much like how light is a wave, and a particle, and a ray, all of these are true at different times. This is because the nature of Hussie's writing is that even when things are serious business, they are also jokes. And this is also why the Homestuck fandom will never agree on the correct way to understand and depict the quadrants.

Great breakdown. As you could probably predict, I lean a lot more towards the Propaganda lens, with a healthy dose of Parody mixed in.

The Xenopsychology lens isn't necessarily untrue - it's just that, as I've discussed before, the trolls read as extremely human to me. I honestly believe that if you raised a human on Alternia, they'd probably be compelled to form the same quadrants as everyone else.

I once got an ask stating that, according to Hussie, each of the quadrants are meant to be exaggerated versions of human relationship dynamics. I'd really like to check out that full quote, so if anyone's got a link, send it my way!

[d-romanov]

eep i’m obsessed with your stories!! if you want any inspiration, maybe soft mama nat taking care of R when she’s sick? R probably isn’t used to being cared for in that way because of her past, and is adamant at first that she’s fine. Ofc Nat provides lots of cuddles and carries weak R throughout the tower

everyone needs a sick day

[ 845 words ]

[ natasha romanoff x teen!widow!reader ]

notes: i'm so glad you like them!! i'm always a sucker for soft nat, and it was fun to write reader being so stubborn :P i hope you enjoy!!

summary: reader is sick and stubborn and natasha thinks it's funny.

cw: mentions of past abuse (the red room)

You figured that your sneezing the other day had just been allergies, and that the chills you had last night were simply the air conditioning being up too high. The unpleasant aching all over must have just been from overdoing it while you were sparring the other day, and your cough was simply a consequence of the air being so dry. It was the middle of winter in New York City, after all.

At no point did you truly consider you were sick. Avenger or not, you were still a Widow, and Widows simply didn't get sick.

Being sick meant you were vulnerable, weak. Weakness wasn't tolerated because weakness got you killed.

It took a long time for you to unlearn all the things you'd been taught, no matter how often Natasha reminds you you're safe when you wake up from a nightmare.

You'd made a lot of progress in your year at the tower, but there were some things that just didn't go away that fast.

So, out of a deeply rooted fear, only exacerbated by the low-grade fever you've had the last two days, you decided you wouldn't tell anyone.

Of course, Natasha, your mentor and mother figure, saw through it straight away when you walked into the kitchen for breakfast. She noted your especially sluggish movements and subtle shivering while you shuffled to the counter.

"How'd you sleep, y/n?" You rub your eyes to try and wake yourself up.

"Fine, you?" It comes out really scratchy and bugs your throat, but you're able to suppress the cough that threatens to bubble up. You're fine.

"I slept alright, just got a little too warm last night, did you notice that?" You're not sure if she's caught on, but you know the tower has impeccable temperature control.

"Eh, a little, wasn't that bad though." You throat feels especially dry when you swallow, and you try to suppress another cough. It doesn't work however, and the choked noise that leaves you is painful.

"Yup thought so." Natasha makes her way next to you and hold her hand to your head, to which you unconsciously lean into the cooling touch. "You're sick, hun."

"M'not sick." You grumble, not bothering to move your head away or sit up straight. You know you've been caught.

"Sweetheart, you're burning up. Let's get you back to bed and get some medicine in you."

Your sick daze impedes your rational thought, and your heart skips a beat at the mention of "medicine."

"No, no Nat 'm fine, really." You stumble when you stand too fast, but Natasha catches your arms gently.

"No, you're sick y/n." Her tone is soft but firm, she's not trying to punish your weakness, she just wants to help. "Now are you gonna listen or do I have to carry you back?" Her mouth quirks up.

You glare defiantly up at Natasha's slightly amused expression. You're not a baby, you don't need to be carried.

Your face scrunches up. "I'm fine." And you sneeze right as you say it. Wonderful.

Natasha raises an eyebrow at you. "Alright then," Next thing you know, she's scooped you up with her hands under your back and legs. "Carried it is."

"Wha-! Nat put me down!" You practically squeal as you squirm in her arms, but her hold doesn't falter once.

"Nope! You, miss, are going back to bed and resting until you're better."

"But-!"

"No buts."

You grumble and cross your arms, tucking your head into her neck, which feels cool against your hot forehead.

As Natasha carries you through the tower, you feel yourself relax. Her neck is relief from the fever and headache, the rhythmic bounce from every step is practically rocking you to sleep.

Your body is still periodically shocked by a harsh cough or chill, but Natasha kisses your forehead and shushes you, or squeezes your body a little tighter against hers.

You think you hear someone say 'hi' because Natasha stops before you're on your floor yet, but you're too content in your position to acknowledge it.

Soon enough, you're being placed gently back in your bed and being handed a glass of water and some Tylenol.

You tiredly swallow the pills and drink most of the water, which is soothingly cold as it goes down.

Natasha tucks you in warmly and swipes your hair from your face. "You'll feel better if you get some rest, малышка, and I'll make you some soup when you wake up."

You giggle tiredly. "You can't cook, мама,"

Natasha blows a raspberry at you. "Okay, I'll microwave you some canned soup. How's that?"

"s' good." You're failing at keeping your eyes open, and Nat turns the bedside lamp off and moves to leave. You grumble.

"What is it, детка?"

You reach your hand out lazily, eyes shut and brows furrowed. "Stay."

Natasha smiles and lifts the covers, scooting down and pulling you close under her chin. "Sleep, love."

After some shifting you settle against her and your breathing soon evens out, soundly asleep in your mother's arms.

[cripplecharacters]

One of my characters in a fanfic is Harriet Hook, daughter of Captain Hook. I was going to have her lose her left hand in an assassination attempt, where someone tried to burn down her house with her brother and sister in it as collateral. The door was barred shut with planks of wood, and, long story short, the fastest way she could get out left her hand severely burned and lacerated, with several shattered bones. If they had access to modern medicine they might have been able to save her hand but, because there wasn't even a way for them to keep if clean until the skin healed, the best they could really do was just amputate it. Like her father she replaced her hand with a hook (having one hand and no hook would make being a pirate kind of difficult,) and then she went from there. I just have a few questions.

Is it reasonable for her to be more angry about the assassination attempt than upset about her hand? Her father has been getting around fine with his hook for her entire life and he raised all three of them with either one hand or a hand and a hook, so she knows it's not the end of the world and that she has a good source on how to adapt to it. She's just more pissed that someone tried to burn her alive.

She later becomes a queen after the war (the war is why someone tried to assassinate her, because she's leading an uprising.) Would it make sense for her to either keep the hook or just go without rather than get a fancier prosthetic? She'll have the option but she already knows how to adapt to life with hook or with just one hand, but a fancy prosthetic, she's never seen anyone with those so it would be uncharted territory and I was thinking she'd prefer to just stick with what works.

Does this fall into the accident trope? I know it happened because someone was purposefully trying to kill her and she purposefully injured her hand because it was either that or let her siblings die and her children grow up without their mother, but it might still count. If so, is there a way I can make it better? I don't want to be disrespectful.

I get this is a long ask and you don't have amputee mods. Hope you all are having a great day!

Hello asker,

Making a note before my answer that we currently do not have any mods who are amputees!

So, to answer your question in parts:

Is it reasonable for her to be more angry about the assassination attempt than upset about her hand?

Yes, this makes sense. People can have a lot of complicated feelings about their disabilities, and to me it makes sense that one of her feelings about the event that caused hers is that what upsets her the most is that someone tried to kill her. Injuries do suck, but when they're caused by someone else's carelessness or malice, knowing or thinking about that can definitely be more upsetting than the injury itself. (Not that it has to be – different people will have different feelings about their respective injuries.)

Would it make sense for her to either keep the hook or just go without rather than get a fancier prosthetic?

Yes, this is definitely something many people in real life do. Here is a link to a post by cy-cyborg on why not all amputees use prosthetics, which also addresses that not all prosthetics work best for all people. In general, people like to stick with familiar things. If she has adapted to using just one hand or one hand and a hook, it makes sense that she could choose to continue doing so. "If it ain't broke don't fix it" type of situation. And as a character decision, her father's use of a hook as opposed to any other kind of prosthetic might influence her decision as well.

Does this fall into the accident trope?

When it comes to upper limb amputations that are not congenital, trauma is one of the more common reasons for them. Trauma (by which i mean physical trauma to the limb) is often accidental, so this isn't necessarily an inaccurate reason for your character to lose her hand.

So while it is an accident, I don't think that makes it automatically a disrespectful portrayal. In fact, your ask makes me think that it is a pretty respectful one. She has adapted to life with her injury and a hook is a common prosthetic even today. I think you've got some good character building blocks here!

Hope this helps,

– mod sparrow